Counselling

Chapter 4, The Senator and Her Mentor

''

The implication of the child's words seemed to fall over the Baba like shards of ice on his neck.

"What was death to me?" Padmé whispered fiercely. "I was dying already. Each day with him showed me everything I could ever want or need but never have. If he could be spared for my life, it would only be a continuation of the sacrifice I was already making. And I intended to continue to make it." Her voice rose. "I intended to."

"Child -"

She jerked away from his outstretched hand, strode across the room to the other window. "He told me, 'Don't be afraid' and I felt him then. Felt everything he felt for me. And I couldn't do it, Baba!" She wailed out the last sentence. "I couldn't send him to his death without letting him know. I couldn't go to mine without him knowing, without allowing myself to feel that one happiness, even if it was something we could never have alive. I couldn't. Oh gods!"

The Baba went back to the table and resumed his cross-legged stance. He needed the physical equilibrium not only to deal with the impact of her confession but with the tangible tremors her anguish was making in the Force. Her senses were completely agitated now and with his burden of empathy, his own senses quailed in resonance with her powerful emotions.

Determinedly, she continued. She spoke about a battle with the beasts, their escape, a surreal rescue by the clone army, the battle that ensued. She spoke less pragmatically and told him about her emotional instability in the battle: the way she rode on battle adrenaline and near-hysterical euphoria at Anakin's proximity; the way she had been unable to separate herself from him so their strengths could be more effectively targeted at different points in the battle. She had been a distraction to him, she claimed; he would have been more effective in the heart of the battle, fighting alongside another Jedi, but she had not wanted him to leave her and had not even tried to make him.

"And perhaps, you both worked very well as a team together," the Baba ventured. "You are too hard on yourself, child."

She ignored him. She repeated what she had first told him about the chase after Dooku and how she had failed to go after him.

"All I could think about was Anakin. He was hurt. I don't know how I knew it then even before I had seen him. I didn't even think about it until later - how I had known so certainly when I was not even there. He was badly injured. He lost his arm. And I just wanted to get to him, to see for myself that he was alright." She made a hissing, disgusted sound. "And how do you think he must have lost that arm? Master Kenobi told me. He came to me before my return to Naboo and he had a small heart-to-heart talk with me. After I had fallen off the ship, Anakin had wanted to drop down immediately and go to me. Master Kenobi had to plead with him to continue after Dooku. Anakin told him that he did not care if he was expelled from the Jedi Order." She gave out a muffled choking laugh. "And his Master didn't tell me in so many words, but I have no doubt why Anakin fared so badly against Dooku in that duel. I have no doubt where his mind was when he was supposed to be fighting. Just as my mind was nowhere on Dooku when I felt Anakin's pain."

Her voice tapered to a whisper and fell silent. For long moments, she stood still and unyielding by the window. The silence in the room was too profound for the Baba to dare break it. Then her shoulders rose and fell in a loud sigh and slowly, she turned to face him. Her face was completely dry of tears but he had a strange feeling that they were there all the same, running down the insides of her cheeks, making little tracks on the underside of her skin.

She had finished her confession. Now it was his turn.

The Baba started to speak and then stopped. He was at a complete loss for words. No matter how many times he met a penitent in this state, he would always find himself weakened and floundering with indecision. How was he to help someone who felt so undeserving of aid? And he was wrung out and exhausted by the proximity of her emotions, her agony.

He calmed his spirit and sank into the Force again, calling on it for more specific guidance. The Force swelled in and around him, connecting him to everything that had life and he felt, not only the emotional turbulence of Padmé Naberrie, but the spirits of all the living things on the Island (there was one that blazed with such power that he knew it to be the Jedi that she had come with), he could feel all their hopes and fears, dreams and aspirations. On the subject of what to do with the child in his home, the Force was silent.

Apparently, the Force had a lot of confidence in him.

The Baba opened his eyes, stared at once at the child's unhappy face, and tried to instil as much confidence in himself. He had tried to appeal to her emotions and had failed. Perhaps simple cold logic would be more amenable to her.

"There is a connection between the both of you, you and your Jedi," he said matter-of-factly. "It generally happens when such a strong emotional bond is made with a powerful Force-sensitive."

There followed a long and heavy silence during which Padmé's eyes widened and filled. He flinched instinctively in expectation of the emotional backlash. It came, but not all in the way he expected.

The child burst into laughter. While he looked on in shock, her voice rose in a hysterical scream and she collapsed smoothly onto the wooden floor, sliding down to it with her back against the wall.

"Oh, Baba! How proper! How dogmatically defined. A connection! An emotional bond!"

The laughter was an alarming sort of relief. Hysteria was purging some of the bitterness and self-condemnation. She was now looking at him with frank fond amusement.

"What would you have me say?" he murmured with wry caution. "A grand passion? Unfathomable and overwhelming love?"

The child giggled hard. Then she bent her head into her hands and sobbed.

Oh my child.

"Oh, my child!" He sighed. "Believe me, when I say that you are not the first to be seduced by a Force-sensitive -"

"Ani did not -"

He cut off her sobbing protest. "Or to seduce a Force-sensitive, if you prefer," he corrected. His voice became deliberately teasing. "You are, after all, the extremely attractive older participant and the Jedi is what? - an adolescent Padawan? What a scandal, Senator Amidala!"

She made a snuffling noise that sounded like a strange mix of sob and laugh.

"Even the more religious of Force-sensitives have strayed, you know," he continued conversationally. "Even," his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, "the Babas of Naboo."

Padmé made the noise again, but it sounded like the laughter was winning. "You old virgin fraud!"

It was winning and she becoming distinctly irreverent.

"Excuse me," he said in only partly mocking indignation. "Just because I'm old now, doesn't mean I wasn't young and dashing at a time. I cut quite a figure when I first came here as a young man. Caused a scandal or two of my own, you know." He puffed up with mock-pride. "I could teach that Jedi of yours a thing or two about women, you know."

"Really?"

"Yes. And first would be: never go for a self-righteous politician." - Another snort from Padmé - "A self-righteous woman, yes. A corrupt politician, yes. But a combination of both? No way." She raised her head and he could see a tremulous smile through all those tears. He winked at her. "Lousy in bed, too."

"You are a dirty old man," she declared, thickly but firmly. "Winama would be rolling in her grave by now."

"Now, Winama - I can tell you a thing or two -"

"And I will practise the one or two moves I've fantasized about using on Dooku on you," she murmured sweetly.

The old Baba laughed and watched her fondly. The hysteria had been good for the child. She was visibly calmer now. He sighed with satisfaction and began the increasingly awkward process of gathering his limbs to him to push off from the ground. Padmé hastily rubbed her hands against her face, got to her feet and despite his rebuttals came forward and helped him.

"Your Iojie must be stone-cold by now," he said when he was on his feet. "You came to my house in the middle of the night to waste my carefully brewed Iojie and scandalize me with your salacious affairs with Jedi Padawans."

"One Jedi Padawan," she corrected him needlessly. She wiped her hands vigorously with the sterilizing cloth he handed to her, then started clearing away the Iojie. The etiquette for clearing, like that of setting, was steeped with complete customs and Padmé seemed determined to get every one right. "And I am not having nor have I had a salacious affair with him. For your information, we have an emotional connection. Not a physical one."

"Not yet."

Padmé missed the last step. If the Baba had not over-anticipated her motion as she handed him the kettle, the old piece of crockery would have shattered on the floor.

A pair of troubled brown eyes were looking up at him. All trace of lightness had vanished.

"Baba," Padmé whispered. "Are you encouraging me, Baba?"

He gave her a sideways glance, his old ears hearing far more than her words, his old eyes seeing far more than her face.

"Are you ready to accept anything else?"

She blushed a little but she also lifted her chin. "I came for your advice, Baba."

He took his time answering, taking the kettle to the window and cleaning out the drinking goblets with the hot water before emptying it out and placing it carefully with the rest of the Iojie cutlery on the side table. He shook out the sterilizing cloth and spread it on the window to dry. All the while, Padmé followed him and assisted him with her eyes never far away from his face. He finished at last and turned to her.

"Come here, child." She gave her hand to him at once and stood before him, staring up at him with trust in her eyes. "I have known you since you were eight and your grandmother lodged you while you schooled in Theed. I may be an old religious recluse, but I am not completely unaware of the affairs of my home world. I know the courage with which you have served Naboo." She started moving her head and he shushed her at once. "I know the tangible and personal sacrifices you have made for your people. There is only so far you can carry a burden without needing a shoulder to share it with. You were a woman in need of love. And this Jedi came and gave you his heart. This man whom you have admired and have been indebted to since he was a boy of nine. And yet, you fought against your feelings for him, denying them, making him and yourself utterly miserable in the process." He smiled slightly. "But for how long can one battle against one's heart? I do not believe any other woman could have fared as well as you against this temptation."

"Oh, Baba." She cried despairingly. She closed her eyes and shivered. "What do I do? What do I do?"

"What does he want?"

"Anything I want. He would do anything I say. How perfect can a man get?" The child's mouth twisted into a sad smile.

None of that again! He quipped at once, "Well, if only I was a little younger…"

The sadness faded into soft laughter.

He insisted, "So what do you want? You have spoken to me about your feelings. You have spoken to me about your duty. But of your desires, of the - yes, selfish - wishes of your heart, you have made no mention. Tell me now, my child: if there was nothing standing in your way, if you and your young man were just two ordinary people who lived in a galaxy where the Jedi Temple and the Senate Dome did not exist… what would you want for yourself? What would you take?"

The effect of his words were instantaneous. She glowed - her face and her soul, so brightly and freely that he was overwhelmed by their sheer brilliance. She stood in front of him, burning him with her incandescent aura and it was a relief when she slipped her hand out of his and walked away.

Her steps took her to the third and last window, the one that was shuttered against the Northern winds. The deity that sent this wind was the bringer of gifts. He was the one to fear, for his blessings always came with a curse. A light breeze raised the tiny hairs on his skin when she lifted the shutters and the Baba just barely reined in the superstitious urge to dash forward and shut them. Instead, he bravely came to stand behind her and, wincing slightly, followed her gaze to the meadow below. The sight that met his eyes sufficiently distracted him from thoughts of vengeful deities and old folk-lore. His wild/tame herd were moving in a rough but definite circle around the wiry, blond man who stood in their centre, gloved hands outstretched to hold up the half dozen or so small birds that perched on his arms. But more than the strange behaviour of the animals, what fascinated the Baba was the bright Force aura of the man. Even shielded as it was now, it was as brilliant and as powerful as a supernova. The Baba had never seen anything like it. It was incredible.

"I would take him," Padmé whispered fiercely as she gazed at her Jedi. Her own aura was still glowing powerfully. "To own him. To be owned by him. I know what I feel is selfish and wrong. I know what it will take from him if we are discovered. I don't want him to give up his future for me. I don't want him to be the one to give up anything for me.

"So how can I still want him?"

The Baba let her answer her own question.

"Because I feel in my heart that the deep cloud that has spread over the galaxy will not pass by any time soon. I feel in my heart that I will not be there when it does clear. And I want to hold unto the things I love most while I have life within me."

The child's voice resonated in his ears like a far-away echo. And suddenly the old Baba realized that he could no longer feel her presence by his side. He could no see the young Jedi in the meadow. The old Baba's vision had shifted out of the scope of time and space. His eyes were seeing further than the edge of the island, further than the world of Naboo, further than the fringes of Time itself. He had asked the Force for guidance and now the Force was answering. He could hear the echo of Its Will speaking like a guiding spirit in this child's words and he could see the reality of Padmé's fate in the stark vision of the future that was being shown to him.

For the first time in a long time, the Baba felt the burn of tears sting his eyes.

He blinked them away and the meadow was spread out in front of him. He had returned. He could see now that the herd were moving in a distinct pattern, a kind of rudimentary dance, around Anakin Skywalker; the perched birds were singing in distinctive harmony; the Jedi appeared to be conducting them all through the Force. Padmé's presence was patient, waiting for his counsel as she looked on at her Jedi and the Baba knew that although he had felt caught up in the vision for years, no time had passed at all. Her aura was still a brilliant infusion of light beside him and it warmed his own frozen soul.

The Baba drew in breath. Three times he opened his mouth to speak. Twice, he shut it in silence.

The third time, he said finally: "People are not possessions to be owned, Padmé Naberrie." His voice, cryptic and dry, had never sounded so old to his own ears' before. "Therefore, I suggest…" He faltered. She looked away from the window and up at him, her eyes wide and trusting.

How could he do this?

But the Force was like a hand on his back pressing down on him and urging him to speak the words that would force its Will and condemn this child. He was a Baba of Naboo, a father of the people, their guide and guardian; but he was, first and always, a servant of the Force. He did not even know how to begin to rebel now. If the Force wanted a sacrifice of one of his herd, then - he would make it.

"I suggest that if you feel so possessive towards this young man, you had better marry him."

tbc