The Ties That Bind
Chapter 7
Inside her room, Sabé turned on her bed computer and flipped open the files she was handling for the Queen in her absence. Damn Jedi. Who did he think he was anyway? She tried to read the file she'd opened but couldn't concentrate. Obi-Wan's softly spoken admission kept running through her mind. Like she'd let him so anything she didn't want. She was no weak willed simpleton! How dare he think she didn't want him! Wait, wasn't she made at him still? She shook her head, grumbling softly. The sun hadn't yet set and she was already so worked up she wasn't sure she could sleep. She shut down the computer and stood, pacing back and forth while trying to work through her muddled thoughts.
She was attracted to Obi-Wan, that was true, but was it just physical? True, he wasn't the best conversationalist, he never said much, but his presence was thrilling all the same. She was a self reliant woman, did she really want some hunky, totally munchable Jedi running her peace of mind. She grimaced. Who was she kidding, he already was! She was so frustrated she felt like screaming! When had that happened? When had he become so important she was starting to want to jump him regardless of his code? Or was she just so frustrated with him she was willing to do anything to get him out of her system. She laughed. That was a joke. Nothing would get him out of her mind.
All of a sudden, she grinned. He owed her a back massage and, to be honest, her back was starting to pull and cramp. Why not cash in on it right away? He'd had an hour to cool off and it wasn't like he'd have to worry about that control of his slipping. Regardless of what he'd said, she felt he was immune to her appeal as a woman. It was somewhat deflating.
Turning to her wardrobe she grabbed a night gown that left her back bare and attached at the neck. She slipped out of her handmaiden's gown before pulling the new one on over her hips. The silk slid over her skin, giving her goose bumps. Fastening it securely, she slipped into a dressing gown of the same black and put her slippers on. Walking to the door, she stepped out into the main area, freezing on the thresh hold.
Obi-Wan was seated on the floor, his legs crossed, stripped to the waist. He was obviously meditating on something. Sabé wasn't going to presume it was because of her. And walked over to stand in front of him, allowing her eyes to wander over his body. Trim and well muscled, Obi-Wan was a sight to behold. It was all she could do not to drool all over him, let alone drop into his lap and kiss him senseless.
She swallowed the urge, clenching her fists to keep from touching him. "Obi-Wan."
His eyelids flickered but didn't open.
She nudged him with the toe of her slipper. "Obi-Wan."
His eyes slowly opened, focusing on the length of sun bronzed skin directly in front of him. He blinked. His gaze traveled down to tiny black slippers and then up over a well shaped calf, to a muscularly trim thigh until they hit the edge of a night gown about midway up it. He swallowed, his gaze continuing upwards over black silk poured over a perfectly formed body and, at last, met an inquiring pair of brown eyes.
Sabé just about melted as his gaze traveled over her. The touch of his eyes was like a touch of his hands. It made her dizzy. "You owe me a massage."
He blinked at her, once, before suddenly getting to his feet and shrugging into his shirt. She was almost sad to see such a broad expanse of well muscled skin hidden. He should go shirtless more often in her opinion. "I don't recall agreeing to this."
She tilted her chin. So much for trying to con it out of him. "You owe me. You wouldn't give me an explanation, and this is how I'm calling in this debt. My back is so tight I won't be able to sleep. You're supposed to be looking out for my safety. Well, if I don't sleep well because I'm tense, I won't be on my game tomorrow. That means I'll be a danger to you and to those around us."
His smile was slight. "Did anyone ever tell you that you don't fight fair? You should be the Senator, you negotiate like you're born to it."
"I've had to learn since I do negotiate for the Queen when she's not here. At least," she amended hastily, "I used to."
Obi-Wan motioned for her to lead on as he shrugged into his cloak. Sabé led him into the bedroom and stopped by the bed. "Is it easier if I sit or if I stand?"
He motioned to the bed, carefully keeping his gaze on her and not on the object. "Lay down. Do you have any oil?"
"There's some in the 'fresher."
He disappeared as she lay down, shrugging out of the wrap and stretching out on her stomach. Obi-Wan returned and stopped. Her back was bare to the waist and he swallowed hard. Damn, the woman even had a beautiful curve to her spine! He removed his robe, wondering idly why he'd bothered to put it back on, beyond symbolism, and sat next to her. She was so beautiful, he was starting to think this was a bad idea. Getting involved with anyone, even for a fling, was a bad idea. And Sabé would never be a fling.
Sabé heard him open the bottle of oil, turning her head to look at him as he oiled his hands up. She smiled at him before reaching up to pull her hair to the side and turning her face forward again. His hands were sure as he slid them onto her neck again. The massaged, caressed and eased tension as he slowly worked his way down her neck and across her back. Sabé felt as if she'd never be able to walk again. He was turning her into jelly for a second time.
Obi-Wan felt his heart hammering in his chest as he smoothes and eased the muscles of Sabé's back. She hadn't been joking; her muscles were wound tighter than a spring. Trying to keep his touch clinical was not helping matters. Her back was well defined, toned, with her training. And though she was no Jedi, she had very little body fat. Sabé was gorgeous and easily the best proportioned woman he'd ever seen.
She moaned under his touch, responding to his every action as if he were giving her pleasure. He smiled wryly. He supposed being free from pain was a kind of pleasure.
Sabé felt the instant his hands stopped their soothing motions and began to caress. The pressure decreased, her muscles well relaxed under his practiced hands, but his fingers were now searching, memorizing the soft skin. She murmured softly, half-asleep from the pleasure, unaware that he could make out almost every word. "That feels so good, Obi-Wan. Do you think you could do my lower body too?"
His hands froze on her lower back. "Your lower body?"
She yawned, nodding. "Ummhmm. Your hands are like magic."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Where was his Jedi control? Oh, there it was. In tatters because of her sincere, soft spoken words. No woman had ever told him he had hands like magic. "Are you sure Sabé?"
She nodded again. "Oh yes. My legs ache from all the squatting I did to get her files. The floor is a stupid place to keep the secrets of state, don't you think?"
He chuckled softly, unable to help himself. He was sure she didn't know what she was saying, but obliged her and moved towards the foot of the bed. Her foot jerked as he grasped it, slowly rubbing his thumb along her instep. She fought him at first, laughing into her pillow as she awoke before letting out a hissing sigh of relief. His hands worked magic on her feet, soothing the tired soles and making them tingle pleasantly.
"Oh wow. Obi-Wan, you could open your own parlor. The hell with being a Jedi, want to be my personal masseuse?"
He laughed. "Sleep, Sabé."
She buried her head in the pillow again. He'd bee massaging her skin for a little over two hours and though his hands weren't tired, he was sure she was. Carefully working his way up her legs to her thighs, he stopped before touching them. Even his control was being pushed and he wasn't sure if he touched her underneath the skirt if he'd be able to resist her charms. He'd given full body massages before, but this woman was the only one to tempt him to try something. And he didn't think she was doing it intentionally.
She rolled over onto her side, looking up at him with dreamy eyes. "Wow, oh wow."
He smiled, crouching next to her as he wiped his hands on a rag. "Feeling better?"
"You have to ask?" She lifted a hand and grasped his face, pulling him closer. "You, sir, really do work magic with your hands. I'd love to know what the rest of you can do."
He made to pull back but stopped as her soft lips covered his. It was a gentle kiss, almost like a thank you, but he felt it clear to his toes. A sudden, sharp stab of desire lanced through him and he forgot himself for a moment. His hands came up to cup the back of her head as he kissed her back. Her tongue sneaked to his lips, tracing the outline before teasingly slipping inside to brush his. His tongue dueled with hers, stroking and teasing as she moaned.
Obi-Wan froze. What was he doing? He pulled away from her quickly, jumping to his feet and spun around. This couldn't be happening, he couldn't allow this to happen!
"Obi-Wan?"
He closed his eyes against her confused tone. She was right to be confused; he should never have kissed her back. "Good night, Sabé."
He heard a rustle of cloth as she made to get up and, scooping up his cloak, walked from the room. She called him again. "Obi-Wan?"
He turned, meeting her gaze briefly as he shut the door. "Good night, Sabé."
Behind the door, Sabé grabbed a pillow and threw it. "Damn you Jedi!" she yelled before falling back to the bed. Burying her face in the pillow, she felt tears threaten and blinked them back. Insufferable man. Well, she now knew what kissing Obi-Wan would be like. Heavenly. Slowly, a smile spread across her face and she curled up to sleep. Tomorrow they would have to talk.
The cold winds blew across the sand dunes as night fell, swirling through the open hatch of the Noobian craft and against the figure who lay motionless. A convulsive shiver suddenly hit, and the pile of black robes and synth-leather shuddered violently. A cough broke the stillness of the night as sand and blood encrusted lids fluttered open. Twin pools of blue azure, hazed with pain, looked around. "Padmé?"
He choked on the words, coughing as the sand continued to swirl through the cockpit. He squinted, unable to feel her presence nearby. "Padmé?" A broken gaffi stick in the corner caught his gaze, a surge of fear and anger quick on its heels. Sand People had taken Padmé! He forced himself to his feet, feeling the dull pain in the base of his skull, his arms and legs feeling like stone weights. His head spun and he fought back the urge to vomit. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind and forced the pain out. He needed to be focused. When he'd found Padmé, he could concentrate on his own injuries. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, searching for her through the Force, through their connection.
His eyes flew open and he turned in the direction she'd been taken. His eyes narrowing, he forced himself out of the wreckage, pausing only to collect a survival pack, before heading off into the Tatooine desert. He knew the direction she'd been taken as he concentrated on the Force. Quickly, he felt the power whirl through him. Swelling, building, until he focused it on his legs. Taking off at a Force assisted run, he sped across the dunes, leaving next to no trace as his feet barely touched the ground.
Anakin closed in on the Tusken Raider settlement as the moon was rising in the night sky, squinting at the shadowed encampment. There were children running about, playing with gaffi sticks, some kind of trained 'animal' was keeping watch on the outskirts. He saw, in the middle of the camp, two large cages, one with a woman dressed all in white, hanging by two poles, her arms stretched wide apart, her legs hanging loose. Even at a distance he could see defiance in her posture. Padmé. The other cage was smaller, a woman with one arm stretched far to the side, the other missing just above the elbow. He jerked in surprise. Shmi. Mom.
Anakin made his way quickly down the side of the ravine they were camped in, allowing himself to free fall the last ten feet. He crouched, hearing some kind of celebration going on in the center. He could feel Padmé's presence, her defiance and her fear. From his mother, being so close to her again, he could feel pain and a faltering will to live.
He froze, hearing Padmé's voice suddenly ring out across the camp, "Shmi! Shmi Skywalker!"
*No Padmé!* he thought, reaching out for her, *Don't! They'll only hurt you more!*
He could feel her surprise, her joy that he was alive, but she responded, as ever, *Save her, Anakin, you have to!*
A surge of pain almost brought him to his knees as one of the Tusken's entered Padmé's cage and slammed her midriff. Anakin saw red. He began to run towards the center of the camp, *No! Anakin, don't. You'll kill us all!*
He froze, fighting back his rage, his anger, at feeling her pain, *Keep quiet,* he begged silently, ducking into one of the shadows near the second row of huts, *Don't let them hurt you.*
*Think rationally; wait until there's no one awake. Please Anakin, don't throw all our lives away!*
*I won't leave you!*
*Anakin Skywalker, stand down, or so help me I'll tan your hide when you rescue me!*
He bit back a smile, *Promises, promises Angel. I'm coming to get you, I won't leave you in that cage!*
*You have to, Anakin. Please, trust me,* a surge of pain, quickly suppressed made him tighten his grip on the lightsaber, but her thoughts quickly continued, *There are too many of them now, if you try, you'll get all of us killed! Wait until the camp quiets, they won't kill us before then.*
*I hope you know what you're doing, Padmé.* He swallowed hard, seeing her reason and backed out of the camp. From a distance he felt every blow she suffered, heard her every thought, but she remained firm, grounding him, keeping him calm through every hit. The Tusken's finally seemed to tire of her and proceeded to bank the fire.
Shmi was left alone for the most part with Padmé in the cage across from her. Four Tusken's finally dragged both captives away, taking them to different huts. He grasped an image from Padmé's mind of the interior of hers as the guards left her be and took up positions outside.
Anakin waited until the moons were setting before creeping back into the camp. He made his way to the hut his mother was being held captive in and cut his way in with his lightsaber, turning several knobs on it so that the hum of the blade was at the absolute lowest. He kicked the mud hut's wall in and stepped inside. "Mom," he whispered.
Shmi was stretched out across two bars, like a hide stretched out for tanning. Her face was bloodied and bruised, turned away from him. It held no fire, no life. He quickly untied her and cradled her in his arms, "Mom."
Her eyes fluttered and opened. She looked up at him, her brown eyes glazed with pain. Her mouth moved but no sound came out and Anakin realized her tongue had been severed. He swallowed hard, "It's me, mom, Anakin."
She smiled at him, pain and pleasure warring in her eyes. She reached up with her one hand, and gently cupped his face, her thumb stroking his cheek. Anakin bowed his head and placed it gently against her forehead, stretching out with the force to speak with her. *Mom.*
*Ani. My Ani.*
His heart skipped a beat. *I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner, mom.*
*You're here now. Let me look at you.*
Anakin pulled back, sliding one hand around her back, feeling a little self-conscious as she examined him. Her slow, proud smile washed away his doubts. She opened her mouth and he leaned down again, *You look so handsome, so grown up.*
"I've missed you mom," he whispered softly, hugging her to him, "I have to get you out of here."
*It's too late for me, Ani. Seeing you again has fulfilled my last wish, my last desire. I can die happy, Ani.*
He felt tears sting the back of his eyes, "No mom, please. Don't go."
*Don't cry, my son. You have fulfilled your promise. You've freed me. Remember I love you. Tell Cliegg I'm sorry.*
He choked on a sob, "Mom, no. Don't leave me. Please!"
Her hand gently caressed his cheek, her lips gentle as they followed in their wake, before she slipped back from him, her body going limp.
"Mom!" his voice was anguished, strangled as he buried his head in her neck. He could feel Padmé's sorrow as she picked up on his, dragging him down, sinking... drowning...
*ANAKIN!*
Padmé's voice echoed through him, drawing him back, anchoring him. His anguish was plain and he knew she could feel it, but she extended a comforting sensation around him. It allowed him to stand with his mother's body in his arms. He made his way out of the camp quietly, his thoughts already turned to rescuing Padmé. He could grieve for his mother later. He swore, deep down inside himself where Padmé couldn't hear, that he'd get his revenge.
The Tusken Raiders would pay for killing his mother.
Padmé lay face down across a set of three large bones. The hut was dark, lit only by the flickering of a dying fire, and empty. She ached. Her face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, and her lips split. Her left hand was bent at an angle that would snap the tendons if she tried to free it. The right was slashed across the palm, oozing blood into a container, the Tusken's having reopened her day-old almost healed blaster wound. Her legs weren't tied but if she tried to move she felt like she would break something. The left one was asleep, and she wasn't sure if she could move it anyway.
She could feel Anakin's pain, his sorrow, as his mother died. And she was suddenly terrified as she felt him slipping away from her, slipping down into despair and darkness. She lunged for him mentally, grabbing him, straining to hold him up as he willingly fell. She felt his unconscious fight against her before he consciously reached for her presence. She brought to mind the image of a warm blanket enfolding him, her arms surrounding him, holding him close. She felt him find his balance again, the sorrow still prevalent, but he was determined.
Padmé closed her eyes, feeling exhausted. Mentally, and physically, she felt as if she'd tried to pick up one of the Banthas. Anakin was out of danger for the moment and she could feel him coming back for her. She felt the wind slide through the tent, bringing her senses back into focus as something sharp and metallic sliced through the cloth on her back. She screamed, arching up and forward, trying to get away from it.
The sound of laughter filled the tent as it sliced into her back again, drawing two deep furrows of blood. Her white bodysuit became stained, tainted with her blood. Her head spun as her body started to go into shock, adrenaline suddenly kicking in as a foot knocked one of her knees. She didn't think. Straining sideways, her wrist snapping, she lashed back, taking the Tusken's feet out from under him.
Her eyes narrowed as she cocked her head at near breaking point to see, and kicked again, seeing a metal whip of some kind in its hand. Her foot connected with the Tusken's face, rolling him over. She watched for a moment, her breathing echoing in her ears. Seeing he wasn't moving, she collapsed. Her face fell forwards as the pain took her down into unconsciousness; the sound of a lightsaber igniting telling her help was nearby.
Anakin felt her pain, felt each lash, each injury as if it were his own. He's blood began to boil, his eyesight narrowing in on the closest Tusken Raider. A child. His hatred and agony rose to the surface, filling him with an awesome sense of power. He wanted it dead. They needed to suffer as they'd made his mother suffer. As they were making Padmé suffer. His hand clenched at his side and the child fell to the ground, its neck bent at an unnatural angle. Somewhere in his mind he thought he heard a scream, a voice begging him not to do it, but the pain and the rage came quickly, easily and blocked it out.
Burning with fury, he stepped out into the open and sliced the nearest Tusken Raider guard in half. A scream went up through the camp, as his presence was made known. He ducked into the hut and quickly freed Padmé, thinking of her first, even in his murderous state. Free from the bonds, he placed her on the ground, killing the Tusken inside with one stroke, and then stepped back outside, meeting a gaffi stick and slicing through it, with his saber. One by one, as they fled or tried to fight, his lightsaber or force powers slaughtered them all.
Near daybreak, his lightsaber seemed to fall from his hand as he stopped outside the hut he'd left Padmé in. Anguished, he stepped inside, carefully gathering her up in his arms. She was still unconscious, one wrist hanging at an unnatural angle. Careful of her wounds, he carried her outside. Drained, he took her only as far as the cave where he'd left the body of his mother. He treated her wounds carefully before sitting by the cave entrance. Unable to sleep, he watched the twin suns rise over the horizon.
Tormented, he played back the terrible evening of before, his mother's words echoing in his thoughts, the pictures he'd seen in her mind coming back to him. A man on a moisture farm laughing with her. A younger version of that same man was seated, cleaning something that looked like a droid. The images flashed through a myriad of colors and locations, always the same backdrop.
Anakin unconsciously replayed the images of the slaughtered Tusken's in his mind. He'd killed them all, slaughtered every last one of them, made them pay for the pain they'd caused. They had deserved to die. He blocked it away in his mind, looking back over his shoulder at where Padmé lay unconscious. He'd never be able to sleep, never be able to rest, while his emotions were in such turmoil.
With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and went to crouch by Padmé. She was breathing evenly, her face beautiful even through the bruises. He should have saved her first, before they'd had the chance to lay a hand on her. He felt his anger beginning to come back and couldn't fight it. Afraid of what he might do, he leapt to his feet and ran from the cave as his rage clouded his thoughts and stole his memory.
Chapter 7
Inside her room, Sabé turned on her bed computer and flipped open the files she was handling for the Queen in her absence. Damn Jedi. Who did he think he was anyway? She tried to read the file she'd opened but couldn't concentrate. Obi-Wan's softly spoken admission kept running through her mind. Like she'd let him so anything she didn't want. She was no weak willed simpleton! How dare he think she didn't want him! Wait, wasn't she made at him still? She shook her head, grumbling softly. The sun hadn't yet set and she was already so worked up she wasn't sure she could sleep. She shut down the computer and stood, pacing back and forth while trying to work through her muddled thoughts.
She was attracted to Obi-Wan, that was true, but was it just physical? True, he wasn't the best conversationalist, he never said much, but his presence was thrilling all the same. She was a self reliant woman, did she really want some hunky, totally munchable Jedi running her peace of mind. She grimaced. Who was she kidding, he already was! She was so frustrated she felt like screaming! When had that happened? When had he become so important she was starting to want to jump him regardless of his code? Or was she just so frustrated with him she was willing to do anything to get him out of her system. She laughed. That was a joke. Nothing would get him out of her mind.
All of a sudden, she grinned. He owed her a back massage and, to be honest, her back was starting to pull and cramp. Why not cash in on it right away? He'd had an hour to cool off and it wasn't like he'd have to worry about that control of his slipping. Regardless of what he'd said, she felt he was immune to her appeal as a woman. It was somewhat deflating.
Turning to her wardrobe she grabbed a night gown that left her back bare and attached at the neck. She slipped out of her handmaiden's gown before pulling the new one on over her hips. The silk slid over her skin, giving her goose bumps. Fastening it securely, she slipped into a dressing gown of the same black and put her slippers on. Walking to the door, she stepped out into the main area, freezing on the thresh hold.
Obi-Wan was seated on the floor, his legs crossed, stripped to the waist. He was obviously meditating on something. Sabé wasn't going to presume it was because of her. And walked over to stand in front of him, allowing her eyes to wander over his body. Trim and well muscled, Obi-Wan was a sight to behold. It was all she could do not to drool all over him, let alone drop into his lap and kiss him senseless.
She swallowed the urge, clenching her fists to keep from touching him. "Obi-Wan."
His eyelids flickered but didn't open.
She nudged him with the toe of her slipper. "Obi-Wan."
His eyes slowly opened, focusing on the length of sun bronzed skin directly in front of him. He blinked. His gaze traveled down to tiny black slippers and then up over a well shaped calf, to a muscularly trim thigh until they hit the edge of a night gown about midway up it. He swallowed, his gaze continuing upwards over black silk poured over a perfectly formed body and, at last, met an inquiring pair of brown eyes.
Sabé just about melted as his gaze traveled over her. The touch of his eyes was like a touch of his hands. It made her dizzy. "You owe me a massage."
He blinked at her, once, before suddenly getting to his feet and shrugging into his shirt. She was almost sad to see such a broad expanse of well muscled skin hidden. He should go shirtless more often in her opinion. "I don't recall agreeing to this."
She tilted her chin. So much for trying to con it out of him. "You owe me. You wouldn't give me an explanation, and this is how I'm calling in this debt. My back is so tight I won't be able to sleep. You're supposed to be looking out for my safety. Well, if I don't sleep well because I'm tense, I won't be on my game tomorrow. That means I'll be a danger to you and to those around us."
His smile was slight. "Did anyone ever tell you that you don't fight fair? You should be the Senator, you negotiate like you're born to it."
"I've had to learn since I do negotiate for the Queen when she's not here. At least," she amended hastily, "I used to."
Obi-Wan motioned for her to lead on as he shrugged into his cloak. Sabé led him into the bedroom and stopped by the bed. "Is it easier if I sit or if I stand?"
He motioned to the bed, carefully keeping his gaze on her and not on the object. "Lay down. Do you have any oil?"
"There's some in the 'fresher."
He disappeared as she lay down, shrugging out of the wrap and stretching out on her stomach. Obi-Wan returned and stopped. Her back was bare to the waist and he swallowed hard. Damn, the woman even had a beautiful curve to her spine! He removed his robe, wondering idly why he'd bothered to put it back on, beyond symbolism, and sat next to her. She was so beautiful, he was starting to think this was a bad idea. Getting involved with anyone, even for a fling, was a bad idea. And Sabé would never be a fling.
Sabé heard him open the bottle of oil, turning her head to look at him as he oiled his hands up. She smiled at him before reaching up to pull her hair to the side and turning her face forward again. His hands were sure as he slid them onto her neck again. The massaged, caressed and eased tension as he slowly worked his way down her neck and across her back. Sabé felt as if she'd never be able to walk again. He was turning her into jelly for a second time.
Obi-Wan felt his heart hammering in his chest as he smoothes and eased the muscles of Sabé's back. She hadn't been joking; her muscles were wound tighter than a spring. Trying to keep his touch clinical was not helping matters. Her back was well defined, toned, with her training. And though she was no Jedi, she had very little body fat. Sabé was gorgeous and easily the best proportioned woman he'd ever seen.
She moaned under his touch, responding to his every action as if he were giving her pleasure. He smiled wryly. He supposed being free from pain was a kind of pleasure.
Sabé felt the instant his hands stopped their soothing motions and began to caress. The pressure decreased, her muscles well relaxed under his practiced hands, but his fingers were now searching, memorizing the soft skin. She murmured softly, half-asleep from the pleasure, unaware that he could make out almost every word. "That feels so good, Obi-Wan. Do you think you could do my lower body too?"
His hands froze on her lower back. "Your lower body?"
She yawned, nodding. "Ummhmm. Your hands are like magic."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Where was his Jedi control? Oh, there it was. In tatters because of her sincere, soft spoken words. No woman had ever told him he had hands like magic. "Are you sure Sabé?"
She nodded again. "Oh yes. My legs ache from all the squatting I did to get her files. The floor is a stupid place to keep the secrets of state, don't you think?"
He chuckled softly, unable to help himself. He was sure she didn't know what she was saying, but obliged her and moved towards the foot of the bed. Her foot jerked as he grasped it, slowly rubbing his thumb along her instep. She fought him at first, laughing into her pillow as she awoke before letting out a hissing sigh of relief. His hands worked magic on her feet, soothing the tired soles and making them tingle pleasantly.
"Oh wow. Obi-Wan, you could open your own parlor. The hell with being a Jedi, want to be my personal masseuse?"
He laughed. "Sleep, Sabé."
She buried her head in the pillow again. He'd bee massaging her skin for a little over two hours and though his hands weren't tired, he was sure she was. Carefully working his way up her legs to her thighs, he stopped before touching them. Even his control was being pushed and he wasn't sure if he touched her underneath the skirt if he'd be able to resist her charms. He'd given full body massages before, but this woman was the only one to tempt him to try something. And he didn't think she was doing it intentionally.
She rolled over onto her side, looking up at him with dreamy eyes. "Wow, oh wow."
He smiled, crouching next to her as he wiped his hands on a rag. "Feeling better?"
"You have to ask?" She lifted a hand and grasped his face, pulling him closer. "You, sir, really do work magic with your hands. I'd love to know what the rest of you can do."
He made to pull back but stopped as her soft lips covered his. It was a gentle kiss, almost like a thank you, but he felt it clear to his toes. A sudden, sharp stab of desire lanced through him and he forgot himself for a moment. His hands came up to cup the back of her head as he kissed her back. Her tongue sneaked to his lips, tracing the outline before teasingly slipping inside to brush his. His tongue dueled with hers, stroking and teasing as she moaned.
Obi-Wan froze. What was he doing? He pulled away from her quickly, jumping to his feet and spun around. This couldn't be happening, he couldn't allow this to happen!
"Obi-Wan?"
He closed his eyes against her confused tone. She was right to be confused; he should never have kissed her back. "Good night, Sabé."
He heard a rustle of cloth as she made to get up and, scooping up his cloak, walked from the room. She called him again. "Obi-Wan?"
He turned, meeting her gaze briefly as he shut the door. "Good night, Sabé."
Behind the door, Sabé grabbed a pillow and threw it. "Damn you Jedi!" she yelled before falling back to the bed. Burying her face in the pillow, she felt tears threaten and blinked them back. Insufferable man. Well, she now knew what kissing Obi-Wan would be like. Heavenly. Slowly, a smile spread across her face and she curled up to sleep. Tomorrow they would have to talk.
The cold winds blew across the sand dunes as night fell, swirling through the open hatch of the Noobian craft and against the figure who lay motionless. A convulsive shiver suddenly hit, and the pile of black robes and synth-leather shuddered violently. A cough broke the stillness of the night as sand and blood encrusted lids fluttered open. Twin pools of blue azure, hazed with pain, looked around. "Padmé?"
He choked on the words, coughing as the sand continued to swirl through the cockpit. He squinted, unable to feel her presence nearby. "Padmé?" A broken gaffi stick in the corner caught his gaze, a surge of fear and anger quick on its heels. Sand People had taken Padmé! He forced himself to his feet, feeling the dull pain in the base of his skull, his arms and legs feeling like stone weights. His head spun and he fought back the urge to vomit. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind and forced the pain out. He needed to be focused. When he'd found Padmé, he could concentrate on his own injuries. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, searching for her through the Force, through their connection.
His eyes flew open and he turned in the direction she'd been taken. His eyes narrowing, he forced himself out of the wreckage, pausing only to collect a survival pack, before heading off into the Tatooine desert. He knew the direction she'd been taken as he concentrated on the Force. Quickly, he felt the power whirl through him. Swelling, building, until he focused it on his legs. Taking off at a Force assisted run, he sped across the dunes, leaving next to no trace as his feet barely touched the ground.
Anakin closed in on the Tusken Raider settlement as the moon was rising in the night sky, squinting at the shadowed encampment. There were children running about, playing with gaffi sticks, some kind of trained 'animal' was keeping watch on the outskirts. He saw, in the middle of the camp, two large cages, one with a woman dressed all in white, hanging by two poles, her arms stretched wide apart, her legs hanging loose. Even at a distance he could see defiance in her posture. Padmé. The other cage was smaller, a woman with one arm stretched far to the side, the other missing just above the elbow. He jerked in surprise. Shmi. Mom.
Anakin made his way quickly down the side of the ravine they were camped in, allowing himself to free fall the last ten feet. He crouched, hearing some kind of celebration going on in the center. He could feel Padmé's presence, her defiance and her fear. From his mother, being so close to her again, he could feel pain and a faltering will to live.
He froze, hearing Padmé's voice suddenly ring out across the camp, "Shmi! Shmi Skywalker!"
*No Padmé!* he thought, reaching out for her, *Don't! They'll only hurt you more!*
He could feel her surprise, her joy that he was alive, but she responded, as ever, *Save her, Anakin, you have to!*
A surge of pain almost brought him to his knees as one of the Tusken's entered Padmé's cage and slammed her midriff. Anakin saw red. He began to run towards the center of the camp, *No! Anakin, don't. You'll kill us all!*
He froze, fighting back his rage, his anger, at feeling her pain, *Keep quiet,* he begged silently, ducking into one of the shadows near the second row of huts, *Don't let them hurt you.*
*Think rationally; wait until there's no one awake. Please Anakin, don't throw all our lives away!*
*I won't leave you!*
*Anakin Skywalker, stand down, or so help me I'll tan your hide when you rescue me!*
He bit back a smile, *Promises, promises Angel. I'm coming to get you, I won't leave you in that cage!*
*You have to, Anakin. Please, trust me,* a surge of pain, quickly suppressed made him tighten his grip on the lightsaber, but her thoughts quickly continued, *There are too many of them now, if you try, you'll get all of us killed! Wait until the camp quiets, they won't kill us before then.*
*I hope you know what you're doing, Padmé.* He swallowed hard, seeing her reason and backed out of the camp. From a distance he felt every blow she suffered, heard her every thought, but she remained firm, grounding him, keeping him calm through every hit. The Tusken's finally seemed to tire of her and proceeded to bank the fire.
Shmi was left alone for the most part with Padmé in the cage across from her. Four Tusken's finally dragged both captives away, taking them to different huts. He grasped an image from Padmé's mind of the interior of hers as the guards left her be and took up positions outside.
Anakin waited until the moons were setting before creeping back into the camp. He made his way to the hut his mother was being held captive in and cut his way in with his lightsaber, turning several knobs on it so that the hum of the blade was at the absolute lowest. He kicked the mud hut's wall in and stepped inside. "Mom," he whispered.
Shmi was stretched out across two bars, like a hide stretched out for tanning. Her face was bloodied and bruised, turned away from him. It held no fire, no life. He quickly untied her and cradled her in his arms, "Mom."
Her eyes fluttered and opened. She looked up at him, her brown eyes glazed with pain. Her mouth moved but no sound came out and Anakin realized her tongue had been severed. He swallowed hard, "It's me, mom, Anakin."
She smiled at him, pain and pleasure warring in her eyes. She reached up with her one hand, and gently cupped his face, her thumb stroking his cheek. Anakin bowed his head and placed it gently against her forehead, stretching out with the force to speak with her. *Mom.*
*Ani. My Ani.*
His heart skipped a beat. *I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner, mom.*
*You're here now. Let me look at you.*
Anakin pulled back, sliding one hand around her back, feeling a little self-conscious as she examined him. Her slow, proud smile washed away his doubts. She opened her mouth and he leaned down again, *You look so handsome, so grown up.*
"I've missed you mom," he whispered softly, hugging her to him, "I have to get you out of here."
*It's too late for me, Ani. Seeing you again has fulfilled my last wish, my last desire. I can die happy, Ani.*
He felt tears sting the back of his eyes, "No mom, please. Don't go."
*Don't cry, my son. You have fulfilled your promise. You've freed me. Remember I love you. Tell Cliegg I'm sorry.*
He choked on a sob, "Mom, no. Don't leave me. Please!"
Her hand gently caressed his cheek, her lips gentle as they followed in their wake, before she slipped back from him, her body going limp.
"Mom!" his voice was anguished, strangled as he buried his head in her neck. He could feel Padmé's sorrow as she picked up on his, dragging him down, sinking... drowning...
*ANAKIN!*
Padmé's voice echoed through him, drawing him back, anchoring him. His anguish was plain and he knew she could feel it, but she extended a comforting sensation around him. It allowed him to stand with his mother's body in his arms. He made his way out of the camp quietly, his thoughts already turned to rescuing Padmé. He could grieve for his mother later. He swore, deep down inside himself where Padmé couldn't hear, that he'd get his revenge.
The Tusken Raiders would pay for killing his mother.
Padmé lay face down across a set of three large bones. The hut was dark, lit only by the flickering of a dying fire, and empty. She ached. Her face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, and her lips split. Her left hand was bent at an angle that would snap the tendons if she tried to free it. The right was slashed across the palm, oozing blood into a container, the Tusken's having reopened her day-old almost healed blaster wound. Her legs weren't tied but if she tried to move she felt like she would break something. The left one was asleep, and she wasn't sure if she could move it anyway.
She could feel Anakin's pain, his sorrow, as his mother died. And she was suddenly terrified as she felt him slipping away from her, slipping down into despair and darkness. She lunged for him mentally, grabbing him, straining to hold him up as he willingly fell. She felt his unconscious fight against her before he consciously reached for her presence. She brought to mind the image of a warm blanket enfolding him, her arms surrounding him, holding him close. She felt him find his balance again, the sorrow still prevalent, but he was determined.
Padmé closed her eyes, feeling exhausted. Mentally, and physically, she felt as if she'd tried to pick up one of the Banthas. Anakin was out of danger for the moment and she could feel him coming back for her. She felt the wind slide through the tent, bringing her senses back into focus as something sharp and metallic sliced through the cloth on her back. She screamed, arching up and forward, trying to get away from it.
The sound of laughter filled the tent as it sliced into her back again, drawing two deep furrows of blood. Her white bodysuit became stained, tainted with her blood. Her head spun as her body started to go into shock, adrenaline suddenly kicking in as a foot knocked one of her knees. She didn't think. Straining sideways, her wrist snapping, she lashed back, taking the Tusken's feet out from under him.
Her eyes narrowed as she cocked her head at near breaking point to see, and kicked again, seeing a metal whip of some kind in its hand. Her foot connected with the Tusken's face, rolling him over. She watched for a moment, her breathing echoing in her ears. Seeing he wasn't moving, she collapsed. Her face fell forwards as the pain took her down into unconsciousness; the sound of a lightsaber igniting telling her help was nearby.
Anakin felt her pain, felt each lash, each injury as if it were his own. He's blood began to boil, his eyesight narrowing in on the closest Tusken Raider. A child. His hatred and agony rose to the surface, filling him with an awesome sense of power. He wanted it dead. They needed to suffer as they'd made his mother suffer. As they were making Padmé suffer. His hand clenched at his side and the child fell to the ground, its neck bent at an unnatural angle. Somewhere in his mind he thought he heard a scream, a voice begging him not to do it, but the pain and the rage came quickly, easily and blocked it out.
Burning with fury, he stepped out into the open and sliced the nearest Tusken Raider guard in half. A scream went up through the camp, as his presence was made known. He ducked into the hut and quickly freed Padmé, thinking of her first, even in his murderous state. Free from the bonds, he placed her on the ground, killing the Tusken inside with one stroke, and then stepped back outside, meeting a gaffi stick and slicing through it, with his saber. One by one, as they fled or tried to fight, his lightsaber or force powers slaughtered them all.
Near daybreak, his lightsaber seemed to fall from his hand as he stopped outside the hut he'd left Padmé in. Anguished, he stepped inside, carefully gathering her up in his arms. She was still unconscious, one wrist hanging at an unnatural angle. Careful of her wounds, he carried her outside. Drained, he took her only as far as the cave where he'd left the body of his mother. He treated her wounds carefully before sitting by the cave entrance. Unable to sleep, he watched the twin suns rise over the horizon.
Tormented, he played back the terrible evening of before, his mother's words echoing in his thoughts, the pictures he'd seen in her mind coming back to him. A man on a moisture farm laughing with her. A younger version of that same man was seated, cleaning something that looked like a droid. The images flashed through a myriad of colors and locations, always the same backdrop.
Anakin unconsciously replayed the images of the slaughtered Tusken's in his mind. He'd killed them all, slaughtered every last one of them, made them pay for the pain they'd caused. They had deserved to die. He blocked it away in his mind, looking back over his shoulder at where Padmé lay unconscious. He'd never be able to sleep, never be able to rest, while his emotions were in such turmoil.
With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and went to crouch by Padmé. She was breathing evenly, her face beautiful even through the bruises. He should have saved her first, before they'd had the chance to lay a hand on her. He felt his anger beginning to come back and couldn't fight it. Afraid of what he might do, he leapt to his feet and ran from the cave as his rage clouded his thoughts and stole his memory.