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Coruscant, a spherical network of lights and buildings, all melding into one gray ball, disappeared as the slick Alderaanian cruiser went into hyperdrive. Normally the jump gave Padme a sense of security and placidity, but today, it made her stomach lurch. She suddenly went dizzy, and was lucky to have Obi-Wan there to catch her.
"I feel ill," she muttered. "There is no handmaiden to take my place."
She stood, trying to regain composure, to act as the assured, healthy, Senator of Naboo, only to feel a wave of nausea attack her senses again.
"Senator Amidala," Bail Organa exclaimed as he entered the room, "Are you unwell?"
"I am fine, Viceroy," she responded confidently, pulling herself up to her full five feet, five inches, trying to ignore the swirling cramps in her back and stomach.
"The Senator is ill, and I would like her to report to the medic, Bail." Obi-Wan informed Organa quietly, so the others collected on the deck of the ship would not hear.
Bail moved over beside Amidala, trying to appear unassuming. At one time, they had been friends. Alderaan had always been on good terms with the Naboo; Bail had once seen Palpatine as a great Senator, and had learned much from him. In turn, he had befriended young Padme Amidala.
"Padme, my friend, you must rest," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear. "Evidently the stress of the past few days have had their toll on you," then, seeing the defiance flashing in Padme's eyes, he added, "As it has on myself also. You are not invincible, Padme."
She shook her head. The last time she had heard those words spoken, it was her who was saying them. It could have been a millennia ago. Anakin.
For a moment, only a moment, her mind touched...something. Then it was gone. Anakin? Perhaps. It didn't seem like it. The feeling was lost, disjointed...
"All right, Bail," she replied, "I'll go rest. But I will not see the medic. The last time an Alderaanian medic saw me, he asked for my autograph."
Organa laughed, "Good, a compromise, Senator. I'll send my friend Obi-Wan with you to make sure...you stay out of trouble."
At that last bizarre comment, she raised an eyebrow, but managed to keep her mouth closed as she left the deck in favour of her room. It was good to be on an Alderaanian ship, instead of the refugee ship she and Anakin had shared.
"Senator Amidala, now is the time for rest. Do not dwell on the negative."
She crawled across the bed, unpinning her elaborate hairstyle and setting the silver nets on the table. It would be curling every which way now, a Medusan mess, and would likely end up in knotted, frustrating tangles. Though few people knew it, Padme was terrible at even the most basic beauty regimens. Her skin was already becoming oily and shiny from the lack of Dorme's daily treatments, her fingers edged with raw hangnails, and her makeup only basic. There was so much the handmaidens did for her, things she never learned how to do, so embroiled in politics and law she had become.
"You are still a beautiful woman, Padme," she heard Obi-Wan say.
When she looked up, he was silent, stolidly standing above her, as if not a word had escaped his lips. He realized she was staring and looked puzzled.
"Yes, Senator?"
She coughed, and looked away, "I could have sworn I heard you say that I was still...a beautiful...never mind. It doesn't matter, Master Jedi."
When she turned back to him, his face was blushing a hot pink beneath his brown-blonde beard. His mouth was open, as if he was trying to speak, but no words would come. Finally he swallowed audibly, and sat next to the woman.
"You've been tested for midi-chlorians?"
She nodded, "I had a terribly low count. Less than one hundred..."
"I did not say anything, Padme," he added, "Perhaps I should test you again..."
"I am telling you, Master Kenobi," she insisted, "My count was sixty three! Sixty three! Even Sabe and Corde had higher counts than that..."
"Still, I said nothing and yet you heard my thoughts. Is that not of some concern to you?"
She shrugged, "Poke away, Master Jedi. Actually, instead of pricking me with holes, why not use the sample of blood taken by your Jedi medic when he checked me at the Temple?"
He smiled, "I will test both, Milady."
From inside his cloak he pulled a harmless looking device no larger than his finger, and pressed it into Padme's soft skin. She let out a yelp, but the pain was quickly dissipated with a movement of Obi-Wan's hand. He held up the device, and examined the results the tiny screen showed.
"Did you say sixty three, Padme? Are you sure it was not sixty three hundred?"
Her face contorted, "Pardon me?"
"Right now your midi-chlorians are peaking at six thousand and twelve. You would make an exceptionally talented Jedi Knight. I don't see how anyone could have missed this?"
"Could it be because..." she flushed, trying to think of a way to put it delicately.
"You slept with Anakin? Much as you might think otherwise, there have been Jedi who have defied the wishes of the council and have pursued romantic relationships. Fourteen of the Lost Twenty left the order for love. The Council prefers to keep that well hidden, under the guise that the Jedi are without emotion. It's inevitable that love interests have cropped up between Master and Padawan. It's kept secret, of course - there would be even more resentment towards the Knights if it was discovered we couldn't even follow our own rules."
"And I take it that this has never changed a Jedi's midi-chlorian count?"
"No. Believe me, if that were so I'm certain some of the council would be out there match-making like an old Twi'lek grandmother!"
She laughed, "Other than that, what else changes?"
"What...when a Knight has sex?" he asked, trying hard not to let a smile form on his lips, "You've been described as curious, but I had no idea..." his demeanour grew serious, "There is a change in the Force. You and your lover - you can feel each other's presence, no matter where you are. You can tell when they are hurt, or if they're happy..."
He looked very tired all of a sudden, and Padme wondered if he was reminiscing, or hurt by a past he had never been allowed to have. She reached up, and in a protective way, like she once did with ten year old Anakin, she brushed a hand over his hair.
"I once felt that way about Anakin," she murmured, remembering the first days apart, when she could briefly see where he was, feel his feelings. Irritation at a lecture from Obi-Wan. Relaxed, as he spoke to Chancellor Palpatine. Amused by the looks of lust ladies gave him as he passed; then longing and intense love as he thought of Padme.
"I'm quite tired," Padme muttered, "I'll sleep now."
He nodded, and moved towards the door.
"And Obi-Wan?"
He turned expectantly towards her, nodding.
She grinned wickedly, "I think you're still pretty too."

***

Anakin felt another flash. Obi-Wan, staring at the Padme's tiny body, sitting in front of him, in that translucent dress. His thoughts as obvious as a unit of Stormtroopers marching through Naboo's forests. You're still a beautiful woman, Padme. Sith, Anakin thought with disgust, he'd be surprised if the entire Jedi council didn't hear that little comment. He'd known, of course, that Obi-Wan was attracted to her. He was jealous, that was it. Jealous that Anakin was the one who had captured the Senator's heart.
Now, Padme, speaking to Obi-Wan. Her hands running over his hair. I once felt that way about Anakin. Then, another movement, I think you're still pretty, to Obi-Wan. How long had this romance been playing out between the two of them? Years? Months? Or was it all just a misunderstanding?
No, his beautiful Padme would never betray him. Would she?

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