Okay, before I begin... First thing first!

No, Star Wars is not mine!

Next, before reading this fic, let me warn you that it involves Obi Wan and Padme... No, I won't say it's Obidala, although I am an Obidala shipper. I must say, though, that this fic is quite Obidala, without lust. It's only a story about two lonely best friends...

And, I would welcome all your reviews, so review, please?

Thank You!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Only Lonely

The afternoon's sun was floating towards west, returning to its lair. Tangerine-coloured clouds were fake; little children had drawn them with crayons and the sky was the refrigerator where their mothers pinned their art to be applauded when neighbours paid a visit. Flying transporters were spotted less and less; more and more workers had returned to their homes, now soundly resting their wretched muscles. Padme Amidala was one of those people –they who had returned to their homes. Yet, Padme Amidala also wasn't one of those people –they who had soundly rested their muscles. From the way she was sitting in her living room all by herself, it was notably clear that she had not. The sun polished her furniture they way they had never been polished before, making them strange and unfamiliar. Her eyes were fixed upon her fountain. It was her most valuable thing; how she loved the way the water cooled her warm hands and loosened the frown on her forehead.

But now the same crayon that had painted the town, had also painted the water –with dirt. The thought of it cooling her hands, her frowns, and even drinking from it disgusted her. Still her eyes never averted their focus, as if the owner had no power whatsoever to command them. A voice came from the distance,

"My, my! So quiet here. Makes one feel so alone, doesn't it? Not that there are others to talk to. Practically, there's just you and I. Times like this are when I miss my old friend R2. Though I must confess I enjoy his absence for he speaks too much most of the times. Ah, well I suppose one should just submerge with aloneness, that's the only way to survive,

"But of course this shouldn't bother you, Miss. You have your baby to talk with –and Master Anakin."

Only at the mention of her baby –and her husband- did she realise that 3PO was actually talking to her. And only then she looked at the speaker and replied him with the only possible answer she could give, "Hmm?"

"Surely you don't have the time to celebrate loneliness. And Master Anakin has been so considerate–"

"Have you ever," she finally found the way to open her mouth to ask, "bored?"

"With this? Well, Miss," and at this he turned to his mistress at her easy question, "you can just switch me off, can't you?"

She looked hard at his unblinking eyes, and without a sigh, replied, "You're a very lucky one."

---

The afternoon finally gave way to the night. The big childish hands had erased the previous colour from the clouds and changed it into a blackish blue. The moon was beyond doubt a beauty but Padme wasn't one of those fools; the ones thinking that beauty was real. She knew too well; hanging there on her own, no beauty could ever come close.

Nevertheless, strongly disapprove she might be, she had no choice but to fix her eyes on it while her mind took the liberty to wander off. The moon was visible from the big glass window that she left uncurtained in her bedroom where she now laid her head on the pillow. She thought of C3PO's words and was certain of his unforgivable faults.

For example, how could he say she should be able to talk to her baby. Why, they would never answer her. And then, why was 'considerate' should be use to describe her husband, when she was lying on her bed all alone?

She was still gazing at the moon, long after the thoughts left her mind. Just then she realised its brightness; no building could hide away from it shimmer. She deemed on this and her eyes moved unconsciously to one of them. No, it wasn't the Galactic Senate's rotunda, where her colleagues frowned at her fatherless baby. The funny thing was all her life she wanted to serve inside the building. Now she ever wished was to get out of it. Therefore, no, it wasn't that building she now lovingly stared.

This building owned four tall chimneys, which added the feeling of grandeur it effortlessly possessed. It was a Temple. But grandeur wasn't the only thing it possessed. She pressed the focus of her eyes on it again. She knew what to do.

---

The stairs, the narrow alleys, the chilling white spotless marble floor with streaks brown like roots spreading from an oak, the eerie golden statues, and the tall intimidating pillars had been things dearer to her heart nowadays. Too many times she had crossed them; the stairs, alleys, marble, roots, statues and gargoyles, and pillars, only to tap a Jedi on the shoulder, ask him or her, "Have you seen Anakin Skywalker?" and receive only a head shaken and go straight home, watching her wrinkled toes all the while.

This time, she refused to receive that. She declined to be rejected. She wanted to walk those stairs, alleys, and roots and look back at those statues and pillars with pride.

Oh, how she knew them so well and they her. They embraced her presence and agreed to conspire with her. Delicately, they hid her shadow with theirs; concealing her person from possible onlookers –onlookers she shouldn't worry so much. The mischievous moon was already high -soon after the morning dusk will replace her- and no man or woman; Jedi or Sith, Master or Padawan, could even slip away from the basic human need: To rest.

She crossed her friendly stairs, alleys, marble, statues, and pillars confidently. Only few more steps were needed to arrive –there. And arrive she did, at last. At his chamber.

She slipped inside unnoticed. It was as if he, too, had agreed to sign the same contract the stairs, alleys, marble, statues, and pillars had signed before. But it didn't mean he would –with all smiles and arms wide open- welcome her. Once the door closed automatically behind her, the man to whom she was concerned jumped up from his bed, grabbed his lightsaber –its blue streak shone wildly in the darkness (it was gloomy there, instead of the full moon)- and yelled out to the intruder, "Who's there?"

When the unexpected guest would not answer, he continued, "Who's there? Show yourself or –"

He didn't need to finish his sentence, just like his companion didn't need to show herself, for the blue gleam of the lightsaber was like a burning torch in the poor light, and under that illumination, the worried face of a good friend appeared. Her face looked as if she had just seen a horror and the water in her eyes was going to flow at any moment, and he, worried in voice as she had been worried in visage, called her name, "Padme?"

The woman he addressed stayed the dread on her face and in her throat when she named him back, "Obi Wan –"

"Padme," his tone was more bewildered than worried now. He put away his lightsaber. "What are you…?"

His eyes had became accustomed to the darkness now and in front of him was suddenly visible the whole figure of his interlocutor. Confused and disorientated, she found no time to change her clothes: Blue nightgown with pearls tingling from her bare shoulders. An oddly shaped pendant –wood, perhaps- dangling from a copper chain, circling her neck down to her chest. The pendant moved up and down as her own lungs –with a large amount of breath breathed in and out within it, as a result of anxiety and fear- moved up and down also. He rested his eyes to her feet, which were unslippered.

He realised just then she was actually shaking. But a longer observance should let him –or anyone else in that room- know that her shaking was affected by something else beyond; greater than the night wind and freezing darkness.

"Padme," was the only thing he could sigh.

"Obi Wan, tell me," with this utterance, she moved a few feet away, stepping nearer to him, stopped only when they were already eye to eye.

"Tell me," she once more whispered, belching steam of cold air from her lips as she did so, "Aren't you lonely?"

His frowns were becoming more significant at her question. The silence he gave as a reply forced her to question some more.

"Aren't you lonely? Because I am,

"I'm so lonesome. And I'm – I'm so tired. Of this. Of aloneness,

"So, Obi Wan, tell me. Are you lonely?"

The Jedi kept his silence still. Yet this time not because of confusion; it was because he paused to think he stayed wordless. Not to think of their, the question's, queerness but of their trueness.

Until this minute he never thought of this. Of aloneness. Moreover of its existence within him.

He viewed the woman in front of him once more. There were things familiar to him, even when she appeared less ensuring than she always was everytime he saw her in front of the Chancellor, the Senate, and all those politicians. He was conscious of this familiarity since he first saw her beneath the moonlight. He wasn't sure what it was; now, he already understood.

He understood that the dread on her face was also his. He understood that her shaking was also his. Her frightened eyes were his. Her pain was his. He tried to think of the times when he came back full of victories –and failures- and found no one was home. Yes, he understood, her loneliness was his.

He looked at her deeply and finally understood the answer to her question. "Yes."

Her expression changed the second he spoke the word "Yes." It was a mixture of lost fear –and joy. A feeble smile made the water in her eyes fell out, forming the tears of joy. In her sobs, she cried, "Thank God!"

The tears and joy were unbearable to be accepted by her at the same time. She had to hold on –she grasped the front of his robe and sank her teary face into his chest. If her shoulders had shaken because of dread, it was shaking now because of bliss. Obi Wan lifted his arms to touch those trembling shoulders, rested them on her back, and eventually circled them around the petite body in front of him.

The moon was slowly fading.

---

The morning sun had just beginning to show her face when Anakin finally turned the key of Padme's apartment door and stepped into the bedroom to rest. His wife was still asleep with her back facing him. He watched her sleeping for a while and found out that, this time, she had left the window uncovered. He undressed himself and crept under the blanket. Since the Chancellor returned, he had been so busy, he didn't have the time to talk to his wife anymore. He felt so exhausted; he was instantly asleep as soon as his skin rubbed the sheet. This was the usual scheme. Or so it seemed.

This was an unusual time. This time, his wife was not asleep. She was fully awake and wholly aware of his coming. She was aware of the morning sun and birds chirping from the trees outside. She was aware of the smile on her face.

The sun finally came out, brightening the buildings below. She gazed at one of them: A temple with four tall chimneys with stairs, alleys, marbles decorated with roots, statues, and pillars. Somewhere in the building, she was sure someone was smiling also.

Of course she didn't know that her smile wouldn't last long. That the one man who would take it from her was the one she trusted the most; the one who was smiling back at her. That she wouldn't have to smile anymore. Soon. But for the time being, she was smiling and who could blame her.

She was just glad to know that even though she was lonely, at least she wasn't alone.

The End