Across the galaxy, far exceeding the speed of light, dodging through stars and entering the atmosphere, it hit him in the dark. He bolted upright in bed, his head pounding with her pain, his body trembling with her fear. Immediately as in second nature, his hand crept across the bed, grasping the lightsaber resting beside him. The cold metal of the hilt calmed his burning palms but did nothing to ease his tumbling mind. She was calling out into space, a signal colored with dread and hurt. She was calling for him. He bounded from the bed, pulling on his robes with ferocity as if the act of getting dressed was unnecessarily slowing him down. He was striding his long legs quickly towards the door, already making excuses in his head for leaving Corellia.

His hand had just reached the door when she changed. Suddenly the fear subsided and the pain dulled, leaving a hollow gape in his mind where her feelings had just been throbbing. She was being comforted. He felt someone else's reassurance set her at ease, felt someone's presence through her, their arms around her, their mouth whispering against her hair. He squeezed his eyes shut until it pained him, focusing on the familiar being that was with his love-his wife. His mind stretched through the Force, stretching, twisting his mind's eye until it could clearly see. What he saw drove his fist into the wall before him.

He saw red as if his very blood had risen up to his irises, boiling away his sight. He fought to control the rage that shook his body now. He was being betrayed-he was as sure of that as he was his own name. The weight of the lightsaber in his hand drew his attention and murderous thoughts slashed across his mind like lightning. He needed to call Palpatine-he would know how to deal with this treachery. As he headed once again for the door, he felt torn in two jagged pieces. His heart pounded with desperate, possessive love for Padme. She was his and only his. He wouldn't allow any competition, any lies, any deceit, any betrayal. Both would pay dearly for this slight.

~*~*~*~*~

It was the sweet, low chirping of songbirds that awoke Obi-Wan Kenobi from his deep, fitful sleep. His still weary eyes stretched open, feeling as if sand was rubbing across his corneas. His body ached with overused muscles and minor burns that had singed his body. He was hardly aware of his own discomfort though as his senses broadened and he felt the heavy weight of a head upon his shoulder. His heart fluttered in a swarm of butterflies and different emotions as he looked down at Padme sleeping soundly. Her rumpled russet hair had splayed across the both of them, covering the bulky bandages he had watched Lirta place on her and her dark-mooned eyes were closed lightly, the beautiful fringe of her eyelashes resting upon her pale cheeks. He struggled between the choice of waking her or having feeling in his right arm again.

It had been a difficult night for Padme-one Obi-Wan still hadn't comprehended yet. Some nameless fear had overtaken her and nightmares wreaked havoc with her sleeping mind all night. Tossing and turning, crying out and weeping silently-it had continued all through the night. He had held her, stroked her hair, wiped away tears, comforted the storm in her soul as best he could. No one had ever taught him the fine art of calming a woman whose weeping was as torrential as rain season on Calamari. So many times during the night, he had been at a loss of how to treat the broken woman beside him. Anything had been better than himself falling to sleep; his own mind was becoming treacherous of late. Dark specters he recognized but couldn't name had begun haunting him in dreams. In truth, he was as troubled as Padme.

As if she felt his thoughts of her, she stirred slowly, rolling her pliant body towards his, unconsciously seeking his heat. She groaned lowly, hiding her face into the pillows. Voice muffled she asked,

"Is it really morning?"

Obi-Wan chuckled although it pained him a little to do so.

"I'm afraid so, m'lady. Now that you've gotten your beauty sleep, are you feeling any better?" He asked in a light, teasing tone but the undercurrent of his tone was all concern. Padme turned her head to stare rather aimlessly at the patched ceiling and sighed.

"I'm fine. Thoroughly exhausted and sore in every particle of my body but other than that, I'd say I'm alive."

"Well glad to hear it," he said, gritting his teeth and forcing his body to sit up. Rolling his neck, his tousled hair falling into his eyes, he caught her staring unabashedly. He stopped in slight embarrassment and asked gruffly,

"What? What is it? Am I not looking princely enough for you, Your Highness?"

"You know I really wish you wouldn't call me that. I haven't been a queen for many years now. I almost prefer that infernal, informal title of Senator. And I'm sorry if I was making you uncomfortable, I was just wondering why you stayed with me last night."

"Need I remind you about my duty and the Jedi code and all that jazz?" he shrugged nonchalantly although the effort cost him.

"No, no. I don't mean that, Obi-Wan," she stumbled for the right words. "I meant that you took care of me. With the nightmares and such. You didn't need to be so devoted-that isn't in that blasted code of yours."

Obi-Wan climbed out of the bed they had shared and straightened, looking adorably rumpled in the clothes burnt and torn by the explosion. He said simply, avoiding her gaze,

"The code had nothing to do with last night, Padme. I care about you as I always have. You needed someone and I was honored to help you."

There was a stiff nicety to his words that he forced to disguise the raw emotion he felt running through his bloodstream. He was a traitor. A traitor to both himself and his padawan. Why he was even being traitorous to Padme. He knew how personal emotions could interfere with one's duty. If he let this attachment continue growing, he would only be putting her at risk. Although Padme's downcast expression cut him to the core, he was determined to break the chain of events his heart was creating. He said brusquely,

"I shall find you something to eat. I'm sure Lirta mentioned there were rations around here somewhere."

"Ugh, that woman, "Padme shivered. "She frightens me."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow as he rustled around in the only other room the cabin had. He asked, shifting through dusty packs of space rations. Things he knew Padme's refined tongue would revolt against. He asked,

"And why is that? I found her to be rather sweet and completely harmless. I believe you're becoming paranoid, Padme."

"Don't I have a reason to be?" she scoffed. "Here we are on the most peaceful planet in the galaxy and those damned separatists still manage to find us. In case you hit your thick skull that hard, we were nearly blown to smithereens last night."

"Which is entirely my fault," he winced, feeling two tons of guilt weigh him down. "I should have expected that staying at the palace would have been too conspicuous. We'll have to find a secure way to contact Organa-he'll be frantic when he learns of our disappearance. After he sorts out the mess with the explosion, of course."

"Obi-Wan?" Padme's voice was strangely tentative. She asked softly, "Was anyone injured horribly? Anyone killed?"

He hated telling her, wanted to lie and spare her the guilt, the regret; but knew she deserved to know before she heard on a Holonet broadcast.

"Seven people were killed and nine are critically injured. It's a miracle we escaped with our lives. The separatists are getting sloppy. They normally don't choose such public displays."

Padme blanched. She tried to raise herself into a standing position but was immediately halted by his glare as he entered the room. Plus her woozy head had screamed at her in disagreement. She said darkly,

"This is all our fault. If only we hadn't run and hid to comply with your council, those people would still be living their peaceful lives."

"Padme," he said, tempering his voice, trying to be soothing. "This was beyond our control to an extent."

"To an extent? What is that supposed to mean?" she exclaimed. "If we hadn't come here, the separatists wouldn't have followed. Therefore not blowing up a restaurant, meant to kill us. So please explain to me-how is it only to an extent our fault?"

"Padme, we are in a war. It will eventually reach even the most passive of planets. Alderaan would have been tainted by this war sooner or later. You cannot take sole responsibility for those people's death. If anyone is to blame, the burden rests on me."

As he handed her a bowl containing mysterious gray matter, she noticed the circles that hung under his pretty eyes, the lines that hadn't previously been there, the slow, tired way he moved. She understood suddenly. He was carrying around the guilt himself. That was why he had rushed back into the danger without a second thought. Force, she was afraid the man's sense of duty would lead him to his death someday. Setting the plate of disgusting food aside, she caught his hand in her own.

"Obi-Wan," she said, boring him with her gaze. "It's not your fault either then. You did the best you could. Please don't carry bear this alone."

"I am a Jedi, Padme. We are solitary creatures-we bear everything alone. It is both a gift and a curse. Now eat, you need to gain your strength."

"I refuse to eat that gruel!" she scoffed, handing it back to him. "What I want is to get dressed in something more than this shift."

Glancing at the rations that he himself wouldn't have been able to stomach, he shrugged.

"I suppose we could search the place. Although if we do find anything, I doubt it will be up to par with your refined taste."

"I am not a snob, Obi-Wan. Now help me find something. I feel akin to naked in this drafty thing."

His mind flashing with images she had just provoked, he cringed and snickered to cover it.

"Why because it's not made of seven layers like most contraptions you wear?" As she protested, the coverlet fell from her shoulders, revealing slender, bare arms. His gaze was immediately attracted to them but quickly it filled with questions. Along her bicep were five fading bruises, mottled purple, marks only a human hand could make. He asked her silently, his look speaking volumes.

Padme giggled nervously and pulled it back up defensively. She replied embarrassedly,

"Oh you know wounds of passion and such. Don't look so severe, Obi-Wan-surely the JedI aren't denied passion."

"Passion is an extreme emotion," he answered quietly. "It walks a fine line between love and hatred. Passion can lead all too quickly to the dark side. Besides Padme, these were not done in the spirit of love."

"Don't presume to know anything about me and Ani! I know how you look down upon him. He never does anything right on your eyes-you're always so hard on him."

"Is that what he tells you?" he sighed sadly. "If I am unduly hard upon Anakin, it is because I fear for him. As do you."

"You know nothing about me and Anakin," she said coldly, her first instincts to protect her husband. "And this will be the last we speak of him. I will not have you besmirch his name in your jealousy. Is that clear?"

Anger flashed through him like quicksilver and he threw a gown at her roughly from a trunk beside him.

"Fine! There's the girl I know! The bloody rude, frigid ice queen who looks down upon her nose at everyone but her precious Anakin! Well that's just fine, Your Highness. Enjoy your gruel because it's all we have! I'll be outside if Your Holiness sees fit to need me!"

With that final yell, he marched from the cabin at an angry stalk, both feeling déjà vu keenly and both fighting a war upon their emotions.