Five

They walked steadily and silently through the desert, shielding their eyes from the suns with the hoods of their cloaks. Once in a while, he would give a sideways glance at the young woman beside him, and more often than not, she would continue to stare straight ahead, posture confident and strong. On the occasions when she did return his gaze, he thought he saw that her eyes were wet. But perhaps it was only a trick of the light.

He ventured another glance and found sharp brown eyes staring back at him.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" Padmé snapped, stopping in her tracks. "Are you expecting me to fall over and die?"

"No, because you're not going to die."

"Then stop acting like I will," she said softly.

He sensed that she was hiding something. He tried to probe further; she was completely blocking him out of her mind. "Are you tired?" he guessed. "If you are, we can stop and rest."

She rolled her eyes. "Or maybe you'd want to carry me, my chivalrous Jedi Knight?"

He ignored it. "Are you sure you're fine?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then let's go." He resumed walking. It took him several steps to find out she wasn't following him. He turned around; she was standing there like a moth in the middle of the desert, her eyes round and glittering with unmistakable tears that refused to fall.

"Obi Wan, come here," she murmured. There was something in her tone that wrenched at his heart and silenced him. He returned to her. And she stepped close to him and encircled his neck with her arms and turned her face to his and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and trembling. He felt the world crumbling away with all the things that could have been and never would be. He put his arms around her and held her gently.

She nestled her head into his chest. He felt the rapid beating of her heart, just as she undoubtedly felt the thudding of his. "I never told you how much I love you," she whispered.

He nearly stumbled, struggled to keep his voice even. "What kinds of words are these, Padmé?"

"True, honest ones. You felt it this morning."

This time he did stumble. "That was for me?"

"Yes." Then, "I'm so very sorry." She broke away from him before he could ask why. The desert air swirled between them, somehow bitterly cold to his skin.

"Let's go," Padmé said, and she walked away from him.

Obi Wan caught up to her. He took her hand, and to his surprise, she did not pull away. Instead, she tightened her fingers around his as though she could not afford to let go.