Padmé checked the nearby chronometer. The physician had said to change the dressing twice during the night. It was now time for the first. She hesitated only slightly as she moved from her seated position next to the bed. The flickering illumination of the nearby fireplacewas not enough light for the job and she switched on a lamp near the bed.
His breath was coming out in gasps, his respirations increased due to the fever. The hypospray was not doing as well as she would have thought. A quick check to his forehead confirmed his fever was still high, but gratefully not as high as it had been.
She considered contacting the physician, but thought she should at least follow his instructions and change the dressing first.
Her hands pulled down the thick downy comforter, revealing a sleek muscular chest. Her eyes took in numerous small scars before moving to the most recent bandaged area.
Gingerly peeling away the bacta patch, she was comforted to see that the skin was healing quickly. She unwrapped another bandage and carefully placed it over the wound.
As soon as she drew the covers back up over his torso, that was when the moaning and the murmuring began.
"No...don't leave me. Wait! No!..." His head began to move back and forth across the pillow.
Padmé's heart ached for him. His words were mournful, aching, lonely pleas. She wondered if it was Master Qui-Gon that he was referring to in his feverish delirium, or perhaps someone else. She left the room momentarily to retrieve a cool, damp cloth from the bathing chamber.
"Master! Wait! No...no...don't die...please..."
Her suspicions were correct. So, he had witnessed Qui-Gon's death before collapsing himself. If they were as close as a typical Jedi Master and apprentice were rumored to be, this might complicate his healing.
His mumbling and thrashing continued, but eased somewhat as Padmé placed the cool cloth across his fevered brow. She could not resist a soothing caress across his stubbled cheek, and sending words of comfort to him. "Shhh. It's all right. You're going to be all right."
The murmuring and thrashing subsided as soon as her voice filled the room. The coincidence never occurred to Padmé as she continued stroking the handsome face before her, murmuring her own words to ears that she doubted were even listening.
A few hours later, Padmé jerked awake from her seated position and immediately reached to touch the clammy brow of the young man on her bed. She sighed as her touch revealed that his fever had finally dropped and he was breathing steadily and deeply.
She arose from the cushioned chair and arched to stretch her back, moving across the bedroom to the bathing chamber to wash her face. After a few moments, the screams began and she immediately ran back to the bedside.
No fever to explain the delirious and mournful cries. He must be having a nightmare. His arms were thrashing about the bed as was his head.
This time, her words were not soothing. She was afraid the jerking movements of his body would displace the bandage and worsen his wound, so as soon as the thrashing decreased, she did the only thing she could think of to do. She quickly lay herself down next to him on the bed, placing a hand across his chest that had been bared with his aggravated movements. Her hand firmly stroked the musculature there, and she once more spoke words of comfort, although this time a little more forceful.
"Obi-Wan. Shhh. It's okay. It's just a dream."
His movements stilled abruptly and she was shocked to see him turn his head toward her and open his eyes. Bloodshot, slightly glazed, but they were looking right at her.
What she saw behind that gaze, she could hardly begin to describe. Pain, longing, regret, loneliness.
The strength and power of those emotions stunned her, but not as much as what followed their revelation. Somewhere deep inside, she could feel a gnawing, tugging sensation. Not hunger, not grief. It was completely unfamiliar to her, but somehow, she knew that the comfort of touching him would ease the sensation.
Her hand seemed to move as of its own will to his face, and she was not at all surprised when his head leaned toward her and their lips met. It was a gentle, exploratory kiss. Nibbling, stroking, completely luxurious. Along with the kiss came the realization that whatever was occurring inside of her had just somehow expanded.
His lips softened and his breath brushed across her abandoned and tingling mouth. She opened her eyes to discover that he was asleep again.
She stared at him, not moving for a long time, her hand still on his chest, her mouth close enough to his that if she pursed her lips, they would touch.
The sensation that had occurred within her was now soothed, but the rest of her was completely flustered.