Yay I got to update this! At the expense of homework, but honestly after three exams and two labs I don't care, lol. Enjoy!

Padmé breathed in the smell of wet soil and flowers. Her eyes were closed. The sound of a relatively heavy rain echoed in the room as clearly as if she were out in it.

Opening her eyes, Padmé looked to her open window. She was lying in her bedroom. She had gone here a couple of hours ago after Vader had brought her back to the villa. She had since calmed considerably, though she was still being eaten alive by worry for Obi-Wan and Siri. Nevertheless, she tried to reassure herself; the negotiations that Obi-Wan was engaging in would not be swift, especially if there was some sort of underlying problem on Salkende that they somehow needed to fix. She just wished she could hear from them.

Padmé sighed and closed her eyes once more, listening to the rain. She was glad she finally got the opportunity to just cry about what had happened to Sabé. She wasn't happy that she did it in front of Vader, but at the same time that seemed to unlock something in him. She wasn't sure what had happened, but his behavior indicated that he somehow viewed her differently. Whether it was because of her tears or her previous statement was beyond her, though she did have a sinking suspicion that no one had ever talked to the Sith Lord that way. The thought of it made her stomach churn. Just what kind of upbringing had Vader faced?

She hadn't seen Vader since he had brought her back to Varykino. He had disappeared somewhere. His last remark to her still made her shudder; Darth Vader had several reputations: among the Rebels he was a monster, among the civilians he was a mystery, and among the Imperials he was a heartless machine. She was beginning to think the Imperial idea of him was the most accurate. She just wished she knew why.

She had to figure this out.

Finally getting some energy, Padmé sat up and exited her bedroom in search of the Sith Lord. She checked his room first, but he wasn't there. She hadn't heard any activity in the entire villa since she'd gone to her bedroom. After a brief search she came to the conclusion that the place was empty. But that meant Vader was out in the rain somewhere.

Getting a magenta robe, she put the hood on and went outside. The rain had been going on for quite some time, so the balcony was beginning to flood. Going to the entrance between the balcony and the dining area, Padmé pressed a button and doors slid across the entrance, preventing the water from getting inside. Sighing, she looked around; she couldn't see much of the terrain due to the rain, but from what she did see Vader wasn't nearby.

Padmé walked down the stairs and ran out into the open field, holding her hood tightly as the wind blew against her. She traveled quite a while, and the villa eventually vanished from view. The island wasn't big enough for her to take this long to find that blasted Imperial; where was he?

Pausing, Padmé turned around. She probably should have checked the dock first since it was right by the villa, but she didn't think Vader would have left Varykino. Still, it was worth a look. However, as soon as she walked in the general direction of the villa once more, Padmé saw a dull red light in the distance. Wondering what in the blazes it was, she began to walk towards it when she heard that bizarre but familiar sound of something humming in the air. That had to be Vader; the sound was lightsaber, wasn't it?

Wait, why did he have his lightsaber activated?

Rushing towards the glow, Padmé heard the sound of the weapon grow louder. Eventually a dark figure appeared in the light, barely more than a shadow, before it slowly became clear enough to make out Vader in the rain. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed deeply in concentration. He was practicing his fighting style, thrusting his blade in one direction before turning and heading another way. His black trousers, shirt, and brown vest were all soaked, just as they had been when the two had been swimming. His wasn't wearing any sort of cloak, and his head was uncovered.

Suddenly, Vader's eyes popped open and he froze in place, his blade parallel to the grass. It simmered and hissed as rain fell on it, and thin tendrils of steam rose from it. Vader didn't seem to notice; he was busy with some thought process or realization, staring with wide eyes out at the rain. Padmé wasn't sure if he knew she was there, but she doubted it; he hadn't forced himself into that usual neutral façade yet. Though was it really a façade? After his last remark, she wasn't so sure.

Then, without warning, he deactivated his blade, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to face her. He tipped his head in her direction as a small bow of acknowledgement. "Senator."

So he was back to calling her by her title once more. She hoped whatever change had overcome him before hadn't been temporary. There had to be some way to reach him.

"It's Padmé, remember?" Padmé reminded him, somewhat hopeful that he'd take the hint.

Vader stared at her, but he didn't give any sign of emotion. Instead he just faced her fully, placing his lightsaber hilt on his belt. "That is your name, yes."

Padmé rolled her eyes. "You called me by my name earlier."

"You were crying. I had to get your attention."

Padmé felt her chest tighten, both from annoyance and helplessness. How could she get through to him if he wouldn't listen to her, wouldn't give himself the chance to just be a normal person?

"Milord," she began, taking a step towards him. "Please. Just… call me Padmé. Is it really so hard? Can't we just be friends?"

Now she caught him off guard. Vader gave her a puzzled look. "Friends?"

Before Padmé could reply, he suddenly added, "So if we're friends, that means we can talk honestly to each other?"

Padmé took an eager step towards him, nodding vigorously. "Yes, yes, absolutely."

"So you're a—"

Before Vader could finish, Padmé suddenly heard her comlink beep. Padmé jumped; she'd forgotten she had grabbed it before leaving to search for Vader. Who in the blazes could be calling her? Was it—was it Obi-Wan and Siri? Padmé quickly grabbed the device and, with an apologetic look to Vader, answered it. "This is Senator Amidala."

"Padmé?" Padmé immediately recognized the voice of Iena Pén, a dear friend and coworker of her father who stilled worked in the Refugee Relief Movement. Iena was also a Rebel sympathizer who often gave Padmé information on Imperial movements in the Mid Rim.

Immediately feeling her stomach clench with nervousness, Padmé hastily said, "Iena, so good to hear from you. I'm afraid I'm a little busy with my present company, so I might have to call you back later."

"Padmé, this is urgent," Iena insisted, making Padmé even more nervous. The last thing she needed was for Iena to say something incriminating right in front of Darth Vader.

"I'll call you right back," Padmé hastily said before cutting the connection. Then she looked at Vader, who she just realized had been listening quite intently to the conversation.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You were saying about honesty?"

"I'm not lying. I'm going to call her back." Padmé answered, hiding her anxiety. "I didn't want to talk in the rain."

"You couldn't talk and walk at the same time?"

"You're soaked," she changed the subject abruptly. "You should go in too and dry off. Let's go."

Vader said nothing, but he followed obediently. The two walked in silence all the way to the villa. Padmé was suddenly more anxious than she had been since their arrival; what did Iena want? Why did she have to call now of all times?

Once they reached the villa, Padmé pointed off to the refresher. "Go dry yourself off, milord, before you catch a cold."

"I'm capable of handling my own health," Vader answered, stopping. "You should call that person back."

Padmé looked at him, her right hand gripping the comlink while her left played with her dress. "I will. But you need to dry yourself off."

Vader glanced at the open refresher door and didn't move. Just as Padmé was about to insist he go dry himself off (she wanted to speak in private, blast it), a towel floated into the room. Gaping at it, Padmé took a nervous step back, but Vader was completely unperturbed. Instead, he snatched the towel out of the air and began to dry his hair.

Realization hit her. "You did that?"

Vader paused, eying her. "Did what?"

Padmé pointed mutely at the towel. Vader pulled it away from himself and stared at it before shrugging as he looked at her once more. "Yes."

"Just how many things can you do with the Force?" Padmé asked, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

Vader just shrugged again, drying his hair once more. "Anything."

He was exaggerating, right? In either case, it didn't solve her current dilemma. "You're going to get water all over the floor. You should go the refresher."

"Water's already all over the floor. Call your friend, friend."

Padmé felt a twinge of anger at his abuse of the word, but she took a calming breath. She had hoped they could actually talk with some semblance of trust for each other, but it seemed like he still had his mission objective firmly in his mind.

"Why'd you come with me to Varykino?" Padmé suddenly asked. "Was it just to spy on me?"

Vader froze. Instead of answering her question, he asked, "Why do you always lie?"

Padmé blanched, not expecting the question. "What?"

"You just asked not even half an hour ago why we couldn't be friends, and before then you were implying that you wanted to trust me and vice versa. But all you do is lie. You don't trust me at all."

"I said on Isola that I would trust you if you were honest with me," Padmé reminded him. "You haven't exactly been straight with me either, you know."

"I've been reticent at most," Vader replied, his gaze growing hard. "You've been outright lying from the start."

Reticent was probably the kindest and mildest way to put it. To be fair, though, Vader was correct. But how in the blazes was Padmé supposed to be completely honest with the guy? He was an Imperial, he was a top tier Imperial, he was a Sith Lord, and he was there solely for the purpose of branding her a traitor. The very fact that he had the gall to accuse her of lying made her blood boil.

So much for showing a different side to her. Why had he bothered being nice while she had been crying?

"What happened on Isola?" she questioned him. "Was that kindness just a fluke?"

"You obviously weren't in your right mind," Vader answered matter-of-factly. "Only the weak cry."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Padmé snapped, temporarily losing control.

Vader wasn't expecting her vehemence. He took a step back, visibly caught off guard. "You—you're not weak."

Before Padmé could reply, her comlink chimed again. Iena hadn't been joking when she'd said it had been urgent. Sighing heavily, Padmé just risked it and answered the call. "Yes?"

"Padmé, it's Iena. Can we speak now?"

Padmé eyed Vader and for a moment she wanted to just scream out that she was with him, but she held herself in check. She prayed that whatever Iena had to say, it didn't have to do with the Alliance or Empire. "Go ahead."

Darth Vader watched her as she spoke, but he started to towel dry his hair once more and seemed more occupied in that task, bringing some relief to her. Padmé felt the weight of the universe lift from her shoulders, however, when she heard Iena's reply. "Padmé I'm on CC4; there was a groundquake that tore through here and we've been working along the service corps to help everyone. There's too much damage to the colony to house all the survivors, so we were trying to get them out of here, but we're having some trouble."

Thank heaven it had nothing to do with Rebel affairs. She would gladly help with this. Though… why did they need her help? "I can lend a hand and an extra ship, but we'd still have to go through the usual paperwork…"

As she spoke, Vader finished drying his hair and proceeded to remove his belt and his shirt. Padmé felt her heart rate skyrocket, both from surprise and… okay, she did have to admit he was an awfully amazing specimen to look at. But blast it, he could have warned her. Despite her own feelings, Vader was completely oblivious, simply continuing to dry himself. He was in amazing shape; all of his muscles were toned and were making Padmé blush quite a bit, especially when he turned his torso and she watched those muscles in action.

"And… uh…" Padmé tried to recapture her original train of thought but found herself staring at Vader. Shaking her head, she looked elsewhere, trying to calm down. "What sort of help do you need?"

"It's this gang." Iena explained, making Padmé focus once more. "They're former slaves. They formed a group after the groundquake; the Imperial presence here is mostly dead. They won't let anybody on or off the colony. We can't get these refugees out of here, and the service corps is running out of supplies!"

"The senate is in recess right now," Padmé replied; she presumed that was why Iena wanted her specifically. Honestly, even if the senate were in session, she highly doubted it would lend aid to a small colony in a remote sector like hers; CC4 stood for Chommell Colony 4, one of the small colonies in her sector. Even if Iena did want Padmé to speak to the senate, though… "Have you contacted Rep. Svoule? You do know he's the representative of all the colonies in our sector."

"Yes, the representative came, but now they're holding him hostage and demanding a ransom. Surely you could call an emergency senate session? Please, Padmé there's got to be something you can do."

Padmé knew that tone. Iena wanted her to get the Rebels to help. How in the blazes was she supposed to do that? She would have to make contact with Bail, and that in itself would endanger both herself and Bail… and that was if Vader wasn't around. There was no way she could bring the Rebels into this scenario. "You said the local troops were dead?"

"Most of them. The rest are injured."

Padmé shook her head. "Calling an emergency senate session will do nothing."

Then she looked pointedly at Vader, who had paused to listen to the conversation. "The senate won't help. The Empire won't help. They don't care about a small colony."

"But the representative—"

"Rep. Svoule is half-Mirialan," Padmé interrupted her in disgust. "The Empire won't do anything to help him."

Vader straightened, watching her. Padmé wasn't sure what was going through his head, but he definitely was trying to read her somehow. She closed her eyes, trying to organize her thoughts. What was she going to do? How could she help without involving the Alliance?

Eventually, she took a deep calming breath and opened her eyes. Vader had resumed his previous action, seemingly paying her little mind. Most of his torso, face, and arms were dry, so he'd probably leave or throw the towel out soon; maybe that would get him out of the room. It didn't matter; she wasn't going to mention the Alliance, anyway. "I'll go."

Vader looked at her once more and then lightly dropped the towel on the floor. She could definitely tell he was trying to gauge what she was doing and what she was thinking, but she wasn't going to let him figure it out. Besides, this wasn't about outmaneuvering him or anything of the sort; this was just about helping the colony.

"Are you bringing any help? Supplies? Something?" Iena asked worriedly.

"We'll see." Padmé replied. She could go alone, but she doubted negotiation would do much at this point, especially since Rekk had probably tried to do that first before they had captured him. But if Vader agreed to go… "I need to ask a friend for a favor."

"Please hurry, Padmé," Iena said. "We won't last much longer."

"I'm on my way, Iena. Don't worry." Padmé replied before cutting the connection.

Well, it was now or never.

"Will you help me, milord?"

Vader faced her fully, crossing his arms. Blast it, she wished he'd put a shirt on. He was way too… distracting right now. "So I am a friend to you."

"You could be," Padmé replied carefully. "There's a lot we haven't said to each other, but we could still get along, milord."

Vader walked towards her slowly, his arms lowering to his sides. Padmé felt herself blush once more, and her heart rate increased. She took a hesitant step back, hugging herself. Eventually he had her backed into a corner. She felt the cold wall press against her back and she gasped slightly as Vader was suddenly towering over her. And krif it, his bare chest was right in front of her. For some reason seeing him shirtless had abruptly reminded her that while he was many things—a monster, a murderer, an Imperial, a mystery—he was still most definitely a man, and not in the sense that she could manipulate him, but that he could catch her attention.

Blast it, she needed to get out more.

"Why are you nervous?" he asked, but it was in a whisper, that kind of oh so quiet whisper that makes one's skin tingle.

Padmé looked away. "You're awfully close, milord."

"You've done this with me before."

Padmé had to let out a small chuckle. It was the ironic truth, after all. "I think I understand your discomfort now, then."

Vader sighed and took a step back. "I'll go with you. We should pack accordingly. We can leave tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning?" Padmé stammered, looking at him once more. "That's too late!"

"Your friend didn't give many details as to the situation. I can remedy that; I'll get Intelligence to investigate the matter. If you prefer not to involve them, then surely your local news stations will at least be informed; it is in your sector, after all. In either case, we need to be prepared for the journey."

"Are you always this meticulous?" Padmé asked, a little bemused.

"Only on missions." Vader replied before walking back to the towel. As he did so, he reached down to his trousers, starting to lower them from his waist.

Padmé yelped loudly, facing the wall. "What are you doing?!"

"Removing my clothes. They're wet." Vader noted nonchalantly. To prove his point he tossed them towards her; she could tell since she saw the trouser leg and heard a wet splat on the tile floor.

"By the stars, don't you have any sense of decency?!" Padmé asked as she did her best to keep her voice level; she wasn't sure she succeeded since what came out of her mouth sounded more like a squeal than anything else.

"But they're wet." Vader repeated with a touch of condescension. "You're supposed to remove wet clothes, or you'll catch a cold."

That kriffing jerk was using her words against her! In this instance, though, Padmé wasn't sure she should be annoyed or amused.

"Well you'll definitely catch a cold now, running around half naked," Padmé quipped as she kicked the wet clothes away from herself.

"Well your clothes are wet too."

Padmé's heart rate went through the roof, and she blushed so deeply she was sure her cheeks were on fire. "I'm not taking my clothes off in here."

"I didn't say that."

"You were implying it, you big shaak."

"I'm not a shaak. Your butt's bigger than mine. You're the shaak."

Padmé whirled around, gaping at him, completely flabbergasted. Then she remembered he was only in his underwear, so she yelped again and whirled around once more. The end result was that she had gone in some bizarre and jarring circle that left her dizzy and out of breath.

"I haven't seen that dance move before. You should do that again." His voice was maddeningly calm, but his sarcasm was cutting into her like a hot knife.

"Just go put some clothes on." Padmé snapped, hugging herself and focusing on her breathing.

"As you wish, milady."

Padmé heard the soft sound of his bare feet grow distant as he departed. Only when she couldn't hear them anymore did she dare turn around. Blowing out a deep sigh of relief, she leaned against the wall and fanned herself before noticing with great annoyance that he'd left his clothes behind.

"That kriffing son of a Hutt," she muttered irritably, gathering the soaked clothes into a bundle and carrying them to the refresher.

Obi-Wan watched his wife as she paced impatiently. They had requested to speak with Tlenden, and his aide had said they would have to wait. It had been almost two hours since then. They were still waiting in the entrance foyer of the man's office. There was still a fire going in the hearth, not blazing nearly as much as it had been during the blizzard, and Obi-Wan found the sound quite comforting. He did have to admit he himself was beginning to grow a little impatient; they couldn't contact Padmé until they'd spoken to Tlenden, and they didn't even know when that would be at this point.

While Siri paced, Al pestered the aide, Åkjem, incessantly.

"Can't you just ask him to come?" Al asked, leaning against her desk. "We've done it your way for almost two hours. The representative would greatly appreciate the courtesy."

Åkjem folded her arms, not moving. "I don't care what title he has. He can wait like anyone else."

"Al," Obi-Wan called to his friend. "Leave her be. She is right; my position shouldn't make a difference."

As he spoke, he could tell it made Åkjem relax. Judging from the expression on her face, he also got the impression that his remark just made her gain a lot more respect for him. He could use that to his advantage.

"May I ask what the senator is doing?" he queried gently, remaining in a relaxed position on the sofa.

"He's consulting with the warlord," Åkjem answered.

"Does he know we're waiting for him?" Siri asked irritably. "I understand the importance of a conference with the warlord, but I get the impression it wasn't exactly a planned meeting that he can't afford to miss."

"It's important nonetheless," Åkjem replied, her voice tensing slightly. "You people are not exactly pressing concerns on anyone's mind here."

Before Siri could reply, Obi-Wan touched her hand lightly. The gesture caught her attention and immediately calmed her. Sighing, she sat beside him, looping her arm through his. Her muscles were still tense, but she was at least silent. Obi-Wan squeezed her arm briefly as if to say it's okay; we'll get through this. She seemed to understand his meaning, and she leaned back into the sofa.

A beep issued from Åkjem's desk, and the trio looked at her, alert. Åkjem answered the call. "This is Senator Tlenden's office."

"Åkjem, it's me." Obi-Wan recognized Tlenden's voice over the link, and he sat up straighter to listen. "Listen, I'm going to stay in Hjemmekoselig Sted. If you don't need anything I'll see you tomorrow."

Siri got fired up, but Obi-Wan tightened his grip around her arm. Just wait.

"Far, the guests wish to speak with you." Åkjem said, using a strange title for Tlenden.

"I can't go back to the office," Tlenden replied. "Bring them here."

Åkjem acknowledged him and ended the connection. Then she stood and looked at them expectantly. Siri shot to her feet while Obi-Wan stood a tad slower than her. Al was already at the door.

"Follow me," Åkjem ordered.

The three did as they were told and walked behind her in silence. As soon as they exited the building the cold slammed into them as the sharp wind made it feel a hundred degrees chillier than it actually was. They didn't walk for too long; they took a right and went down the street for about five minutes before they were standing in front of the tallest building in the city. It arched upward from either side, centering on the tallest peak. There was an enormous lower lying building attached to this monumental entrance. The entire building was made of polished stone, but the roof of the lower lying building had turf all over it.

Åkjem led them past several armed guards and through the large entranceway. The interior was full of stained glass windows depicting scenes of some sort. The large foyer echoed their footsteps and amplified them; there was probably no way anybody could sneak through this room without the entire building knowing it.

Obi-Wan took a calming breath and tried to center his thoughts as he walked ahead. He wasn't sure what sort of help Tlenden would accept, let alone what they could offer. All three of them were capable warriors, especially Siri, but they couldn't afford to stick around and fight a war for Tlenden, even if it was to curry favor. After all, the recess would be over in a little over a standard week, and whether they intended to return to Imperial Center or not, they couldn't remain here.

Speaking of which, he still wasn't sure what would happen once the recess ended. Their original plan had been to join the Alliance permanently, but that required many things. First of all, it required that they get their family to safety. Secondly, they had to make contact with the Alliance and inform them as such so they could get a replacement spy. Thirdly, the Alliance still had to bloody exist. At this rate Obi-Wan wasn't sure the most important criterion would even be applicable. He was still reeling from the revelation that Mon had been captured; she had been in a shaky position, yes, but she'd been calm and quiet for almost an entire year. The Alliance had been sure she was clear of most of the heat on her by now. What had happened?

Obi-Wan noted that Åkjem had come to a stop. He wasn't sure how many rooms or hallways they had passed through to get here, but they were in some sort of small antechamber. Large ornately decorated wooden doors were in front of them. An oval shaped deep blue carpet was beneath their feet, and two small red and green stained windows were on both walls to the left and right. The ceiling was angled upwards towards the ornate doorway. Trophies of some sort lined the wall around the door; there was a small golden figurine of a boat on a pedestal, pieces of some sort of broken sword made of a ruby red metal were under a glass case, and some medallions were on another table, among other items. The walls also bore placards with runes of some sort carved into them.

"Wait here." Åkjem said before quickly walking through the entranceway, closing the doors behind her.

As soon as they were alone, Al whistled. "Nice place. Wonder what those runes say."

"No clue." Siri shook her head. "But considering the grandeur of this place, I'd say this is the warlord's residence. At the very least her stately abode."

"Then I would say their equivalent of the throne room is probably through these doors." Obi-Wan nodded to the doors.

"But I thought we weren't allowed to speak with Adelig?" Al asked.

"If Senator Tlenden is in there, then that might be excused," Siri shrugged.

"Or Tlenden will meet us out here." Obi-Wan suggested.

"Well you guys are Humans; you have better hearing than I do," Al pointed to the doors. "Try listening in."

"That's hardly polite," Obi-Wan replied, but as he spoke Siri tiptoed towards the doors. He was tempted to say something, but he himself was rather curious too… he just wouldn't bring himself to doing what she was doing. Still, he remained tense and alert; the last thing they needed was a fiasco where Tlenden grew upset because he found them eavesdropping… or because Siri had a concussion after the door flew open right into her head.

"They're talking about us," Siri noted softly, making both Obi-Wan and Al inch closer to her. "There's a woman—I think it's Adelig—she wants to meet us—and—uh-oh!"

Siri hastily rushed back to Obi-Wan's side, crashing into him instead. Both were trying to catch their breath by the time the doors opened. Åkjem stood in the entrance, and she motioned for them to enter.

The throne room—for that's certainly what it seemed to be—was enormous. A high arching ceiling was held by buttresses with banners hanging from them bearing different runes. The windows went from the floor to the ceiling, depicting scenes of battles and triumphs. A long dark blue carpet stretched down the center from the doorway to the front. Along either side of the carpet were numerous benches. In the front was a balcony of sorts; a few stairs on both sides led to the elevated area, and a railway was between the area and the rest of the room. There were no seats there, only a small door that led to another room.

There were three inhabitants in the room. One was Tlenden himself, whose large and muscular frame contrasted sharply with the two women beside him. One woman, a light orange skinned Togruta female, stood quite tall, her montrals reaching above even Tlenden's head. She had a sharp nose, dark brown eyes, and a hardened look to her countenance. Her face bore some white markings as was usual for her species; the pattern differed between every Togruta. Hers were conical shapes under her eyes and circles on her cheeks, as well as a single dot under her mouth. She wore a dark brown apron dress with slits along the sides over an icy blue dress that reached the floor. Her sleeves were wide and trimmed with fur, but tapered on the upper arms since they were tied by colorfully patterned cloth. She wore a belt made of different medals, and a dagger hung from one of the links. Beaded necklaces hung between the apron dress' straps. Her montrals were decorated with smaller gold trinkets, and golden bracelets were wrapped around her head tails.

The other woman was a Bith. She wore white trousers, light grey boots, a white fur trimmed tunic with a high collar, and a utility belt with a blaster holster attached. She also wore a tall white hat with diamond shaped patterns around its circumference. Her large lidless eyes were fixed upon Obi-Wan, Siri, and Al.

Obi-Wan examined both women. One of them was Adelig, but he wasn't sure which one. As a warlord it was likely she was the armed Bith, but the Togruta held herself with the bearing of a weathered general and leader. He bowed to both of them, but to her he said, "I believe you are Adelig, yes?"

"You may address her as Triarkka." Åkjem advised.

As Siri and Al both bowed deeply, Adelig looked keenly at Obi-Wan. He blatantly realized she hadn't taken her eyes off him since he'd entered the room.

"You can't be…" she muttered, walking towards him slowly.

Obi-Wan watched her approach, slightly confused and a tad nervous. "I'm sorry?"

"Triarkka, what is it?" Tlenden asked.

The warlord paused just a breath away from Obi-Wan. She squinted harder, looking at him from head to toe, before she looked into his eyes. "You're Kenobi, aren't you?"

Obi-Wan took a slight step back, startled. Kenobi… wasn't a name he'd heard since he was very young. He barely remembered it at all. That name… it was from a life before the Naberrie family, a life he didn't really remember… nor cared to remember. But how in the blazes did she of all people know it?

"My… my name is Obi-Wan Naberrie," Obi-Wan answered hesitantly.

"But you are Kenobi, right?" Adelig pressed on.

"Who's Kenobi?" Al asked, completely confused.

Siri, however, was watching Obi-Wan. He had told her about the name once, in passing, a few years ago when they were engaged. It had been a brief conversation; neither really thought about their lives before Naboo. Obi-Wan's memories were extremely vague; flashes of smoke filled skies, starvation, fear, anger, and helplessness filled his mind whenever he did, and they never seemed to fit into a coherent picture. His adopted parents had once told him that he had been part of one of their refugee relief missions, and he'd had nowhere to go. He had never questioned them; it seemed logical enough, and it would explain both how they met and adopted him and why his memories of that time period were so dreary. But he'd never figured out anything about his real surname, or who any of his relatives were. Or even where he'd come from. His parents had never mentioned the planet on which he had been found.

Siri's memories were even vaguer; Obi-Wan had been about three years old when he'd been adopted, but Siri had been probably around twelve months. She had been an infant, and therefore really had nothing beyond an image of a Togruta in her dreams and nightmares. The Togruta Siri often described, however, didn't match Adelig; instead, she had red skin, two oval shaped white spots on her face, surrounding her eyes, and a toothed headdress. Sometimes she had a bluish glow about her, sometimes she didn't; it depended on the dream. Obi-Wan had never been sure if the Togruta was simply someone Siri had seen in her childhood and attributed to her time before she was taken to the foster home in Theed, but Siri herself was quite convinced that the woman had existed and she had seen her before going to Theed.

"A child from a very long time ago," Adelig answered Al, still looking at Obi-Wan, making him nervous. "I smuggled you off Coruscant."

Obi-Wan blanched. "What?!"

Adelig smiled and stepped away, giving him some relief and air. "Before I became warlord I was a smuggler. I helped the Republic during the Clone War, too; it made me proud to serve, even if it wasn't in the most legally sanctioned way. But when the war ended, and the Jedi fell… I didn't believe Palpatine's story. I have very little respect for career politicians; there's no such thing here, and for good reason. Anyone who's trained to win elections isn't trained to compromise or do what's in the people's interest.

"In either case, since I didn't believe Palpatine I went straight to the Jedi Temple. Most of the Jedi were gone, but some of the children and Padawans survived. I helped them get out."

"You helped Jedi escape?" Siri repeated. "So there are still some out there?"

"Judging from what one of my informants has been telling me, there's one starting to cause trouble for the Empire right now." Adelig noted mildly.

"I was one of them?" Obi-Wan asked breathlessly. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to this question; if he did indeed used to be a Jedi that would put an entirely new weight and responsibility on his shoulders… and a new fear. What if somehow the Empire knew about his heritage?

Even if he hadn't been a Jedi, though…. she knew his past. His life had always been on Naboo and with the Naberrie family… his family. To hear that it had ever taken place anywhere apart from them was jarring and not very welcome.

"You were a toddler," Adelig answered. "I remember your face, your eyes." With a laugh, she added, "And that cute little nose."

Obi-Wan probably would have blushed under normal circumstances, but he was honestly too shocked to care right now. He… he had been a Jedi. A blasted Jedi.

Sithspit.

How had the Empire not found him all this time? "Where did you take me?"

"Nimo'alke," Adelig answered. "You ought to know the place; it's in the Chommell Sector."

"Nimo'alke was attacked by the Empire shortly after the Declaration of a New Order…" Siri muttered. "They weren't following Imperial rule. The Naboo Service Corps and Refugee Relief Movement went to help out after the attack…"

"Yeah, crappy timing," Adelig shrugged. "But I found your parents; they said they'd take care of you."

"They knew?!" Obi-Wan blurted out. He was starting to grow a little indignant now; how could they have known and not told him?! He'd certainly have a few choice words for them when he talked to them next.

Oh, right. That brought him back to his original reason for being here. Blast it his head was spinning…

"Never mind that," he shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. "We came here to offer our services. If there's any way we can aid you, let us know."

The Bith spoke in a foreign dialect, and Tlenden nodded. "She is right. There's not much you can do unless you join the front lines."

"Not even a supply run?" Al offered.

Adelig laughed. "Oh, the days when I myself could do that. I do appreciate the offer, but unless you can give us troops, there's not much you can do."

"But we can give you troops," Siri said, looking at Tlenden pointedly.

"She speaks of the Alliance, Triarkka," Tlenden explained.

Adelig nodded. "Yes. It would be a beneficial relationship between your Alliance and us. However, we don't need the extra attention from the Empire; we have enough problems as it is."

"We would solve those problems, though," Siri argued.

"You would solve some problems," Adelig corrected her. "And you would bring even more. We can't ally with you, especially when you're barely holding yourself together. Honestly, I wouldn't mind helping you, but I have to look after my own, my clan."

Al looked at Obi-Wan and Siri notably. His words of the clan is everything to them echoed hollowly in Obi-Wan's mind, making his stomach churn. This meeting was only wasting their time now; honestly, it seemed to have done more harm than good, anyway. He didn't exactly want to find out he was a…

Obi-Wan shook his head. No, he wasn't a Jedi. He had never been trained. They may have taken him in but…

Blast it all, it made too much sense, though. Why he felt empty, why he could read people so well, why he could understand Siri so well… why Vader made him so terrified.

Oh shavit. Vader. Had he sensed that Obi-Wan was Force sensitive?

Obi-Wan was too preoccupied with these thoughts to realize the conversation had ended. Siri had apparently taken the initiative and realized that the argument was going nowhere, and so she was now bowing alongside Almusian. Obi-Wan hastily bowed his head as well, but before he could turn to leave, Adelig touched his arm lightly. "Stay strong, Kenobi. There are others like you out there; you all will make it through this regime, and the Jedi will stand tall and proud once again someday."

"I… I'm not a Jedi," Obi-Wan shook his head.

Adelig smiled. "The Force is with you. You were a Jedi from the moment you entered this galaxy. Stay safe."

At this, she released him and faced Tlenden and the Bith, speaking in their native dialect. Siri touched his hand lightly to get his attention and he let her guide him out of the room. Adelig's words echoed in his mind. He wasn't a Jedi. He couldn't be. How… this just made things a million times worse.

But if he didn't focus on it, it also didn't change anything. And yet it changed everything. All at the same time. Blast it all… it certainly made sense, and Obi-Wan could never fight the logic of an argument… and the logic was screaming in this one. It just fit; it explained so much. But what was he going to do?

"Don't worry about it," Siri whispered softly to him as soon as they had exited the room. "The Jedi Order is gone. The Empire isn't going to hunt you down; they didn't know you were a Jedi before, and that's not going to change."

Her words did reassure him, but at the same time they saddened him. He didn't want the Jedi Order to be gone; from what he'd heard about them, they were a bastion of light and justice in the galaxy. Maybe that's why he innately knew the Empire was evil. But… if the Order had still been around, he would have never met Siri. And he couldn't imagine that. He wouldn't imagine that.

Al blew out a sigh and shook his head. "Okay, so we learned that you can use the Force and even with that we still couldn't convince them. Hey, if you can use the Force, maybe you could be a Jedi general like in the war stories?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "I don't know how to use the Force. That makes it a little difficult, don't you think?"

"But what did she mean when she said a Jedi is fighting the Empire?" Siri asked suddenly. "I haven't heard anything about any Jedi since… well, the purges."

"Perhaps Senator Organa will know something about the matter," Obi-Wan suggested. Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts as best he could, but he couldn't stop the new creeping awareness in the back of his mind, like he suddenly realized there were things about his surroundings that he could detect without ever realizing it. Or he was making things up and thinking they were the Force.

This was going to drive him crazy.

"Before we go running to Alderaan, though, we need to contact Padmé," Siri reminded him.

"Right," Al nodded. "Let's get back to the ship."

The rain had only gotten heavier since the evening. It was rather late now, almost midnight. Padmé hadn't seen Vader since the earlier fiasco; she hadn't really left her bedroom because she had the food from their lunch at Isola. It had held her over until this point, but now she was starving. The sound of the pouring rain was rather soothing and was slowly beginning to put her to sleep, but her hunger was keeping her awake.

Sighing, she dragged herself off her bed. She had long since changed into a white nightdress after taking an amazingly long and relaxing bath… without thinking about Vader half naked, of course.

She was honestly more surprised by his words than his actions from earlier; he had been mild, maybe even somewhat playful with her. It was unimaginable to think that Darth Vader was capable of being playful, but somehow it had seemed to be the case. It brought her some hope, alongside their upcoming trip in the morning. As much as Padmé loved Varykino, it would be wonderful to interact with people aside from the Sith Lord; even if he was starting to get some semblance of humanity to him, he was still really hard to deal with constantly. She didn't know how anybody could do such a feat. Also, it was probably unhealthy how much she thought about him; at this point it was practically constant. She needed to get some fresh air and see some new faces. Or old ones. Just any face but his.

Because the more she thought about him, the more she realized she was beginning to grow obsessed.

What other word was there for it? Every time she thought about him or looked at him it was as if she were filled with this insatiable thirst and he was the water that would quench it. He was this enormous mystery and enormous mess all in one, and she just had to get to the bottom of it… and, well, she rather liked spending time with him when they weren't arguing. So far that had been rare, but it had been there. The dancing was a definite reminder of that. And the bantering. Not to mention since she could tell he was even lonelier than her, at least they could share some comfort in each other.

And stars was he handsome.

Padmé shook her head violently. No. No. No.

Groaning, she exited her bedroom and began to walk to the kitchen. The hallway leading to the lounge and dining area passed right by the guest bedroom. Curious, Padmé crept to the door and opened it slowly. The room was lit dimly, just enough for her to make out a shape sitting on the bed.

Sitting. Not sleeping.

"What are you doing?"

Padmé let out a terrified gasp and leapt back, tripping on her nightgown and tumbling to the ground. The door opened fully and Vader was standing in the doorway staring at her with bemusement. He was wearing a loose brown night tunic with some black trousers. His hair looked like a mess as if he hadn't brushed it since toweling it dry. His blue eyes gazed into hers.

Had they always been so deeply blue? So full of something brimming on the surface, ready to come out and show emotion?

Did she really just ask herself that?

Padmé blinked profusely and looked anywhere but Vader's face. "S-sorry. I was just wondering if you were already asleep."

"For what purpose?"

"Just… because. I was just wondering."

"….Why?"

"I already said why," Padmé replied, flustered. "Do you always need a practical reason?"

"Yes." He replied immediately.

"Understand this, milord," Padmé said as she stood once more. "Sometimes people do things just because they can. And sometimes curiosity is just for curiosity's sake."

As she spoke she belatedly realized that she was in her nightgown without a robe covering her. The gown wasn't anything particularly revealing; it dipped a little low along the neckline, and the straps were very thin, but it was nothing compared to the backless gown she had worn. Still, somehow she felt exposed, and whenever he glanced at her chest she blushed and adjust a strap needlessly just to cover that area with her arm.

The two stood there in a semi awkward silence before Padmé finally sighed and relented. "All right, and I was a little lonely. And hungry. You want a snack?"

"I don't want anything."

"Do you need a snack?" Padmé rephrased her question, beginning to grow accustomed to his strange way of speaking.

Vader paused, and his jaw muscles tightened slightly as if he were annoyed. Then he blew out a breath through his nose and shrugged.

Padmé gave him a smile, motioning for him to follow her. As he exited the guest room, she began to feel slightly more comfortable; they were entering into the lounge now, and they were just getting some food. The atmosphere wasn't as tight and tense as before, and she wasn't having to worry about him staring at her chest since he was behind her. She probably should grab a robe, though.

The two sifted through some food in the kitchen before Padmé finally found suitable snack food for them both. They made some sandwiches and sat in the lounge on the plushiest furniture available, foregoing the formality of the dining room. By this point Padmé had completely forgotten about the robe, and Vader seemed to have forgotten about his hesitancy to join her for food.

"The rain sounds lovely, doesn't it?" Padmé sighed happily as she leaned back against the chaise after eating. She felt relaxed and tired, but not quite sleepy yet.

Vader didn't say anything, but by this point she knew it was simply because he didn't have any remark to make. He didn't seem to speak or acknowledge anything he didn't find worth the oxygen expenditure, and idle talk definitely was not important in his mind. Still, it made Padmé feel better to just chatter away since she knew that while he wouldn't respond, he would still listen. And it meant the universe to her just to have someone listen. Obi-Wan had often been the listener for Padmé back in the day, but after he had gotten married he began to spend most of his time around Siri. It made sense; Padmé wasn't going to fault him for being devoted to his wife. But it still left her lonely.

"I've always loved listening to rain," she continued. "Especially at night. During the day it could ruin your plans, but at night it's like a soothing lullaby. It's just so relaxing."

She listened to the sound for a while long before gazing at Vader. He was sitting on the couch, leaning on his legs with his eyes closed. He wasn't nodding off, but she wasn't sure what he was doing.

"You know what I used to do whenever it rained during the day?" she asked, partly because she wanted to share the information and partly because she wanted to see if he was actually listening to her.

Vader opened his eyes and looked at her. That was his acknowledgement.

"I would play word games. Or board games. Or any kind of game, honestly." Padmé laughed softly, rolling onto her stomach and propping herself up with her elbows. "You want to play a word game?"

Oops, she'd slipped up. Vader didn't have wants. And there was honestly no way to convince him that a word game was necessary for some sort of practical use, apart from passing the time (she was sure he'd fine a million different ways to do so rather than play a word game, though). As she suspected, the Sith Lord didn't reply at all. Instead he continued to watch her silently.

"Let's play a word game," she said. She waited for him to question why, but instead, he simply straightened his posture and faced her more fully. Surprised by his compliance, she didn't comment on it. "The game is called…"

Padmé was about to say Questions when a better thought occurred to her. She never had played Truth or Dare much outside of her siblings because the younger girls often used it as an excuse to make stupid dares that people could never do. But in this situation… it could be quite interesting.

"The game's called Truth or Dare," she explained. "Since there's only two of us we don't have to use some sort of lottery method; we can just go back and forth. You ask me 'truth or dare,' I select one, and I either have to answer a question truthfully or do something that you dare me to do. After my turn, then I ask you the same thing and we continue that way."

"How do you win the game?"

Typical Imperial; always looking to win. Though honestly, she figured he was probably thinking the same of her as a politician. "There's not really a way to win; you just kind of keep doing it until people grow tired of it. We can just set a time limit, or a turn limit. How about five rounds?"

"Three."

Padmé rolled her eyes in slight exasperation. "Three it is, then."

"Truth or Dare."

Sithspit, she was going to ask him first. Oh well. Which should she pick? Considering his earlier statement, she knew he wanted some honesty from her. But as much as she wanted to be straight with him, she was worried what his motive was. Was he genuinely wanting to get to know her or was he still on his mission objective? Considering his obsession with getting the job done, it was highly likely that he was still just trying to indict her, but a small part of her wanted to trust him, wanted to believe that there was a shred of decency in him that she could somehow bring out. Holding on to that hope, Padmé said softly, "Truth."

"Did you mean what you said on Isola?" he asked after a brief pause, catching her off guard. "When you said I matter?"

She was genuinely touched and saddened by his question. He really had never heard anyone speak to him like that, had he? "Yes. Of course I was. You deserve as much respect and dignity and love as any other person."

Vader stiffened slightly. "Love?"

"It's not as pathetic as you may think it is," Padmé remarked. "It's very powerful."

"The only use for love is to exploit it."

Instead of growing angry (though she did feel it well up in her chest), Padmé simply asked, "Why do you think that? Who taught you that?"

"You didn't say Truth or Dare."

Padmé rolled her eyes. "All right, if you're going to be stubborn, then fine. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Coward." Padmé retorted, making him throw her an irritated look. "I dare you to say truth next time."

Folding his arms with a sour look, Vader leaned back in the seat. "Truth or dare, senator."

"Dare." Padmé said, raising her eyebrows at him in a challenge.

"I dare you stop being obnoxious." He immediately said.

Growing affronted, Padmé grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. He caught it with ease, staring at her in bewilderment. "You know pillows aren't proper projectiles, right?"

Padmé laughed at his naïveté of normal interaction. "Truth or dare, milord."

"Truth."

Ah, what to ask? There were plenty of opportunities here, but she supposed she'd start with the foundational work and see if everything he'd been telling her up to this point was true or not. "Have you ever lied to me while we were here and when?"

Vader blinked. "Are you allowed to ask more than one question?"

"It's all part of the same question," she replied innocently with a smile.

Vader considered her words carefully and meticulously as if he were hearing a court case. Eventually he nodded sagely. "Yes, I have lied. I lied about… a lot."

"Be specific, milord."

"Anything about my opinion of the Empire." Vader sighed. "I can't remember what else."

Padmé watched him curiously and with slight disappointment. "So you don't disagree with the Empire's anti-alien laws?"

Vader shrugged. "I neither agree nor disagree with them. They're just… there."

Honestly, as much as she didn't like his answer, it did seem to fit with who he was… certainly much more than the lie had. No wonder the picture she'd been piecing together hadn't made sense.

Before she could ponder anything further, he asked, "Truth or Dare?"

Well, he'd given her a truth, and a pretty big one at that. "Truth."

"Why did you cry?"

Hm, tough question. How would she answer this? She wanted to be as truthful as possible. "I was… very stressed. I've had a lot on my mind, especially… one of my handmaidens, Sabé, died just before the recess began. I miss her; she was a friend of mine."

Padmé watched him carefully now. A part of her still grew cold whenever she thought about Sabé and Vader's involvement in that, and she had to be sure now, once and for all, if he felt any sort of remorse over it.

Vader's face remained neutral.

She didn't know why she would expect anything different. But she had hoped, blast it she had hoped he would show some shred of decency in him. It was time to figure out why he was the way he was. "Truth or Dare, milord."

"Truth."

"Why do you not care about anything? And don't just say because it's not practical; people aren't born thinking that way. What made you the man you are?"

"That's two questions."

"Then answer the last one."

Vader shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He glanced at his hands, which were twitching on his lap. He twirled his thumbs around each other before settling and looking at her. "My training made me what I am."

"What training?"

"Game's over, milady," Vader noted. "That was the third round."

Padmé felt frustration bubble inside her, but she didn't say anything. Blast it, she'd been so close.

"If you find the rain relaxing, shouldn't you be going to bed?" Vader asked.

Padmé took the hint; the introvert wanted to be alone. Sighing, she rose. "I suppose I should. Good night, milord."

Vader said nothing in reply, but it didn't bother Padmé anymore. Walking back to her bedroom, she closed the door and collapsed in bed, snuggling under the warm blanket. Today certainly had been interesting.

Quick note: a shaak is an animal native to Naboo. They were those big butted things on Varykino that Anakin rode and fell off of in AotC. Hope you liked it. :)