After that meeting, she could do nothing but wait.

Bail had resources who were looking into this massacre, gathering information and ways to bring this travesty to light. Then suddenly, after months of tense waiting, she received a coded message from him that one of his contacts had reached out to him. This person had vital information that they were willing to hand over for the sake of discrediting the Chancellor.

What the information was, who it was that had it, and how they got it remained a mystery, which raised a lot of concern in its validity. Yet, Bail Organa was adamant that they could trust his source. The plan was that Bail was to meet his contact at an undisclosed location, get the information, and bring it back to the rest of the secret group.

What they didn't expect was for Bail to be trapped in a debate at the Senate. There were too many eyes on him at the moment, he couldn't slip away. He was losing the window of time to meet his contact, and so he reluctantly asked someone else to go in his place: Padme Amidala.

It was surprising that he would ask her to go in his stead on such a dangerous mission, but he made it abundantly clear that she was the only one he could trust for this. She was no stranger to secrecy and danger, especially working in the shadows or under false pretenses and perhaps had more experience in it than the Alderaanian. If this contact was as important as Bail said it was, then she was more than willing to face the danger. Even at the risk of being caught and arrested as a traitor of the Republic.

All she had to do was don a disguise, find the contact who would be wearing a Dressellian cloak, and say the words 'I'm not a decoy.' It seemed ambiguous, and hardly the most nuanced code, but Bail insisted that the contact would understand.

She didn't have to go far, which made it easier and yet much more dangerous. The meeting place was right below their feet, in the clouded underworld of Coruscant where the denizens never saw daylight. She had to act quickly. She put on her least conspicuous outfit, along with a speech scrambler and a head wrap, and took a speeder down to the planet's lower levels.

The squalor below was devastating. She had been too accustomed to the glistening towers of the skyscrapers and the elite buildings. It was a whole other world down here. The meeting place was a bar in one of the districts between the Jedi Temple and her own apartment. It was crowded with bodies of all kinds of beings in every imaginable shape and size, all hailing from different systems. There was a haze that never seemed to go away, there was no day or night and neon lights lit the way outside as well as in, making it almost impossible to differentiate time or place. To say nothing of the smells that permeated every surface with grime, grease, musk from all corners of the galaxy, and something faintly decayed. A noisy, electronic tune played that didn't seem to have any kind of harmony or melody to her human ears.

She was told she could recognize Bail's contact by their Dressellian cloak. Dressellian cloaks were not something that stood out, but they were recognizable by their design, they always carried their energy capsules in the front of the cloak, for easy access, and were made of a very particular fiber found only in their native system. She moved casually through the crowd, her own cloak concealing the blaster that was strapped to her thigh, the mask covering her lower face.

For all her adventures and experiences, being in a dive bar like this was new to her. She discreetly observed the other patrons, to assess how she needed to behave to not stand out. Generally, they all seemed relaxed, and yet completely on their guard. There was a clear sign outside of the establishment that weapons were allowed but had to remain sheathed or holstered. And there definitely was an abundance of weapons here. If she stepped on the wrong toes or tail, she could be shot dead.

Sitting at the corner of the bar was a hunched figure with their hood up. The head beneath it looked considerably too small to actually be a Dressellian beneath it, but the cloak was clear as day. (Day on Naboo, maybe.) Fearlessly, she approached and took the seat beside them, ordering a drink and surprised at the distortion of her own voice through the mask.

The Gran bartender set her drink before her and looked with all three of his eyes to the one in the Dressellian cloak.

"'Nother round of ardees?"

The stranger nodded.

This being was certainly trying hard to be mysterious and it was working. She couldn't even tell if they were armed.

"I've come on behalf of our mutual friend…" she said quietly, her voice rasping from the mask. "He said I could trust you…"

The bartender returned with the ardees, better known as Jawa Juice, and the stranger took it without a word to him.

"Did our mutual friend offer means for me to trust you?" They were using a voice modulator as well, the same precautions that she was using for anonymity, and they stared straight ahead. They did not drink, that would have required the removal of their mask.

"He wanted me to tell you… 'I'm not a decoy'."

The stranger turned their head just enough for one goggled eye to peer out from beneath the hood. The lifeless lens stared at her for a silent moment. "Very well. I have what you need."

She extended her gloved hand, palm up to take it.

"It's damning…" Their vocals were broken up through the mask. "You will be arrested for treason if you are caught with it."

"I'm aware."

"Then you admit to treason."

Her blood ran cold. She had walked right into a trap.

The stranger stood to their full height, which was easily taller than her. She felt a blaster in her ribs. "Move."

Her drink was left untouched and she got to her feet compliantly. All the while, her adrenaline spiked and she was looking for an escape. The Gran bartender grunted about the tab and the stranger tossed a few credits at him, instantly silencing him (aside from an unsavory curse). No one in the establishment cared that she was pushed roughly out the back door, into an alleyway so dark and narrow that two human bodies could barely fit. She noticed the stranger had a pronounced limp, perhaps a cyborg. The traffic of the speeders above them roared and buzzed, but there was no one else here. It was the perfect place to be murdered.

Her back hit the wall and the stranger pointed the blaster at her ribs. Without hesitation, she pushed the end of the blaster away from her and shot the heel of her palm to the chin of the face mask, and she could hear the teeth clack inside as the stranger's head was knocked back. If she knew they were human, especially male, she might have shot her knee to their groin. Instead, she punched their throat that was protected only by fabric.

They gagged and stumbled away from her and she made a run for it. She didn't get very far when she was encircled around her waist, crushed around her ribs and held firmly in place.

"You're as foolish as ever, Senator!" the voice rattled with the distortion.

They knew who she was. This was getting worse by the minute.

"Are you a spy for the Republic?" She asked, even as she struggled to get free. "If you care about the galaxy and democracy, you'd understand why I'm here!"

"I have no trouble understanding you…" They spoke slowly at her ear, menacingly. One of the arms holding her let go, and she saw the mask tossed in front of her onto the ground. "You never change."

The voice was the opposite of menacing now, and it sounded like it was smiling. It sounded like…

"Obi-Wan?!"

His grip loosened and she slipped free, spinning around to face him. Sure enough, wearing that Dressellian cloak was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Even after more years of not seeing him, the only thing that seemed to change about him was his attire—a jacket and a few belts of items, one gun holster, and scarf—and it was strangely shocking to see him in anything other than Jedi robes. Yet, he looked so very tired, even if he was smiling warmly to her, a hand rubbing at his throat where she punched him.

"I must say, I was right to be afraid to ever face you in a fight…"

He was making jokes, and she should have been angry, but she found herself so deliriously happy to see him alive that she chuckled in disbelief, pulling off her mask to reveal her own face at last. A surge of anger rose in her, however, and she hit him hard in the chest.

"You frightened me!" she scolded.

He touched at his chest with a small wince and an apologetic shrug. "I needed to make it appear convincing… Where is Organa? Why did he send you?" Obi-Wan got back to the business at hand.

She hit him again.

"Ow! Alright, milady, you've made your point…"

"I have been so worried about you! The Republic has been after you for months, and even before that, I never heard a word from you!"

"Padme…"

"All I knew was what I heard through the HoloNet, through other senators. Rumors and statements. I know you were far away leading campaigns, but all I wanted was a word, Obi-Wan… Anything… Even a goodbye. You never told me goodbye."

"I don't think I wanted to…" he murmured. "I did hope to see you again, Padme… But I had my own path to follow before I could see you again… It seems I continue to slip further into disgrace, however…" He frowned pensively, as if puzzled by his current situation.

Again, her anger dwindled as quickly as it came. "So long as you're you, I could never see you as a disgrace, Obi-Wan…"

A small smile tugged beneath the beard. "I am glad of that…. But you haven't told me where Organa is."

"He was held up at a senate meeting and couldn't get away. Now I know why he wanted me to be the one come in his place…"

"You're not a decoy this time," he grinned.

Bail chose that message as a callback to the invasion of Naboo, when she paraded as her own handmaiden. Back when she was first introduced to the padawan, Obi-Wan. And now, here they were meeting in a damp, dark alley under treasonous purpose. It was difficult to wrap her mind around, especially regarding Obi-Wan.

"What are you supposed to give me?" she asked.

He looked in both directions, to be sure no one else was present, and he moved in close, so close she felt his warmth.

"I have proof of the massacre on Renoss… I had Arfour with me most of the time. It recorded my reconnaissance of the planet, as well as my attempted negotiations with the Renossian Queen, Piv Trogante. I couldn't follow through with my orders to destroy their capital, and so I attempted to negotiate with her to surrender the Nemoidians who were taking refuge there, and to accept protection from the Republic. General Grievous had made it clear he was coming for the Nemoidians, and would take the moon along with them… He is a monster with no remorse, there would be no negotiating with him. The only language he understands is war. And even then, he's hardly fluent… All the while, Republic Intelligence insisted that the moon was already a Separatist outpost that needed to be destroyed, and they would not heed my reports. The reconnaissance, the communications, it's all there."

"Where's Arfour?"

"It uh… Met with a Destroyer droid… I salvaged its memory core… And not much else."

"Couldn't you have transmitted this information? Why did you have to come here, where they could catch you?"

"It is too risky to transmit it. I needed to ensure it was in the right hands…"

"It's risky to you to come here in person," she said sharply. "Aren't you concerned about your life?"

He smiled genially. "My life has always been forfeit in the name of peace."

She knew this. She had always known that Obi-Wan never put his life, or anyone else's, above a greater cause. He was the constant star in the fight for what was right, and she knew now more than ever why she had fallen so hopelessly in love with him in the first place. And it infuriated her how selfless he was.

"Also… perhaps…" He added, haltingly, as if it was difficult to find the words. "I could not pass the opportunity to possibly see you again…"

He took her face in his hands, his gloves coarse against her skin, but the gesture so gentle she melted into it. And then he kissed her, deeply, and she should have been embarrassed by the small, needy sound that escaped from her. She held him tightly, wondering at how she could feel him in her arms again, solid and real. They only broke away for air, lips still hovering close. It left her head spinning.

"I have wanted to do that for so long…" he said breathlessly, smiling.

She held his face close to hers, and she could not see the details of it in this dark place. "How long will you be on Coruscant?" she feared to ask.

"Trying to be rid of me already?"

"I never want you out of my sight…" she clutched at his jacket. "I don't want you to leave me again…"

"Then I'll come to you. Tonight…" he gently pulled her hand loose to place something in it. It was a data disk and he closed her fingers around it. "Arfour's memory core. Please be careful with this. The data is expendable, you're not. We cannot bear to lose you in this fight… I cannot bear it."

She put the data disk safely in her jacket and she took his hand again. "When will you come?"

He raised her hand to kiss her knuckles, the tickle of his beard making her legs weak. "In four hours. Your apartment?"

She nodded.

Lips brushed again, but were immediately broken apart by the sound of sirens from the Coruscant Security Force. Someone must had alerted them to the possible alleyway murder. Obi-Wan kissed her quickly, gloved hands holding her face so that he could meet her eye.

"Get the disk to Organa… I'll come to you."

"Four hours," she reminded him.

"I will be there… Hurry!" he let go, picked up his mask from the ground, and took off at an uneven jog as he fastened it back onto his face.

He was hurt, that's why he was limping. It wasn't an act, and she felt the chill of fear. What had he been through? She too covered her face again and went in the opposite direction.


Even though he was more or less in deadly peril by being on this planet, Obi-Wan was carried away in his thoughts—his spirit was absolutely soaring from seeing Padme again. There was shame for feeling such joy in reuniting with her, and he actively had to remind himself that he was not a Jedi. He cut that tie two years ago, he was allowed to enjoy these feelings. He did not have to treat them as a malady, or something to be cautious about.

He was learning to shrug off the shame, but he could not seem to shake the guilt. For the first time in two years he had seen Anakin, and he could not forget how much she meant to the boy or how Obi-Wan himself had betrayed him. There was some degree of Obi-Wan's love for Anakin that prevented him from going to her when he first walked away from the Jedi Order. He stayed away for her sake, for Anakin's, and maybe even for his own. He needed to learn what it meant to not be a Jedi. He still hadn't figured it out. He didn't know what he was.

What happened at Renoss made him feel more lost than ever.

The last thing he saw was Anakin standing over him, his lightsaber so close to Obi-Wan's chin that it singed his beard, a faceless wall of his Clone Troopers in an echelon formation behind him, their true numbers obscured by the white cloud of moondust. When he woke again he was in a windowless cell on a troop transport ship that was waiting in orbit for Anakin and the 501st to finish securing the moon as a new outpost of the Republic. Regardless of the physical pain he was in, he was eager to see and speak with his former padawan once more.

He could not immediately fault his former apprentice for arresting him, they were at war, after all. And it was Anakin's duty to arrest what they deemed a deserter, a traitor.

The moment that Obi-Wan realized he still had R4's data disk in his jacket, however, he knew what needed to be done.

Anakin was going to return to the ship, speak to Obi-Wan, have the obligatory interrogation to determine if he was a Separatist or not, and confiscate the data disk. Anakin would then have to turn the disk over to the Jedi Council and the Chancellor, sealing Obi-Wan's fate whether or not he wished that on his former Master. The crucial information would surely be buried by the Republic.

What seemed more likely, if Anakin still cared about his old mentor, was that Anakin would take the data disk and tell no one, thereby making himself a traitor as well. That was not a choice that Obi-Wan wanted to force upon his old friend. So for Anakin's sake, he escaped. It was better that Anakin thought Obi-Wan a traitor than to have to sacrifice his own principles.

It was not until Obi-Wan was far from Renoss in a stolen escape pod that he learned the terrible truth of it. Anakin led the 501st in decimating the Renoss capital. Thousands of casualties were reported and the city fell to the Republic.

The last he had heard was that Anakin was swept up in the Outer Rim sieges, winning battle after battle to push back the Separatist forces. And here was Obi-Wan Kenobi, hiding in the shadows, and finding his way back to the woman that they had both fallen in love with.

For years he was accustomed to carrying sorrow like an old friend, letting it keep him humble and quiet his mind. For this moment, he let himself forget Renoss, and with the taste of Padme's lips still on his he felt… happy.

"Well? How's the leg?"

Dex's husky voice accompanied the thumping footfalls as he squeezed through the narrow door of the diner's small stockroom. Two of his four hands were wiping away grease with his lucky rag. There was never an hour that Dex's Diner was closed, and so Obi-Wan had to hide away in the back, out of sight of the constant wheel of customers.

Obi-Wan was sitting on a sealed crate of dried Klatooine frog legs and tendrils. Dex's Diner was apparently the only place to get such a… treat. The small space wafted with different kinds of spices, the grease hanging in the air and making everything just a little tacky to the touch. But the stock room was as tidy as it was tiny, and Obi-Wan managed to be relatively comfortable with his leg propped up on a cask of Jawa Juice, a roll of fabric under his ankle. Obi-Wan felt quite at home, because he knew he was among friends.

"Almost healed, thanks to the bacta you gave me…" Obi-Wan said with a small smile. "Thank you again, Dex… You didn't have to help me."

"Didn't have to?" the Besalisk chortled and folded one pair of his arms. "I've never turned away a friend to save my own skin. Never will!"

"And I don't know if I properly thanked you for holding these for me…" he tapped the bundle that his leg was propped on.

"You did, buddy…." Dex laughed again and scratched at his whiskers. "What's next for ya?"

Obi-Wan stared at the rolled, heavy brown material under his foot. He kept his Jedi robes as a bundle, which looked like an unassuming, soft log this way. Looking at it now was a reminder that he strongly considered leaving it stashed here at the diner never to be retrieved. Now, he intended to take it off his friend's hands. But the question repeated in his mind. What's next?

Padme was waiting for him. The very thought made his heart race and an unconscious smile appeared. In the corner of his eye, Dex grinned widely.

"I'd know that look on a person anywhere…. You know exactly where ya wanna go…"

Under his friend's wise gaze, Obi-Wan felt suddenly… shy. Like an adolescent being called out for their crush and he busied himself with carefully lifting his injured leg from where it rested. It still tingled from the bacta spray, the deep bruises and the wound in his calf where the jagged Renossian rock embedded were healing nicely. The wound had been so severe when he received it a couple of months ago, and being constantly on the run, it did not seem to want to heal properly. Even with all his deep meditations to encourage healing. Finally, the cut was closed now, clean, and only slightly discolored. He massaged it lightly for a moment, pretending that he wasn't thinking of Padme.

"There is one place I have to be…" he admitted quietly.

"It's a woman, isn't it?"

A blonde woman's head poked around the door, her mouth smacking as she chewed. The human waitress, Hermione Bagwa, had worked for Dex for years, and she was always curious about the Jedi that Dex knew so well.

Obi-Wan didn't know they had an eavesdropper and his cheeks flushed. "Well…"

Dex looked at her reproachfully. "Shouldn't you be takin' people's orders?"

"We only got a Dug eatin' sliders right now. Seven's taking care of it…" She was smiling at Obi-Wan again, as if she expected him to say something juicy. "Here, brought you some sliders, too…" Her hand appeared with a small plate, three greasy objects piled on top. They were still bubbling, even though they weren't hot.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "Oh… No thank you…"

Dex laughed. "Don't worry! We got that pink stuff you can take before you eat it. That way this time you won't get the, uh… tummy problems." Dex was grinning.

Obi-Wan remembered the misery of eating those sliders the last time and politely shook his head. "I already had my dinner…" That was a lie. He hadn't eaten in at least a day. He was relieved when Hermione took the plate away. "I wanted to let you know, Dex…" he began quietly. "… that I won't be leaving Coruscant…"

Dex's brows rose beneath his armored forehead. "If it's transport ya need, I know a guy who can—"

"No, no…" Obi-Wan frowned a little with the weight of his next words. "What I mean is, I don't intend on running for the rest of this war, or the rest of my life… I don't know what will happen, but I do know that I am prepared for it."

Some Jedi had the gift of foresight through the Force, gifts of being able to determine the flow of events or at least some premonitory intuitions and feelings. Obi-Wan didn't have those gifts, at least, not in any exceptional degree. But he did have faith in the Force.

"The only reason I had returned to Coruscant in the first place has been done…" Bail got his data disk, but he hadn't counted on reconnecting with Padme again. "Whatever my part is, I feel it is here."

"You're all over the HoloNet," Hermione pointed out worriedly, her head popping around the door again. "They catch you, you'll be tossed in a cell somewhere or worse. Listen, honey, my family lives in the lower levels, they can give you a place to lay low…"

Her kindness and willingness to risk herself for a fallen Jedi was warming, but Obi-Wan shook his head gently. "Thank you, but I don't wish to simply hide. You must trust me…" he looked to them both. "I know what I have to do."

Dex's dry lips stretched into a massive line and he rubbed at his jowls. "I believe ya, Obi-Wan…" he said quietly.

Obi-Wan was on his feet and he pulled on his jacket, picked up a pilot helmet and goggles for anonymity, and the bundle, which was held by straps, was thrown over one shoulder. Dex and Hermione moved out of the way of the small door to let him out of the stock room, and Dex was already opening his four arms invitingly. Obi-Wan smiled and put his arms around his old friend, each giving a hearty pat. They hardly ever saw each other, but somehow this was their way.

"Goodbye, my friend…" Obi-Wan tried to say it in a way that didn't sound so final, but Dex's jowls constricted, giving away his emotions.

"Goodbye, Obi-Wan… and good luck out there. When you need me, ya know where to find me."

Obi-Wan slipped out the back of the diner where an unmarked speeder was waiting for him, thanks to Dex. The only certain thing in his future right now was Padme, and he focused on that. She was his present. What would happen tomorrow would happen tomorrow.