*
Chapter Fourteen - Getting Ready
Padmé was in the parlor, relaxing in a simple Kabon pose after a strenuous set of stretches. She could feel the babies moving inside her, little flutterings of fingers and feet. She ran a hand over her enormous belly, murmuring, "I can hardly wait, Darlings."
"M'Lady?" Obi-Wan poked his head into the parlor, eyebrows knitted. The rising sun seemed to set his hair on fire.
Feeling sheepish, Padmé struggled to get to her feet. The Jedi moved into the chamber, extending his hands. She took them and let him pull her up. "Thanks. I was just talking to the babies, Master Kenobi," she explained loftily. Padmé was getting annoyed. The last few days, it seemed like everywhere she turned, there the Jedi was, hopeful, helpful, but still underfoot.
He gave her a dry, amused look. "Before they're born?" Obi-Wan let her hands go and folded his arms. A smirk played across his lips.
Padmé was about to retort when she felt pressure from inside. She tried to breathe, but her lungs were only working at half their capacity. She'd felt similar sensations before, but never with such tenacity behind it. Padmé gasped for breath and sank onto the sofa, then groaned.
Obi-Wan's expression went from mocking to panicked in less than a second. "Is it a contraction? It's early, I've got to call Master Alanna –" he exclaimed, turning for the parlor door.
"No," Padmé moaned. Obi-Wan stopped, then turned back. "I can't breathe." She closed her eyes and concentrated on what it felt like. "Someone's stretching," she growled through gritted teeth. Padmé half-turned and laid out on the sofa, trying to create more space with which to fill her lungs with air.
"Stretching?" Obi-Wan asked, looking down at Padmé's belly.
"Locked his knees. Wants some space," she gasped.
Relieved that it wasn't labor, Obi-Wan knelt on the floor, next to the sofa. "We can't have that, now, can we? Shame on you, inconveniencing your mother." He shook a finger at Padmé's stomach.
Padmé stopped panting long enough to stare at him incredulously. This from the man who was laughing at me for doing the same thing not two minutes ago? He smiled at the look on her face. "Quit teasing. This hurts," she snarled.
Obi-Wan winked and twiddled his fingers in front of her; for a moment he looked like a magician or a Player in a melodrama. Then the laugh lines on his face smoothed out as he closed his eyes, and he laid his hands on her huge stomach. Padmé sensed him using the Force to explore the children's psyches. His emotions were those of a concerned, but loving and amused father. Or husband, Padmé realized. She quickly slammed off all perceptions but her five physical senses at the sweet, terrifying thought.
Padmé felt the little legs bend again, and air rushed back into her welcoming lungs. "Thanks. What did you do?"
"I convinced your daughter that it was in her best interest to let you be comfortable," Obi-Wan replied. He got up from the floor and pulled Padmé into a sitting position.
Her mind latched onto what he had said. "Daughter?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "And a son. You'll be all right?"
"Yes, thank you." He left the chamber, chuckling. "You see how much fun it is when you're pregnant," she called after him. Then she smacked her forehead with her palm.
*
"Blast! I can repair a Delta-Seven starfighter using dental string and a jawa juice cup. Why can't I put a damn crib together?!" Obi-Wan muttered under his breath.
He heard a soft noise from the next chamber. He puzzled for a moment over why he didn't sense anything, then remembered that he was within the influence of the ysalamiri. Obi-Wan peeked through the crack between the door and its frame to see Padmé lying on her bed, arms hugging a pillow to her face in an attempt to muffle the sound. The entire bed was shaking slightly, she was laughing so hard. He sighed. I was sure I'd shut her door. She's supposed to be napping.
Obi-Wan scowled at the other crib, still in its packing material, leaning against the wall. "Just let it out," he called.
Padmé's silvery laughter rolled into the nursery. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes; he was used to her mood swings by now. At least she has a nice laugh. Some people bray like speeders in need of tune-ups. He threw one of the tools across the room in disgust.
Padmé appeared in the doorway belly first, smiling sweetly. "Do you want me to help you?"
How can anyone look so innocent and so wicked at the same time? the Jedi wondered, conveniently forgetting how many times Master Qui-Gon had asked him the same question about himself. Instead of rising to the bait, he snarled, "You're supposed to rest, how many times has Master Olau told you?" Needing her help was the only thing worse than not being able to do it himself.
Padmé's smile grew to a mischievous grin. She wasn't going to let this joke pass her by. "Artoo! Threepio!" she called.
Correction: that was the only thing worse than not figuring out how to do it himself.
As the droids entered the nursery, Obi-Wan found himself being pulled out by Padmé. She told Threepio and Artoo to assemble the cribs, then led the Jedi Knight into the common room. She reached into a cupboard for the teapot. Obi-Wan took it from her hands and looked at her sternly. Padmé harrumphed, but obeyed; she could feel the discomfort of practice contractions coming on.
The Jedi was glad she was being obedient this time. He was worrying about her and the children; how much bigger could Padmé get? At least we've reached the twenty-sixth tenday. Twins come earlier than single children do, but Master Alanna is certain that they've developed enough to survive out here now. Anxiety made Obi-Wan's hands shake as he stirred Padmé's tea. What if something went wrong? He bit his lip and took the tea to her bedchamber.
Padmé was sitting on her bed, propped up by several pillows, peering down at a half-dozen printed news articles. As she accepted the cup, Obi-Wan Force-summoned all of the papers and sent them flying into the trash bin. Then he reached out and shut the nursery door, muffling the droids' beeping and bickering.
Padmé glared. "I'll just dig them out of the trash while you're meditating." The aches from the contractions made her cross.
"It's a waste of energy, fretting over something you can't do anything about, Padmé," he replied placidly. How often are we going to have this argument? Obi-Wan wondered. He settled himself on the window seat and asked, "What chapter did we finish this morning?"
She watched the book they were reading together glide into his hands. He's trying to distract me, she grumbled mentally. Oh, well. "Fourteen, wasn't it?"
She listened as he read aloud, her eyes closed. His gaze wandered from the book to the lady more often than he cared to admit. Padmé's face subtly tensed and relaxed a few times. Obi-Wan watched, worried, until the pain on her face could no longer be ignored. "Padmé," he said quietly.
Her eyes opened. "I'm awake. Just listening."
"No, it isn't that. Is it time? You're hurting."
"I am," she agreed. Obi-Wan felt his eyes widen. Was this it?
Padmé smiled at the nervousness she saw on his face. "Not yet. Master Alanna told me that my body would condition itself for labor this way."
The Jedi frowned. "So you have to go through labor before you go through labor?"
The mother-to-be grimaced. "Sort of," Padmé said quietly. "Where were we?"
Obi-Wan resumed his reading. She appeared almost asleep a half hour later when Threepio's prissy voice called, "Mistress Padmé? Master Obi-Wan!"
Padmé's eyes went from groggy to gleeful in less than a second. She maneuvered off the bed and grabbed Obi-Wan's hand, dragging him out of his chair.
They reentered the nursery. Obi-Wan's scowl reappeared at the sight of the identical, fully-assembled cribs. The droids stood to one side, Artoo beeping proudly. Obi-Wan tested them to make sure they were sturdy, then glanced at Padmé. She refused to capitulate to his frown, instead raising an eyebrow in a wordless tease.
A muscle twitched in Obi-Wan's cheek. He chuckled quietly under his breath, then conceded, "Artoo and Threepio, thank you."
Padmé's smile softened. She patted him on the shoulder gently as he walked out. "You're a good sport, Master Jedi," she murmured.
At least when she's made a point, she doesn't continue to gloat, he thought. Padmé pulled a closet door open and started pulling crib sheets and coverlets off the shelves. He took the linens from her. "This can wait, they'll just get dusty," he said firmly. Before he could order her to get even more rest, Padmé shrugged and shuffled back to her chamber.
There is definitely something wrong with her, she never does anything I ask. Obi-Wan chuckled and put the crib linens back in the closet.
*
Later that tenday, instead of getting ready for bed, Padmé found herself wandering around the house, looking for something to hold. She had no idea why, but her arms were aching to embrace her babies. But they weren't born yet, so the expectant mother searched for a surrogate.
Padmé entered her bedchamber and tried to rest while hugging a pillow. She shifted in bed several times, but it didn't work. Disgusted, she threw the pillow across the chamber and stalked out. Padmé sat down on the couch in the parlor and wrapped her arms around her huge stomach, looking at her reflection in the window. You're going crazy, Padmé, she chided herself.
"No, Padmé, you're just pregnant," she heard. Padmé looked up to see Obi-Wan standing in the doorway, dressed in his sleepclothes, looking sympathetic.
Everywhere she went lately, there he was. It was as though he expected the babies to just pop out of her when his back was turned. She grimaced, loathing his abilities at that moment. Damn clairvoyant. Padmé sighed and asked, "Is there something I can do for you, Master Obi-Wan?"
He shook his head and said, "No." Obi-Wan fetched a book from the shelves and sat next to her, slouching. He propped his bare feet on the table, then rested his arm along the back of the couch. A sidelong glance from under those autumn eyebrows confirmed that the invitation was there. Kenobi just did it in a subtle enough way so Padmé could ignore it if she chose.
She was not so inclined. Padmé's hungry arms reached around the Jedi's chest, hugging him snugly. She rested her head against his shoulder and listened to the steady thudthump of his heart.
Once she was at ease, Obi-Wan lowered his arm from the back of the couch and rubbed her back absently as he read. It wasn't quite the same as cuddling a child in her arms, but it was all right. Padmé felt a small, comfortable sigh come from her friend, and she smiled.
*
"We will not be hostages to be bartered, Dooku."
They were in the arena on Geonosis. Count Dooku had just offered to spare their lives. Master Windu's answer was defiant – and suicidal. The battle droids returned to ready position. Padmé and the Jedi raised their weapons. Padmé looked up, expecting to see the clone army, led by Master Yoda, approaching from the air.
The sky was empty. They're coming, wait, they're coming...
Where are they?
The battle droids opened fire again. The Jedi knights died, one by one, under the barrage of blaster fire. She cried out as a bolt scorched her arm – Padmé went down, but she was still alive and conscious. Anakin landed on the ground next to her, eyes blank in his lifeless face. The sky was empty of any relief.
Suddenly, their enemies disappeared. Padmé found that she and Obi-Wan were the only two people still living amongst the broken bodies of the Jedi warriors. Her eyes burned with tears as Obi-Wan wordlessly helped her to her feet. They stumbled toward an exit, but they never got there. Obi-Wan and Padmé turned as one to see Anakin, face twisted in rage and with a blaster wound still smoking in his chest, raise his lightsaber to strike Obi-Wan down…
Obi-Wan bolted upright out of the dream. His sheets and sleep pants were damp with sweat, his face wet with tears. He breathed deeply to calm his jerking heart. Only a few seconds had elapsed when Padmé's yell shattered the silence. Pulling on a tunic, Obi-Wan ran through the house and turned her bedchamber light on.
Padmé was struggling to stand up. She flinched when the light came on, then walked as quickly as she could to Obi-Wan. Her teeth chattered a little as they embraced, arms drawing each other close. "You obviously dreamed it, too," she murmured.
"Nearly scared me to death," he agreed. Despite Padmé's offhand tone of voice, Obi-Wan could tell the nightmare had upset her as much as it had him. He rubbed her back soothingly, reassuringly.
An odd lump under the pads of his hands caught the Jedi's attention. Another was several centimeters lower. What – Obi-Wan thought, his fingers tracing the long, horizontal abnormalities across her back.
"The nexu," Padmé murmured.
Geonosis. Obi-Wan nodded. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten. "Can you go back to sleep?"
"I think so, now." Obi-Wan led Padmé to her bed, then spread a cover over her once she laid down. She was still trembling, despite her bravado. The Jedi wasn't much calmer, he'd been frightened of what would happen to Padmé once Anakin was finished with him. Obi-Wan sat and took one of her hands in both of his own. Her hand was stronger than it looked; her grip was rigid.
They discussed the nightmare for a few minutes. Neither one of them liked the idea of sleeping alone, after such an experience. Master Yoda would rap my knuckles for this, thought Obi-Wan. "Move over," he requested.
Padmé looked up, hesitation in her gaze. Then she sat up and made room for him on the bed. Obi-Wan turned so that he was leaning against the wall and stretched out his arm, just as he had a few hours before in the parlor. Padmé leaned in, hugging his chest again. Obi-Wan's ribs creaked, making him wince, but then she relaxed.
Her tired voice drifted up to him. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Her hair was soft under his cheek.
"You're so nice, Obi-Wan. You've gone above and beyond your assignment here so many times, and I know I haven't been easy to live with," Padmé said.
Kenobi shook his head. "No, you're not," he chuckled. "But neither am I, and I think we get along pretty well." He felt her nod. "If it was just about anybody but you, I'd have gone crazy months ago," he continued. Obi-Wan caught Padmé's look and answered her unspoken question. "Master Yoda knew what he was doing. This was never just an assignment for me, anyway. You and I are the only ones who could help and heal each other, since Anakin died."
She sighed, lying her head against his chest again. "Anakin was always so wild, so intense. That's one of the things I loved about him. But you make me feel peaceful." Padmé's voice was slurring; sleep was catching up to her again.
He chose not to answer. Obi-Wan used the Force to turn the light out. He dozed there and smoothed her hair until she stopped shaking. Something curious caught his eye in the moonlight, and Obi-Wan parted Padmé's hair behind her ear. A patch of it had turned white. "Oh," he breathed in sympathy. She's been through so much, it's no wonder, he thought.
Padmé was asleep. He decided not to disturb her by getting up. Her arm was still draped across his waist, and her very pregnant stomach was pinning his leg to the bed. Obi-Wan sighed, resigned, and closed his eyes.
*
An odd feeling woke Obi-Wan the next morning. His hand was moving, but not of its volition. The Jedi smiled sleepily as he felt a small lump press out from inside Padmé's stomach. His fingers prodded back, just a little.
He saw the long, slender neck a few centimeters away and had to resist the impulse to touch the soft skin.
Uh-oh.
Obi-Wan's eyes flew wide open. His entire body was spooned against Padmé's, her back to his front. He grimaced. Okay, Kenobi. Just get up before she wakes, she'll never know, he decided.
The baby nudged him again. All thoughts of escape fled; Obi-Wan was enchanted. Traitor, a small part of his mind accused. Padmé was still asleep, but with the babies stretching again, she was sure to wake soon...
Sure enough, Padmé breathed deeply. She put her hand on the one Obi-Wan had slung over her belly. "Good morning." Then she was silent for a few seconds; she almost certainly was thinking about their sleeping position. "Cold last night," she commented, voice tense.
It was an easy out, he knew it, and she knew he knew it. Obi-Wan refused to take it. "Hello. Sleep well?"
"Never better," she replied. "I knew I was safe." Padmé moved away and sat on the far edge of the bed. Despite the sudden cold, Obi-Wan followed her example. He sat up with his back to her, closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing for a moment.
Breathing…
Padmé's breath was louder than usual, deliberate and regular. There was effort behind it.
A shiver ran through the Jedi, stiffening his body until he felt more rigid than Threepio. "More practice?" he ventured.
The answer was quiet and firm. "I don't think so. This feels different."
Obi-Wan took another deep breath. Remain calm, he thought. He needed to remember what to do first, if this was really the real thing. Remain calm, remain calm, what am I supposed to do besides remain calm?!
"You okay?" Padmé's voice jolted him from his reverie.
"I'm remaining calm," Obi-Wan croaked, his mouth paper-dry.
She giggled, then laughed out loud. "I need to make sure this isn't false labor. Feel up to a walk?"
*
Author's Notes: As always, thank you for reading! Thanks especially to those who review.
Adelaide - Thanks very much for the complements, I appreciate them a lot. And how sweet to plug "Hope's Sanctuary" in your wonderful Obidala fic, "Revelations!" *Wink wink*
(It really is good, Folks. Just click on my user name, then Favorite Authors, you'll find Adelaide there, follow the trail to "Revelations.")
Elu-Leen - Actually, I read an article a few years ago about a woman who was in surgery, being operated on. A member of the surgical staff was asked to comment on the status of another patient, and that person said that the other patient wouldn't live very long. And then the woman who was being operated on didn't get well in spite of an excellent prognosis. The doctors finally determined that it was because she had heard the comment about the other patient, even under general anesthesia. So I figured hibernation would be similar.
I would say that Obi-Wan doesn't like flying because no one is perfect.
And, no, it wasn't a stupid question, asking what Obi-Wan sensed that made him so embarrassed. I thought I'd been too obvious, but you're not the only one to ask. It was (affectionate) lust, pure and simple, and Padmé was pretty desperate for Obi-Wan's body (being alive and close by) at that moment. Pregnant women get hormone surges that trigger off things such as hot flashes and surges in the sex drive, all at the drop of a hat.
Jo - Thanks! I'm glad you think I've written Padmé well, she's so tough to characterize. (Leia's even harder, believe you me.) The birth is only a chapter away, as you may have surmised.
