Obi-Wan walked out of the terrace and leaned against the balustrade, taking a deep breath.

It had been hard to see Padmé again, even more than he had expected. The anger he had first felt toward her when he had returned to Coruscant ten years ago and under which he had buried his heartbreak, had disappeared along the time. It had left behind only a deep sadness nothing seemed to shake off, no matter what he had done to get rid of it and his memories and feelings.

During the previous ten years, Obi-Wan had thrown all of himself into his duty. Resolute to never fail again and to prove it to himself before then proving it to the rest of the Order, he had accepted the most difficult, dangerous, delicate missions—and succeeded in all of them.

He had become a sort of legend inside the Sith Order, and his election to the Council at only thirty-four had made him the youngest master in history.

Obi-Wan had been proud but also humbled by the appointment, for he had never looked for honours or rewards for his job. He had only wanted to do his duty at the best of his abilities and to be up to the high standards he had set for himself.

He was also honest enough to recognize he had worked so hard not to think of Padmé and the happiness he had barely tasted before losing it for good.

Obi-Wan had tried to forget her, Force only knew how hard he had tried. He had even lived for a while with a fellow knight, Siri Tachi, a lively blond he had known since their days in the crèche. They had always been friends and when Siri had made known to him that she was interested in something more, he had accepted her offer.

It had not worked. Siri was a passionate woman, but Obi-Wan's passion was reserved only for his duty. Siri had wanted a lover who wanted, needed, loved her, not a man who just cared for her as a friend. They had parted ways, unwilling to destroy their friendship. Siri had ended up marrying Garen Muln, another childhood friend, while Obi-Wan had accepted the fact that he would spend the rest of his life alone, dedicating all his time to the Council, the missions and to teaching to the younger generations.

Time had passed, his wounds had healed so much he had started to think he was ready to take a padawan, when suddenly Chancellor Palpatine had asked the Sith Council to send Obi-Wan to protect Senator Amidala.

Obi-Wan had accepted, of course. He was a Sith, and duty always came first. He would never duck a mission because of personal issues. Also, he had a deep friendship with Qui-Gon, his Jedi partner in several missions, and looked forward to working with him and his padawan once more.

However, he had not been prepared for the stab of pain he had felt when his eyes had posed on Padmé again.

Young Skywalker had been right, she had grown more beautiful. The still green girl he had known had been replaced by a confident, no-nonsense woman. Her body had filled out, her form now ripe, very feminine and tantalizing even beneath those ridiculous ceremonial clothes she wore.

Obi-Wan had felt as if someone had punched him in his stomach when her beauty had slammed against his senses, and the longing he had experienced on Naboo had returned.

He did not care if she had lied to him.

He did not care if she was a politician, a breed he despised and mistrusted.

He did not care if her deception had ruined his life.

He just loved her.

Then, now, always.

§

Another attempt was made against Padmé's life that very night.

She woke up with a start only to find herself face to face with Anakin's ignited blue lightsabre, feeling the dangerous warmth of the blade on her neck.

She had barely the time to wonder what was going on when she saw Obi-Wan cross the room in a run and fly through the window to grab onto a probe droid lingering there. The machine sank under his weight but managed to stay afloat and fly away, with the Sith hanging on for dear life, a hundred stories above the city.

Anakin ran away from the room too, but he used the door, almost trampling over Dormé in his haste.

Padmé was left in the company of Typho, Dormé and Qui-Gon and it was the Jedi master that found the corpses of the Kouhuns eels that had been introduced into her room.

"They are very poisonous, Senator," Qui-Gon explained. "A single bite would have killed you."

"Who might have done it?" Dormé asked, but it was a rhetorical question, since there was no way they could know.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "We can only hope Obi-Wan and Anakin are able to track down the person who ordered the probe droid to do the dirty job."

Padmé nodded, and her eyes turned toward the broken window as she prayed for Obi-Wan and Anakin's safety.

-----

The two men returned several hours later, tired but unharmed.

They explained to Padmé and the others that they had been able to capture the person that had sent out the probe droid, a Clawdite later identified as Zam Wesell, but she had been killed by a poisonous dart before she could reveal the name of the bounty hunter who had hired her.

Later that same day, Padmé was informed that the Jedi and Sith Councils had decided it was more prudent if she left Coruscant to return to Naboo and hide there. To prevent her objections, they convinced Chancellor Palpatine to transform their request into an order, thus Padmé was more than a little angry when Anakin, her escort to Naboo, came to visit her as she was packing.

"I do not like this idea of hiding," she said, as she folded her clothes. It caused her to feel as a coward.

"Don't worry. Now that the Council has ordered an investigation, it won't take Master Qui-Gon long to find that bounty hunter," Anakin answered, as he watched her.

Padmé was far from appraised. "I haven't worked for a year to defeat the "Military Creation Act" not to be here when its fate is decided."

"Sometimes we have to let go of our pride and do what is requested of us," the young Jedi said calmly.

"Pride? Ani, you're young, and you don't have a very firm grip on politics. I suggest you reserve your opinions for some other time."

"Sorry, M'lady. I was only trying to-"

"Ani! No!"

"Please don't call me that."

Padmé stopped her packing to look at him inquiringly, "What?"

"Ani."

"I've always called you that... it is your name, isn't it?"

"It's Anakin. When you say Ani it's like I'm still a little boy... and I'm not," he answered, as his expression darkened.

"I'm sorry, Anakin. It's impossible to deny you've...that you've grown up." Oh, yes it was really impossible. He looked even taller than the previous day, and the strength of his personality was almost palpable.

Padmé smiled warmly at him, and he ducked his, suddenly shy.

"Master Qui-Gon manages not to see it, and his friend, Master Obi-Wan, treats me like a child, always calling me 'Young Skywalker'-- as if it is a fault to still be young."

"Mentors have a way of seeing more of our faults than we would like. It's the only way we grow," Padmé commented with a reasonable, but not judging tone, as she closed one of her suitcases.

Anakin paced along the room and went on, "Don't get me wrong, Qui-Gon is a great mentor, wise and powerful. I am truly thankful to be his apprentice. Only... although I am a Padawan learner, in some ways--a lot of ways -- I am ahead of him. I am ready for the trials. I know I am! He knows it too. He believes I am too unpredictable. Other Jedi my age have gone through the trials and made it. I know I started my training late, but he won't let me move on."

Padmé smiled at his juvenile impatience. It looked like Qui-Gon was right in thinking the young man still needed some training, especially in curbing his impulsivity. However, she quite liked the fire she could sense in him. He was different from any man she had ever met…where Obi-Wan made her think of a serene pond, Anakin was more like a river, tempestuous and wild. What would it be like to let him drag her with him?

"That must be frustrating," she commented.

"It's worse... he's overly critical. He never listens! He just doesn't understand! It's not fair!"

Padmé could not suppress a laugh, shaking her head. "I am sorry, but you sounded exactly

like that little boy I once knew, when he didn't get his way."

"I am not whining! I am not." Anakin's expression became even more brooding.

She smiled at him. "I didn't say it to hurt you."

"I know," Anakin looked at her from his lowered lashes.

Padmé approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Anakin?" They looked into each other's eyes for the first time, and her breath almost caught in her throat as she completed her line. "Don't try to grow up too fast."

"I am grown up. You said it yourself." His gaze became deeper, smouldering, intent.

Padmé averted her head and moved away. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Why not?"

"It makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Sorry, M'lady."

Anakin moved away as Padmé tried to bring her fluttering heart under control. She needed to keep her distance from him during their trip. His intensity was too much. If she was not careful she would end up burned, and she was not sure she could bear another blow like that.