She had absolutely nothing to wear! From a whirlwind of flying gowns emerged a disheveled Padme, scowling as if thieves had confiscated her entire wardrobe. On the contrary, surrounding her were three enormous mounds of vivid, expensive costumes from the finest designers in the galaxy and a very bewildered maid droid. The droid had just spent the last three hours stocking away the senator's clothing and now it seemed her new mistress was unhappy.
Padme watched the droid scuttle away, looking decidedly confused and she felt like doing the exact same thing. It had been exactly an hour since Obi-Wan had dropped her off at her room with the orders of dinner promptly. In addition, if she knew the Jedi at all by now, she knew he was probably brimming with impatience at her tardiness. It had been a strange day, full of strained conversation and then a laugh or two. They had tarried in the Gardens until late afternoon, Padme exploring the wonder of lilies and Obi-Wan following docilely behind her. Since their rather tense exchange of words, the two had kept considerable distance between them and had not spoken unless it was commenting upon the Alderaanian weather system. The odd effects of their conversation about love still tickled the back of her brain annoyingly. No matter how she tried, she couldn't erase the picture of his gaze. It was as if she had stared at the sun too long, burning the image upon her vision.
Humming frenetically to herself, she held up an emerald gown to her chest and posed from left to right in her mirror. Maybe if she braided her hair and wore-.She stopped and stared at her tousled reflection in disgust. Why in the name of the Sith did she care what she wore to dinner with Kenobi? She hadn't even wanted to see him for the rest of the night. With an exasperated yell, she whipped the gown over her head, struggling a little with its weight. She was stomping out a curse when the dress floated back to her- and she knew who had entered the room without her knowledge. She replied grumpily over her shoulder,
"Haven't we gone over the privacy issue already, Obi-Wan? You can't just march in here like a guard dog."
"Well I thought we'd gone over the fact that dinner was to be promptly. Not two hours later."
Squeezing through the crevasse between her wardrobe piles, she harrumphed,
"For your information, it's only been an hour. You're exaggerating again, Obi-Wan". When she stumbled out into the main living area quite ungracefully and looking like a scullery maid, she finally glanced at the annoyed Jedi. His appearance shocked her. In the attempts to go unrecognized, he had changed from his typically drab robes to a uniform of fitting, gray officer's pants with yellow pinstripe, white dress shirt and obsidian-colored boots up to his knees. His ginger-brown hair, so often pushed to the wayside, had been combed and pulled back with a leather thong; and his beard had been trimmed handsomely. For once Obi-Wan had managed to get rid of his scruffy-looking image; instead, he just looked amusingly uncomfortable.
"What?" he snapped. "Am I that unsightly that you must so rudely stare?"
"Why, Obi-Wan, you rival a Gamorrean," she giggled teasingly. "Actually I was going to comment that you looked very distinguished, General Kenobi-almost respectable."
"I am a Jedi, in case you've forgotten," he grumbled. "I always look respectable. People just fail to see the value and versatility of brown robes." Urged by the laugh he elicited from the senator, he teased good-naturedly, "And you, m'lady, look positively ghastly. What black hole tore through your closet?"
Padme glanced down at her simple white dressing gown and embarrassedly touched a hand to her messy mane of hair. She stuttered an excuse.
"Well you see you forced me to leave Coruscant so quickly that I forgot my best gowns. So it's all you fault that I'm late for dinner."
"Your logic is astounding, Padme." He shook his head and began rifling through the heaps. "It's a simple dinner and since you are not supposed to be Senator Amidala, most of this frippery is simply useless. I have never understood your passion for materialism-you really are full of contradictions."
As he pawed through her precious clothing roughly, she smiled to herself and thought she could have said the same thing about him. She had thought Anakin to be the most contradictory man, but as she spent more time with Obi-Wan, he was changing her mind. At times, he was the harsh, detached master her husband railed against; but then he would make a joke, typically at her expense, and he'd be transformed into a completely different man. One who smiled easily and loved to banter. A gown was shoved at her.
"Here wear this," he ordered, stepping back and viewing her with a critical eye. "And don't waste time convoluting your hair into odd shapes please. Just rush a brush through it and leave it down. My growling stomach won't wait much longer."
"And if I take my own sweet time, then what?" she asked airily, stepping into her closet to change at his order. Obi-Wan's answer sent thrills to the pit of her stomach.
"Then I might be tempted to eat you myself," he growled. He had meant it as humorous but even to his own ears, it sounded sexually charged. Eager to change the suddenly tense air, he said seriously, pacing a little,
"Now, Padme, you must remember we are not ourselves tonight. Our identities must be kept carefully, although your runaway stunt this morning could have cost us everything. Tonight, even it bothers you; I will call you Padme-nothing else."
Finishing up the hooks on her bodice, she smiled and asked loudly,
"And what shall I be calling you? And Master, Your Highness or Excellency are out of the question."
"Damn," Obi-Wan grinned and snapped his fingers mock-disappointedly. "And I had my hopes set on Excellency. I suppose you can choose what to call me-as long as it's not completely silly or feminine. No curse words either, Padme," he warned."
"How about Ben?" she said, coming out of the closet to face him. Twirling slightly like a model, she continued, "I always loved the name Ben."
Obi-Wan looked up in time to have her face him. She took his breath away. The sapphire gown clung to her subtle curves, the ones that he hadn't ever noticed before, draping and alluring. Her rich brown hair hung in waves down the length of her back, held back by a simple pearled clip. Her eyes were fixed on him in some sort of masked anticipation and her smile was curved in curiosity. She urged,
"Well? Is Ben allowable?"
Gruffly, to hurry past his astounded stare, he answered, heading for the door,
"Ben will do fine. Now may we finally leave, Padme?"
She nodded, gathered her cloak and proceeded after him, downcast he hadn't given her any compliments. Her two warring sides argued loudly in her head. From her left ear, she heard an angry "you don't give a whomp rat's ass what he thinks". From her right, she heard a sigh "did you see the way he looked at you though?"
~*~*~*~*~
The restaurant sat high above a behemoth skyscraper on the edge of the capital city of Aldera. A silver spire, it glittered as a star in the night's sky, over-looking the lake Aldera was built upon. Padme gazed out the view port with gauzy eyes and a softly set mouth, every crease erased from her young face. Obi-Wan was so pleased to see her at peace that he hated to interrupt her musing.
"Credit for your thoughts?" he asked gently, taking a sip of his globe fruit juice.
She startled only slightly this time as if she was getting used to his interruptions. She smiled and teased in a hushed voice,
"I'm a senator, remember? Many people would pay much higher than a credit for a thought of mine."
"Ah but here you are not a senator, dear. Here you are just another-"
"Beautiful wife," a waiter's voice crept into their conversation. Both Obi-Wan and Padme's heads snapped up. Padme started to protest but Obi-Wan hurried in with a huge, fake grin,
"Yes, thank you, sir. I do have a beautiful wife, don't I?" he clapped his hand over hers affectionately and said, "She's as precious as they come. Say, good fellow, do you have anything special for newlyweds?"
"But of course," the waiter droid replied, his mechanical face somehow looking pleased. "We have a very fine wine we grant to only privileged guests. Would you care to try it, sir?"
Obi-Wan nodded an affirmative and turned his attention onto Padme, bathing her in a loving gaze as the droid glided away. When it had disappeared around a corner, Padme hissed under her breath,
"What are you trying to pull? Now I have to pretend I'm your wife! This is insane!" She jerked her hand from his grasp and immediately felt the loss of its warmth. Anakin always teased about her about her icy hands, said he was sure she was going to turn him into block of ice one day. The incessant guilt was back. Obi-Wan misjudged the expression on her face.
"Alright, I'm sorry. I know the great Senator Amidala would never stoop so low as to subjugate her self to a man. I was forced to think of something quickly and it just seemed logical to go along with his assumptions."
Padme flinched. The lie she lived with daily turned repeatedly in her mouth, threatening to spill out and release her from its hold. Obi-Wan had no idea that she was already bound to another man, a man she couldn't even recognize these days. It was as if she had entered a marriage lottery and married a stranger. The bright, passionate boy she had known had been lost to a man full of anger and suspicion. Disturbed by her darkened mood, she took a long swig of the blue liquid in her glass.
Obi-Wan watched her with an inquisitive, arched eyebrow. He nudged her foot under the table and joked,
"You do know that's not alcoholic, Padme. It won't do you any good to guzzle juice. Wait 'til the wine arrives and then you can drown your troubles."
As if on cue, the droid bearing a costly looking bottle swooped in.
"With our compliments, sir, may you have a blessed union full of laughter and productivity." He bowed stiltedly and both Obi-Wan and Padme struggled to reign in their laughter until he had disappeared. Padme giggled as her Jedi companion popped the cork and proceeded to pour them both generous amounts.
"What does productivity have to do with a marriage? Droids are so hard to comprehend sometimes. I swear the only ones I understand are Artoo and Threepio."
"You miss them." Obi-Wan stated more than asked, handing her a bubbling goblet of Alderaanian wine. "I'm sure they're fine with Anakin.
"Oh, of course," she shrugged her nonchalance. "But they're much more Ani's droids than mine. Although they're quite protective of me now. Almost as bad as you, Ben darling." She rolled her eyes at the latter part and sipped her drink while Obi-Wan watched in amusement. The rush of sensation that hit her tongue and rushed down her throat nearly made her erupt into coughs. Like liquid heat, it slid down into her belly and seemed to shoot sparks to fingers and toes. She gasped,
"What in the world! Why, I feel like I'm on fire. Not burning up-just smoldering."
"That would be the expected feeling, Padme," he chuckled. "I see your fine upbringing didn't include trips to the local cantina. Just take it easy and it will be fine. The side-effects are quite lovely, I assure you."
"Now see this is another Jedi paradox that I don't understand. Shouldn't it be against the code to consume such pleasurable, altering drinks such as this?" she asked, slurping another sip without a twinge.
"You seem to be full of questions about what a Jedi should and shouldn't do these days. I'm afraid I don't have all the answers you're looking for. Perhaps you should ask Anakin; he seems to believe he knows everything these days."
"Let's not talk about Anakin," Padme declared, feeling the heady feeling of the alcohol lift her spirits. "Let's just keep pretending we're Ben and Padme. People who aren't hiding out from murderous separatists, people who lack expectations and rules that govern their entire life." On a sudden burst of inspiration, she jumped to her feet. "Let's dance, Ben. Please!"
She pointed to the open terrace to their right where a few stray couples could be seen slow dancing to the Bith orchestra playing quietly. Giving him a pouting look, she wheedled,
"Please, Ben, if I have to be miserable here, at least give me a dance."
There was something at the back of Obi-Wan's brain that railed against the suggestion; it fought tooth and nail against the thought of dancing with his padawan's love. The beseeching smile on the beauty's face won out against his inhibitions though and he allowed the girl to drag him out to the terrace. Setting their drinks on the stone ledge of the balcony, Padme began to sway slowly and glanced at Obi-Wan expectantly. Tentatively, gingerly he wrapped his arms loosely about her waist, and settled his weight uncomfortably, still standing nearly arm's length away.
"I see your Jedi upbringing didn't include dance lessons," Padme teased. "I'm not a china doll-you won't break me." She gently grabbed a hold of the front of his shirt and pulled him closer with an order. "Now put your arms tighter around me. And Ben, this is a dance, not a lightsaber duel. Don't look so uptight."
Drawing her in closer as she had commanded, he began to follow her lead as she swayed and began to move with the music. At first, all his concentration was taken completely in the efforts to avoid stepping on Padme's dainty feet, but then a breeze stirred up. Padme shivered and naturally moved her torso up against his, seeking heat. Not only did she find it-she unknowingly caused it. Obi-Wan looked down at her in surprise, shocked at the reaction her pliant body was causing in him. Control, Obi-Wan, he heard his old master's voice in his ear, you never learned control. He clenched his jaw as a slightly tipsy Padme slipped her arms around his neck and began tangling her fingers in his thick hair. Humming to herself and pressing her pliant body up to him, Padme was severely testing Obi-Wan's limits. Force, he was a Jedi but he was still a man.
A low growl escaped his throat and his head bent down closer to hers, inhaling her scent and wishing he'd never got himself into this position. Padme lifted her chin and blinked in bewilderment right into the dark pupils of his eyes. Unconsciously her lips parted, drawing his attention to her delicate mouth. His own lips were lowering, searching, heading for the warm, willing destination in front of them. They never reached their target.
The explosion hit and all Obi-Wan felt was air.