Author's note: my grateful thanks as always to everyone who is reading and those of you who have taken the time to leave such lovely reviews, honestly, you are all so wonderful! She-Elf23, you must have been reading my mind, as you specifically requested a Padmé and Anakin story… I hope this will suffice!

Gunshot

"Force kriff it!"

"Anakin! Not in front of the Senator!"

"I have heard far worse, Master Kenobi – particularly within the Senate. You need not trouble yourself over my perceived sensibilities."

Obi-Wan spared the young Senator Padmé Amidala an amused, wry smile; "Nonetheless, Senator, I apologise for Anakin's rather colourful language."

"Yeah, well, there's a good reason for it," Anakin cut in, tersely, "the hyperdrive engines are offline – we did sustain some damage in the meteor shower we passed through leaving Rovanna. We're going to have to find somewhere to land and effect repairs or it's going to take us a very long time to get home."

"Any suggestions?"

"You're not going to like it," came the grim reply, "this far into the Outer Rim there aren't many places to choose from. There's a trading outpost not far from here on Jasestis, that seems to be our best option."

"Jasestis? You're right, I don't like it," Obi-Wan rubbed his bearded jaw, thoughtfully, "It's a hive of villainy and technologically backwards at best. Are you sure we'll find what we need there?"

"When I said 'best option', I meant it's our only option," Anakin shook his head, "we're not going to make it any further than that. I'll try to set us down a way from one of the settlements so we don't attract unwanted attention."

"Yes, because we are generally excellent at avoiding unwanted attention," sighed Obi-Wan, "very well… thank you, Anakin. You will need to stay with the ship and undertake repairs; I will see if I can procure the parts we need. Senator, it would be best if you stayed in the ship with Anakin."

Padmé hesitated only momentarily; normally she would be keen to get out and explore a new planet, and her instincts were telling her that the Jedi might need someone to watch his back, but she did not want to pass up the rare opportunity to spend time alone with her secret husband.

"Oh… yes, of course, Master Kenobi," she nodded, obediently, and then, at his slightly surprised expression, she quickly added; "I am still a little fatigued from the trade negotiations with the Rovans, I would appreciate the opportunity to rest for a while."

She threw in a yawn for good measure, hiding it demurely behind one hand, ignoring the amused snort from Anakin that threatened to undermine her award-winning performance. Kenobi simply smiled and shook his head slightly, but did not comment further.

Under Anakin's expert hand, their small transport ship set down, only a few kilometres from the trading outpost. He handed Obi-Wan a list of the parts he needed to repair the hyperdrive, before lowering the ramp to allow the Jedi Master to disembark.

"Be careful, Master," Anakin quirked a wry smile, "you could get into all sorts of trouble without me around to watch your back."

"Without you around, Anakin, I'm fairly confident I will be able to avoid any trouble," Obi-Wan shot back, with a grin, "I will be fine. Hopefully this will not take long… I will comm. you if anything does go wrong."

"You'd better," Anakin nodded, and then, once the Master had departed, he closed the ramp, and turned around, heading back up into the passenger area, where Padmé was waiting for him.

"Is he gone?" she asked, nonchalantly.

"Yeah… he should be a few hours at least. I really do need to work on the engines, though…"

She raised her eyebrows at him. He grinned in response, and added; "But I'm a really fast worker, so…"

He expression turned sultry, as she leaned forwards, a teasing smile playing on her lips; "Well, I hope you don't finish everything you do so quickly…"

He laughed, and she launched herself at him as he swept her up into his arms, their lips meeting in a deep, passionate kiss, and they melted into each other.

Obi-Wan walked purposefully, his hood drawn up over his face, shrouded in his long, brown travel cloak. Jasestis was a cold, bleak planet; the landscape mostly comprised of grey-blue slate rocks. In the distance, snow capped mountains rose jaggedly into the skyline, the rough trading outpost not too far from their landing site. He had no doubt their arrival had been noticed; it was not often that off-world ships landed at the remote station, but so far nobody had come out to question their business. In places like this, you minded your own business, or else…

Obi-Wan had learned long ago to carry a variety of currency depending on his mission, having learned the hard way that Republic credits were worth nothing in the Outer Rim and not everybody could be persuaded to accept them. The Huttese wupiupi he carried should be sufficient to buy the parts he needed… assuming they were available at all.

After just over an hour of walking, he drifted into the edge of the town. Despite the remoteness of the location the town was large and sprawling; the buildings on the outskirts were little more than shanties, occupied by the homeless and most desperate. Obi- Wan steeled himself as he walked by; he could not help them, as some looked at him pleadingly, others with fear or open hostility. He made his way carefully through winding streets, listening carefully to the ebb and flow of the Force, until he found himself outside a nondescript shop front, piled high with rusted ship parts, and he pushed the door open.

Inside the shop was as cold as outside, simply because there was no back wall; the three standing walls were lined with shelves over-laden with parts, bits and boxes of things; the floor was littered with components, and the back of the shop simply gave way to a large yard filled with hulks of ships, some more intact than others, with a couple of vaguely humanoid looking droids slowly disassembling or reassembling ship parts; it was hard to tell.

"A customer! So, it was worth getting out of bed this morning, then," a jovial voice announced, and Obi-Wan turned to find himself facing a muscular Weequay woman, grinning a gap-toothed smile that lacked anything resembling warmth or humour, "Well, hello, handsome – let me guess, you've come to sweep me off my feet and carry me away from all of this?"

She gestured vaguely at the piles of junk surrounding them, and Obi-Wan summoned his most charming smile.

"Ah, dear lady, if only that were possible," he said, warmly, bowing to her, "but I'm afraid my hyperdrive was knocked offline in a meteor storm, and I find myself in need of some parts…"

"Story of my life," huffed the woman, "alright, let's see what ya need, hot stuff…"

Obi-Wan handed her the list and she ran her eyes over it, whistling.

"Yeah… yeah I got most of this. Ain't got the T63 but you can substitute that for a T40 if ya bypass a few of the safeties and, y'know, only plan on making one hyperspace jump, which should be enough to get ya where you're going… oh, and you can forget the RTVS unit, ain't gonna find one of those this side of Tatooine, but if ya take one of these instead, it'll do the same job with a bit of jiggery-pokery, y'got a mechanic or ya gonna fit this yourself? I can hire ya a couple of droids if ya need 'em, very reasonable price…"

"That's, uh, very kind of you," Obi-Wan replied, "but not necessary, I have a skilled mechanic waiting on my ship."

"How're ya planning ta pay for all this, sweet cheeks?" The woman raised her eyebrows, suggestively, "because yer cute an' all, an' a half hour with ya in the back room would be nice, but a girl's gotta eat more than… well, you know…"

She eyed him up and down and it took all of Obi-Wan's years of training to release his embarrassment and discomfort into the Force and prevent his cheeks colouring at her openly lewd intentions.

"Well, as…uh… charming… as that sounds… I have wupiupi. What's your price?"

"For all of this? Two-fifty."

"One-eighty," Obi-Wan countered, not wanting to agree immediately and risk arousing suspicion.

"Two-twenty. Ya ain't gonna find another scrapper in these parts with everything I've got for ya, honey."

"Two hundred, and I'll take everything now if you throw in that crate to carry it all for an extra five."

"Done!"

They shook hands, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to wipe his palm on his cloak after she released him. The woman turned, and whistled, attracting the attention of the two droids.

"Load it up, ya pair of clunkers! Now, outlander, let's see that money…"

Obi-Wan left the store after nearly an hour, carrying a crate that – hopefully – contained all of the parts Anakin needed to fix their hyperdrive. He, for one, could not wait to get away from this Force-forsaken rock.

He hefted the crate and struck out, heading back through the winding streets, until he reached the edge of the town, and finally back out into the wasteland beyond. He walked until he was clear of the last of the ramshackle buildings, before he set down the crate and risked activating his wrist communicator.

"Anakin? Anakin, come in please…"

There was a momentary pause, and then a familiar voice answered.

"Master! It's about time… did you find the parts we need?"

"Most of them, and a few substitutes that should hopefully suffice," he replied, quickly, "I'm heading back to the ship now. I should be back in about an hour."

"We'll be waiting. Anakin out."

Obi-Wan lifted the crate once more, and began the trek back to the waiting ship. However, he had not been walking for more than a few minutes, when a tremor in the Force halted him in his tracks. He froze, reaching out to sense what the Force had alerted him to. Sure enough, there were three lifeforms flanking him, hidden by the rocks, two to his right, one on the left.

"Who's there?" he demanded, glancing around as if he did not know where the threats were coming from, "I heard you; show yourselves!"

"Must have ears like a Lannik, this one," sneered a voice, as sure enough, a young male Weequay appeared from behind one of the rocks, holding something that looked vaguely like a blaster pointed straight at Obi-Wan.

"Or you two are breathing too loud," a familiar female voice shot back, from his left, "sorry, handsome – reckon I undersold ya some of those parts. Figure you owe me a little extra."

"Well, I'd be happy to pay whatever you feel the shortfall was, madam," Obi-Wan eyed the strange weapons being pointed at him by the two males, "there's no need for violence."

"Seems to me, outlander, I can take all of your money, and my parts, and then your ship as well," the woman smirked, "means I can turn a tidy profit."

"I hardly think it's profitable if word gets out about you robbing and murdering your customers…"

"No repeat custom from outlanders like you," the woman shrugged, "just good business to maximise my profits from ya while yer here, ain't it?"

"Huh. You wouldn't happen to know a pirate by the name of Hondo Ohnaka, by any chance?"

"Who?"

"Oh, never mind… you just reminded me of him."

"Enough stalling, Ma," one of the boys snapped, waving his hand impatiently, "let's get him!"

"Sorry, sweet thing," the woman shrugged, "ain't nothing personal… now hand over the money first, there's a good boy."

Obi-Wan ducked his head, as if in submission, reaching into his robe, pretending to fumble for the money in his belt.

"Hey… hey! What're ya reaching for? Show me yer hands!"

Obi-Wan's fingers closed around the hilt of his lightsaber. He closed his eyes, released a breath, and then moved. His left hand used the Force to fling the woman over backwards, as he ignited the lightsaber with his right hand, sweeping it in a bright blue arc, shearing both the weapons held by the two males in half.

"Jedi!" one of them screamed, leaping back, "ya never said he was a Jedi, Ma!"

The other male snarled, already reaching to his belt for another weapon as Obi-Wan sensed the woman getting to her feet, growling curses at him.

"Them fancy light swords may work against blasters," she spat, drawing her own weapon, "but they ain't nothin' against a good old fashioned slug!"

The Force sang out a warning and Obi-Wan spun, twirling the lightsaber with deadly accuracy. As he moved, two deafening bangs echoed through the still air around him, momentarily deafening and shockingly loud. He heard a molten hiss as one of the projectiles met his lightsaber blade, dissolving and dripping to the ground as he neatly sidestepped, cutting down the male who had fired it. However, as he turned to meet the second shot, the projectile only grazed the edge of his blade, and Obi-Wan cried out in shock as he felt a hot, searing pain pierce his right hand side, just below his ribs. The woman laughed, cruelly, and it was the last sound she made as the lightsaber completed its sweep, severing her hand and her head in one smooth motion.

"Ma!" the second male screamed, drawing a knife from his belt.

"Don't!" Obi-Wan cried out, but the young male was not listening.

With an enraged cry, he flung himself at the Jedi, knife outstretched, fear and murderous rage vying for dominance on his face. Obi-Wan swung the lightsaber, and deactivated it as the man joined his family in the dust. He stood there, panting for a moment, his left hand clutching at his right side, as his mind reeled, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. His own blood felt oddly warm, and wet, seeping through his fingers as he clenched his hand to the wound, trying to staunch the flow. Slugthrowers… old fashioned weapons that hurled metal projectiles instead of blaster bolts. Guns, that was the old word for them. He'd been shot. The metal projectile was embedded inside him, torn through flesh and muscle, a white-hot pain that radiated from his side, through his chest and stomach, and down his leg.

He staggered, pitching to his knees, dragging in a few ragged breaths, his right hand grabbing the crate that held their precious spare parts, the left one still clamped to his wounded side. There was no way he could carry the crate and make it back to their ship. Shakily, leaning heavily against the crate, he raised his wrist communicator, pressing the button to his chin to activate it, not daring to lift his hand away from his side.

"Anakin," he tried to keep his voice steady, but even he could hear the waver of pain in his tone, "Anakin…come in… please… Anakin, can you hear me?"

"Obi-Wan? What is it? What's wrong?"

"I… I was attacked," Obi-Wan's breaths were coming in short, sharp gasps now, his head spinning with dizziness; he looked down at his side, shocked to see the front of his tunic was absolutely saturated with blood, "I need… your help."

"I'm on my way," even through the comm., he could hear the tense snap in Anakin's voice, "are you in any danger? Are you hurt? How bad is it?"

"Bring… a med kit," Obi-Wan told him, "please… hurry."

He let the channel fall closed, allowing himself to slump against the crate, doubling over his wound, still trying to stem the flow of blood, clamping both hands to the hole in his side, gritting his teeth against the pain. He touched the Force, trying to release his pain, even as he made a concerted effort to slow down both his breathing and heart rate, in an effort to reduce his blood loss.

Obi- Wan had no idea how long he had stayed in his semi-meditative state, but suddenly, there were hands on his shoulders, and a voice calling his name.

"Obi-Wan! Master! Can you hear me? What the kriff happened to you?"

He wished he could speak, try to reassure the younger Jedi in some way, but all that came out was a pained groan. He found himself being lofted up to sit hunched over on the supply crate, and a fresh stab of pain lanced through him as something was pressed to his side. He struggled against it, trying to push away the source of fresh torment, but his hands were batted away.

"Don't fight me, Master! I need to treat this… whatever the hell this is… there's so much blood; were you stabbed?"

"Sh…shot," Obi-Wan managed to stammer, through clenched teeth, "slug…slugthrowers. Gunshot."

"Oh, kriff…Obi-Wan, this is bad, this is really bad…"

Somehow, he managed an amused huff; "I know."

"I'm gonna wrap and bandage this as best I can; Padmé's waiting back at the ship with more medical supplies, we've got to get you back there. I'll carry you."

"Can't… can't carry me and the parts," Obi-Wan pointed out, shivering with pain and cold as Anakin pressed more dressing pads to the wound, and began wrapping tight bandages around his waist, "can't leave them behind…"

"I'll carry you and let the Force carry the crate," Anakin told him, in a tone that brooked no argument, "I'm not just going to leave you here bleeding on the roadside, Master."

Obi-Wan lacked the strength or cogency to reply; he felt Anakin tying off the bandages, keeping tight pressure over the wound, before strong arms grasped his and he was hauled to his feet. He gasped as agony lanced through his side and stomach, but before he could collapse to the floor, he was slung over a shoulder, and hefted up. This time he could not stifle a pained cry, the position of the hold digging painfully into his wound. He could not stand it anymore… so he let go, and surrendered to merciful darkness.

Anakin doubted he would ever forget the wash of cold horror that had flooded through him at the sight of Obi-Wan kneeling on the ground, leaning against a small crate, both hands clamped to his side, his whole tunic stained crimson with blood, his face white as a ghost and pinched with all-consuming pain. He sprinted back to the ship as fast as he could, calling on the Force to lend him speed, strength and stamina, the box of parts flying along beside him as he used the Force to lift and drag it.

He dashed up the ramp to their ship, barely remembering to close it behind him, allowing the crate of parts to clatter to the deck,

"Padmé!" he cried out, allowing his fear and urgency to vibrate in his voice, "Padmé, quick! It's Obi-Wan, he's hurt, it's bad…"

"Ani?" she appeared in the doorway and then both hands shot to her mouth in shocked dismay as she saw them both, "by the Gods…"

"Fetch bacta, bandages, and an IV," Anakin told her, quickly, already heading through to the passenger area, "we need pain relievers and blankets, too… we need to act fast, he's losing too much blood!"

Padmé scrambled to obey as Anakin swiftly deposited Obi-Wan on one of the bunk beds. Red, there was so much red, soaking the tunic and bleeding through the bandages he had already applied. He pressed his hands back over the wound, trying desperately to keep some of the precious liquid on the inside, where it belonged… beneath his touch, Obi-Wan groaned and stirred, writhing weakly beneath the firm grip.

"Hold still, Master," Anakin murmured, gritting his teeth, "Just hold on, please…"

"Take… take it out!" Obi-Wan gasped, shuddering horribly, "You've… got… got to take it out!"

"What?"

"The… the slug… m…metal projectile," Obi-Wan wheezed, "still…inside. Got to take it out…"

"Oh, kriff," Anakin moaned, realising what his Master meant, "Padmé! I need you in here, now!"

"I'm here, Ani," the Senator hurried in, carrying an armful of medical supplies, "what happened?"

"He's been shot," Anakin replied, grimly, "with a particularly nasty weapon called a slugthrower."

"I've heard of them," Padmé nodded, her eyes bright with worry, as she immediately delivered a dose of pain-reliever with a hypo spray to Obi-Wan's neck, "is the projectile…um…is it still…?"

"Yes – it's still in there, and we need to remove it."

"How?" Padmé sounded even more horrified, "We've got bandages and blankets, we're not equipped with a field hospital…"

"I can," Anakin replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt, "I can use the Force to draw it out, along the path it went in, to avoid doing any more damage. I need you… I need you to help."

"What can I do?" fierce determination lent an edge to her tone, and he relaxed, knowing she would do anything he asked of her.

"Hold him down, as best you can," Anakin snatched a pair of scissors from the medical kit, already cutting through the blood-soaked bandages, "because this is really going to kriffing hurt. As soon as I've got the slug out, press a bacta dressing to the wound, as hard as you can, to try and stop the blood loss."

Anakin carelessly cast the bloodied strips to the floor, not bothering to remove Obi-Wan's tunic, simply cutting through the fabric and parting it, revealing the wound. He was surprised to see such a small hole, blood welling up immediately around the deep puncture with slightly puckered edges.

"Quickly, Anakin! You must!" Padmé's voice was urgent beside him as she positioned herself, holding Obi-Wan's hands with both of hers, pinning them to his chest so he could not fight back in his delirious haze of pain.

Anakin took a deep, steadying breath, and extended his hand, fingers spread, hovering above the ugly wound. He closed his eyes, concentrated, and felt the Force flow through him, bright white and raw power. Reaching out with his senses, he found it; a solid lump of metal, thankfully intact, nestled deep inside the wound. He gritted his teeth and pulled on it. Obi-Wan let out a choked, wordless cry of pain as his back arched in agony, and Padmé yelped, surprised by his sudden strength, as she fought to keep him still.

"Hold still, Obi-Wan, please, we're just trying to help you, please hold still, it will be over soon…"

She kept up a steady litany of reassurances as the Jedi Master shuddered and groaned in sickening agony. Anakin gave one last, determined tug, and the metal projectile popped free of the wound, smacking into the palm of his outstretched hand. He closed his fingers around it as Padmé immediately applied the waiting bacta-doused dressing pads to the wound, pressing down with all of her strength. Anakin rotated his wrist and opened his curled fingers, surveying the tiny metal pellet with contempt and disgust. He dropped the blood-drenched projectile to the deck plates and immediately stepped in, adding more dressing pads and taking over the pressure with one hand, sliding the other behind Obi-Wan's back and lifting him slightly off the bed, allowing Padmé to tightly wrap bandages around his waist, swathing the Master's wound.

When she had finished, Anakin gently lowered Obi-Wan back down onto the mattress, carefully sliding a pillow underneath his head. With a hand that shook only slightly, he hooked up the intravenous line and carefully inserted the needle into a vein in his Master's arm, taping it into place and setting the line running, hoping to help replace some of the lost blood. Unable to stand the sight of his Master's bloodied tunic, he set about carefully removing it, dropping it to the floor with the discarded bandages and dressing wrappers. Padmé fetched a waste receptacle and discreetly began to pick everything up as Anakin shook out a blanket and draped it over Obi-Wan, tucking it around his chest as the other man groaned and twitched in semi-consciousness.

"Ani…? Anakin!"

He realised, distantly, that Padmé must have been calling to him for some time, and he blinked, turning back towards her. Her eyes were bright with worry, and there was a smudge of blood on her cheek. Obi-Wan's blood. Anakin reached up to wipe it away and then froze – his own gloved hands were similarly stained, and he gazed at them in shock and revulsion, before quickly peeling off the gloves and dropping them into the trash can she still held.

"We should both go and get cleaned up," she told him, gently, "let him rest for a while, there's nothing else we can do right now."

"Yeah," Anakin cast a reluctant glance at the recumbent Master, torn between his desire to stay and watch over him and his equal wish to get into some clean clothes.

Padmé made the decision for him, taking him by the hand and leading him into the fresher, where she began to strip down, gesturing for him to do the same. He undressed methodically; normally the idea of showering together would have been exciting, but this time… as they stood together in the hot steam, she drew him close, and he buried his face in her damp hair, and they simply clung to each other for a long, long time.

Once they had cleaned themselves up, Anakin turned his attention back to the hyperdrive engines, driven by urgency; the faster he could fix the engines, the quicker he would be able to get Obi-Wan back to Coruscant and into the safe hands of the Jedi Temple Healers. The Master flickered in and out of consciousness, his left hand feebly clutching at his wounded side, his right hand gripping the sheets of the bed he lay on, the IV line feeding into the crook of his right elbow; Padmé had been right, the tiny shuttle, while well stocked for their mission, was not equipped with a field hospital or medical bay. They had ample bandages and bacta, but only two packets of universal donor blood for humans and a couple of bags of saline.

With little else to do, Padmé dragged a chair beside the bunk, turning it side on to the bed so that she could sit facing Obi-Wan. In his moments of lucidity she talked to him, holding his right hand in both of hers, giving him a dose of pain-relievers after four hours had passed. As he slipped back into a restless sleep, she stood, stretching to relieve the ache in her tense muscles, and went to make some caff. Pouring two mugs, and grabbing a couple of ration packs for good measure, she made her way through to the engine bay.

Ducking beneath trailing wires and dodging open hatches, winding her way around scattered components, she found Anakin standing up in one of the recessed floor hatches so he was only visible from the waist up. He was holding several components in his hand and inspecting them, muttering under his breath.

"Nope… no… no way… mmm, possibly… eh, no, that's karked…"

He carelessly tossed the fried circuit board over his shoulder, and Padmé quickly leapt aside to avoid being hit by the flying piece.

"Watch out!" she yelped, and raised a tired smile as he whipped around; it was not often she could take her Jedi husband by surprise.

"Uh, sorry," he mumbled, dropping the other boards onto the deck beside him, "didn't see you there."

"Obviously," she crouched down, and moved closer, carefully sitting down with her legs dangling over the edge of the hatch he was standing in, so that they were on eye level, "here, I brought you something…"

She handed him the mug and he managed a wry smile of appreciation, taking it from her and inhaling the steam deeply.

"Thanks," he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a sip, savouring the bitter brew, "how's Obi-Wan?"

"I just gave him some more pain relief, so hopefully he'll sleep for a little while," she replied, giving him the ration pack, "here, you should eat something, too. How's it going down here?"

Anakin's mouth twisted in a grimace; "Most of what Obi-Wan brought back should do the trick, but I'm having to make a few modifications and bypass a few of the usual safeties… if this works – and that's a big if – we should be able to make the jump to Coruscant in a few hours."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"There will probably be a very loud bang, and we'll be scouring this rock for a whole new ship instead of just a few parts."

"Oh," Padmé bit into her ration bar, her eyes slightly wide with dismay, "well, if anyone can get it to work, Ani, it's you."

"I know," he said, with a slight smirk, one hand resting on her knee, the other holding his own food, the mug set aside on the deck for now; "but it's going to take me a few hours, and I don't know how long…"

He trailed off, dropping his head, and Padmé's heart ached to see his open worry.

"Obi-Wan will be fine, Ani," she told him, firmly, "he and I both know you're going to get us out of here; this time tomorrow we'll be laughing over this in my quarters at the senate building, you'll see."

"Have I told you recently how much I love you?"

"I could stand to hear it again…"

She leaned forwards as he raised his hand, cupping her jaw and planting a tender kiss on her lips. She sighed, leaning into his touch, as his thumb brushed over her cheek, before he reluctantly pulled away, already reaching for one of the circuit boards.

"Another few hours," he muttered, his concentration already returning to his work.

"Call me if you need anything," she told him, picking up the empty mugs and packets, not wanting to stay and distract him.

She clambered out of the cramped bay and back into the passenger area. As expected, Obi-Wan was still unconscious, so she took a moment to check the dressing; it was still white, and she nodded in satisfaction that the bacta had at least stopped the bleeding. Drawing the blanket back over the bandages, she hesitantly reached out, and laid her palm on the Jedi Master's forehead. She bit her lip at how cold he felt, and quickly fetched another blanket from one of the other beds, draping it over the top of the first one, before adjusting the environmental controls to increase the cabin temperature slightly.

Realising that the IV bags were empty, and having nothing to replace them with, she disconnected the lines and carefully withdrew the needle, placing a small dressing over the spot of blood that welled up as she did so. After tidying away the lines and the empty bags, at a loss as to what else she could do to assist the wounded Jedi, she took a seat at the desk, and began to type up her report on the trade negotiations for the senate.

A couple of hours later, Obi-Wan began to stir, mumbling something under his breath, and Padmé glanced up, concerned. She quickly crossed to his, perching on the edge of the seat she had placed there earlier.

"Master Kenobi?" she whispered, gently taking his hand, "Can you hear me?"

"Sss… Senator," his face creased with pain, even as he managed to blink his eyes half open, finally focussing on her face, "ah…"

"Don't try to move, Master Kenobi," she warned him, as his hand went instinctively to his side, "I think the bleeding has stopped, I would hate for it to start again."

"Agreed," he gasped out, with a shaky nod, "Anakin? The ship?"

"He's working on it right now," she said, trying to sound reassuring, "it shouldn't be too long now and we'll get you back to Coruscant…"

"Somethings's wrong…"

Padmé frowned in confusion; "Yes… you've been injured; you were shot…"

"No," he gave a small shake of his head, "not that. Something else… danger… can sense it…"

To her dismay, he pushed the blankets back, and she noticed, absently, that he was still wearing his boots – she really should have removed those to make him more comfortable.

"No, Master Kenobi!" she realised then what he was trying to do, and lunged forwards, placing both of her hands on his shoulders, trying to push him back down onto the bed as he tried to sit up, hand clutching at his wounded waist, teeth gritted against the pain, "don't move, you're in no fit state…"

She broke off, freezing, as she heard the distinctive sound of a high energy plasma beam buzzing, cutting through metal. Exchanging a horrified look with Kenobi, she ran to the outer hull; sure enough, someone was cutting through the access hatch. She immediately cursed her lack of a weapon; her mission had been a peaceful and diplomatic one, and with her two Jedi bodyguards she had felt perfectly safe without one. Now, Anakin was in the engine bay and out of earshot, and Obi-Wan was seriously wounded.

"Anakin!" She screamed, as loudly as she could, hoping he would hear her, "Anakin, someone's cutting through the hull!"

She dashed back into the passenger lounge, to find Obi-Wan, somehow, sitting on the edge of the bed, both hands gripping his stomach, teeth clenched, a faint sheen of sweat on his face and bare chest. She was about to voice her protest, when he reached out with one shaking hand, towards the table… his utility belt. She may have forgotten to remove his boots, but she had taken off his belt and set it to one side while he slept. She went to pick it up for him, but the belt moved of his own accord, and his lightsaber hilt detached, flying across the room and into his outstretched hand. His fingers closed around the weapon, as he closed his eyes, steeling himself and pushing to his feet, staggering, wavering, but somehow standing, bent over slightly, panting with the exertion.

"Senator," he hissed, through his gritted teeth, "get behind me, please…"

"What about Anakin?"

"I have summoned him…"

Padmé could not question this further, as there was a loud clang of metal hitting metal, as the hole in the access hatch was pushed open. Several voices immediately clamoured through the confines of the small ship, and Padmé swept across the room, doing as she was bid; Obi-Wan shielded her with his own body, lightsaber in his right hand, his left arm held out to the side, defending her. She once again cursed her lack of foresight, wishing she had at least secured a couple of blasters somewhere on the ship, hating that the wounded man felt the need to protect her when she ought to be perfectly capable of fending for herself.

"Come on out, pretties!" yelled a voice, just outside the door, "It's payback time! Ya killed Mama Yonada and her boys, yer gonna get what's comin' to ya!"

Obi-Wan did not waste his breath on a reply, activating his lightsaber and assuming a defensive stance, left hand outstretched in front of him, eyes narrowed and focussed on the door. Sure enough, the door slid open, and a half a dozen assorted sentients came through, bearing an assortment of weapons; two opened fire with blasters, which Obi-Wan immediately deflected, felling one of them immediately with the rebounded shot. The others held primitive slugthrowers… but only for a second. With a gesture of his hand, Obi-Wan yanked the weapons from their grasp with the Force, throwing them to one side.

The one with the blaster fired again, letting lose a barrage of shots, all of which Obi-Wan swiftly blocked with expert sweeps and turns of his lightsaber… until there was a another waspish hum, a second blade igniting. The would-be bandits found themselves being attacked on two fronts, as Anakin swept into the fray, slicing through each of their attackers with righteous fury.

The attack was over as quickly as it had begun, and Padmé found herself shaking slightly as the adrenaline rush faded, leaving her feeling wrung out. She was not the only one. Anakin deactivated his lightsaber, lunging forwards as Obi-Wan's own weapon fell from his grip, shutting off and clattering to the deck; Anakin was only just in time to prevent the Jedi Master from ending up on the floor beside it. Between the two of them, Anakin and Padmé managed to manoeuvre Obi-Wan back onto the bed, easing him back onto the mattress.

"Master," Anakin's voice was high-pitched with fear, "oh, kriff, you're bleeding through the bandages… Padmé, fetch more dressings, hurry!"

She ran to obey, as Anakin pressed both of his hands over the wound again, biting down on his lip as Obi-Wan let out a pained moan, trembling beneath his firm grip.

"You kriffing idiot," Anakin muttered, half in affection, half in exasperation, "I appreciate you saving my… the Senator like that, but damn it, Obi-Wan…"

He shook his head, as Padmé returned with more dressings and bandages. Removing the old bindings, Anakin hastily applied a generous amount of bacta gel and the two of them quickly re-wrapped the wound. By the time they had finished, Obi-Wan had lost the battle for consciousness, lying far too still on the narrow bunk. Padmé tucked the blankets back around him, brushing the unruly lock of hair from his forehead, before turning back to Anakin.

"Go back to the engine bay," she told him, firmly, "I'll dump the bodies outside and I can weld the hull back together. You get the engines working and I'll make sure we're safe to fly, okay?"

A swift kiss confirmed his acceptance, and the two of them set to work.

Padmé was true to her word, dragging the bodies of the pirates out and dumping them through the hatch, before setting to work fixing the hole they had cut in the hull. Once she had finished, she stood back to admire her handiwork; it would not win any awards for aesthetics, but it was at least serviceable and air tight. She tidied up, keen to keep her hands busy, before a low groan from the bunk caught her attention and she dropped what she was doing, crossing swiftly to the injured Jedi's side.

"Obi-Wan," she murmured, softly, dropping all pretence at formality, "that's it, open your eyes – come back to us… there. Are you alright?"

"The pirates?"

"All dead… we're all fine, thanks to you and Anakin…"

"Agh…" Obi-Wan's face contorted in undisguised pain, "I think… we've outstayed our welcome. I'd… very much like… to go home."

"It won't be long now," Padmé replied, soothingly, "Anakin's almost done, I'm sure of it. Let me fetch you something to drink…"

She busied herself making some tea, knowing the Jedi preferred it over Anakin's dedication to caff, making a cup for herself as well, and then carrying it over to him. She grabbed a few extra pillows, and managed to help him sit up a little, in a semi-reclined position. When he had stopped shaking enough to hold the cup without spilling it on himself, she handed him the tea, and took her seat in the armchair.

They sat in a fairly companionable silence for a while, sipping at their tea, waiting for news. Eventually, the door opened, and Anakin strode in, smut-stained with sweat and engine grease, a tight smile on his lips even though his brows knit in a slight frown of worry.

"Padmé," he met her gaze immediately and greeted her, warmly, "I've finished, I think… I'm ready to test the engines if you'll give me a hand, my lo…"

"Master Kenobi and I were wondering how you were getting on," she interrupted, brightly, cutting off the endearment before he could finish it.

"Master!" a slight flush coloured Anakin's cheeks at the realisation that he had almost given them both away, though he rushed to Obi-Wan's side without hesitation, "it's good to see you awake – how are you feeling?"

"Wonderful," Obi-Wan groaned, his voice shaking with pain, "never better… I think I'll get up and go for a run…"

"Well at least your sense of humour is intact," Anakin snorted, "you look terrible, by the way."

"Anakin!" Padmé slapped his arm in horror, "you can't say things like that!"

"What? It's true!"

Obi-Wan managed a dry laugh that quickly gave way to a groan of pain.

"When you two have quite finished…" he interrupted the argument before it could start, wincing and clutching at his injured side, "did I hear you say you're ready to test the engines?"

"Oh! Yeah, uh… yeah, sorry. Uh, Senator, I'd suggest you take a seat and fasten your restraints, ready for take off…"

The two youngsters headed to the cockpit together, as Obi-Wan leaned back on the stack of pillows, wincing as his side throbbed horribly, a constant burning pain that blazed throughout his stomach. He gave a low moan as the ship's engines shivered and thrummed to life, before he felt the craft lifting off, taking them away from the rough, backwards planet below them. He heard the low pitched whine, building to a crescendo, as Anakin powered up the hyperdrive engine… and then, at long last, the familiar albeit painful jolt of the ship jumping to hyperspace. Obi-Wan sent Anakin a wave of pride and gratitude through their bond, and then closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him once more.

Despite the speed of hyperspace, it was still a three day journey back to Coruscant. When Obi-Wan next regained consciousness, it was to overhear a snatch of conversation.

"Naboo is closer," an insistent voice was saying, "Ani, we could take him there for emergency treatment…"

"I'd much rather he was with the Temple Healers, Padmé – they can do things a regular doctor can't, no offence, but the sooner they treat him, the faster his recovery will be."

"I'm not saying we don't go to the Temple," Amidala responded, "I just think we could make a quick stop at Naboo, get someone to check his wound and take on more supplies – more blood packets, for example – and then carry on to the Temple. He could spend some time in a bacta tank, and we could maybe take a trip to the lake house…?"

There was a long pause; clearly this suggestion held some temptation, but the response was negative.

"If we drop out of hyperspace there's no way we're making a second jump," Anakin sounded tired and tense, "we'd either have to secure another ship or carry out extensive repairs, both of which would take time."

"Then I can call ahead and have everything ready, I'm sure the Queen will happily provide us with whatever we need."

"I'd still have to drop us out of hyperspace to adjust our course, and as I said, there's no guarantee we can make the jump again to get us to Naboo in the first place."

"Then we could ask them to send a ship to meet us!"

"Padmé, I appreciate it, I really do, but I'd really rather just… Master?"

Obi-Wan coughed, dryly, gasping as the movement seared pain through his midriff, groaning aloud, and Anakin was at his side in an instant, his eyes wide with concern. Obi-Wan managed a whisper of thanks as a bottle of water was held to his parched lips, and he sipped at it carefully, nodding his gratitude as he leaned back on the pillows, cursing his own frailty as he inadvertently jarred his wounded side, hissing in pain.

"What's… going on?" he croaked, trying to put some strength behind the words and failing miserably.

"The Senator and I were just debating whether or not to make a stop at Naboo," Anakin replied, glancing across at Padmé quickly, "it's a lot closer than Coruscant and we can get you emergency treatment while swapping to a new ship and taking on fresh supplies... but I think it's better to stay on our current course and get you to the Temple as quickly as possible."

"I… I agree with Anakin, I'm afraid," Obi-Wan shook his head, slowly, "I appreciate your kindness and your concern, Senator, but I will be fine… between the bacta treatments and my own efforts at healing with the Force, I can make the journey back to Coruscant."

Padmé opened her mouth, as if to argue her case, but Anakin shot her a quick look, shaking his head. She glared at him for a moment, but then her expression softened, and she inclined her head.

"As you wish, Master Kenobi," she conceded, "shall I make us some tea?"

"Ah… that would be wonderful, thank you, Senator."

"Caff for me, please!"

ObiWan sighed; "One day, Anakin, I shall succeed in my efforts to civilise you."

"And on that day, the universe will be well and truly karked."

Obi-Wan let out a short laugh of amusement, but then hissed and clutched at his wounded side, arching his back a little as Anakin reached out, gently grasping his shoulder.

"Master? Shall I fetch you some pain relief?"

"Huh… please."

Anakin crossed to the table, picking up a hypo spray from the nearby medical kit, and returning to swiftly inject the medication into Obi-Wan's neck. The Jedi sighed with relief, closing his eyes momentarily as the biting pain receded into a steady, throbbing ache.

"You said you were using the Force to heal," Anakin commented, "but I haven't been sensing any healing energy from you… come to think of it I'm not sensing much of anything at all except pain, and you're not even shielding that well…"

"Lost too much blood," Obi-Wan admitted, reluctantly, "can't access the Force much… probably couldn't sustain a deep enough trance anyway. I'll be fine, Anakin; thanks to the two of you, the bleeding has stopped. I can hold out until we get back to the Temple."

"Maybe we should have gone to Naboo…"

Padmé returned with their drinks, and Obi-Wan pretended not to notice at the way Anakin's fingers brushed against hers as he accepted his mug. He suppressed another sigh; fatigue was already creeping back over him, weakening his limbs and weighing him down, an unfortunate side effect of extensive blood loss and the unrelenting pain from the deep puncture wound in his side. He hid his exhaustion behind his flimsy mental shields, taking a sip of his tea as Anakin and Padmé exchanged worried glances.

"You need not be so concerned," he mumbled, taking a mouthful of tea, faintly amused by their obvious surprise, "we go where the Force leads, Anakin. We will make it back to Coruscant safely, I am sure of it."

"I'll relax as soon as you're safely in the Halls of Healing, Master," Anakin replied, honestly, "I've never… I've never seen an injury like that before. I though blaster wounds were bad, but…"

"Hopefully you never will again," Obi-Wan said, fervently, "was lucky, I guess. Would've been much worse if the slug had gone straight through…"

Anakin grimaced at the thought, as Obi-Wan finished his tea. They could all see how his hand shook as he held the mug to his lips, and he sighed aloud as Anakin took the empty cup from him immediately.

"I'm sorry," the Master murmured, already sinking back into the pillows, tugging the blankets around himself, "I am just tired… I think I shall sleep for a while…"

"I think that would be wise," Anakin managed to raise a small smile, tinged with sadness at Obi-Wan's haggard appearance, "get some rest, Master. It will help…"

"Mmm," Obi-Wan murmured, sleepily, "don't worry, young ones… perhaps while I recuperate on Coruscant, you can both make that trip to the lake house on Naboo that you were discussing… you both deserve a holiday…"

With his eyes already closed, Obi-Wan completely missed the look of abject horror and embarrassment Padmé and Anakin shared.