1 Disclaimer: We don't own anything except the plot, Pipsy and Armpit Glue Ultra.

A/N: Sorry that it took us so long to write this, we kind of seemed to have a massive case of writer's block plus there was school (duh) to prepare for. Hopefully the next chapter will be up more quickly.

Enjoy and review (pleeeez!)



2 Chapter 2- Health Check

By Shazirah & Nanyrah



"Yes, your highness?", James drawled into the speaker of his Comm. Queen Amidala looked at the receiver, irritated. Who did this spy think he was, speaking to her like that?

"James," she said. "I have just received the results from your latest health check, and it doesn't look good at all. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you on the Comm. It is too horrible. Please come to my rooms at once."

James scratched his belly uneasily. What could this be? After all, he was physically perfect, wasn't he? Not to mention that he was mentally perfect as well… Concerned, he cut the connection without acknowledging Amidala's command. But before he could turn up anywhere, he had to take care of his looks. Half an hour would probably suffice for this occasion.

Half an hour later, James left his flat, content that he looked all right. But as soon as he had left the door, he had to discover that, to his shock and greatest concern, he had forgotten how to get to the palace. How embarrassing! Now what should he do to get out of this situation unscratched? It was downright impossible to as a passer-by, because that would ruin his reputation for certain. In his despair, he settled on calling Obi Wan. He would know what to do.

A dark, cruel voice answered the Comm. "Obi Wan Kenobi. Unfortunately I am not in at the moment (because I'm sleeping). Please leave your message after the tone and I will get back to you as soon as possible (or not)."

James rolled his eyes. "Obi Wan," he said. "Stop being childish, I know you're there."

"He-theta!" Obi Wan growled discontentedly. "Make it short, I'm in sleeping. And I still need to find someplace to bathe."

James raised an eyebrow, irritated. He was sure that he had heard this conversation before, but he could not place where. He decided to ignore it for the moment and continue as normal.

"What's the matter?" his brother's voice asked. "You still there? Please make it short, I still need to find someplace to bathe."

James raised his second eyebrow as well, but then smirked unpleasantly. He had almost forgotten that his idiot brother was still in the desert.

"So," he drawled. "Apparently you still haven't gotten around to clean your body. How … disgusting, I don't want to imagine the smell!"

Obi Wan defiantly looked at the Comm. This was just unfair! He did want to have a bath, after all. He decided to bathe at the next opportunity, whatever that might be. It didn't matter how. It didn't matter where.

"You still there?" James asked. "You could do me a little favour."

At these words, Obi Wan's attention shot up from 0 to 100. So James was having trouble? "Any difficulties, dearest brother?" he asked, trying in vain to keep his voice free of satisfaction.

"Me? Difficulties? These words don't go together, you know," James said, panic rising. But before Obi Wan could think of any good retort, James noticed that the palace gates were directly in front of him. How convenient, it seemed that he had wandered there whilst talking to idiot brother.

Grunting in content, he cut the connection and marched, ignoring the stares of the palace guard, to Queen Amidala's rooms.



In the meantime, Amidala's annoyance was rising to a peak. She was seething with rage. Who did this idiot spy think he was? You did not let a Queen wait! Angrily, she stomped her foot, and, barely missing the small ant that was crawling on the floor (she did hate to hurt anything living, after all) crushed her pet mouse.

"Oh no, how terrible!" she cried as she became aware of the extent of her gruesome deed. "Pipsy, please say something!" The unrecognisable red mass on the floor was beginning to spread over the polished marble.

Luckily, she had her little dustpan, her loyal dustpan that had served on many similar occasions, right in the cupboard under the stairs. Just as she was carrying the loaded dustpan to the bin, James entered.

"Here I am, your Highness," he said impatiently. He was a busy man, after all. "What's the matter?" Amidala's rage boiled over. "What's the matter? What's the matter?" she cried. "This is the matter!" she screeched, throwing her dustpan in James's direction. The contents flew out and covered his face.

"Eeew," James drawled, cleaning his face from the remains of Pipsy. The whole make-up had been unnecessary. "May I ask what this – thing – is?"

Amidala was speechless. This ignorant – bastard – did not know who Pipsy was? Her loyal pet mouse, who had been in her service for at least two days? Her face colour changed from an angry white to a very angry red.

James looked at her in confusion. Maybe it was not he who was ill, but the queen? "Eehm," he began cautiously. "Are you feeling all right, your highness?"

Amidala opened her mouth before thinking of a good retort, and therefore closed it again. She racked her brain for something to say, and there it was. "No, I am fine, thank you," she growled. "I am fine, of course two people who were very close to me have died recently, but no, I am fine."

"Huh?" James asked. "And who might that be, if I may ask?"

Now Amidala was getting even angrier. He did now know? "Pipsy, of course!" She screamed at him. "And Anakin!"

"Aah, Anakin," James said scornfully. It was annoying enough that she had ordered that statues of him were to be put up everywhere around the palace, in memorial. But now she started talking of him again. He was beginning to suspect that all had been a manoeuvre to find somebody she could pester with her talk of Anakin. But she could not outwit him, him, James Bond! After all, he was the best spy of all time.

"Anakin was gay and useless anyway," he drawled. "Plus he was never the one to keep himself clean. I cannot begin to imagine why you are so upset that he is, ah, gone. He had a crush on Obi Wan anyway." He did not think it worth mentioning that his death was due to a little accident on his behalf. He originally had wanted to poison this annoying bodyguard of Amidala's, this what-was-his-name, oh yes, Panaka. But when the cyanide in the food had instead gone to Anakin, he had not been unhappy either.

"Anyway," he said. "What was it again you wanted to talk to me about?"

Amidala was speechless from fury. He had accused Anakin, her dear Ani, of being gay. Everybody knew that he was not gay. How could he, after all he and her were meant to be together. A fortuneteller on Tatooine had told her this, and everybody knew that fortunetellers were always right.

"Damn it!" she screamed. "If you are not respectful of the living, at least pay some respect to the dead! Blast, you really are annoying me!" And to add some weight to her words, she jumped on James's toe, putting behind her whole mass of 55 kg.

"Uuuhhaii!" James screamed. "Have you gone crazy?"

Angrily, Amidala jumped again. But when she heard James's cry of dismay, she suddenly snapped back to reality, and, realising what she had done, she broke down and began to cry. "Please forgive me," she sobbed. "Anakin would not have wanted me to act like this…"

James rolled his eyes. There she went again, going on about Anakin. "That's all right," he grumbled.

"Good, that's that sorted," Amidala said and rose from the floor. "Now let's talk about the really important things. Your health check. You might want to sit down, this is not good news."

James rolled his eyes again. It could not be that bad now could it? Gracefully, he settled on one of the chairs.

"Right, I am very sorry that it has come to this," Amidala said. "I really should have paid more attention to your health. Well, how can I put this – James, you are overweight," she whispered, barely audible.

Pale with fright, James slumped back in his chair. "Oh no," he whispered.

"Oh yes," Amidala said. "But I have already decided what to do about this. Everything is sorted."

"Well, that's relieving," James sighed. "What are we going to do about it? Fitness centre? A diet?"

"Oh no, nothing of that kind," Amidala said. "It is much, much more efficient. You are going to be sent to a training camp."

"Oh, no!" James gasped. "Anything but that!"

"I am sorry," Amidala repeated, "but everything is settled. Your belongings are packed, and the transport will leave in an hour. I am sending you to the training camp for my bodyguards. I am very sure that you will loose your additional weight there very quickly, and it will do you good anyway."

"Sniff," James said. "I see I have no choice in this matter." Suddenly the desert seemed like a very nice place to be, and he thought enviously of Obi Wan. "My brother is in the desert and needs help," he said.

"Oh no he doesn't," Amidala replied, looking at him reproachfully.

"Well well, all right then," James growled. "He-theta!"

He stormed outside, seething with fury and cultivating satisfying thoughts of revenge.