The last time he saw her was the night before he and Qui-Gon had embarked on a particularly dangerous mission. It had been three moon cycles before the Trade Federation were to make their assault on Naboo. No threat had even been thought to exist by the Jedi. When he'd first been told he and Qui Gon were to be "negotiating" the impending threat, he'd worried. She'd gone to Naboo with her own Master.
"Promise me you'll be careful." He'd told her the night before he was to leave.
"Kenobi, are you worrying about me?" She'd asked teasingly, turning from her vanity. "You should stop it if you don't wish to go grey by nineteen."
"Very funny." He said sitting down on her bed, watching her as she made a crude face at him in her mirror. "This is your first important mission. And you're too …"
"Spontaneous?"
"Impulsive and artless." He said smirking at her. She turned and threw her hair brush at him. It froze more than six inches from his face and waved at her.
"Show off." She said rolling her eyes. "Of course I'll be careful." She paused for a moment and looked at him seriously. "And you will be vigilant too, right? I don't want them sending you home in pieces." He laughed.
"I don't need to be vigilant. I've done this often enough." He said confidently.
"You really are the most pig headed, cocky-"
"Charming, lovable-"
"- smug, patronizing-"
"- handsome, talented, brilliant-"
"You are infuriating, do you know that?" She interrupted, although the smile on her face was proving difficult to suppress. He grinned back, his blue eyes alight with mischief.
"It's only because you like me. I don't blame you, mind." He hesitated when he saw her face drop. She turned back to her mirror, looking quite stern. "Malena?"
"You shouldn't joke about those kind of things." She said in a smooth voice. "You know that we can't…"
"I was only joking." He said almost defensively. "You shouldn't take me so seriously." She did not answer, but continued to sort through a box on the vanity. He paused a moment, staring at her as she tied her hair up into a ponytail. She could feel it. But she'd die before letting him know she knew.
He got up and walked behind her, staring down at the crown of her head. He was suddenly tempted to reach out and smooth back a fallen lock of hair. He reached out his hand, his fingers barely an inch from her head. Then he saw her eyes fall closed. And he realized the full weight of what he was doing. He pulled his hand away quickly as if burned by some invisible flame.
That was as close as he'd let himself near her in the last five years.