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CHAPTER TEN:
"So now what do we do?" asked Padmé. The three of them sat around a small table with a rounded bench on the transport. "Just sit and wait?"
"That is exactly what we do," Obi-Wan said serenely, his hands folded into his sleeves. He did indeed look like he could wait for a very long time. Somehow that made her feel even more impatient. She looked at Anakin.
"So," said Anakin. "I used my tiny spying droid on your friend, master."
Obi-Wan's serenity was disrupted.
"You did what?" he asked Anakin.
"I figured it wouldn't hurt to know he's telling the truth when he tells us where the Hutt families are," Anakin replied with a half-shrug.
"Do you know how long it took me to gain his trust?" asked Obi-Wan, perhaps veering into 'flabbergasted' territory a little.
"Oh, he'll never find it," said Anakin, looking very confident. "I put a detection disruptor using a code language of my own design. Nobody knows it."
Obi-Wan stared at Anakin.
"But what if he sees it?" inquired Padme, addressing the obvious.
"I don't think he'd even know what it was if he did," said Anakin. "Especially since it isn't sending out any recognizable signals."
Anakin considered Obi-Wan's darkening look.
"But he won't see it," assured Anakin. "It's really small."
Obi-Wan gave up and dropped his head into his arms on the table.
Padme shared a glance with Anakin, then turned her attention to Obi-Wan's crumpled form. She put her hand on his arm. It was warm through his robes. She tried to ignore that.
"It is actually pretty small," said Padme, playing devil's advocate for the moment. "And we both know Anakin's really good at that stuff."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Obi-Wan, not budging, and muffled.
She rubbed his arm gently, hoping that would help somehow.
Obi-Wan lifted his head to glance at her hand on his arm, and then she noticed Anakin was staring at her hand, too. She promptly removed her hand, cleared her throat, and soldiered on:
"Would you two mind if we clandestinely checked in with my droid while we're here on Coruscant?" she asked. "I need to know if things are going all right in the Senate in my absence."
"You mean go to your apartments?" asked Anakin. "That'd be crazy! Why would we do that?"
"I just wanted to check on things, and since we have time to kill…," she said.
"Why not?" shrugged Obi-Wan. "I've never seen your place; it might be fun."
"Fun?" demanded Anakin, not seeming to comprehend anything at that moment.
"Can you get in without anyone knowing?" asked Obi-Wan.
"Well, my droid will know, but she's programmed for confidentiality. It's required for her kind," said Padme. "You know, politics."
Anakin rolled his eyes as if he hated politics.
"Perfect," said Obi-Wan, seeming enlivened by having something to do, despite being the one who earlier seemed serene enough to wait a hundred days in one spot. Perhaps it would take quite a long time to really understand how Obi-Wan ticked.
"Then, let's go," said Padme, smiling at Obi-Wan.
"I guess we're going," grumbled Anakin, rising to amble off to the cockpit.
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It was a strange feeling to come back into her apartment after all she had just been through with Obi-Wan and Anakin, though it really hadn't been that long. Her apartment felt strangely serene, almost deceptively so, as if it were another life, one that currently was just a vision, or an illusion of something that wasn't as permanent as it pretended to be.
It was quiet inside, though the traffic of Coruscant sped past as dizzily as it did every day. Padme had plants and a warm earth-toned palette in her rooms to remind her of Naboo. It felt serene to her. As she turned to welcome the two Jedi into her space, it felt even more serene. She found she liked them there.
"Here we are," she said, "Please make yourselves comfortable."
Then she moved to press a comms button.
"DT-2," she said.
"Senator Amidala?" came a tinny voice in return.
"I have company," said Padme. "Would you please bring us some refreshment and not mention to anyone we were ever here?"
"Right away, ma'am," said the tinny voice.
"Perfect," said Padme, leaving the comms and moving to join the Jedi in her living room. Obi-Wan was looking with interest at a group of plants, and Anakin was inspecting a holo and receiver on the wall.
"Don't you dare try to harvest my electronics for droid parts," said Padme, pointing at Anakin.
"I would never," said Anakin, feigning shock at the idea.
Padme narrowed her eyes at him.
"Okay, fine, I won't harvest any of your electronics for droid parts," he said, rolling his hand as if it was necessary for him to specify explicitly for her to be satisfied. Then he suddenly looked extremely bored.
"I do happen to have a holofile I obtained from some obscure bit of legislature," said Padme, "which includes blueprints of ships for the Republic that haven't been built yet."
"Do you?" asked Anakin, clearly trying not to look overly interested. But she knew he was.
She walked over to the holotable and switched it on, and, after rummaging through files for a few seconds, pulled it up. Anakin was immediately riveted.
"Have fun," she said, and then turned to Obi-Wan. "Would you like a tour?"
"Of course, madame," replied Obi-Wan.
She took him around, showing him most of the rooms, and they ended in her solarium, which acted like a balcony of sorts, although it wasn't open to the polluted air of Coruscant. It was evocative of a balcony with an effusion of plants, most of them native to Naboo, and a rail where they could stand and overlook a portion of the city zipping by.
Despite the comfortable circumstances in which they found themselves, Padme was gripped by a certain anxiety that had come from the man they'd met in Southern Coruscant.
"Obi-Wan," she ventured.
He turned from the railing to look at her, as if he already knew she was troubled.
"I'm worried," she said. "About the Republic."
"So am I," he said.
"What can we do?" she asked.
"I believe we're doing all we can, right now," he said. "Aren't we?"
"It just seems so wrong that we can't just bring it out in the open that someone is trying to pull down the Republic, and that perhaps they're succeeding."
"Do you think they're succeeding?" he asked.
"I didn't until today," she replied. "And, I don't know. But now I'm scared."
"I didn't think you got scared," he said.
"This is my life's work," she said.
He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.
"Impermanence is the natural way of everything in the galaxy," he said. "Nothing ever last forever, not even the Republic."
"That certainly doesn't make me feel better," she said.
He smiled a little.
"Think of a rosebush," he said, gesturing to a flowering plant nearby. "With no care at all, it would probably find a way to bloom. But with careful care, it would bloom quite beautifully, with many flowers."
"Yes…?" she asked, not sure where he was going.
"But even with the greatest of care, you cannot make a rosebush bloom forever," he said. "It has to go hibernate in the winter to prepare for the next season's blooms."
She gazed at him curiously.
"What I'm saying is," he said, "that is the natural order of things, and as much as we might try to rail against it, we can't stop it. Everything, from the tiniest particle to the greatest galaxy, moves in cycles of expansion and contraction. The Republic is no exception; it can't be an exception. It came from the galaxy; it is part of the galaxy. It will change, and that isn't bad, because impermanence is the only constant that exists."
"If impermanence is the only constant, it contradicts itself entirely!" Padme objected. "How can the idea of impermanence be constant?"
Obi-Wan shrugged somewhat and said, "That juxtaposition is what makes life interesting."
"Interesting is how you would put it?" she asked, peering at him. "I find it quite unpleasant of an idea."
Obi-Wan just smiled.
"Sometimes you're too much of an enigma, Obi-Wan," Padme said.
"Tell me what you want to know," he said.
"What are you thinking?" asked Padme.
"I was thinking about what we were just talking about, of course," he replied, looking somewhat confused by the question.
"Are you really that serene all the time?" she asked.
"No," he said. "You know I'm not."
Padme blinked.
"Don't you?" he asked.
"Y-yes," she said, feeling awkward for stammering, but his direction had been unexpected. Yes, she had felt that he wasn't actually as serene as he came across, not all the time. "You struggle, just like everyone, even though it isn't as evident with you."
He looked at her.
"How do you know that?" he asked.
"Because I felt it," she said; it was a statement which her politician's brain hated at once. She soldiered on, however. "… and I've observed it these past few days."
Yes, you have," he confirmed. "Both. Observed and felt. Interesting, isn't it?"
"What?" she asked.
"That some things can be both observed and felt. Sometimes, observation is only part of the equation. Sometimes feeling is an irreplaceable part of knowing," he said.
"Are you saying that pure science is fallible?" she asked.
"I'm saying that pure observation isn't the whole picture," he said.
She exhaled and looked out over the city.
"It can't be," he said.
The idea, though she'd had her own experience with feeling, was difficult for her to accept.
"The universe is filled with unknowns," he went on. "Unknown forces, unknown particles, unknown energies. How are we to know them all through our current known and measurable means?"
"Are you trying to convince me that your religion is, at its heart, actually scientific?" she asked.
"No," he said. "What I'm trying to explain is that there is no difference between the two, once the broadness of the universe comes into play. Both are the pursuit of truth, or at least, that's what they should be."
She turned to glance over his face, considering his line of reasoning.
"How do you pursue truth, Obi-Wan?" she asked.
"Through a connection to the force," he said.
"Feeling," she concluded.
"And you? How do you pursue truth, Padme?"
"Observation," she replied wryly. "Of course."
A small smile drifted across his features as he looked at her.
"And what have you observed in me?" he asked.
He'd trapped her, though she didn't think he had any sort of intent to really do so. There wasn't a malicious bone in his body, but the clear fact in front of her right at that moment was that she had observed his less than serene moments through feeling, and not through any measurable scientific process. In fact, a person could accuse her of making it all up, despite the things she had felt within Obi-Wan were as clear to her as the sun would rise, and there was no way she could prove it. It made her feel a bit powerless.
She found herself breaking away and looking back out of the window, unable to answer.
He came closer, and she didn't see him do it. She felt it. Somehow she knew he was drawing closer to her, yet there was no measurable means in which she could know. It felt a bit like he was emphasizing his point.
She turned at once to face him, and he was surprised by her sudden movement. It gave her a bit of satisfaction to know he couldn't predict her every move.
"What is more powerful?" she asked him, demanding his response, "Feeling or observation?"
He considered briefly and then began, "Well, if you think about it, feeling can be observ-,"
"No," she said, holding up a finger, and he stopped. "No sideways answers. I want your belief."
"The force is ultimately the most powerful source of knowledge in the universe," he said with no hesitation.
"That is your belief?" she asked.
"No," he said. "It's the truth."
She felt frustration rise in her.
"That is what you think," she said.
"It is what I know," he said, not budging.
"That's ridiculous!" she said. "Is it more powerful than blasters? Hyperspace? Or even the complex systems that keep this insane planet running?"
Obi-Wan kept quiet, only observing her.
"Well?" she demanded.
"I've expressed my opinion," he said, final.
"That makes no sense to me," she said, turning toward the city again, leaning her hands on the balcony railing, and feeling agitated. Moments passed, one after another, tense. Obi-Wan didn't speak, and she kept her eyes on the marvels of technology spinning past. Ultimately, though, those marvels suddenly felt empty, and that made her irritated.
"It's irrational," she muttered.
After some time, Obi-Wan spoke gently, "I suppose power dependent upon value."
She glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
"How powerful something is depends upon what you value, doesn't it?" he asked. "If you value the ability to move large quantities of stuff from here to there, then I suppose hyperspace would be the most powerful thing in the universe, wouldn't it?"
She turned to listen to what he had to say.
"Or if the idea of keeping a planet with no resources running and livable is ultimate power to you, it would be the systems used to run Coruscant," he said.
He placed a hand on the railing and glanced over the city before turning his gaze back to her.
"So I suppose the real question is, what do you value most, Padme?"
She bit her lip because she'd never been asked such a question before. She'd had it nailed into her from an early age that her priority was the well-being of her planet, and her life was in the service of her planet's prosperity, and by extension, the health of the Republic. No one had ever asked her what she valued most, as far as what she, the individual, Padme herself, might decide to value most, as if she were allowed to have her own values of her own choosing.
Panic gripped her as it dawned on her that she didn't know.
Padme caught her breath and turned back towards the city, feeling betrayed by a sudden stinging in her eyes. She didn't know, she didn't know, she didn't know. It rang through her mind, blinding her to everything else. She blinked hard, fighting back her panic, crushing it into a box in her mind, locking it in chains, and burying it deep.
She exhaled, drew a breath, and then let it out slowly.
"I'll have to think about that," she said with as much calm as she could muster.
When Obi-Wan remained silent, she glanced at him. She could see that, behind his eyes, he was considering what to say. He stepped closer, only a little bit, and spoke gently to her.
"All things are impermanent," he said. "Even the Senate."
His eyes drifted over her face.
"Even the Republic, even Coruscant," he said, and then, after a hesitation, "Even the Jedi."
He let his gaze sink into hers as he said:
"But the force remains."
Somehow a traitorous tear she hadn't realized was there slipped down her cheek.
"The universe can fall into entropy and reform a thousand times," he said. "But the force will always remain."
She blinked to stop the blur that had filled her vision, and looked away, unable to endure Obi-Wan's gaze.
"What is power?" Obi-Wan asked vaguely, perhaps not seeking an answer.
Her breath caught in a faint sob, and she cursed it.
"Why are you crying?" he inquired softly.
"I don't know," she expelled, her voice awful and watery.
She felt his hand, his warm hand, gently take her arm and coax her to face him.
"Why are you crying?" he whispered, insistent.
Her inhale was shaky, emotional. She hated being emotional.
He reached out and brushed tears from her cheek.
"I don't know," she whispered, a faint thing, barely audible.
Brushing the other cheek with the back of his hand, he gazed at her.
"Why do you think?" he prompted.
"Why does everything have to be a teaching moment with you?" she complained limply.
He exhaled slightly, something akin to a laugh. Taking her face in his hands, he fixed her, unwilling to let the moment go.
"Tell me why you're crying," he said.
"Because I'm overwhelmed with feelings," she said, searching for expression. "But I don't know why. It's what you said. It's… it hit me. It's like my emotions got punched in the stomach."
Obi-Wan had the gall to look pleased about this.
"How can you be happy about that!" she demanded.
His smile widened. She shoved his hands off her face in outrage and he laughed.
"Obi-Wan!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he said, defending himself. "It's just… yes, I'm very happy about that."
"Why in the world are you happy?" she asked, pointing at her face. "I'm literally weeping!"
"Because," he said, his wide smile fading into something smaller. "You just felt truth."
She stared at him.
"There are some things that can only be known," he said. "They cannot be taught."
He glanced out at the city, ran a hand through his hair, and then looked back at her.
"And you…," he said, drifting. "You…"
She exhaled. "Yes, I."
His voice was low, trembling, "Do you believe me now?"
She gazed at him, her jaw tight, stubborn. She didn't want to say, it went against everything she generally stood for, but she wasn't one to live in denial.
"Yes," she exhaled, the word brief, nearly imperceptible.
Obi-Wan looked beside himself, perhaps catapulted by some inner inertia, a force which drove outward from him into the space surrounding them. She felt his joy as it radiated out from within and turned out, like the petals of a blooming flower, until the radiance landed upon her in a pinpoint focus.
She thought he might kiss her.
"Wait, don't," she said, her hand coming to his chest.
"Don't what?" he asked.
"Oh, um," she said, realizing she had been reading him quite wrong. "Nothing."
He grasped her hand, laid over his heart.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is when you know something you can't show evidence for, or measure, or prove?" he asked.
"Pretty hard?" she commented lamely.
"Quite so," he agreed. "And then, do you know how wonderful it is when someone else who didn't know before, comes to know that thing? And then you're no longer alone in knowing it?"
"Um," she said.
"Well, do you?" he asked her.
"I suppose I can imagine," she offered.
"Let me tell you, it's wonderful," he said with a smile.
And just like that, she felt him quite endearing, and his smile infected her, just a little. She moved to touch his cheek with her free hand, brushing his soft jawline.
"I'm glad to have made you happy," she said, realizing she really was.
And then he did. Kiss her, that is. It was happening before she could comprehend it. All at once he was close, soft, his scent around her. His kiss was chaste, to be honest, something she couldn't imagine anyone having any issues with, except, of course, the entire Jedi order.
She pulled back with a gasp and drew out of range with that last thought, pointing at him, trying to gather words into real sentences.
"Thank you," she stammered out. "For… your affection. It was quite complimentary."
He looked both amused with her and frustrated with himself, but she didn't stay to observe.
"Please enjoy yourself and make yourself at home for the remainder of your stay," she said, dumbly formal, ever the diplomat, falling into old training by default.
She turned and walked out, searching for the safety of Anakin, which she realized was oxymoronic.
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