CHAPTER I

Broken Vows

"Please place your hand palm first on the ID-pad, sir."

His eyebrows raising slightly, the bearded man in neat Jedi robes nonetheless co-operated with the security droid. There was a brief pause and then the droid beeped out the analysis:

"Obi-Wan Kenobi

"Jedi Master

"Prior appointment with Senator Amidala: Positive

"Please step forward, sir. You are welcome and sorry for the inconvenience."

"Not at all," Obi-Wan murmured as he stepped into the lift. The doors swung shut and he was carried upwards, the city planet falling beneath the glass underneath his feet as his thoughts swam in his brain.

That the evidence of his and Anakin's brief stint as personal security to the Senator was still in place was both heartening and unnerving. Was it only two weeks ago that Obi-Wan had rode up this lift beside his fidgety apprentice, no worries on his mind other than how best to amuse himself watching Anakin fall over his feet in front of the Naboo Senator? It felt like a lifetime ago. Somehow between that time and now, a war had started and Obi-Wan and his apprentice had become inexplicably estranged - the evidence of that being more than Obi-Wan's usual paranoia, it was the reason why instead standing at his Master's side now, Anakin was lying in stasis on a cot in the Jedi infirmary, barely lucid after the last of a series of painful operations to fit his prosthetic limb to his right forearm.

The Jedi Master fingered the edge of the thick plasti-sheet that he had found waiting for him when he left the infirmary that morning.

"I would be honored if you were to meet me at the first available opportunity, Master Kenobi. There are certain matters of common interest that we need to discuss.

"Amidala of Naboo"

It was hand-written and, according to the Archivist in charge of Temple correspondence, it had also been hand-delivered. The cryptic note was both intriguing and irritating. Obi-Wan did not much care for politicians and their schemes. Did Padmé Amidala think he was at her personal disposal because of his and Anakin's erstwhile assignment? It was an error that had been made before and it could be corrected easily enough with an official message. Obi-Wan certainly had no intention of prolonging his and Anakin's acquaintance with the Naboo Senator. Except for a brief window of time of five minutes on board the military vessel that shipped them from Geonosis to Coruscant, the Jedi Master had not had any ample opportunity to have a much-needed conversation with his apprentice. One of the chief aims of that conversation, when it eventually happened, would be to discover the exact definition of Anakin's relationship with Senator Amidala. Obi-Wan was certain that it would not be any more pleasant a conversation than a certain 'discussion' he and Anakin had had inside the gunship on Geonosis. Not unlikely, Anakin felt the same way. Obi-Wan's apprentice had made a little time in between rounds of operations, physiotherapy and compulsory recuperation to speak with Chancellor Palpatine and send a message to Senator Amidala. He was yet to make time to speak with his Master.

The lift drew to a halt. The panel door slid open and Obi-Wan stepped into the soft blue interior of the small foyer. There was no warm welcoming committee in the person of Jar Jar Binks. Instead a uniformed security officer stepped up smartly, conducted a perfunctory retinal scan on Obi-Wan and escorted him into the empty lounge.

"The Senator will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," said Obi-Wan with a small bow. He sat down and stared at his hands as the officer walked away.

The sooner he and Anakin terminated their acquaintance with Senator Amidala, the better.

So why am I here? Obi-Wan thought, self-disparagingly.

To see if that is even possible, came the disquieting answer from the Force.

"The Senator is in a holo-conference, please ask Master Kenobi to wait for another ten minutes."

"Yes, milady."

The young officer saluted smartly and walked off. Dormé shut the office door gently and walked back to her mistress' side.

"You do understand that this is in Naboo's best interest, Senator." The voice in the holo-image was speaking.

The blue tinted holo-image of the Supreme Chancellor was not an attractive replication. His strong benevolent features had morphed into bony and predatory-looking features. The beak of a nose, his one physiognomy, added to the resemblance of a large bird of prey.

In contrast, the reflected light on Senator Amidala's face made her look paler and younger than her actual self. Her grim expression looked childish and petulant.

"I understand that the Jedi are spread thin as it is. The privilege of a personal Jedi escort is more luxury than I deserve."

"You speak of your own person , Senator and that is admirable. But you must never forget to be conscious of the office you hold. What is ostentatious for Padmé Naberrie is essential to the Senator of Naboo. Always remember: as a public servant, you are no longer a free individual."

Padmé's face darkened fractionally. "I am full aware of that, Chancellor. I do not need-"

The blue face turned away from the Senator, making her cut short her sentence. It spoke over its shoulder, its misdirected voice mumbling garble through the audio-receiver. Then Palpatine turned back to face her, an added look of strain on his already over-burdened features.

"I have to cut this meeting short. I -"

"Chancellor, if I may once more -"

"Senator Amidala," said the Chancellor, overriding her, "I would not like to invoke another executive order on you so soon." His voice had become firm, unyielding.

Amidala's flushed face whitened. "Understood, Chancellor," she said grimly.

Palpatine gave her a tired smile. "Be safe my lady," he said fondly. Amidala nodded. The holo-image flickered and went off.

The Senator raised her hands to her face, dug her fingers into her temples and let out a small groan of frustration.

"It is well, my lady," Dormé said soothingly. The blue astromech droid, resting in its niche in the corner of her office gave a soft beep.

"Is it, Dormé?" Amidala asked. Dormé had not heard her mistress sound so tired in a long time. "The Chancellor has more or less ordered me to remain on Coruscant until An… I can get a Jedi escort to Naboo."

"The Chancellor only wishes for your well-being, my lady."

"His concern is depriving me of doing my job, Dormé."

"There is no pressing need to return home, is there, my lady? You have already informed Queen Jamilla of the situation." Dormé pointed out.

Amidala's hands fell from her head; she pressed her hands flat unto the table and leaned forward, resting her weight slightly on them.

"There are other reasons why I need to leave Coruscant… And quickly," she said softly.

Dormé nodded understandingly and tried to mask her own hurt feelings. That something had changed between them since they parted company on Coruscant two weeks ago was obvious. Amidala was keeping a secret and she didn't even make an effort to pretend otherwise. But much as she would like to, it was not Dormé's place to question her mistress. She could only make herself available whenever Padmé chose to relieve her burden.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is here to see you, milady."

Padmé sat up at once, and looked at Dormé in consternation.

"He is here, now?" She cried with something like alarm.

Dormé was puzzled. She had personally dispatched the Senator's message to the Jedi requesting for this meeting. "He arrived ten minutes ago, in the middle of your meeting with the Chancellor," she said now.

The Senator's hands were shaking, Dormé noticed suddenly. Pressed flat as they were against the table, the movement was almost unnoticeable. But their vibration was causing the objects on the table to jump slightly.

"My lady?" Dormé asked, leaning over to remove Padmé's hands. They were trembling. And they were very cold. The hand maiden's eyes flew to the Senator's face. It was paper-white, her eyes wide with something like panic.

"I can ask him to leave?" suggested Dormé. "Reschedule another meeting… Meet him on your behalf…"

"No," whispered Padmé. "I will see him now."

"But my lady-"

"I'm fine, Dormé." Padmé got to her feet unsteadily and she walked slowly to the door. Her steps faltered few meters before the point where her proximity would energize the automatic panels and she halted. Arms folded against her chest, the Senator turned around and waited, head bowed, thinking deeply. Dormé watched apprehensively.

Padmé finally looked up. Her face was pale and resolute and her fists were clenched. She nodded grimly at Dormé's puzzled expression, and shook her head firmly when Artoo tried to follow her. Then she turned on her heel and stepped through the panels.

"It's a pleasure to see you well again, my lady."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi. I am pleased to see you fully recovered."

"Thank you, my lady. Your note mentioned something about matters arising?"

"Yes, of course; I am so sorry for the delay."

"Not at all."

"Would you mind if we stood by the window?"

"Of course not."

He walked a step behind her.

"How is your Padawan learner?" Coolly, carelessly.

"Anakin is fine." Carefully, concisely.

"That's good." Distractedly, uninterestedly.

Obi-Wan was not in the least bit fooled. They reached the large plasti-glass and stood side by side, staring down at the vast beauty of the city planet spread out in front of them.

"Not as impressive as the view from the Chancellor's office," Amidala said suddenly, "but soothing to me all the same." She turned to smile rather tentatively at Obi-Wan. "I have made many decisions by looking outside this window."

Her mood was strange. It was not the hybrid of genuine pleasure and exasperation it had been at their reunion a few weeks ago; neither was it that stronger sense of anxiety that had pervaded her the brief times their paths had crossed on the ship en route from Geonosis. Now, there was a sense of resolution, of - if he was not mistaken - self-condemnation? Even her audience with him was unconventional; they stood alone in the lounge, without her usual entourage of handmaiden and security officers.

Her face, as always though, was a perfect façade of calm and control.

"Can you think of any reason why the Chancellor would be interested in whether Anakin accompanies me back to Naboo?" Amidala asked suddenly.

She was looking at him with a direct, questioning gaze and the Jedi Master sensed that they had moved immediately beyond the realm of petty conversation and straight to the purpose of this meeting.

He answered slowly and carefully. "Technically, Anakin's assignment ended when I discovered the motive behind the attempts on your life."

"So I am no longer under Jedi protection?"

"Well, not exactly," Obi-Wan conceded reluctantly. "You're still in danger. More so now that there is no longer a need for secrecy on the Separatist's part."

"And Anakin would be the logical choice to continue to protect me."

"That would be for the Council to decide." Obi-Wan said firmly then he asked: "Your suspicions of the Chancellor's motives… do you have any reason for thinking so, my lady?" Although, Obi-Wan's recent feelings about Senator Amidala were at best ambiguous, he had a high regard for her intelligence and intuition.

She shrugged. "Apart from the fact that I have been more or less instructed to wait on Coruscant until Anakin is well enough to escort me home? No."

Obi-Wan looked back at the glass; his brow furrowed as he thought deeply, giving her question full consideration. The Chancellor had specifically requested that he and Anakin be assigned to Amidala. And he had aided Anakin by giving Amidala the executive order to return to Naboo. But apart from the desire to protect a close Naboo comrade, there did not seem to be any nefarious motive behind either of those actions. Briefly, the Jedi Master sunk into the Force, and tried to feel if it resonated even slightly with her suspicions. But there was not even the slightest echo.

He turned to face her and shrugged. "The Chancellor and Anakin have always been close friends. Perhaps, His Excellency is trying to help Anakin by pushing him into a high-profile mission." His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps, Anakin himself requested his help in continuing this assignment."

Color went into her cheeks and she looked away.

"Is there anything else, my lady?" Obi-Wan asked pointedly.

A long silence followed. He could sense nothing specific from the Senator; she was too reticent by nature and too skilled a politician to let anything slip past either her outward façade or her inner reserve. All the same, he could feel something turbulent underneath that calm surface. The silence was heavy and brooding.

There was more to this than met the eye.

Finally, Amidala inhaled sharply, a long shuddering breath. "There is one more thing, Master Kenobi." She turned to him, her face set. "I would like to return to Naboo, as soon as possible… today, in fact. I need a Jedi escort and I would be grateful for yours."

In the few seconds that followed Padmé's announcement, the expression on Kenobi's face was that of shock. Clearly, the actual request was not the one he had come here expecting. Then he threw on his mask of Jedi calm and once again he was inscrutable.

Padmé turned to the window. She had come here because the view usually calmed her. But so far, following the motion of the straight lines of traffic with her eyes only increased the sensation of nausea that had started building up within her when Dormé had announced Obi-Wan Kenobi's presence.

"May I ask milady why?" Master Kenobi said finally.

She drew air into her lungs discretely and turned back to him. "Like I said, I need to return to Naboo as soon as possible. I cannot wait for Anakin to complete his rehabilitation." She shrugged with studied casualness.

Kenobi's face hardened slightly. He was probably thinking her callous. Relative to the truth that was a preferable assumption but it was no less unfair and she seethed silently.

His next question, therefore, took her completely by surprise.

"Isn't there something else you would like to add?"

She almost jumped and her heart slowed into a heavy beat. How did he...? How much did he...? Keeping her face as expressionless as possible, Padmé answered firmly. "No, I don't think so, Master Kenobi."

He looked at her calmly. A battle of wills then. At another time, she would have held out indefinitely but she right now, she did not feel well. The nausea was overwhelming her and looking at that inscrutable face was making her feel ill. Padmé felt her expressionless façade waver and a wave of anger hit her.

Fine.

"I do not want to be further subjected to your apprentice's company," she said finally.

This time his shock showed for far longer than a few seconds. His eyes actually narrowed.

"Did Anakin behave inappropriately to-?"

"No, he did not," she said quickly. "But surely, you are aware that your apprentice has… a certain infatuation for me," she said with studied wryness.

Kenobi's eyebrows went up. Padmé actually felt a small flicker of pride at invoking so much expression from him.

"I would not have guessed that you found his feelings so disagreeable."

"I beg your pardon, Master Kenobi?" She asked frostily.

Kenobi smiled slightly but he did not back down. "What I meant was, from what I could see after Geonosis, you and Anakin seemed to be good friends. From that, I inferred that you were at the very least flattered by his attentions."

"They are distracting," Padmé said, in the same wry, almost scornfully indifferent voice, the one she reserved for the likes of Nute Gunray and Count Dooku. "And my limits of diplomacy are stretched out as they are."

His brows went even higher. "Is that possible for a woman in your position?"

Padmé permitted herself a small smile. "Believe it or not, Master Kenobi, even senators have tempers."

His own smile broadened. "I will take your word for it, milady." He hesitated; then added cautiously, "Anakin is young. And very impressionable. He has a high and sincere regard for you. Do not take it the wrong way."

"I understand that but -"

"But perhaps it would be best if you were both given a reprieve from each other's company." He finished for her. "I will put your request forward to the Council with my own personal recommendation. Even if my own services are not directly available, someone other than Anakin will be assigned to you. I assure you of that. I can venture to speak for the Council when I say that Anakin's interest in you is something that the Council would want diffused as soon as possible."

Padmé's voice changed; it became less frosty and more earnest. "Please note that I am not making a formal complaint, just a request. I won't want to harm Anakin's career in anyway."

Kenobi nodded. "Neither do I, my lady. Anakin needs to learn his place and it is my duty to teach him. Do not be troubled in the least."

Even if she had not already felt nauseous, his flippant words alone would have been enough to irritate her. Padmé nodded abruptly and turned back to the window. Once more, the view failed to improve her disposition. She felt faint and weak.

This was what she wanted. This was precisely what she had chosen in her head during those sleepless nights between Geonosis and now. Now that she had got her wish, she could barely continue this pretence of indifference.

Out the corner of her eye, she saw Kenobi stepped closer. "My lady-"

Suddenly, Padmé could no longer bear the Jedi Master's presence. She felt as if his proximity was strangling her. She needed him to leave and to leave now. Turning on her heel, she started walking briskly across the lounge, fighting back the nausea. "Thank you for your time, Master Kenobi. If you'll walk with me…"

His hand on her shoulder froze her. She stood still without turning and fought back a sudden spell of dizziness.

"My lady, you are not well." His voice was concerned.

Padmé pulled away from him and walked to the lounge chair. She did not lean on it, she would show no weakness, but she placed a hand against its back. Kenobi watched her movements, a line furrowed between his brows.

"No, I am not," she said honestly. "I hope you'll excuse me." She waved her free hand at the general direction of the door.

The Jedi Master ignored her not-so-subtle request and walked even closer, openly scrutinizing her. Padmé glared at him resentfully, too physically weak to move away and too mentally weak to keep up her façade.

"Isn't there something else you would like to tell me, my lady?" He said finally, his voice very gentle. It was a repeat of his earlier question.

Despite herself, Padmé smiled. Coolly. Bitterly. "There are perhaps many things that I ought to tell you, Master Kenobi," she whispered. "But there is nothing that I would like to tell you."

His eyes narrowed. "Is this about my Padawan?"

"Please leave, Master Kenobi."

He took his time, staring probingly at her. Padmé fought the urge to call for Dormé and glared back unflinchingly. Let him see, she thought wildly, fighting back another wave of dizziness. Perhaps it was better this way.

"Yes, I think it is, as well," Kenobi said finally.

Padmé glared at him in speechless fury.

The Jedi Master took a step back and bowed deeply. "You need some rest, my lady. I would advise you take it." There was a fractional pause. "Thank you for seeing me," he added contrarily.

She had invited him, not the other way round.

Padmé's eyes followed him until he disappeared into the small foyer. A shadow detached itself from the wall and became a security officer showing him out. Padmé waited until the panels slid shut. Then she groped around the sofa and fumbled into the seat. On top of the nausea and dizziness, she now felt feverish. Her heart was pounding, her face was flushed but her hands, when she clasped them together to still their renewed trembling, were as cold as ice.

"My lady, are you alright?"

The security officer that had escorted Master Kenobi stepped up to her in concern.

Do I look alright? Padmé thought. Out loud, she said out weakly: "Please get me my handmaiden."

"Immediately, my lady."

He moved quickly and smartly across the room. Padmé used the reprieve of solitude to rest her head in her hands.

So this was what a broken heart felt like. The poets and song-writers had got it right after all. It was no illusionary emotion, no fanciful heartache. It was a sickness in the blood, a tangible physical pain that threatened to cripple and destroy.

That she was the architect of her own pain made little difference.

"My lady?"

"My lady, are you alright?"

"My lady, you are not well."

Of course I am not well! Anakin, you will never know how much I suffer for this…But it has to be done.

Please, forgive me.