Title: Labyrinth
Author: Jedi Rita
Rated: PG-13
This one has a lot of fun and silliness.
Chapter Three
That evening Padme faced one of the most difficult decisions of her life: choosing what to wear for her night on the town. Everything she had brought with her was either too fancy or too plain. Of course none of her elaborate gowns would do, but the simple clothes she had brought for casual events were far too severe, sober -- *matronly,* she reflected with dismay. She was going to a nightclub, to dance and enjoy herself. She didn't want to look like someone's austere aunt. She wanted to look, well, sexy.
In the end she raided her handmaidens' wardrobes, mixing and matching pieces of outfits, preening in front of the mirror more self-consciously than when she prepared herself for a major diplomatic function. As she fussed over her clothes, in the back of her mind she asked herself whom exactly she was hoping to impress. Anakin was too young, and Obi-Wan and Bail were too old. But she definitely wanted to make an impact on someone. As a Queen, Padme seldom found herself surrounded by so much raw testosterone, not to mention sexual tension. As she had told Anakin, she had many admirers on Naboo, but they tended to be discreet, distant, formal. On Naboo she could never escape her identity as Queen. But here on Coruscant she could be Padme, not Amidala. She had almost forgotten what that was like. And she had to admit she liked being the only female surrounded by so many handsome men, even if they weren't quite the proper age.
Of the three of them, Bail Organa, Prince and Senator, was the most obvious choice to be the consort of a Queen. She had met his type many times before, although his liveliness made him stand out from the others. At first his casually debonair attitude irritated her, but she was beginning to enjoy it. Unlike any other politician Padme had ever known, Bail Organa didn't seem to care about his image or what other people thought of him. His natural enthusiasm and exuberance drew people to him, not a calculated image on his part. He demonstrated that a public figure of importance didn't have to be serious all the time. Padme could learn from that. Besides, he really was quite attractive, with an addictive smile that she could never resist returning. But Padme could tell he had not unleashed his full charms on her. While he obviously liked her, he betrayed no real attraction to her, a fact which offended Padme. After all, Bail Organa had a reputation for falling in love faster than a Nemoidean could turn a profit. Why shouldn't he fall in love with Padme? Not that she wanted to return the favor: the Prince was ultimately too fancy for her. Besides, the Prince clearly had someone else on his mind. Padme had noticed how he always stood a little too close to Obi-Wan, how they held each other's gaze a little too long. Padme doubted she would stand much of a chance with the Prince while Obi-Wan was around.
Her thoughts turned to Kenobi. He had utterly failed to impress her the first time they'd met, and he scarcely improved the second time around. He was somber, aloof, serious, a little stuck up -- in short, a lot like Padme herself. Out of the three men, Obi-Wan was probably the one her parents would pick for her, "a very earnest, stable young man." The mere thought made Padme shudder. She couldn't even think of a time when she had ever seen him smile. But she hardly had the right to criticize him, for she was no better herself. If she didn't want to turn into Obi-Wan Kenobi, she would have to stop acting like him.
Still, he was not unpleasant to look at, and Padme was at that vain age when she believed all men even remotely attractive had a moral obligation to fall in love with her. But she seriously doubted Obi-Wan would comply. He seemed to be as focused on the Prince as the Prince was on him. Padme would never have paired the two of them, but there was no accounting for taste.
Obi-Wan and Bail, however, were no less likely a pair and she and Anakin, and she had to admit it was the young padawan she most wanted to impress. The idea was all the more ridiculous because she didn't need to do anything at all in order to impress him. She had never forgotten the puppy love of the cute little boy on Tatooine, but that had been years ago. It couldn't still be called puppy love after all this time. And he was no longer a little boy, either. He was growing up to be a very handsome young man. In fact, he was already handsome, and Padme constantly had to remind herself that he was only fourteen. His youth showed in his restless eagerness, but he also possessed an intensity that made him seem older even than Padme. She could still recognize the lost little boy in him, but he was becoming a man, with a man's hopes and dreams and fears. The fond indulgence she'd felt for him on Tatooine had never completely vanished, but now her feelings were overlaid with more subtle, complicated emotions. Her attraction to him disturbed her precisely because she did not fully understand it, and she did not trust what she could not understand.
Padme caught her expression in the mirror. It was the same worried frown she'd seen on Obi-Wan that afternoon in the speeder. She smoothed her brow, then smiled at her image and was amazed at how different it made her look: young, happy, even beautiful. No, she didn't have to be like Obi-Wan, and she didn't have to be like the Queen of Naboo, either. She could enjoy herself. She could dance and laugh. She could flirt with a 14-year-old Jedi padawan if she wanted -- and his master -- and his master's lover. She gave her image a smoldering, sultry look. There, that was better. Now she looked like Bail Organa. The thought made her laugh out loud.
The laughing girl in the mirror was the image she liked most of all.
*****
In the end, Padme assembled an outfit of layers of dark blue and sienna. It was not as spectacular as she would have liked, but it would do. She had taken so long to decide that when she met the others in the Complex lobby, she was the last to arrive. They all stood and greeted her with due ceremony, and Padme was pleased to notice that Anakin could not keep his eyes off her. Bail dressed elegantly as usual in dark blue, his hair a cascade of black curls. Jar Jar sported a simple but stylish trimmed leather vest and pants. Obi-Wan was almost unrecognizable in a pale green shirt, with jerkin and pants of a deeper green. The color brought out the red in his hair, which flowed loosely back from his forehead, and she finally saw why Bail might be attracted to him. But the shining star of the group was Anakin, without a doubt. He wore a thin, silk shirt of blood red, and close-fitting black pants with matching red stripes down each leg. He'd even adorned his braid with red and black thread wraps. With the fine, silk shirt, he was able to clothe himself in a way that revealed the shape of his body more effectively than if he were naked. Padme quickly averted her eyes before she betrayed her thoughts with too long a stare.
The air taxi was waiting for them, and within minutes they flew off into the Coruscant night. "We're going to the Shooting Star," Bail explained, "a favorite haunt of mine. You're sure to like it."
"No doubt I will," Padme agreed, "but I've never been to a nightclub before. I don't really know what to expect."
"Don't worry. It's Anakin's grand debut as well. There will be plenty to amuse you both, an excellent view of the nightscape, all kinds of music and a variety of dancing, and they can make any drink known in the galaxy."
Anakin couldn't help betray his interest in the latter offering, and Obi- Wan gave him a warning look. "You're a little young."
"I'll stick to beer," Anakin assured him.
"One glass."
"For starters. Don't worry, I won't get drunk." He turned to Padme. "What kind of dances do you know?"
Padme didn't realize there were different kinds. On Naboo, dancing, while popular, was ruled by tradition. "I'm not really sure. What kinds are there?"
"You know, dancing in pairs or groups, freestyle, circle and line dances," Anakin enumerated.
"On Naboo, I suppose we mostly do circle dances. I didn't know there were so many other kinds."
"Oh, tons. I know them all, " Anakin boasted.
"I thought Bail said you'd never been to a nightclub before."
"None that *they've* taken me to," Anakin blurted out before realizing what he'd said. He froze in horror. At his age, he was not authorized to leave the Temple at will. Without his master, he should not have ever been to a nightclub at all, but he snuck out of the Temple on a regular basis. If the Council knew about his repeated infractions, they would undoubtedly expel him. He had often gotten caught during his first few years at the Temple, and Obi-Wan had dutifully covered for him, arguing repeatedly with the Council for forgiveness. Every time he got caught, Anakin swore to his master he would never do it again, but sooner or later he would venture out once more. Life in the Temple was simply too secure for him, too monotonous. Over time he got better at sneaking out unseen, and Obi-Wan learned not to press the point. But how would he react now, when Anakin had all but flaunted the fact that he regularly broke one of the Temple's most fundamental rules?
Anakin waited with downcast eyes. The others realized he'd overstepped the line, and they, too, waited to hear what Obi-Wan would say.
"It's not as if I don't know about your nocturnal excursions, Padawan," Obi- Wan said at last. He knew he would never get Anakin to stop. He had learned to make frequent compromises with his pupil, compromises he knew the Council would not approve of. But what else could he do? "As long as you stay out of trouble, and it doesn't interfere with your studies."
Anakin released a loud sigh, weak with relief. "Yes, Master," he said in a proper spirit of penitence. But the silence stretched on. No one seemed willing to pick up the conversation and rescue Anakin from the hot seat. He struggled to remember what they had been talking about. "So... I learned to dance at the Jedi Temple," he offered awkwardly.
To his relief, Padme picked up on it. "At the Temple?"
"Yeah, they have dances at the Temple all the time, practically every week." After all, what else was there to do? He realized, though, that he could attempt to redeem himself in Obi-Wan's eyes. "Everybody gets together, and they play music and sing and dance. Obi-Wan is a wicked drummer."
"Really?" Jar Jar asked in surprise, and the look of disbelief on Padme's face was priceless.
"Oh, yeah. He sings, too, and plays the keyboard some. He's got a great voice." Abruptly he stopped. Usually Anakin took great pride in boasting about Obi-Wan's prowess in all things, but he wanted to impress Padme himself. This wasn't going well. With a casual shrug, he drawled, "Of course, I can play drums a little, too. I mean, anyone can whack a barrel."
Oops. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Obi-Wan's reproach. Padme graciously chose to overlook this comment. "Do you sing, too?"
He couldn't lie. He seemed to be the only Jedi who was tone deaf. "I don't like to sing in public," he pronounced, with a false note of loftiness.
"Me, neither," Padme admitted. "I have a terrible voice." Anakin smiled in evident relief. "Do you play any other instruments?"
"No." Most Jedi played at least one kind of musical instrument, which they were taught starting at a younger age than Anakin had been when he first arrived at the Temple. He had been behind in so many ways, and he didn't like to start something he knew he couldn't excel in, so he'd never taken up music.
"Neither do I," Padme confessed. With a sly grin she added, "I can't even whack a barrel."
Anakin's ears flamed red, as the two older men struggled to suppress their laughter. Bail nudged Obi-Wan in the ribs. "You barrel-whacker, you."
"My can sing," Jar Jar offered.
"Can you?" Bail asked, still struggling to keep a straight face.
"Sure. Gungans love dancen and singen. Wesa singen all the time."
"It's true," Padme confirmed. It was hard to believe now that the Gungans and the Naboo had ever once been enemies. Since their joint effort to defend their planet from the Trade Federation, they had shared in all kinds of cultural exchanges. "The Gungans put on wonderful underwater performances in which they sing and swim in unison. It's become quite popular among the Naboo, and Jar Jar is really very good, although the singing sounds much better in the water rather than out."
Determined to bring the conversation back around to himself in order to further impress Padme, Anakin volunteered, "I can fly anything. Whenever we go out on missions, Obi-Wan always has me fly. I'm the best pilot at the Temple."
Indulgently, Obi-Wan conceded, "Yes, you are."
"I saw you in action on Tatooine." Padme reminded him. "You were great then. You must be fabulous now."
Anakin glowed. He wanted to regale her with one of his many tales of racing on Coruscant, but since all those races were technically illegal, he didn't dare mention them in front of Obi-Wan, especially since his master didn't know about most of them. He cast about for something else. "I'm a great mechanic, too. I can build and repair anything." His face lit up. "One time I built a droid and dressed it in a robe and set it loose in the hall. Obi-Wan talked to it for an hour before he even realized it wasn't alive!"
Bail snickered, "I never heard about that before."
"It wasn't an hour," Obi-Wan objected, embarrassed. "More like five minutes."
Oops again. Anything he came up with to impress Padme only made Obi-Wan look bad. He had to think of something else. "I'm also an excellent --"
Obi-Wan kicked his foot, "-- cook," he supplied, with a meaningful glance. Anakin returned his master's gaze in confusion. The last time he'd cooked anything for Obi-Wan, he had made the sauce too spicy. He remembered vividly how red his master's face had turned when he swallowed the first bite. Their other dinner guests never finished their portions, but Obi-Wan graciously ate every last bite, even though it made his eyes water and his nose run. He'd even asked for seconds. It had been one of those occasions when Anakin felt he would do anything for such a wonderful master. But it certainly wasn't anything to brag about to Padme. Maybe that was the point.
Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows slightly. *Enough, Anakin,* he sent.
"Mesa love to try your cooken, Ani," Jar Jar offered. Anakin smiled weakly at the Gungan but said nothing.
With another glance at Anakin, Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "Tell me, Your Highness, is this your first trip back to Coruscant?"
"Yes, it is."
"I hope you'll have an opportunity to explore the planet."
"There's lots to see --," Anakin began enthusiastically, then clamped his mouth shut before blurting out any number of attractions that Obi-Wan would lock him up for even mentioning. Obediently, he concluded, "Monuments, museums...."
"An encyclopedia of educational opportunities," Obi-Wan finished for him with a sly smile that said he knew full well what Anakin was hiding.
Like a dutiful student, Anakin offered, "You could come to the Jedi Temple, I can show you around."
"I thought the Temple was not open to visitors."
"Nah. They let the Prince in all the time," he dismissed, not bothering to hide his resentment, and consequently blowing it once again.
"The Prince hasn't been to the Temple in over a year," Obi-Wan observed.
"More like two," Bail corrected.
Indignant, Anakin protested, "Well, I'm allowed to have a visitor, too, aren't I? If the Prince can come, why not Padme?"
"And what about Jar Jar?" Obi-Wan asked pointedly.
Anakin huffed in anger. He hadn't meant to leave out Jar Jar, and he realized that he was coming across as an obnoxious brat.
"Yes, well, in the meantime," Bail interrupted, cutting through the tension, "Coruscant has many more pleasurable pursuits to offer, and fortunately, we have now arrived at one of the best."
The airtaxi came to rest on a landing pad next to a covered entrance bearing a holographic image of a meteor. A long line of people waiting to get in snaked around the building, but Bail led their party straight to the entrance where they were welcomed immediately. As Bail led the way to one of the booths, Obi-Wan said, "We'll be with you in a minute," then he snagged his apprentice's elbow and led him into a corner. Anakin scowled in anticipation of the lecture he was about to receive.
Obi-Wan leaned close to him. "You have got to calm down." Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by one of Obi-Wan's classic reproving looks. Anakin dropped his gaze in anticipation of being sent back to the Temple, and he didn't see Obi-Wan's expression soften.
"You're trying too hard to impress her," Obi-Wan counseled. Surprised, Anakin looked up at him. "You can't do all the talking. Ask her questions about herself. Find out about her interests. And if that doesn't work, my advice to you is to keep her out on the dance floor. You really are a good dancer, and she'll enjoy herself."
The last thing Anakin had ever expected to hear from Obi-Wan was such advice in matters of the heart. Desperate, hopeful, he opened his heart to Obi-Wan. "Master, I know I'm too young for her. I'm just a kid. But do you think it's at all possible that she likes me, even a little bit?"
Obi-Wan smiled. "I know she does."
Anakin's heart swelled in sheer joy, and he threw his arms around Obi-Wan in a rib-crushing hug. "Thank you, Master! Thank you! I'll never leave the Temple without permission again, I swear!"
"Don't make promises you have no intention of keeping." Such a rash proclamation deserved a harsher rebuke, but right now Obi-Wan didn't care.
"You truly are the greatest Jedi in the whole history of the galaxy!"
"I'm sure I've heard that one before, too," Obi-Wan chided, but he couldn't hide his smile. Every once in a while he was truly glad to have Anakin as his padawan. "Now let's rejoin the others. Your lady awaits."
They threaded their way through the club's revelers and discovered that the others had already claimed a booth. Obi-Wan slid in next to the Prince while Anakin, opposite him, perched next to Padme.
"We ordered ale all around," Bail informed him.
"Sounds good."
Bail leaned closer, his voice low so the others wouldn't hear him over the music. "Is he in trouble?"
"No." Somewhat embarrassed, Obi-Wan explained, "I was just giving him some romantic advice."
Bail arched an eyebrow. "I didn't know that was part of Jedi training. I would have thought the dispensing of romantic advice to be my department."
"The kind of advice you would give is not the kind I'm eager to have him receive." Despite his disapproving words Obi-Wan smiled, enjoying their banter. He was beginning to relax already.
Across the table, Padme and Jar Jar stared wide-eyed into the crowd. A line dance was in process, and they watched in admiration as the variety of being dipped and swayed in unison to the thumping beat.
"So many kindsa beings!" Jar Jar remarked.
"There aren't many aliens on Naboo," Padme explained, her eyes drinking in the array of species. "We just aren't used to it."
"Theysa dance like Gungans!" Jar Jar added, thrilled.
Bail leaned forward. "Why don't the three of you join them while us old folks wait for the drinks to come?"
"Yeah, let's go!" Anakin exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, eager to take up Obi-Wan's counsel.
Padme hesitated, chagrined. "But I don't know how to do that dance."
"It's easy, you'll pick it up in no time," Anakin assured her. He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. Jar Jar needed no prompting and quickly followed them.
They joined up in the line. Jar Jar mostly followed his own steps, flinging his arms around and flapping his ears. He looked like a disaster waiting to happen. But after a few minutes, Anakin realized the Gungan actually possessed a surprising, if kinetic grace. Padme had been right: Jar Jar really could dance.
The same, however, could not be said of the Queen. She did little more than move from one foot to the other, confused by the steps.
"Come on, it's easy," Anakin encouraged her. "See, like this. Step, kick, step, turn --," he spelled out as he moved smoothly to the rhythm. Padme tried to keep up and stumbled, ending up facing the wrong way. Anakin reached out and turned her around, taking her hand and leading her through the steps. Eventually she stopped being so self-conscious, letting herself go with the flow, and the steps managed to sort themselves out, although she still stepped on Anakin's foot every other measure. He only laughed, his eyes sparkling, and Padme let his laugh fill her and move her through the dance. By the time the song ended, the three of them were gliding along like pros. Then another tune started up, and Padme had to start all over again, but this time she picked the dance up more quickly. As she fell into the rhythm, she was able to watch Anakin better. The Prince had not exaggerated Anakin's grace. His whole body, hands, feet, hips and shoulders, glided in smooth motions of controlled power. Padme had to keep reminding herself he was only fourteen. The crowd around them was likewise captivated by him, and Padme noticed with a twinge of jealousy the large number of appreciative gazes he attracted.
After the next song, the style of music changed, and the line broke up for free-form dancing. Anakin and Jar Jar transitioned smoothly into the new style, but Padme didn't like dances without regular steps. "I'm going to sit this one out," she called to Anakin over the music.
"I'll go with you," he offered.
"No, no, you and Jar Jar stay and dance." She beamed at him. "I'll watch."
Anakin blushed with pleasure and nodded. Padme threaded her way through the dancers back to their table.
"Why did you stop?" the Prince asked as she slid into the booth. "You were great out there."
Padme shook her head meekly. "The true response of a diplomat. I was terrible! I'm amazed I didn't break Anakin's foot, stepping on it so many times. But he's wonderful."
"So is Jar Jar. I keep expecting him to knock someone off their feet, but he never does. It's controlled chaos. I've never seen anything like it before."
Padme took a sip of her drink and rolled the cool glass across her sweaty forehead. Her gaze returned to the dance floor, and she realized Anakin had positioned himself within her line of vision. He saw her watching and winked at her. Smiling, she turned to Obi-Wan. "He's so graceful. I bet he's really good with a lightsaber."
Obi-Wan nodded. "He is. No one at the Temple can believe it. It takes years of practice to master the saber, but Anakin picked it up as if he were born with one in his hand."
"I'd like to see him practice sometime." It occurred to her that with Anakin on the dance floor, she could find out more about him from Obi-Wan. "Is he a good student?"
The Jedi paused. "When he wants to be. When he sets his mind to it, he always excels beyond everyone's expectations."
"It's because he has a good teacher," Bail supplied.
Obi-Wan shook his head. "I wish I could take credit for it, but I can't. It's something within him, a desire to learn, but only those subjects he fancies." He cast a sidelong glance at Bail. "Like you and those tiresome art lessons. He can't get enough of it. Such-and-such a sculptor in the post-traumatic depressionistic style."
"It's not the boy's fault you're a plebian, Ben."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Now Bail's getting him into opera. I can only hope that's what he's sneaking out of the Temple at night for. I'd do just about anything for Anakin, but I draw the line at opera. I have no idea why it interests him so."
Bail smirked. "You're just jealous because the boy has better taste than you." He looked at Padme. "Ben can't even dress himself. Anakin picked this outfit for him. He picks out all Ben's clothes, otherwise he'd never change out of his Jedi sackcloth."
Curious, Padme asked, "Why do you call him 'Ben'?"
"It's short for Bendu," Bail explained, "which in Old High Galactic is commonly translated as 'Honored One.'" He cast a sly glance at his companion, "Though I prefer 'beloved.'"
"It's an old term of respect for the Jedi," Obi-Wan further elucidated, "but no one uses it anymore."
"Only me. I'm old-fashioned."
Shaking his head, Obi-Wan continued, "The Prince is inordinately fond of handing out nicknames."
"Yes, and my new one for you is 'barrel-whacker.'" He looked across to Padme and offered, "I'll come up with one for you in a day or two."
Padme secretly hope he wouldn't, but she didn't say anything. "What's Anakin's nickname?"
Bail's smile faded slightly. "Anakin Skywalker does not accept nicknames. Certainly not from me, at any rate."
Padme wondered if there was a story behind Bail's frown. She had begun to pick up on Anakin's dislike of the Prince, but she couldn't account for it. Redirecting the conversation back on course, she asked, "Doesn't he even go by 'Ani' anymore?"
"No," Obi-Wan said. "He's never let me call him that. I'm surprised he invited you to."
"I'd never heard that name before," Bail admitted.
"It's what his mother called him," Obi-Wan began, then stopped as he realized that was probably why Anakin didn't want to hear that name spoken by anyone else.
Padme realized it as well. "Maybe I shouldn't use it either."
"He asked you to," Obi-Wan said.
Rather than make her feel honored, the validation discomforted her. Why was Anakin still attached to her? This went way beyond a crush. Why did he accord her a privilege he didn't even grant to his own master?
The object of her thoughts suddenly appeared at her elbow. "They're starting up pair dancing now," Anakin said. "Want to go?"
Padme looked out onto the dance floor, where couples were weaving and spinning in what looked like a fun, but horribly complicated dance. "I don't think I can," she demurred.
"Come on, you'll pick it up in no time."
"But I don't want to leave Jar Jar alone."
"You don't need to worry about him, he's already found a partner," Anakin assured her, jerking his thumb toward the crowd. Sure enough, Jar Jar and his partner of a similarly amphibious species were engaged in a froglike ballet.
Bail nudged Obi-Wan's hip. "I know I'm ready for a stretch," he said, with an encouraging wink to Padme. The two men disappeared onto the floor.
With a self-conscious sigh, Padme let Anakin lead her out among the dancers. He positioned their arms, taking her hand in his, and instructed, "Now, watch. Here's the basic step." He led her through the dance with infinite patience until she finally stopped stepping on him and got it. "You can't keep looking at your feet," he counseled. "It'll only trip you up. Trust me."
Reluctantly, Padme looked up, but she didn't know where she should direct her gaze. She looked around at the other dancers. "This isn't the way everyone else is dancing," she observed.
"That's all just variation. If you keep your feet in the same rhythm, you'll be fine. I'll let you get used to the steps before we start really getting wild."
Padme let her gaze settle somewhere over Anakin's right shoulder. She was keenly conscious of how close he was, and the fact that his eyes were on her. As she fell into step with him, she could feel the subtle movements of his body directing her. The silk of his shirt outlined his muscles, and she could feel the heat radiating from him. /He's only fourteen, he's only fourteen,/ she chanted in her head along with the music. Fourteen -- the same age she had been when she had been elected Queen of Naboo. She had been even younger when made Governor of Theed. She had also read enough about the Jedi to know that by now padawans Anakin's age were taking on adult responsibilities and mature assignments. Anakin Skywalker might be young, but he was no child.
Through the crowd, she caught a glimpse of Obi-Wan and the Prince, lost in a dance of their own. "Is it true you dress Obi-Wan?" she asked.
Surprised, Anakin said, "Yeah, I guess. He hates looking for clothes." After a pause he added, "He won't even try on half the stuff I pick out for him. One time --." He stopped himself from repeating his earlier mistakes. /Get her to talk about herself,/ he recalled Obi-Wan's advice. /Find out what her interests are./ "So--," he cast about desperately for a topic but could think of nothing. Maybe his master was right and he should just stick to dancing.
Padme offered, "Obi-Wan said you like opera."
/Thank you, Master! Anakin gave a mental sigh. His latest area of expertise. He was about to launch into his knowledge of all the latest stars on Coruscant, with particularly juicy gossip supplied by the Prince's personal experience, when he remembered to check himself. Taking a steadying breath, he asked, "Do you like it, too?"
"Yes. Opera is very popular on Naboo. It suits our tastes."
"Have you seen The Redemption of Chandra Fey?"
"No, we haven't gotten that one yet. Right now we have the Galactic tour of Dreamrunner. It's not really that good."
"Did know the composer wrote it in only two weeks?"
Padme laughed. "No wonder I don't like it! I prefer Brabant's style, anyway."
"Me, too!" Anakin enthused, and they launched into an actual, genuine conversation. Anakin smiled to himself. Obi-Wan would be proud of him.
They were so engrossed in their conversation, chatting away eagerly, that they didn't even notice when the dance ended. Someone tapped Anakin on the shoulder, and he turned to face a Falleen, an extremely sexual species. Even Anakin was not immune to the Falleen's powerful pheromones. With dismay, he watched the Falleen direct his attention to Padme.
"May I have the next dance?" he intoned in a sensual voice that wrapped itself around Padme's consciousness. Mesmerized, she felt herself drawn into the mysterious depths of his black eyes. Without being aware of it, she began to pull away from Anakin. He caught her arm, and she looked back to him, this boy with whom she shared a special bond. Her mind cleared, and she smiled at him. Without looking at the Falleen -- not really trusting herself to – she said, "Thank you, but I already have a partner." She folded herself into Anakin's arms and let him sweep her away, while the Falleen watched them go, dumbfounded to have been rejected.
Anakin beamed, and he was sure the Force actually levitated him a centimeter or two off the floor. "Are you ready to really dance?"
All self-doubt fled Padme, and she answered, "Yes."
His arms tightened around her, and they spun, moving as one. Anakin guided her with the subtlest of pressure and direction, leading her through spins, reverses, and increasingly complicated steps. Padme surrendered herself to the dance and found herself keeping up with no problem, never stumbling or losing step.
Not far away, Obi-Wan watched them with pride and a hint of sadness. It pleased him that Anakin and Padme found such happiness together, but at the same time he knew that love changes everything. Even though Anakin was still too young for any meaningful relationship with the Queen, his interest in her would alter his relationship with Obi-Wan. For the first time, Obi-Wan understood why Anakin might resent Bail so much.
The Prince crooned, "Look at them. Your little boy is growing up. He's going to be quite the heart-breaker."
With wistful concern, Obi-Wan replied, "I hope he never break any hearts."
"Hearts will always be broken, Ben," Bail intoned, not unkindly. "That's what they're made for." The dance ended and another song struck up. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, Bail announced, "I think I'll go take my turn with the Queen, if she'll have me."
"No, Bail, leave them alone," Obi-Wan requested.
"I know she likes the boy, but she might also like to have more adult company on occasion. Besides, it'll be good for Anakin. A little jealousy makes the heart grow fonder. It might even work on *you.*"
Reluctantly, Obi-Wan followed Bail toward Anakin and Padme. "Your Highness," Bail offered, "do you think I could possibly tear you away from this dashing young Jedi for one dance? I would be most honored."
Padme almost refused, but then she realized she could use a break from the sexual tension building between her and Anakin, and with a smile, she allowed herself to be led away.
Anakin looked on with envy, furious that of all people it was the insufferable Prince of Alderaan who finally wooed Padme away from him. Next to him, Obi-Wan counseled softly, "Come, let's go sit down. You can't keep her all to yourself you know." When Anakin didn't move, Obi-Wan added, "This will give you a chance to watch her." Taking the boy's elbow, Obi-Wan led the still reluctant Anakin back to their booth, where they seated themselves all the way to the back, the better to view the dance floor.
Obi-Wan handed Anakin one of the drinks, and the boy began to gulp it down, hot and thirsty after so much dancing. "Take it easy," Obi-Wan counseled. "So, how is it going?"
Anakin turned eagerly to him. "Great! It's all just like you said. We were talking about opera, and I didn't do all the talking myself. We were having a real conversation. She's just wonderful, and a great dancer, too. Did you see that Falleen that came and asked her to dance? She turned him down!"
"I did see that," Obi-Wan admitted. "Of course, now Bail will think it means he's more attractive than a Falleen." Anakin's face clouded again, and Obi-Wan chuckled. Bail had read the boy well. "I don't think you have anything to worry about with the Prince."
Forcing himself to relax, Anakin said, "Yeah, she probably just felt sorry for him because he gets stuck dancing with *you* all the time."
Obi-Wan only smiled and took another sip of his drink. For a while they watched the dancers in companionable silence. It felt good, relaxing together like that, more as friends than master and padawan. Maybe the change in their relationship wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. Obi- Wan would enjoy getting to know a more grown-up Anakin.
The boy finished his drink and casually said, "I'm going to order another one. Do you want one, too?"
Then again, maybe Anakin still had a ways to go before hitting adulthood. "I told you, only one drink."
"Come on," Anakin cajoled. "What's the harm in it? I'm not going to get drunk."
Obi-Wan sighed in a mixture of patience and faint exasperation. "For once, couldn't you just do what I say?"
"But, Master, I always do what you say." He paused a beat. "When it's important." He signaled for a waiter.
"I said no, Anakin."
Ignoring him, Anakin ordered, "Two more beers, please. One for me, and one for my good friend," he beamed, clapping his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.
/Force preserve me,/ Obi-Wan sighed, eyes closed. /He will never let me win./
"Well, well, well," a voice drawled, a voice Obi-Wan unfortunately recognized. "Look who's out for a night on the town before the big conference."
Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Jani Kleyvits, Senator from the Oseon system and dedicated enemy of Bail Organa, slide into their booth.
"Good evening, Senator," Obi-Wan greeted her as inoffensively as possible.
"So the Prince has brought his pet Jedi out to play."
Beside him, Obi-Wan felt his apprentice tense. Underneath the table, he laid a restraining hand on Anakin's leg.
The Senator gazed languidly across the dance floor to Bail and Padme. "Awfully cruel of the Prince to seduce the Queen of Naboo right in front of you like that. Usually he's more discreet when you're around."
Again Anakin tensed, flashing an angry glance at Bail, but Obi-Wan kept a firm grip on him.
"Though the Gungan would be the better choice for him to ply his charms with. After all, they're the ones who possess the accelerated growth technology everyone is so eager to get their hands on." She returned her gaze to Obi-Wan, gauging the effect her taunts had on him. "Then again, I suppose even the Prince won't sleep with just anyone."
Anakin could no longer take it. "Jar Jar is a good friend of ours!" he blurted out, prompting Obi-Wan to squeeze his leg even harder.
"Is he, now?" the Senator asked, intrigued. "Some people might see your connection with such key players as a conflict of interest, don't you think, Kenobi?"
"The Jedi represent no interests in the cloning issue, Senator. We have been invited to participate as objective observers."
The Senator laughed cynically. "My dear young man, the Jedi are never invited anywhere as mere observers. Nor are the Jedi as objective as you pretend to be. There are always hidden interests at stake."
"And what interests are you hiding?"
"My interests are in plain view, for everyone to see. Cloning is the wave of the future, Kenobi." Her eyes narrowed in warning. "It doesn't matter what this little conference decides. The technology of cloning is here to stay, and it will inevitably be used. You Jedi had better take heed of that. Those who embrace the new technology will move ahead into a brand new day."
"And those who don't?"
"They will be... left behind." But her false smile betrayed a more sinister consequence.
"I'll keep that in mind, Senator," Obi-Wan replied evenly.
"You do that, Kenobi." She stood up. "I'll see you at the conference."
After she left, Anakin turned on Obi-Wan. "How could you just sit there and let her say those things to you?"
"They're just words, Padawan," Obi-Wan counseled. "She wants to get a rise out of us, and if we take the bait, we place ourselves in her power."
Anakin bit back his reply. This was one of the Jedi teachings he had the hardest time understanding. Where he grew up, to let insults stand only lessened one's power. Obi-Wan might brush it off, but he would not forget the Senator, or her words.
Bail and Padme rushed up to them. "When I saw the Senator here with you, I thought you might get your riot after all," Bail quipped. "What did she say?"
"That we had all best embrace the coming cloning revolution."
Bail sneered. "Typical. She only wants it to breed genetically engineered workers for Oseon's asteroid mines. It's people like her that make me want to become a card-carrying member of the True Life Movement. And what was her line of attack this time?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "The pet Jedi routine."
"Ah, yes, her favorite. Well, I hope you piddled on her shoes just like I trained you." Obi-Wan couldn't help laughing. "Good boy," Bail said, patting him on the head and handing him a pretzel. "Have a treat."
"It's not funny," Anakin growled.
"Of course it is. You must not let Kleyvits get to you, Anakin. Her threats are ineffective, and her insults are unoriginal. Now if you don't mind," Bail excused, taking Obi-Wan's hand and pulling him out of the booth, "I'm going to take Spot, here, for his walk."
As the two older men disappeared onto the dance floor, Padme studied Anakin with concern. "What did she say?" Bail's words about the Senator's motives troubled her. The Gungans and the Naboo were both concerned about possible misuses of cloning technology, and she wanted to be well informed about all the issues and players.
But she would gain no insight from Anakin. "Nothing," the padawan growled, smarting at what the Senator had said about Bail seducing Padme.
"The Prince is right, Ani. You can't let what people say get to you."
"If you leave insults unanswered, then people will believe they can walk all over you."
"And if you take offense every time someone says something stupid, you end up looking like a fool."
Enraged, Anakin turned on her, "I'm not a fool!"
Startled, Padme shrank back. Anakin felt a pulse of fear from her. Horrified, he let his anger burn off. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
Padme took a deep breath to calm herself and laid a hand on Anakin's arm. "It's all right. Some people are skilled at reading our weaknesses, and they feed them back to us to bait us. The hardest thing about dealing with such people is not to let your own doubts rule you."
Anakin concentrated on where her hand touched him, its warmth seeping into his skin, salving his wounded spirit. She was right. As much as Anakin found the Prince annoying, he knew Bail was an honorable man, and he would not steal Padme away from him. At least not intentionally. Deep down, Anakin feared that the Prince would simply out-class him where Pad-me was concerned.
Then again, she was here with him now, and not out on the dance floor with Bail. Carefully, he asked, "Do you like the Prince?"
The question surprised Padme, giving her insight into what the Senator must have said to disturb Anakin so deeply. Thoughtfully, she re-plied, "Of course I like him. He's a very lively person. But I prefer --." She stopped, wanting to say something to encourage Anakin, but without being too obvious. "I prefer someone --." Again words failed her. Less sophisticated? Less smooth? Not as charming? These all came across as insults. All she could come up with was, "I prefer someone not so old."
Anakin snorted in laughter. "You mean, you like younger men?" he asked brightly.
"Well," Padme blushed, "younger than the Prince, anyway."
"That'll do for me. Now, what do you say we dance some more?"
"That's the best idea I've heard all night."
*****
The party didn't make it back to the Conference Complex until that undeterminable hour that is either very late night or very early morning. To a chorus of "good nights" accented by yawns, Padme and Jar Jar exited the turbolift at their level. The next stop, on the floor where the two Jedi were staying, Bail held the door open, arching a roguish eyebrow at Obi-Wan. "Are you going to come up and have a drink with me?" he asked. "I have a bottle of your favorite wine."
/You always do,/ Obi-Wan thought. He glanced at Anakin, who rolled his eyes. "All right," Obi-Wan agreed, though he was looking at Anakin. "Don't wait up for me."
"I wouldn't anyway," the boy dismissed, turning down the hall without a backward glance.
As the doors closed, and they rode up to Bail's floor, Obi-Wan observed, "It is a little late. Isn't there some big conference we're both supposed to go to tomorrow?"
"It's not as if you have some big speech to prepare for."
"But I seem to recall that you're chairing the event."
"That's why you're coming to tuck me into bed and make sure I get a good night's sleep," Bail offered innocently.
They entered the Prince's suite, and while Obi-Wan settled onto the couch, Bail retrieved a special decanter of rich Alderaani wine he always kept on hand for the Jedi's benefit. He filled two goblets with the ruby wine, handing one to Obi-Wan and taking a luxuriant sip from his own. He sighed, "Young love! It makes me feel eighteen again."
Obi-Wan's eyes smiled over the rim of his glass. "When have you ever acted as if you were older than eighteen?"
"I'm trying to be serious, my dear Bendu. Your little boy is growing up so fast and falling in love. Don't you feel proud?"
Attempts by Bail to be serious tended only to bring out Obi-Wan's mischievous side. "I don't see what there is for me to be proud about just because Anakin's hormones are kicking in."
Bail's dark eyes expressed disapproval. "You can be so insensitive sometimes. I remember when Anakin was just a little mop-haired tyke who only wanted to talk about spaceships, and now every time I see him I swear he's grown another ten centimeters taller."
"And he still only wants to talk about spaceships."
"And now girls."
"A girl," Obi-Wan stressed.
"It's a start," Bail shrugged. "Actually, all this reminds me of something I have been thinking a lot about lately. As I watch you and Anakin together, I've begun to think that I might like to be a father someday."
Obi-Wan almost choked on his drink. Suppressing a twinge of jealousy, he sputtered, "A father? Don't tell me you're going to get married."
"Who needs to get married? I would adopt. It's a common enough tradition on Alderaan. One or two little ones to nurture, to teach, to care for." He paused. "To love."
Obi-Wan marveled in silence for a moment at this new level of personal depth in Bail. The Prince was by no means shallow, but up until now all his more profound and serious aspects manifested themselves in his public life. His private life, on the other hand, seemed to consist of one frivolous diversion after another. The image of Bail as a father required a revolutionary change in the way Obi-Wan thought of him. "What is bringing this on?" he asked.
Bail gazed pensively into the depths of his glass. "As I said, maybe it's seeing you and Anakin together. He's not your son, but he is someone to receive your legacy, someone to pass on your values to and all the best that you are. I envy that. And I suppose, silly as it may sound, it's a way of settling down without having to be monogamous."
"Now that would be tragic, wouldn't it?" Obi-Wan teased.
"If you haven't been able to reform me, I must be beyond hope."
Feeling strangely uncomfortable, Obi-Wan diverted the subject. "Actually, speaking of life changes, I've been thinking of making one myself."
The Prince instantly pounced on the prospect. "You're going to leave the Jedi and become a traveling salesman for Encyclopedia Galactica!"
"Nothing quite so dramatic," Obi-Wan confessed. "I've merely been thinking of growing a beard."
"Absolutely not! Grow a beard, and I shall never kiss you again."
The attempt to rile Obi-Wan didn't work. Quietly, he observed, "Qui-Gon had a beard."
At the name of Obi-Wan's master, Bail grew sober. He had never known Qui- Gon Jinn well, partly by the master's design. Obi-Wan was the kind of person who formed few, but very deep, attachments. As an apprentice, he had been wholeheartedly devoted to Qui-Gon, to the exclusion of just about anyone else. Qui-Gon had therefore encouraged his padawan's relationship with Bail so he would spend time with someone his own age.
Bail, on the other hand, was the type who formed many but brief relationships. All Qui-Gon had to do was introduce him to Obi-Wan for him to become captivated by the novelty of the earnest young apprentice. But it took time and effort, more than he was accustomed to investing, to woo Obi- Wan away from his monk-like devotion to his master. Bail learned early on that his relationship with Obi-Wan entailed listening to endless stories about the wisdom, nobility, and prowess of Qui-Gon Jinn. It pained Bail to know that he would always comes second in Obi-Wan's heart, even now, years after the Jedi Master had been killed. Strangely enough this knowledge only made Bail love Obi-Wan more.
After a few moments of respectful silence, the Prince said, "In that case, I'll make an exception." His capitulation strangely cheered him up again. "You see the sacrifices I make for you, Ben? You may yet reform me. After all, I've been with you far longer than I've ever been with anyone else."
"That's probably because we see each other so rarely," Obi-Wan dryly observed.
"Do you know, you may be right? So that's the secret to happy relationships -- don't see each other above half a dozen times a year. Perfect! We may as well become bondmates, and then my mother will stop pestering me to settle down."
This particular turn of the conversation, however lightly taken, began to worry Obi-Wan. "What are you going on about, Bail? Do you expect me to take that as a serious proposal?"
The Prince paused, and his expression grew thoughtful. At length he said softly, "Of course not." He reached out and tenderly brushed his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair. "But what if it was?"
Was Bail trying to get at something with all this talk of adoption and bonding? How far was he going to go with all this? Obi-Wan did not feel like playing games on the subject, but he refused to talk frankly unless Bail made it clear he wanted to. "If it was, then you know what my answer would be," was his cryptic reply.
Bail was not at all sure he knew what Obi-Wan would say. But maybe that was the point. "Let's leave it at that, then," he conceded, and taking Obi- Wan's glass from him, he gathered the Jedi into his arms.
*********************
Historical note: the name "Jedi Bendu" was an early name for the Jedi Knights in some of the Master George's first drafts for Star Wars. We all have our explanations for where the name "Ben" came from. Now you have mine. I don't know about you, but personally I can't wait to hear what the official explanation will be.
Author: Jedi Rita
Rated: PG-13
This one has a lot of fun and silliness.
Chapter Three
That evening Padme faced one of the most difficult decisions of her life: choosing what to wear for her night on the town. Everything she had brought with her was either too fancy or too plain. Of course none of her elaborate gowns would do, but the simple clothes she had brought for casual events were far too severe, sober -- *matronly,* she reflected with dismay. She was going to a nightclub, to dance and enjoy herself. She didn't want to look like someone's austere aunt. She wanted to look, well, sexy.
In the end she raided her handmaidens' wardrobes, mixing and matching pieces of outfits, preening in front of the mirror more self-consciously than when she prepared herself for a major diplomatic function. As she fussed over her clothes, in the back of her mind she asked herself whom exactly she was hoping to impress. Anakin was too young, and Obi-Wan and Bail were too old. But she definitely wanted to make an impact on someone. As a Queen, Padme seldom found herself surrounded by so much raw testosterone, not to mention sexual tension. As she had told Anakin, she had many admirers on Naboo, but they tended to be discreet, distant, formal. On Naboo she could never escape her identity as Queen. But here on Coruscant she could be Padme, not Amidala. She had almost forgotten what that was like. And she had to admit she liked being the only female surrounded by so many handsome men, even if they weren't quite the proper age.
Of the three of them, Bail Organa, Prince and Senator, was the most obvious choice to be the consort of a Queen. She had met his type many times before, although his liveliness made him stand out from the others. At first his casually debonair attitude irritated her, but she was beginning to enjoy it. Unlike any other politician Padme had ever known, Bail Organa didn't seem to care about his image or what other people thought of him. His natural enthusiasm and exuberance drew people to him, not a calculated image on his part. He demonstrated that a public figure of importance didn't have to be serious all the time. Padme could learn from that. Besides, he really was quite attractive, with an addictive smile that she could never resist returning. But Padme could tell he had not unleashed his full charms on her. While he obviously liked her, he betrayed no real attraction to her, a fact which offended Padme. After all, Bail Organa had a reputation for falling in love faster than a Nemoidean could turn a profit. Why shouldn't he fall in love with Padme? Not that she wanted to return the favor: the Prince was ultimately too fancy for her. Besides, the Prince clearly had someone else on his mind. Padme had noticed how he always stood a little too close to Obi-Wan, how they held each other's gaze a little too long. Padme doubted she would stand much of a chance with the Prince while Obi-Wan was around.
Her thoughts turned to Kenobi. He had utterly failed to impress her the first time they'd met, and he scarcely improved the second time around. He was somber, aloof, serious, a little stuck up -- in short, a lot like Padme herself. Out of the three men, Obi-Wan was probably the one her parents would pick for her, "a very earnest, stable young man." The mere thought made Padme shudder. She couldn't even think of a time when she had ever seen him smile. But she hardly had the right to criticize him, for she was no better herself. If she didn't want to turn into Obi-Wan Kenobi, she would have to stop acting like him.
Still, he was not unpleasant to look at, and Padme was at that vain age when she believed all men even remotely attractive had a moral obligation to fall in love with her. But she seriously doubted Obi-Wan would comply. He seemed to be as focused on the Prince as the Prince was on him. Padme would never have paired the two of them, but there was no accounting for taste.
Obi-Wan and Bail, however, were no less likely a pair and she and Anakin, and she had to admit it was the young padawan she most wanted to impress. The idea was all the more ridiculous because she didn't need to do anything at all in order to impress him. She had never forgotten the puppy love of the cute little boy on Tatooine, but that had been years ago. It couldn't still be called puppy love after all this time. And he was no longer a little boy, either. He was growing up to be a very handsome young man. In fact, he was already handsome, and Padme constantly had to remind herself that he was only fourteen. His youth showed in his restless eagerness, but he also possessed an intensity that made him seem older even than Padme. She could still recognize the lost little boy in him, but he was becoming a man, with a man's hopes and dreams and fears. The fond indulgence she'd felt for him on Tatooine had never completely vanished, but now her feelings were overlaid with more subtle, complicated emotions. Her attraction to him disturbed her precisely because she did not fully understand it, and she did not trust what she could not understand.
Padme caught her expression in the mirror. It was the same worried frown she'd seen on Obi-Wan that afternoon in the speeder. She smoothed her brow, then smiled at her image and was amazed at how different it made her look: young, happy, even beautiful. No, she didn't have to be like Obi-Wan, and she didn't have to be like the Queen of Naboo, either. She could enjoy herself. She could dance and laugh. She could flirt with a 14-year-old Jedi padawan if she wanted -- and his master -- and his master's lover. She gave her image a smoldering, sultry look. There, that was better. Now she looked like Bail Organa. The thought made her laugh out loud.
The laughing girl in the mirror was the image she liked most of all.
*****
In the end, Padme assembled an outfit of layers of dark blue and sienna. It was not as spectacular as she would have liked, but it would do. She had taken so long to decide that when she met the others in the Complex lobby, she was the last to arrive. They all stood and greeted her with due ceremony, and Padme was pleased to notice that Anakin could not keep his eyes off her. Bail dressed elegantly as usual in dark blue, his hair a cascade of black curls. Jar Jar sported a simple but stylish trimmed leather vest and pants. Obi-Wan was almost unrecognizable in a pale green shirt, with jerkin and pants of a deeper green. The color brought out the red in his hair, which flowed loosely back from his forehead, and she finally saw why Bail might be attracted to him. But the shining star of the group was Anakin, without a doubt. He wore a thin, silk shirt of blood red, and close-fitting black pants with matching red stripes down each leg. He'd even adorned his braid with red and black thread wraps. With the fine, silk shirt, he was able to clothe himself in a way that revealed the shape of his body more effectively than if he were naked. Padme quickly averted her eyes before she betrayed her thoughts with too long a stare.
The air taxi was waiting for them, and within minutes they flew off into the Coruscant night. "We're going to the Shooting Star," Bail explained, "a favorite haunt of mine. You're sure to like it."
"No doubt I will," Padme agreed, "but I've never been to a nightclub before. I don't really know what to expect."
"Don't worry. It's Anakin's grand debut as well. There will be plenty to amuse you both, an excellent view of the nightscape, all kinds of music and a variety of dancing, and they can make any drink known in the galaxy."
Anakin couldn't help betray his interest in the latter offering, and Obi- Wan gave him a warning look. "You're a little young."
"I'll stick to beer," Anakin assured him.
"One glass."
"For starters. Don't worry, I won't get drunk." He turned to Padme. "What kind of dances do you know?"
Padme didn't realize there were different kinds. On Naboo, dancing, while popular, was ruled by tradition. "I'm not really sure. What kinds are there?"
"You know, dancing in pairs or groups, freestyle, circle and line dances," Anakin enumerated.
"On Naboo, I suppose we mostly do circle dances. I didn't know there were so many other kinds."
"Oh, tons. I know them all, " Anakin boasted.
"I thought Bail said you'd never been to a nightclub before."
"None that *they've* taken me to," Anakin blurted out before realizing what he'd said. He froze in horror. At his age, he was not authorized to leave the Temple at will. Without his master, he should not have ever been to a nightclub at all, but he snuck out of the Temple on a regular basis. If the Council knew about his repeated infractions, they would undoubtedly expel him. He had often gotten caught during his first few years at the Temple, and Obi-Wan had dutifully covered for him, arguing repeatedly with the Council for forgiveness. Every time he got caught, Anakin swore to his master he would never do it again, but sooner or later he would venture out once more. Life in the Temple was simply too secure for him, too monotonous. Over time he got better at sneaking out unseen, and Obi-Wan learned not to press the point. But how would he react now, when Anakin had all but flaunted the fact that he regularly broke one of the Temple's most fundamental rules?
Anakin waited with downcast eyes. The others realized he'd overstepped the line, and they, too, waited to hear what Obi-Wan would say.
"It's not as if I don't know about your nocturnal excursions, Padawan," Obi- Wan said at last. He knew he would never get Anakin to stop. He had learned to make frequent compromises with his pupil, compromises he knew the Council would not approve of. But what else could he do? "As long as you stay out of trouble, and it doesn't interfere with your studies."
Anakin released a loud sigh, weak with relief. "Yes, Master," he said in a proper spirit of penitence. But the silence stretched on. No one seemed willing to pick up the conversation and rescue Anakin from the hot seat. He struggled to remember what they had been talking about. "So... I learned to dance at the Jedi Temple," he offered awkwardly.
To his relief, Padme picked up on it. "At the Temple?"
"Yeah, they have dances at the Temple all the time, practically every week." After all, what else was there to do? He realized, though, that he could attempt to redeem himself in Obi-Wan's eyes. "Everybody gets together, and they play music and sing and dance. Obi-Wan is a wicked drummer."
"Really?" Jar Jar asked in surprise, and the look of disbelief on Padme's face was priceless.
"Oh, yeah. He sings, too, and plays the keyboard some. He's got a great voice." Abruptly he stopped. Usually Anakin took great pride in boasting about Obi-Wan's prowess in all things, but he wanted to impress Padme himself. This wasn't going well. With a casual shrug, he drawled, "Of course, I can play drums a little, too. I mean, anyone can whack a barrel."
Oops. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Obi-Wan's reproach. Padme graciously chose to overlook this comment. "Do you sing, too?"
He couldn't lie. He seemed to be the only Jedi who was tone deaf. "I don't like to sing in public," he pronounced, with a false note of loftiness.
"Me, neither," Padme admitted. "I have a terrible voice." Anakin smiled in evident relief. "Do you play any other instruments?"
"No." Most Jedi played at least one kind of musical instrument, which they were taught starting at a younger age than Anakin had been when he first arrived at the Temple. He had been behind in so many ways, and he didn't like to start something he knew he couldn't excel in, so he'd never taken up music.
"Neither do I," Padme confessed. With a sly grin she added, "I can't even whack a barrel."
Anakin's ears flamed red, as the two older men struggled to suppress their laughter. Bail nudged Obi-Wan in the ribs. "You barrel-whacker, you."
"My can sing," Jar Jar offered.
"Can you?" Bail asked, still struggling to keep a straight face.
"Sure. Gungans love dancen and singen. Wesa singen all the time."
"It's true," Padme confirmed. It was hard to believe now that the Gungans and the Naboo had ever once been enemies. Since their joint effort to defend their planet from the Trade Federation, they had shared in all kinds of cultural exchanges. "The Gungans put on wonderful underwater performances in which they sing and swim in unison. It's become quite popular among the Naboo, and Jar Jar is really very good, although the singing sounds much better in the water rather than out."
Determined to bring the conversation back around to himself in order to further impress Padme, Anakin volunteered, "I can fly anything. Whenever we go out on missions, Obi-Wan always has me fly. I'm the best pilot at the Temple."
Indulgently, Obi-Wan conceded, "Yes, you are."
"I saw you in action on Tatooine." Padme reminded him. "You were great then. You must be fabulous now."
Anakin glowed. He wanted to regale her with one of his many tales of racing on Coruscant, but since all those races were technically illegal, he didn't dare mention them in front of Obi-Wan, especially since his master didn't know about most of them. He cast about for something else. "I'm a great mechanic, too. I can build and repair anything." His face lit up. "One time I built a droid and dressed it in a robe and set it loose in the hall. Obi-Wan talked to it for an hour before he even realized it wasn't alive!"
Bail snickered, "I never heard about that before."
"It wasn't an hour," Obi-Wan objected, embarrassed. "More like five minutes."
Oops again. Anything he came up with to impress Padme only made Obi-Wan look bad. He had to think of something else. "I'm also an excellent --"
Obi-Wan kicked his foot, "-- cook," he supplied, with a meaningful glance. Anakin returned his master's gaze in confusion. The last time he'd cooked anything for Obi-Wan, he had made the sauce too spicy. He remembered vividly how red his master's face had turned when he swallowed the first bite. Their other dinner guests never finished their portions, but Obi-Wan graciously ate every last bite, even though it made his eyes water and his nose run. He'd even asked for seconds. It had been one of those occasions when Anakin felt he would do anything for such a wonderful master. But it certainly wasn't anything to brag about to Padme. Maybe that was the point.
Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows slightly. *Enough, Anakin,* he sent.
"Mesa love to try your cooken, Ani," Jar Jar offered. Anakin smiled weakly at the Gungan but said nothing.
With another glance at Anakin, Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "Tell me, Your Highness, is this your first trip back to Coruscant?"
"Yes, it is."
"I hope you'll have an opportunity to explore the planet."
"There's lots to see --," Anakin began enthusiastically, then clamped his mouth shut before blurting out any number of attractions that Obi-Wan would lock him up for even mentioning. Obediently, he concluded, "Monuments, museums...."
"An encyclopedia of educational opportunities," Obi-Wan finished for him with a sly smile that said he knew full well what Anakin was hiding.
Like a dutiful student, Anakin offered, "You could come to the Jedi Temple, I can show you around."
"I thought the Temple was not open to visitors."
"Nah. They let the Prince in all the time," he dismissed, not bothering to hide his resentment, and consequently blowing it once again.
"The Prince hasn't been to the Temple in over a year," Obi-Wan observed.
"More like two," Bail corrected.
Indignant, Anakin protested, "Well, I'm allowed to have a visitor, too, aren't I? If the Prince can come, why not Padme?"
"And what about Jar Jar?" Obi-Wan asked pointedly.
Anakin huffed in anger. He hadn't meant to leave out Jar Jar, and he realized that he was coming across as an obnoxious brat.
"Yes, well, in the meantime," Bail interrupted, cutting through the tension, "Coruscant has many more pleasurable pursuits to offer, and fortunately, we have now arrived at one of the best."
The airtaxi came to rest on a landing pad next to a covered entrance bearing a holographic image of a meteor. A long line of people waiting to get in snaked around the building, but Bail led their party straight to the entrance where they were welcomed immediately. As Bail led the way to one of the booths, Obi-Wan said, "We'll be with you in a minute," then he snagged his apprentice's elbow and led him into a corner. Anakin scowled in anticipation of the lecture he was about to receive.
Obi-Wan leaned close to him. "You have got to calm down." Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by one of Obi-Wan's classic reproving looks. Anakin dropped his gaze in anticipation of being sent back to the Temple, and he didn't see Obi-Wan's expression soften.
"You're trying too hard to impress her," Obi-Wan counseled. Surprised, Anakin looked up at him. "You can't do all the talking. Ask her questions about herself. Find out about her interests. And if that doesn't work, my advice to you is to keep her out on the dance floor. You really are a good dancer, and she'll enjoy herself."
The last thing Anakin had ever expected to hear from Obi-Wan was such advice in matters of the heart. Desperate, hopeful, he opened his heart to Obi-Wan. "Master, I know I'm too young for her. I'm just a kid. But do you think it's at all possible that she likes me, even a little bit?"
Obi-Wan smiled. "I know she does."
Anakin's heart swelled in sheer joy, and he threw his arms around Obi-Wan in a rib-crushing hug. "Thank you, Master! Thank you! I'll never leave the Temple without permission again, I swear!"
"Don't make promises you have no intention of keeping." Such a rash proclamation deserved a harsher rebuke, but right now Obi-Wan didn't care.
"You truly are the greatest Jedi in the whole history of the galaxy!"
"I'm sure I've heard that one before, too," Obi-Wan chided, but he couldn't hide his smile. Every once in a while he was truly glad to have Anakin as his padawan. "Now let's rejoin the others. Your lady awaits."
They threaded their way through the club's revelers and discovered that the others had already claimed a booth. Obi-Wan slid in next to the Prince while Anakin, opposite him, perched next to Padme.
"We ordered ale all around," Bail informed him.
"Sounds good."
Bail leaned closer, his voice low so the others wouldn't hear him over the music. "Is he in trouble?"
"No." Somewhat embarrassed, Obi-Wan explained, "I was just giving him some romantic advice."
Bail arched an eyebrow. "I didn't know that was part of Jedi training. I would have thought the dispensing of romantic advice to be my department."
"The kind of advice you would give is not the kind I'm eager to have him receive." Despite his disapproving words Obi-Wan smiled, enjoying their banter. He was beginning to relax already.
Across the table, Padme and Jar Jar stared wide-eyed into the crowd. A line dance was in process, and they watched in admiration as the variety of being dipped and swayed in unison to the thumping beat.
"So many kindsa beings!" Jar Jar remarked.
"There aren't many aliens on Naboo," Padme explained, her eyes drinking in the array of species. "We just aren't used to it."
"Theysa dance like Gungans!" Jar Jar added, thrilled.
Bail leaned forward. "Why don't the three of you join them while us old folks wait for the drinks to come?"
"Yeah, let's go!" Anakin exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, eager to take up Obi-Wan's counsel.
Padme hesitated, chagrined. "But I don't know how to do that dance."
"It's easy, you'll pick it up in no time," Anakin assured her. He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. Jar Jar needed no prompting and quickly followed them.
They joined up in the line. Jar Jar mostly followed his own steps, flinging his arms around and flapping his ears. He looked like a disaster waiting to happen. But after a few minutes, Anakin realized the Gungan actually possessed a surprising, if kinetic grace. Padme had been right: Jar Jar really could dance.
The same, however, could not be said of the Queen. She did little more than move from one foot to the other, confused by the steps.
"Come on, it's easy," Anakin encouraged her. "See, like this. Step, kick, step, turn --," he spelled out as he moved smoothly to the rhythm. Padme tried to keep up and stumbled, ending up facing the wrong way. Anakin reached out and turned her around, taking her hand and leading her through the steps. Eventually she stopped being so self-conscious, letting herself go with the flow, and the steps managed to sort themselves out, although she still stepped on Anakin's foot every other measure. He only laughed, his eyes sparkling, and Padme let his laugh fill her and move her through the dance. By the time the song ended, the three of them were gliding along like pros. Then another tune started up, and Padme had to start all over again, but this time she picked the dance up more quickly. As she fell into the rhythm, she was able to watch Anakin better. The Prince had not exaggerated Anakin's grace. His whole body, hands, feet, hips and shoulders, glided in smooth motions of controlled power. Padme had to keep reminding herself he was only fourteen. The crowd around them was likewise captivated by him, and Padme noticed with a twinge of jealousy the large number of appreciative gazes he attracted.
After the next song, the style of music changed, and the line broke up for free-form dancing. Anakin and Jar Jar transitioned smoothly into the new style, but Padme didn't like dances without regular steps. "I'm going to sit this one out," she called to Anakin over the music.
"I'll go with you," he offered.
"No, no, you and Jar Jar stay and dance." She beamed at him. "I'll watch."
Anakin blushed with pleasure and nodded. Padme threaded her way through the dancers back to their table.
"Why did you stop?" the Prince asked as she slid into the booth. "You were great out there."
Padme shook her head meekly. "The true response of a diplomat. I was terrible! I'm amazed I didn't break Anakin's foot, stepping on it so many times. But he's wonderful."
"So is Jar Jar. I keep expecting him to knock someone off their feet, but he never does. It's controlled chaos. I've never seen anything like it before."
Padme took a sip of her drink and rolled the cool glass across her sweaty forehead. Her gaze returned to the dance floor, and she realized Anakin had positioned himself within her line of vision. He saw her watching and winked at her. Smiling, she turned to Obi-Wan. "He's so graceful. I bet he's really good with a lightsaber."
Obi-Wan nodded. "He is. No one at the Temple can believe it. It takes years of practice to master the saber, but Anakin picked it up as if he were born with one in his hand."
"I'd like to see him practice sometime." It occurred to her that with Anakin on the dance floor, she could find out more about him from Obi-Wan. "Is he a good student?"
The Jedi paused. "When he wants to be. When he sets his mind to it, he always excels beyond everyone's expectations."
"It's because he has a good teacher," Bail supplied.
Obi-Wan shook his head. "I wish I could take credit for it, but I can't. It's something within him, a desire to learn, but only those subjects he fancies." He cast a sidelong glance at Bail. "Like you and those tiresome art lessons. He can't get enough of it. Such-and-such a sculptor in the post-traumatic depressionistic style."
"It's not the boy's fault you're a plebian, Ben."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Now Bail's getting him into opera. I can only hope that's what he's sneaking out of the Temple at night for. I'd do just about anything for Anakin, but I draw the line at opera. I have no idea why it interests him so."
Bail smirked. "You're just jealous because the boy has better taste than you." He looked at Padme. "Ben can't even dress himself. Anakin picked this outfit for him. He picks out all Ben's clothes, otherwise he'd never change out of his Jedi sackcloth."
Curious, Padme asked, "Why do you call him 'Ben'?"
"It's short for Bendu," Bail explained, "which in Old High Galactic is commonly translated as 'Honored One.'" He cast a sly glance at his companion, "Though I prefer 'beloved.'"
"It's an old term of respect for the Jedi," Obi-Wan further elucidated, "but no one uses it anymore."
"Only me. I'm old-fashioned."
Shaking his head, Obi-Wan continued, "The Prince is inordinately fond of handing out nicknames."
"Yes, and my new one for you is 'barrel-whacker.'" He looked across to Padme and offered, "I'll come up with one for you in a day or two."
Padme secretly hope he wouldn't, but she didn't say anything. "What's Anakin's nickname?"
Bail's smile faded slightly. "Anakin Skywalker does not accept nicknames. Certainly not from me, at any rate."
Padme wondered if there was a story behind Bail's frown. She had begun to pick up on Anakin's dislike of the Prince, but she couldn't account for it. Redirecting the conversation back on course, she asked, "Doesn't he even go by 'Ani' anymore?"
"No," Obi-Wan said. "He's never let me call him that. I'm surprised he invited you to."
"I'd never heard that name before," Bail admitted.
"It's what his mother called him," Obi-Wan began, then stopped as he realized that was probably why Anakin didn't want to hear that name spoken by anyone else.
Padme realized it as well. "Maybe I shouldn't use it either."
"He asked you to," Obi-Wan said.
Rather than make her feel honored, the validation discomforted her. Why was Anakin still attached to her? This went way beyond a crush. Why did he accord her a privilege he didn't even grant to his own master?
The object of her thoughts suddenly appeared at her elbow. "They're starting up pair dancing now," Anakin said. "Want to go?"
Padme looked out onto the dance floor, where couples were weaving and spinning in what looked like a fun, but horribly complicated dance. "I don't think I can," she demurred.
"Come on, you'll pick it up in no time."
"But I don't want to leave Jar Jar alone."
"You don't need to worry about him, he's already found a partner," Anakin assured her, jerking his thumb toward the crowd. Sure enough, Jar Jar and his partner of a similarly amphibious species were engaged in a froglike ballet.
Bail nudged Obi-Wan's hip. "I know I'm ready for a stretch," he said, with an encouraging wink to Padme. The two men disappeared onto the floor.
With a self-conscious sigh, Padme let Anakin lead her out among the dancers. He positioned their arms, taking her hand in his, and instructed, "Now, watch. Here's the basic step." He led her through the dance with infinite patience until she finally stopped stepping on him and got it. "You can't keep looking at your feet," he counseled. "It'll only trip you up. Trust me."
Reluctantly, Padme looked up, but she didn't know where she should direct her gaze. She looked around at the other dancers. "This isn't the way everyone else is dancing," she observed.
"That's all just variation. If you keep your feet in the same rhythm, you'll be fine. I'll let you get used to the steps before we start really getting wild."
Padme let her gaze settle somewhere over Anakin's right shoulder. She was keenly conscious of how close he was, and the fact that his eyes were on her. As she fell into step with him, she could feel the subtle movements of his body directing her. The silk of his shirt outlined his muscles, and she could feel the heat radiating from him. /He's only fourteen, he's only fourteen,/ she chanted in her head along with the music. Fourteen -- the same age she had been when she had been elected Queen of Naboo. She had been even younger when made Governor of Theed. She had also read enough about the Jedi to know that by now padawans Anakin's age were taking on adult responsibilities and mature assignments. Anakin Skywalker might be young, but he was no child.
Through the crowd, she caught a glimpse of Obi-Wan and the Prince, lost in a dance of their own. "Is it true you dress Obi-Wan?" she asked.
Surprised, Anakin said, "Yeah, I guess. He hates looking for clothes." After a pause he added, "He won't even try on half the stuff I pick out for him. One time --." He stopped himself from repeating his earlier mistakes. /Get her to talk about herself,/ he recalled Obi-Wan's advice. /Find out what her interests are./ "So--," he cast about desperately for a topic but could think of nothing. Maybe his master was right and he should just stick to dancing.
Padme offered, "Obi-Wan said you like opera."
/Thank you, Master! Anakin gave a mental sigh. His latest area of expertise. He was about to launch into his knowledge of all the latest stars on Coruscant, with particularly juicy gossip supplied by the Prince's personal experience, when he remembered to check himself. Taking a steadying breath, he asked, "Do you like it, too?"
"Yes. Opera is very popular on Naboo. It suits our tastes."
"Have you seen The Redemption of Chandra Fey?"
"No, we haven't gotten that one yet. Right now we have the Galactic tour of Dreamrunner. It's not really that good."
"Did know the composer wrote it in only two weeks?"
Padme laughed. "No wonder I don't like it! I prefer Brabant's style, anyway."
"Me, too!" Anakin enthused, and they launched into an actual, genuine conversation. Anakin smiled to himself. Obi-Wan would be proud of him.
They were so engrossed in their conversation, chatting away eagerly, that they didn't even notice when the dance ended. Someone tapped Anakin on the shoulder, and he turned to face a Falleen, an extremely sexual species. Even Anakin was not immune to the Falleen's powerful pheromones. With dismay, he watched the Falleen direct his attention to Padme.
"May I have the next dance?" he intoned in a sensual voice that wrapped itself around Padme's consciousness. Mesmerized, she felt herself drawn into the mysterious depths of his black eyes. Without being aware of it, she began to pull away from Anakin. He caught her arm, and she looked back to him, this boy with whom she shared a special bond. Her mind cleared, and she smiled at him. Without looking at the Falleen -- not really trusting herself to – she said, "Thank you, but I already have a partner." She folded herself into Anakin's arms and let him sweep her away, while the Falleen watched them go, dumbfounded to have been rejected.
Anakin beamed, and he was sure the Force actually levitated him a centimeter or two off the floor. "Are you ready to really dance?"
All self-doubt fled Padme, and she answered, "Yes."
His arms tightened around her, and they spun, moving as one. Anakin guided her with the subtlest of pressure and direction, leading her through spins, reverses, and increasingly complicated steps. Padme surrendered herself to the dance and found herself keeping up with no problem, never stumbling or losing step.
Not far away, Obi-Wan watched them with pride and a hint of sadness. It pleased him that Anakin and Padme found such happiness together, but at the same time he knew that love changes everything. Even though Anakin was still too young for any meaningful relationship with the Queen, his interest in her would alter his relationship with Obi-Wan. For the first time, Obi-Wan understood why Anakin might resent Bail so much.
The Prince crooned, "Look at them. Your little boy is growing up. He's going to be quite the heart-breaker."
With wistful concern, Obi-Wan replied, "I hope he never break any hearts."
"Hearts will always be broken, Ben," Bail intoned, not unkindly. "That's what they're made for." The dance ended and another song struck up. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, Bail announced, "I think I'll go take my turn with the Queen, if she'll have me."
"No, Bail, leave them alone," Obi-Wan requested.
"I know she likes the boy, but she might also like to have more adult company on occasion. Besides, it'll be good for Anakin. A little jealousy makes the heart grow fonder. It might even work on *you.*"
Reluctantly, Obi-Wan followed Bail toward Anakin and Padme. "Your Highness," Bail offered, "do you think I could possibly tear you away from this dashing young Jedi for one dance? I would be most honored."
Padme almost refused, but then she realized she could use a break from the sexual tension building between her and Anakin, and with a smile, she allowed herself to be led away.
Anakin looked on with envy, furious that of all people it was the insufferable Prince of Alderaan who finally wooed Padme away from him. Next to him, Obi-Wan counseled softly, "Come, let's go sit down. You can't keep her all to yourself you know." When Anakin didn't move, Obi-Wan added, "This will give you a chance to watch her." Taking the boy's elbow, Obi-Wan led the still reluctant Anakin back to their booth, where they seated themselves all the way to the back, the better to view the dance floor.
Obi-Wan handed Anakin one of the drinks, and the boy began to gulp it down, hot and thirsty after so much dancing. "Take it easy," Obi-Wan counseled. "So, how is it going?"
Anakin turned eagerly to him. "Great! It's all just like you said. We were talking about opera, and I didn't do all the talking myself. We were having a real conversation. She's just wonderful, and a great dancer, too. Did you see that Falleen that came and asked her to dance? She turned him down!"
"I did see that," Obi-Wan admitted. "Of course, now Bail will think it means he's more attractive than a Falleen." Anakin's face clouded again, and Obi-Wan chuckled. Bail had read the boy well. "I don't think you have anything to worry about with the Prince."
Forcing himself to relax, Anakin said, "Yeah, she probably just felt sorry for him because he gets stuck dancing with *you* all the time."
Obi-Wan only smiled and took another sip of his drink. For a while they watched the dancers in companionable silence. It felt good, relaxing together like that, more as friends than master and padawan. Maybe the change in their relationship wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. Obi- Wan would enjoy getting to know a more grown-up Anakin.
The boy finished his drink and casually said, "I'm going to order another one. Do you want one, too?"
Then again, maybe Anakin still had a ways to go before hitting adulthood. "I told you, only one drink."
"Come on," Anakin cajoled. "What's the harm in it? I'm not going to get drunk."
Obi-Wan sighed in a mixture of patience and faint exasperation. "For once, couldn't you just do what I say?"
"But, Master, I always do what you say." He paused a beat. "When it's important." He signaled for a waiter.
"I said no, Anakin."
Ignoring him, Anakin ordered, "Two more beers, please. One for me, and one for my good friend," he beamed, clapping his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.
/Force preserve me,/ Obi-Wan sighed, eyes closed. /He will never let me win./
"Well, well, well," a voice drawled, a voice Obi-Wan unfortunately recognized. "Look who's out for a night on the town before the big conference."
Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Jani Kleyvits, Senator from the Oseon system and dedicated enemy of Bail Organa, slide into their booth.
"Good evening, Senator," Obi-Wan greeted her as inoffensively as possible.
"So the Prince has brought his pet Jedi out to play."
Beside him, Obi-Wan felt his apprentice tense. Underneath the table, he laid a restraining hand on Anakin's leg.
The Senator gazed languidly across the dance floor to Bail and Padme. "Awfully cruel of the Prince to seduce the Queen of Naboo right in front of you like that. Usually he's more discreet when you're around."
Again Anakin tensed, flashing an angry glance at Bail, but Obi-Wan kept a firm grip on him.
"Though the Gungan would be the better choice for him to ply his charms with. After all, they're the ones who possess the accelerated growth technology everyone is so eager to get their hands on." She returned her gaze to Obi-Wan, gauging the effect her taunts had on him. "Then again, I suppose even the Prince won't sleep with just anyone."
Anakin could no longer take it. "Jar Jar is a good friend of ours!" he blurted out, prompting Obi-Wan to squeeze his leg even harder.
"Is he, now?" the Senator asked, intrigued. "Some people might see your connection with such key players as a conflict of interest, don't you think, Kenobi?"
"The Jedi represent no interests in the cloning issue, Senator. We have been invited to participate as objective observers."
The Senator laughed cynically. "My dear young man, the Jedi are never invited anywhere as mere observers. Nor are the Jedi as objective as you pretend to be. There are always hidden interests at stake."
"And what interests are you hiding?"
"My interests are in plain view, for everyone to see. Cloning is the wave of the future, Kenobi." Her eyes narrowed in warning. "It doesn't matter what this little conference decides. The technology of cloning is here to stay, and it will inevitably be used. You Jedi had better take heed of that. Those who embrace the new technology will move ahead into a brand new day."
"And those who don't?"
"They will be... left behind." But her false smile betrayed a more sinister consequence.
"I'll keep that in mind, Senator," Obi-Wan replied evenly.
"You do that, Kenobi." She stood up. "I'll see you at the conference."
After she left, Anakin turned on Obi-Wan. "How could you just sit there and let her say those things to you?"
"They're just words, Padawan," Obi-Wan counseled. "She wants to get a rise out of us, and if we take the bait, we place ourselves in her power."
Anakin bit back his reply. This was one of the Jedi teachings he had the hardest time understanding. Where he grew up, to let insults stand only lessened one's power. Obi-Wan might brush it off, but he would not forget the Senator, or her words.
Bail and Padme rushed up to them. "When I saw the Senator here with you, I thought you might get your riot after all," Bail quipped. "What did she say?"
"That we had all best embrace the coming cloning revolution."
Bail sneered. "Typical. She only wants it to breed genetically engineered workers for Oseon's asteroid mines. It's people like her that make me want to become a card-carrying member of the True Life Movement. And what was her line of attack this time?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "The pet Jedi routine."
"Ah, yes, her favorite. Well, I hope you piddled on her shoes just like I trained you." Obi-Wan couldn't help laughing. "Good boy," Bail said, patting him on the head and handing him a pretzel. "Have a treat."
"It's not funny," Anakin growled.
"Of course it is. You must not let Kleyvits get to you, Anakin. Her threats are ineffective, and her insults are unoriginal. Now if you don't mind," Bail excused, taking Obi-Wan's hand and pulling him out of the booth, "I'm going to take Spot, here, for his walk."
As the two older men disappeared onto the dance floor, Padme studied Anakin with concern. "What did she say?" Bail's words about the Senator's motives troubled her. The Gungans and the Naboo were both concerned about possible misuses of cloning technology, and she wanted to be well informed about all the issues and players.
But she would gain no insight from Anakin. "Nothing," the padawan growled, smarting at what the Senator had said about Bail seducing Padme.
"The Prince is right, Ani. You can't let what people say get to you."
"If you leave insults unanswered, then people will believe they can walk all over you."
"And if you take offense every time someone says something stupid, you end up looking like a fool."
Enraged, Anakin turned on her, "I'm not a fool!"
Startled, Padme shrank back. Anakin felt a pulse of fear from her. Horrified, he let his anger burn off. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
Padme took a deep breath to calm herself and laid a hand on Anakin's arm. "It's all right. Some people are skilled at reading our weaknesses, and they feed them back to us to bait us. The hardest thing about dealing with such people is not to let your own doubts rule you."
Anakin concentrated on where her hand touched him, its warmth seeping into his skin, salving his wounded spirit. She was right. As much as Anakin found the Prince annoying, he knew Bail was an honorable man, and he would not steal Padme away from him. At least not intentionally. Deep down, Anakin feared that the Prince would simply out-class him where Pad-me was concerned.
Then again, she was here with him now, and not out on the dance floor with Bail. Carefully, he asked, "Do you like the Prince?"
The question surprised Padme, giving her insight into what the Senator must have said to disturb Anakin so deeply. Thoughtfully, she re-plied, "Of course I like him. He's a very lively person. But I prefer --." She stopped, wanting to say something to encourage Anakin, but without being too obvious. "I prefer someone --." Again words failed her. Less sophisticated? Less smooth? Not as charming? These all came across as insults. All she could come up with was, "I prefer someone not so old."
Anakin snorted in laughter. "You mean, you like younger men?" he asked brightly.
"Well," Padme blushed, "younger than the Prince, anyway."
"That'll do for me. Now, what do you say we dance some more?"
"That's the best idea I've heard all night."
*****
The party didn't make it back to the Conference Complex until that undeterminable hour that is either very late night or very early morning. To a chorus of "good nights" accented by yawns, Padme and Jar Jar exited the turbolift at their level. The next stop, on the floor where the two Jedi were staying, Bail held the door open, arching a roguish eyebrow at Obi-Wan. "Are you going to come up and have a drink with me?" he asked. "I have a bottle of your favorite wine."
/You always do,/ Obi-Wan thought. He glanced at Anakin, who rolled his eyes. "All right," Obi-Wan agreed, though he was looking at Anakin. "Don't wait up for me."
"I wouldn't anyway," the boy dismissed, turning down the hall without a backward glance.
As the doors closed, and they rode up to Bail's floor, Obi-Wan observed, "It is a little late. Isn't there some big conference we're both supposed to go to tomorrow?"
"It's not as if you have some big speech to prepare for."
"But I seem to recall that you're chairing the event."
"That's why you're coming to tuck me into bed and make sure I get a good night's sleep," Bail offered innocently.
They entered the Prince's suite, and while Obi-Wan settled onto the couch, Bail retrieved a special decanter of rich Alderaani wine he always kept on hand for the Jedi's benefit. He filled two goblets with the ruby wine, handing one to Obi-Wan and taking a luxuriant sip from his own. He sighed, "Young love! It makes me feel eighteen again."
Obi-Wan's eyes smiled over the rim of his glass. "When have you ever acted as if you were older than eighteen?"
"I'm trying to be serious, my dear Bendu. Your little boy is growing up so fast and falling in love. Don't you feel proud?"
Attempts by Bail to be serious tended only to bring out Obi-Wan's mischievous side. "I don't see what there is for me to be proud about just because Anakin's hormones are kicking in."
Bail's dark eyes expressed disapproval. "You can be so insensitive sometimes. I remember when Anakin was just a little mop-haired tyke who only wanted to talk about spaceships, and now every time I see him I swear he's grown another ten centimeters taller."
"And he still only wants to talk about spaceships."
"And now girls."
"A girl," Obi-Wan stressed.
"It's a start," Bail shrugged. "Actually, all this reminds me of something I have been thinking a lot about lately. As I watch you and Anakin together, I've begun to think that I might like to be a father someday."
Obi-Wan almost choked on his drink. Suppressing a twinge of jealousy, he sputtered, "A father? Don't tell me you're going to get married."
"Who needs to get married? I would adopt. It's a common enough tradition on Alderaan. One or two little ones to nurture, to teach, to care for." He paused. "To love."
Obi-Wan marveled in silence for a moment at this new level of personal depth in Bail. The Prince was by no means shallow, but up until now all his more profound and serious aspects manifested themselves in his public life. His private life, on the other hand, seemed to consist of one frivolous diversion after another. The image of Bail as a father required a revolutionary change in the way Obi-Wan thought of him. "What is bringing this on?" he asked.
Bail gazed pensively into the depths of his glass. "As I said, maybe it's seeing you and Anakin together. He's not your son, but he is someone to receive your legacy, someone to pass on your values to and all the best that you are. I envy that. And I suppose, silly as it may sound, it's a way of settling down without having to be monogamous."
"Now that would be tragic, wouldn't it?" Obi-Wan teased.
"If you haven't been able to reform me, I must be beyond hope."
Feeling strangely uncomfortable, Obi-Wan diverted the subject. "Actually, speaking of life changes, I've been thinking of making one myself."
The Prince instantly pounced on the prospect. "You're going to leave the Jedi and become a traveling salesman for Encyclopedia Galactica!"
"Nothing quite so dramatic," Obi-Wan confessed. "I've merely been thinking of growing a beard."
"Absolutely not! Grow a beard, and I shall never kiss you again."
The attempt to rile Obi-Wan didn't work. Quietly, he observed, "Qui-Gon had a beard."
At the name of Obi-Wan's master, Bail grew sober. He had never known Qui- Gon Jinn well, partly by the master's design. Obi-Wan was the kind of person who formed few, but very deep, attachments. As an apprentice, he had been wholeheartedly devoted to Qui-Gon, to the exclusion of just about anyone else. Qui-Gon had therefore encouraged his padawan's relationship with Bail so he would spend time with someone his own age.
Bail, on the other hand, was the type who formed many but brief relationships. All Qui-Gon had to do was introduce him to Obi-Wan for him to become captivated by the novelty of the earnest young apprentice. But it took time and effort, more than he was accustomed to investing, to woo Obi- Wan away from his monk-like devotion to his master. Bail learned early on that his relationship with Obi-Wan entailed listening to endless stories about the wisdom, nobility, and prowess of Qui-Gon Jinn. It pained Bail to know that he would always comes second in Obi-Wan's heart, even now, years after the Jedi Master had been killed. Strangely enough this knowledge only made Bail love Obi-Wan more.
After a few moments of respectful silence, the Prince said, "In that case, I'll make an exception." His capitulation strangely cheered him up again. "You see the sacrifices I make for you, Ben? You may yet reform me. After all, I've been with you far longer than I've ever been with anyone else."
"That's probably because we see each other so rarely," Obi-Wan dryly observed.
"Do you know, you may be right? So that's the secret to happy relationships -- don't see each other above half a dozen times a year. Perfect! We may as well become bondmates, and then my mother will stop pestering me to settle down."
This particular turn of the conversation, however lightly taken, began to worry Obi-Wan. "What are you going on about, Bail? Do you expect me to take that as a serious proposal?"
The Prince paused, and his expression grew thoughtful. At length he said softly, "Of course not." He reached out and tenderly brushed his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair. "But what if it was?"
Was Bail trying to get at something with all this talk of adoption and bonding? How far was he going to go with all this? Obi-Wan did not feel like playing games on the subject, but he refused to talk frankly unless Bail made it clear he wanted to. "If it was, then you know what my answer would be," was his cryptic reply.
Bail was not at all sure he knew what Obi-Wan would say. But maybe that was the point. "Let's leave it at that, then," he conceded, and taking Obi- Wan's glass from him, he gathered the Jedi into his arms.
*********************
Historical note: the name "Jedi Bendu" was an early name for the Jedi Knights in some of the Master George's first drafts for Star Wars. We all have our explanations for where the name "Ben" came from. Now you have mine. I don't know about you, but personally I can't wait to hear what the official explanation will be.