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Chapter 17-
Endar's moon was a vast wilderness filled with trees of monstrous size broken only by the occasional rushing stream or shuddering waterfall. The sky was fresh and blue, and the air smelled like pine and water and dirt. Padme found it lovely and remote.
They landed in a rare clearing dotted with yellow wildflowers and hiked towards the entrance of the Rebel bunker. The base was nestled into the side of a hillock under tree cover and was, she assumed, almost impossible to find without knowing where to look. As they approached the outskirts of the base and the entrance just came into view, a couple of guards armed with blasters ran up to greet Mal and inquire after the newcomers.
"You've a Jedi, do you?" one of them asked, glancing over Obi-Wan and his Jedi robes with curiosity.
"And a senator," said Mal with eyebrows raised and thumbing towards Padme.
"What?" asked the other, looking in surprise at Padme, "A senator, eh? Well, you'll be happy to know we've got two more inside that were off-planet during the attack."
Padme's face lit up with the possibility of being once again with her peers, something she hadn't supposed she'd have the opportunity to do after the blasts.
"That's wonderful!" exclaimed Padme. "I would like to see them right away, if I may."
"Of course," said the guard, and then he glanced at Obi-Wan. "There's a Jedi Master, too, though he says he's not staying for long."
Obi-Wan appeared to freeze. It was as if the entirety of his surface, previously warm and pliable, turned to a sheet of ice at once, one that shuddered beneath caution and trepidation as if he were suddenly afraid, though of what she wasn't sure. His eyes lifted and locked with hers, and though every time their gazes met her heart would jump, this time she saw what was gnawing at his side; it was her, or rather, his feelings for her, or even more rather, how he had allowed his feelings for her to gain a foothold in him in recent hours and days and that he was afraid it would be immediately detectable by the Jedi Master… in whose presence Obi-Wan would shortly be.
"Might I know the name of the Jedi Master?" he inquired with a calm politeness.
"Uhm," said the guard looking at the other one. "What was his name?"
"Yoda," replied the other.
"Right," said the guard, turning back to Obi-Wan, "Master Yoda."
Padme watched Obi-Wan, whose eyes fell to the ground and whose brow knitted into a delicate furrow.
"Is that so," he said, and then he addressed the others with a tight, cordial smile: "If you'll pardon me a moment."
He turned on his heel towards the forest proper and made his way into the trees on a narrow footpath while the rest of them watched wordlessly.
"Uh, where's he going?" Mal asked Padme, glancing aside at her.
She peered after Obi-Wan, having her suspicions but not certain.
"I'll find out," she told Mal and the guards. "And then we'll come meet you at the doors."
"Jedi are weird," she heard one of the guards mutter once she was nearly out of earshot.
Padme chose to follow Obi-Wan at a distance, curious over what he was about, but not wanting to disturb him. She felt right away his discomfort with seeing Master Yoda, and she believed she might know why.
Obi-Wan wandered down the footpath until he came to a small clearing in the forest where some undergrowth grew because the sunshine was able to penetrate the trees' canopy. She lingered behind a trunk far enough away that (she hoped) he couldn't tell she was there. Kneeling upon the ground, Obi-Wan sat back on his heels, and then, producing a stick of incense from his pack, he lit it and stuck it in the ground beside him.
Then she watched him meditate. She'd never seen him do it. In fact, she'd never seen any Jedi do it, despite the fact that meditation was apparently such an integral part of the life of a Jedi. She found that she was very curious about how it was to be done.
It turned out to be one of the calmest moments Padme would ever observe. A thin line of smoke drifted upwards as Obi-Wan sat with his hands on his knees, his eyes closed, and his breathing was slow, deliberate, and purposeful. A birdcall rang through the clearing, there was a rustling in the brush, and rays of sunlight angled down through the high branches to illuminate Obi-Wan in a radiant pool of light, the paleness of his robes a nearly white bloom against the vibrant green of the undergrowth. A bird, it's feathers red and yellow, flew from a high branch to land in a bush nearby with butter-colored blossoms. She could smell the wildflowers mixed with incense smoke from where she hid.
"Will you continue to watch from the shadows, or reveal yourself?" Obi-Wan said, and the red and yellow bird flew back up into the high branches.
Padme blinked. He opened his eyes and smiled a little at her. It wasn't the thin, cordial smile from before, but it was warm, personal, and meant just for her. She felt her cheeks grow hot at his smile, at knowing he looked at her differently than he looked at anyone else. Moreover, he looked more at peace now, and she found she liked that.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," she said, still lingering near the tree, unwilling to draw closer, even though she instinctively wanted to. "I was just checking on you because you walked away without an explanation."
"Yes," he said, glancing down into the grass before him. That delicate furrow reemerged on his brow. "I suppose the prospect of facing Master Yoda has been like a cold splash of water to the face. I must do better. I will do better. I haven't done well, and for that I apologize, Padme."
As he finished speaking, he brought his eyes back up to meet hers. Lingering by the tree, Padme resisted the urge to look away, to avoid his gaze for the personal guilt she felt over his state.
"He'll know right away that something is wrong, of course he will," said Obi-Wan, seeming to be voicing his thoughts aloud without vetting them. "But I thought I would take a moment to center myself, first. It will help."
He watched her for a moment.
"I'm sure you'll be thrilled to see the other surviving senators," he said.
"Yes, I really will," she said, feeling almost bashful with her smile, and picking at the bark of the tree she leaned on.
He smiled at her, and it was one of his rare, beautiful smiles. He looked so remarkably handsome at that moment beneath the sunshine and golden greenery that she felt her breath leave her and she had to look away.
"Well," she said, feeling awkward and shifting her weight away from the tree, "I'll leave you to it, then."
As she began to turn, he spoke.
"Wait."
The word sent a shiver down her spine.
"Please come closer," he said. "Just for a moment."
She glanced at him. A faint breeze ruffled his hair, suffused with the sunlight that spilled over his shoulders.
As she stepped into the grasses and undergrowth in the rare forest clearing, the sunlight hit her with temporarily blinding radiation and, as her eyes adjusted, she noticed Obi-Wan had thrust his hand out towards her. She felt her movement across the clearing accelerate, the need for her own effort decreased, and though she still stepped forward, it was as if she floated to him, closer, closer, faster, effortlessly… and as she neared to within a foot of his hand, he released her with a graceful lift of his hand, a release of tension, and she dropped to her knees in the grass in front of where he knelt, close enough to see the threads which wove his robes, the flecks of grey in his hair at his temples, and the satisfaction in his eyes.
"You couldn't wait for me to do it by myself?" she asked him, feeling a lopsided smile tug at her lips.
"No," he confessed, and he rose to his knees while reaching across the short space between them to cup her face in his hand.
In response to her inquiring look, he admitted, "It might be," and he cleared his throat delicately, "a while before I can do this, again."
"Do wha-," she began, but the rest of the word was swallowed by him as his lips fell upon hers in a languid, searching desperation. It was as if he wanted to find the meaning of his yearning through a kiss, as if it would provide answers, as if it might make something, anything make sense. As if the mysteries of the universe, of the force, might be solved through a kiss. It was, perhaps, too much to ask of a kiss.
She twisted her fingers into the front of his robes over his chest, pulling him closer, and his other hand found her face as well, controlling, but gently – his kiss became a meditation of its own; slow, deliberate, and excruciatingly aware, as if each gentle motion of his lips were infused with an intensity of energy that might be as equally poured into the lifting of a thousand boulders, yet controlled, withheld, soft, but with an abundance of strength just behind the softness.
Though she felt the kiss end, she left her eyes closed for a moment as she breathed in and out, and then, as she opened her eyes, she saw Obi-Wan gazing down upon her face in his hands. He smiled faintly, wistful.
"I'll be in the base shortly," he whispered to her, his voice holding the same soft intensity as his kiss, and it caused her to shiver. His whisper was another caress. He gazed over her face adoringly as if he might kiss her again, but instead he whispered, "Don't wait for me."
She felt held, suspended, in the gaze and hands of Obi-Wan because, though she'd been given the signal to go, the tenor of his whisper, the feel of his hands, his ocean eyes, and his very energy begged her to stay another moment. And then when that moment ended, another one began, wherein he begged her to stay again.
Her hands, coiled in his robes, released him slowly, and then he did the same, reluctantly, and she rose to her feet and he sat back on his heels dropping his palms and his eyes to the ground, his head bent down as if in intense concentration.
The incense, burning near to its end, released a swaying, coiling snake of smoke, fine and delicate, sweet-smelling, transient, and brief.
She heard him exhale.
"I'll see you soon, Obi-Wan," she said softly, with affection. "Please…"
He looked up at her, the blue of his eyes deep and somber. She stepped closer and touched his cheek and his eyes closed.
"Please take all the time you need," she said, meaning it.
Padme turned and fled back towards the Rebel base, knowing that due to the emergence of his Jedi Master, Obi-Wan had been jarred into renewing his vows, that he had to 'do better', as he said, which meant he needed to stop flirting with disaster, and by 'disaster' that meant her. The selfish part of herself was wildly despondent, but the reasonable part of her wanted the best for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and now that they were joining the rebellion against whatever coup had just torn apart the greater powers of the Republic, they all needed to do what would keep them in the best condition to focus on the work ahead.
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"Right this way, Senator Amidala," said one of the men running the Rebel encampment as he led her through several rooms and hallways of the bunker base. Eventually they walked into a room with a circular display around which several rebel leaders of higher rank were in the midst of planning movements of some kind. The man who had escorted her stopped and those around the display paused to look at her. Padme became very self-conscious over her plebian braid hanging over her shoulder and found herself wishing she'd had time to change, all the while knowing she'd not had any time at all to do anything of the sort.
"If I may introduce the Senator from Naboo, Padme Amidala," said the man.
Padme gave a cordial smile and looked around at those gathered.
"I understand there are a few senators about?" she inquired.
"Indeed," said one of the leaders, an olive-skinned man with a middle-rim accent. "I am Ruwee Rieekan and this is Jamillia Crescent of the Zincah system."
He indicated a willowy woman to his right, wearing a gauzy dress and with fair eyes. She smiled kindly at Padme.
"We were delayed by ship difficulties, and they kept us from participating in the Senate hearing," said Jamillia.
"I suppose it was a good time for our ship to break down," said Ruwee wryly.
"We didn't think so at the time," said Jamillia with a sigh.
Ruwee looked pained and then they both turned their attention to Padme.
"Was it the same for you, Senator Amidala?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "Not at all. And please, just Padme is fine."
"Oh?" asked Jamillia curiously.
"In fact, I was in the midst a private undercover investigation to find out who was behind the undermining of the Republic," she said, and then something occurred to her and she stopped with a cringe. "Oh, my poor droid DT-2! I sent it in my stead. It didn't want to go."
"Ah, that's a pity," replied Jamillia. "But I suppose better for the long run."
"An investigation, you say?" inquired Ruwee with curiosity.
"Yes," she said. "Shall I tell you what we found?"
"Of course," said Jamillia, and her eyes looked concerned, "but first, you look as if you've been through something awful. Have you?"
Padme exhaled.
"Maybe," she admitted.
"Then please, let's find you the fresher and something decent to wear, shall we?" said the taller woman, taking Padme 'round the shoulders and guiding her towards an archway.
"Thank you," said Padme, feeling relief to finally be, once again, with 'her people', however few they were.
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The fresher was perhaps the best fresher experience Padme had ever had, despite the questionable quality of the bunker fresher, due to how long she'd been covered in the dust of a crumbled Coruscant. Jamillia had somehow rustled up a suitable dress for her to wear which was long but not too long, gauzy, and white, with a thick metallic belt at the waist. The sleeves cut open at the shoulders and cuffed at her wrists. After pinning up her hair in three graceful, thick braids at her crown that hung in loops down to the nape of her neck, she finally felt like a Galactic Senator, again.
Fishing through the pockets of her old cloak, Padme retrieved the data chip with all the work she had compiled with Obi-Wan to find the mysterious He who had started all this mess. As she did so, Anakin's tiny droid fell out of the same pocket, bleeping faintly. A little pain crossed her heart at the absence of Anakin, and she picked up the droid and smiled at it wryly.
"Aw, you must need a charge, mustn't you?" she asked it.
YES PLEASE, it blooped weakly, and she brought it next to a wall console, where it could charge itself in the machinery. A tiny extension reached from the droid and plugged into a socket in the wall.
The tiny droid hummed as it charged.
"Can you tell me anything else about the Rebellion?" she asked.
THEY'RE NOT VERY ORGANIZED, booped the droid, regaining its energy and personality from the socket.
"I think I noticed that," she said, glancing thoughtfully at the way out. "Do you think your creator is okay?"
HE'S FINE, beeped the droid.
She blinked at the droid.
"How do you know that?" she asked.
WELL, DON'T YOU THINK SO? it booped.
"Yeah," she said, laughing softly. "I guess you're right. Knowing Anakin, he's probably fine."
Finishing charging, the droid retracted the charge extension and beeped in satisfaction.
"Would you like to come with me?" she asked.
WHY NOT, it replied, as if it didn't care either way.
Padme chuckled and pocketed the droid and, exhaling a sigh of relief, she rejoined the others at the circular display.
"Feeling better?" Jamillia asked Padme as she arrived with a smile.
"Much," she replied, grateful.
"So you were telling us about your investigation?" Ruwee inquired.
"Indeed," said Padme.
After several minutes of filling Ruwee and Jamillia in on the events of the past week or so, and on how she had posed as Madame Negotiator, and how she'd been in the middle of a blaster fire fight between Naboo shipmates and pirates, and how she'd joined said pirates, and then she'd pulled the wool over the eyes of a Hutt, and after surviving the destructive blast on Coruscant, her senatorial companions were left staring at her in a stunned silence.
Ruwee coughed politely.
"A Senator, a Jedi Knight, and a Padawan walk into a bar…," he said, deadpan.
"And the Republic crumbles," remarked Jamillia with a laugh.
Padme laughed, but it was rueful.
"I do have some fair news, however," said Padme, holding up a finger. "The Jedi Knight and I are quite close to cracking who was behind the initial weakening of the Republic shipping lines. We just need a holo console to finish our work. We think it's possible that, whoever it is, either helped to orchestrate the overthrow of the Republic or was behind it himself."
"But the Republic hasn't really been overthrown," said Jamillia, looking a little curiously at Padme.
"Where is your Jedi friend?" asked Ruwee at almost the same time.
"Ah," said Padme, glancing towards the way out. "He's… he was outside, meditating, last I saw him. But… the Republic," she began, being confused by the events of the day and what these senators were saying, "You believe it is intact?"
"Oh, yes," said Jamillia, but she was cut off by the arrival of a small group passing through the room.
Padme turned to see who it was and found Obi-Wan was being escorted into the room by one of the guards. Though her breath caught when she spotted him and his pale, neatly worn Jedi robes and his lightsaber on his belt, he looked mild, calm, and content to be led through the room towards, she assumed, another location within the bunker where Master Yoda awaited his arrival. It was only a moment before his eyes found hers and she drank in his blue depths at once, finding she already missed him with an embarrassing amount of desperation. A scarce widening of his eyes denoted surprise as he glanced over her, and then a faint, warm smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
Her lips parted and, as he passed by with his escort, his eyes were forced away from hers, towards the next room. In silence the senators watched them leave.
"They're strange, aren't they?" Ruwee muttered after they'd disappeared.
"I'm sorry, what?" asked Padme, who'd been terribly distracted.
"The Jedi," remarked Ruwee. "They're an odd bunch. Religious zealots and so on."
"Oh, I don't know about that," said Padme noncommittally.
"It's been reported that the explosions on Coruscant were an act of terrorism by Jedi extremists," Jamillia said to Padme, lowly, as if the Jedi who'd just passed by might overhear.
Padme felt her brow crease.
"I'm sorry, that's ridiculous," she said. "Why would they blow up their own temple?"
"I don't know," said Jamillia, hands spread as if to say, 'how can anyone know why the Jedi do anything?'.
"That's just the report from the capital," said Ruwee. "Chancellor Palpatine survived the explosion but was horribly injured and has taken to running the Republic for an interim while the Senate regroups. He's ordered all Jedi to be collected and questioned."
"You mean murdered," said Padme.
Ruwee stared at Padme for a moment, as if he wasn't sure how to proceed with that sort of statement from her.
"Yes, the Chancellor looks awful, poor fellow," remarked Jamillia.
"They're killing all the Jedi," Padme said to Ruwee. "You know that, don't you?"
"Are they?" he inquired, as if it didn't matter much to him.
"Well, look," said Jamillia, smiling at Padme, "we're really not sure what exactly is happening. These people here, you know, the Rebellion, seem to think it's an overthrow, as well."
"Doesn't it seem like one?" asked Padme.
"Honestly, it's difficult to say," said Jamillia, "because if it was, then who did it? Chancellor Palpatine is still in charge."
"I suppose that's what Master Kenobi and I need to find out," said Padme.
"Then we will get the two of you a console the moment he finishes his… Jedi business," said Ruwee. "I'm quite interested to see what you've come up with."
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