Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or anything related to Star Wars. Nothing. Nada.

AN: This is basically a second half to the first chapter so I just decided to post it.

Chapter 2

"He basically told us not to worry our pretty little heads about it."

Saché wrinkles her nose and brushes a troublesome knot out of her hair. She tosses the comb away with a huff.

She's a little more rumpled than she had been when they'd left the gala.

Between the main hall and their room she'd spotted the Quarren and Twi'lek and told Sabé she'd meet her in a while.

"What are you doing?" Sabé asked, not really sure if she wanted the answer.

"Securing our future," had been her sister's only response.

Sabé hadn't pressed her for an explanation for the state of her hair, the grease on her dress, or the recording she was so eager to encrypt on her datapad. She needed some deniability.

"I've never met a more difficult person to read," she adds, flinging a shoe into her bag.

Sabé pulls one of the little pearls nestled in her hair out and tosses it into a jewelry box.

"I don't know what we expected him to tell us. He isn't likely to just blurt out that there's dissidents plotting a governmental overthrow."

Saché rolls her eyes.

"Well not with them around." She pulls a disgusted face. "Why did you want to go over there anyways? Not that I didn't get a kick out of harassing that hag, but still..."

The final pearl drops from Sabé's fingers and her hair tumbles down as she carefully considers her answer. Saché will know she's lying, but she tries her luck anyways.

"I wanted to ask them about that count," she finally answers.

Saché turns from the vanity and flops on the bed next to her sister.

"Liar." She rolls, props herself up and sighs. "You wanted to see Kenobi. So out with it, how was it?"

Letting out a ragged breath, Sabé flops back and rolls into a pillow, muffling her voice.

"Awful. He-oh he couldn't have cared less about seeing me, Sach. I was just one more vapid shell he had to deal with."

She feels a pat on her head and then her sister's voice attempting to soothe her.

"Sabé…let's-let's think about this for a minute, you knew him for a few days almost a decade ago. He was, admittedly, quite attractive, except for the hair. That was awful. Just awful. But it-Sabé you knew not to make something of it." She leans in closer. "Besides, he's an idiot. You can do better."

Rolling, Sabé forces a smile. "I know."

But fantasies are hard to let go of sometimes.

"Then don't mope!" She scrambles to her feet and begins jumping. "You are beautiful and intelligent and friendly and-and loyal and trustworthy, and you are patient and loving, and absolutely wonderful!"

She drops down on the bed and grabs Sabé by the shoulder, fixing her in a stern look.

"So stop pinning!"

Falling back, Sabé grabs on of the decorative pillows and begins toying with the frilled edges. "I'll try."

Saché huffs and flops beside her, crossing her arms. "You'll try."

"I will!"

"You'd better," Saché grumbles. "He isn't that cute. Especially not with that hair. Who advised that crime against style?"

Despite her dim mood, Sabé snorts. "It really isn't flattering, is it?"

"I've met Siniteen with better hairstyles."

Sabé laughs and rests her head on her sister's shoulder. "Thank you."

"You're welcome" Saché frowns. "For what?"

Sighing, Sabé shrugs. "For being you. For making me laugh when I'm feeling sorry for myself. For helping me when I'm being irrational."

"Oh, Sabs," Saché chuckles, wrapping an arm around Sabé's shoulder. "We're all irrational sometimes. It's called being human, not even all those Jedi can avoid it."

#######

Sabé stares intently at the datapad in front of her as the shuttle to Coruscant carries them away from the gala.

Saché grimaces as she reaches out and swipes to the next bit of text, intelligence from a friend of a friend.

"The more I learn about this fellow the less easy I am about him," Sabé mutters.

Saché looks thoughtful, shrugs. "The disenchanted idealist are often the most dangerous. And he certainly fits the bill. If Padmé ever loses her romanticism the universe had best watch out."

Sabé nods her agreement and continues reading.

On the datapad is every last pathetic detail they'd managed to scour up about the man they had met earlier in the week.

They'd come across him as he had talked about the failings of the Republic and the complacency of the Jedi. He'd amassed quite a few listeners, which was hardly shocking. He was tall, cultured, well-spoken, and unfortunately clever.

They hadn't thought much of it-what did a few systems leaving the Republic mean to them?-but Padmé had been visibly concerned.

"There's more to it than what he's saying," she'd told them when they'd spoken with her hours later, mentioned him as an afterthought. "Get me more information."

So they had, even if they weren't sure why.

"She must know something we don't," Sabé reasoned. "She's the senator, not us."

Saché didn't look convinced, but had dutifully started gathering data, seeking out the Count's whereabouts at galas they attended.

"He's going to be trouble," Saché finally grumbles, bits of muffin crumbling down her front. "Padmé won't like this."

"What won't Padmé like?" A male voice asks as a shadow falls over the two.

Looking up, they find two Jedi hovering just in front of their little table. Two Jedi Sabe could do without seeing after last night.

"This transport," Sache answers, not missing a beat. "It's not fit to move banthas let alone Senate Aides."

An amused smile twitches at the edges of Obi-wan's lips. "We've been on worse."

Saché smiles coolly. "I'm sure."

Anakin and Obi-Wan sit at the little table, uninvited. They're up to something, obviously so, and both Sabé and Saché can see that, but silently agree to see what it is they want.

Besides, there's no point being rude when they might learn something.

"I'm surprised you weren't allowed to travel with the Chancellor," Anakin finally says, his expression genuinely confused.

"It's frowned upon for aides to be given such treatment," Sabé explains. "Besides, we can learn so much more on public transport."

The men exchanged a look so pointed Sabé almost asks them just what they're up to.

"Saché, do you want to go with me up to the food bar?" Anakin asks, already up and offering her a hand up.

So that's the plan, Sabé thinks. Divide and conquer.

Saché shrugs, gives Sabé an almost imperceptible roll of her eyes. She's going to play along, indulge their sloppy efforts, if only out of morbid curiosity.

Standing, Saché takes Anakin's arm and the two vanish in search of the food.

Sabé watches them disappear into the noisy din of people on the transport before bringing her attention back to the only other person at her table. She forces a smile.

Obi-wan's expression is cautious, almost worried. "Why do I get the feeling I've offended you?"

"Not at all," Sabe tells him, focusing on keeping her expression serene.

"You seem...distant, more than you were," he adds, eyebrows tugging together, little crease forming between his eyes.

"Like you said last night, I've grown up. People change. Being in the political arena made it imperative I hold myself a bit more tightly. Jedi aren't the only beings that can sense things. It's a liability. You should know that," she explains, wishing Saché would return.

He slowly nods, then smiles sadly. "Yes, it's always a little startling though to find people so very changed after a time apart."

"It's been nine years," she reminds him.

"Has it? Sometimes it seems much less than that," he mutters, more to himself than her.

Flattening out her skirt, Sabé lets the conversation lull, plans to at least, but then hears herself say, "You were bored last night."

She almost groans. She's so transparent sometimes.

He chuckles. "I don't enjoy galas very much."

Sabé nods.

"I'd forgotten they were outside your comfort zone." She forces a smile. "At least no obnoxious girls made you dance at this one."

"You were never obnoxious, Sabé," he tells her, leaning forward, frowning. "Now, why did you rush off last night? You'd barely sat down."

It's not why he and Anakin separated her and Saché, but he genuinely seems to be curious.

Mind whirling, coming up with dozens of excuses, each as ridiculous as the next, Sabé finally decides on blunt truth. On the spot lying is more Saché's expertise.

"I got the impression our company wasn't wanted."

He looks genuinely surprised, though it was hard to be sure. "Did you now? I can't speak for the others, but I was distracted. All the lies being told in that room, overactive, eager emotions, it can become overwhelming. Even when one is not trying to sense them."

Sabé's insides squirm. She'd completely misread him.

"Sorry I missed that," she mumbles, fidgeting with her empty water glass.

Saché wouldn't have missed that, she thinks miserably. If only her sister would bother herself with paying attention every once in a while.

A moment passes in silence, only the hum of the other passengers breaking it, before Obi-wan clears his throat.

"Did you and your sister fare well at the gala? You mentioned using certain social skills last night."

His eyebrows rise slightly.

Sabé feels her face warm.

"Saché mentioned that, not me," she reminds him. "I hate it when she says that. Makes us sound like courtesans or something."

As if they need help making people think that with their family history.

He chuckles. "She does seem to enjoy being a bit racy."

"Thrives on it," she agrees. "Fortunately, in our line of work it gets put off quite a bit. She thoroughly enjoyed harassing that lady Jedi with you last night."

She frowns. "Speaking of which, where are the others?"

"Ah," he sighs, taking a sip from his cap and then making a face, apparently not finding it to his liking. "Meditating."

Sabé arches an eyebrow.

"And why aren't you and Anakin meditating, oh great Jedi?" she teases, feeling more at ease finally.

Obi-Wan let's out a long sigh of suffering. "Anakin…was hungry."

Sabe snorts. "Hungry?"

"Yes-well, he eats at least ten times a day. Large meals if at all possible," Obi-wan explains, looking pained. "He kept on saying how he couldn't meditate properly while his stomach was rumbling.

"He is a growing boy," Sabé tells him. She grins and adds, "Outshot you."

He shoots her an indisputably disgusted look, but says nothing.

Feeling more at ease, Sabé leans forward on the table and tilts her head. "If you only came up to feed Anakin, why did the two of you want to get my sister and I apart?"

He tugs at his beard, chuckles. "Very perceptive of you."

Sabé shrugs. "You weren't particularly subtle."

He grimaces.

"Fair enough." He folds his arms on the table and fixes Sabé in a stare. "We thought, apart, you might be more willing to answer some questions. The two of you seem incredibly tight lipped around one another."

"Questions?" Sabé feels truly wrong footed.

She's certain neither she nor Saché have any information that would be of any use to the Jedi. Unless they want to know what the Correllian Senator's favorite take out meal is, or what traders they were currently in talks with, they haven't got anything useful to divulge.

"Last night you mentioned some discourse among some individuals at another gala. We've heard rumors about such activity for a few years now, but what you said makes it seem as though it's growing and becoming more open. What can you tell me about the man and those with whom he was speaking?"

Sabé frowns.

That certainly wasn't what she expected.

"More than I wish I could," she tells him, after a moment's hesitation, flicking on the discarded datapad and pushed it towards him. "That's him. Saché says he's far too cultured to be any good."

Obi-Wan's face darkens. "You're sure about this."

Sabé nods. "Absolutely, he kissed our hands before he left the last time we saw him."

"Such lovely and attentive girls," he'd commented, eyeing them curiously. "I hope our stars cross paths again, my dears"

The oddness of his comment hadn't been lost on either of them.

"Was he hitting on us?" Saché asked, looking more confused than Sabé had ever seen her. "I don't feel like he was hitting on us."

Sabé shook her head. "No, I-it was more...paternal, almost."

Saché rolled her eyes. "Great. He wants to be our grandfather. Fabulous."

Sabé shakes the memory away and watches Obi-wan read the datapad.

At first he doesn't say anything, just scrolls through the information with a deep frown on his face.

"Count Dooku was once a Jedi," he finally says, continuing to stare at the datapad.

Sabé frowns. She already knew that. It was right there in the report. "Yeah, I know."

He's quiet for a minute, maybe studying the words in front of him, maybe just thinking, before he finally sets it down.

"He was Qui-Gon's master."

Sabé feels her heart constrict.

That hadn't been in any of the documents she and Saché had poured over. They'd suspected it, from how often the two names were mentioned together, but Jedi rarely provided actual documentation.

Biting her lip, Sabé takes a breath.

"He's been in talks with some unsavory characters, from what we've heard. Most of them aren't too fond of Naboo...or at the very least aren't fond of Padme. Since we're just lowly aides, not really recognizable, we're usually able to hear things." She hesitates for a moment. "You don't think he's dangerous do you? What we've read about him is rather…interesting, to say the least."

Obi-wan runs his hand over his face, shakes his head. "From what I know he's simply a political activist with very high ideals, nothing more."

"But is he dangerous?" Sabé presses him.

Obi-wan sighs. "He is a former Jedi. One of the greatest at that. He held to the code strongly. He's an advocate for advancement and reform; I can't believe he would be a danger."

It sounds a bit like a brush off to Sabé, and she fixes him in a stern glare.

"Former Jedi. That probably tells us something about him? High ideals aside, of course."

Obi-wan smiles, a bit like a teacher with a pupil not quite understanding a lesson. "Former or not, there's always something of the code in us."

"People change," Sabé repeats their earlier assessment. "We've established that. You haven't heard some of what he says. He's...captivating, and what he tells people isn't necessarily lies, just very warped views of the truth. The Republic is losing strength. Then there's talk of a military creation act...Saché and I have been talking...it's almost as if something inevitable is brewing, and nothing good. We can feel it, it's a darkness looming. "

The line between Obi-wan's eyes deepens. He stares at her, as if he's never seen her clearly before, then tugs at his beard in thought.

"There has been a disturbance in the force growing for some time now. I'm surprised a non-sensitive can feel it as well."

Sabé raises her eyebrows. "Just because we can't move things with our thoughts or manipulate other people's minds doesn't mean we don't have any connection to your force."

Obi-Wan winces. "I didn't mean to offend you. Every living thing is connected to the force. I only meant most non-sensitives don't notice the disturbances."

"Maybe they do," Sabé counters, trying to keep the harshness from her voice. "They just don't voice it. Most beings with any sense about them at all have some level of intuition."

He smiles apologetically. "Very true."

Sitting back, Sabé toys with the hem of her dress, shoots him a sheepish glance. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

Shaking his head, Obi-wan softly laughs. "And I'm sorry for questioning you intuition."

Sabé rolls her eyes. Her intuition is suspect, it's reasonable to question it.

"I'm very sorry to hear about your grandmother, by the way," he finally says.

Looking away, Sabé takes a deep breath before forcing a smile. "Thank you."

He looks very near to saying something more when they're interrupted by the return of their very loud companions.

"Honestly, you must have a second stomach in there. Maybe you're part Gran," Saché teases, her voice carrying over the din.

Sabé watches as the pair weave between chairs and around children, laughing the whole way.

"Look at this Sabs!" Saché laughs as she points to Anakin's once again piled high plate. "Where are you putting all this?"

Anakin plops in his chair, and after stuffing a whole berry muffin in his mouth he answers, "Ah hawf naw ahdhea"

"Anakin." Obi-Wan covers his face with his hand as a grinning Anakin finally starts chewing with his mouth closed.

"I'm appalled they let you out in public," Saché snickers.

"We're working on alternatives," Obi-wan tells them as he takes his hand down from his eyes. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid we haven't found anywhere he can't cause too much chaos yet."

Taking up the seat next to Sabé, Saché wordlessly asks if she's okay, smiling when Sabé answers positively.

"And what have you two been talking about?" Saché finally asks as she steals one of Anakin's fruit.

Sabé doesn't let the question hang, answers almost instantly. "Count Dooku."

Saché chokes. "What a cheerful conversation that must've been."

"Anakin was supposed to be asking you about the same." Obi-wan shoots his padawan a withering look. "I take it that did not happen."

Anakin keeps his head down and munches quietly on a fruited pastry, pointedly not looking at Obi-wan.

"Don't be too hard on him, dear." Saché pats Anakin's head, much to his annoyance. "I have the uncanny ability to sidetrack even the most disciplined of men."

Sabé can almost hear Obi-wan's thoughts. Anakin is not the most disciplined of men.

"What could we possibly tell the nigh omniscient Jedi? About one of their own, no less?" Saché asks finally, somehow managing to keep her expression the picture of sweetness.

"He's left the Order. You may know more about him at this point than we do," Obi-Wan answers, finally laying the datapad down and pushing it towards the still eating Anakin.

Saché's eyes fix on Obi-wan, reading his every action. Every facial tic, every movement of his hands, tensing muscles, Saché will see them all and analyze each and every one.

What that will tell her is a mystery.

Obi-wan simply smiles pleasantly and crosses his arms, waiting.

"I told him we didn't know much. Just that this Count is unhappy with the Republic and apparently stirring up trouble," Sabé finally brakes the staring match by giving her sister a very obvious look, trying to draw her glare away from the Jedi.

Saché's eyes slowly, so slowly, finally leave Obi-wan and fall on her sister, completely unreadable. "Oh?"

"That doesn't tell us much does it?" Anakin says as he finally takes a break from his plate.

Saché rolls her eyes. "Well, like she said, we don't know much. We've met the man all of a handful of times."

Obi-wan sips his tea, grimaces at the taste again. "It's something more than we knew before."

#######

The rest of the flight is spent on more pleasant topics.

The two mens' travels, Padmé, the girls' move to Coruscant, Padmé, Anakin's training, and Padmé, among other things. The other four Jedi never emerged from their quarters, apparently deciding to meditate the trip away. When they finally reach Coruscant Sabé is in a considerably better mood, mad Counts aside.

Saché rushes out to hail an air-taxi while Sabé and the two Jedi collect the girls' luggage.

Or more accurately, Obi-wan and Sabé stand back as Anakin pushes and searches for the baggage.

"I really should help him," Obi-Wan chuckles, not looking even remotely sorry for Anakin's predicament.

Sabé snorts as she watches Anakin being shoved out of the way of an older Sullustan.

"Nam would say its character building," she tells him.

After several minutes of shoving and grabbing, threats yelled in more than one language, Obi-wan has to smooth over a disagreement between his padawan and the old Sullustan. Anakin had stalked off carrying most of the luggage after that, with his Master and Sabé trailing behind him, trying and failing not to laugh at his surliness.

"He won't be fun to ride with," Sabé whispers as she reaches for one of the small bags Anakin had been unable to carry.

Obi-wan waves her hand away and picks it up for her.

"He's just annoyed that he's going to have to share an air-taxi with the others and not the two of you. He won't be able to make any more inquiries about Padmé." His eyes close in exasperation. "He'll need to meditate for days to get over the overexcitement the two of you gave him."

"My apologies," Sabé chuckles.

"It's hardly your fault."

Biting her lip, Sabé considers her next words carefully, not wanting to sound like the silly school girl she feels like.

"It's been really nice to see you again," she starts. "You were always very easy to talk to."

"As were you," he agrees, guiding her, hand on the small of her back, through the crowd.

She swallows down the anxiety building in her middle, focuses on not tripping.

They reach where the air-taxi awaits them and stop to watch Anakin fighting to push one of Saché's large shoe containers into the back while Saché argues with the driver.

"That's outrageous!" Saché's incredulous voice carries over the din of zoomers speeding by.

"Outrageous! This amount of luggage is what's outrageous!" The little yellow skinned driver barks back.

Saché grinds her teeth, sweat beefing up on her forehead. "Fine then."

She shoves a card at the little man and crosses her arms as she waits for him to run it, tapping her foot for good measure.

Obi-wan sighs. "Such a lovely, sweet tempered girl."

Sabé laughs. "It's a put on. She knows him. They do it so he looks tough. If he won't negotiate with a senatorial aide, nobody had better try to mess with him."

Anakin makes a triumphant noise as he finally gets all the bags in the trunk, slamming it shut and catching his tunics in the process.

"He's hopeless," Obi-wan mutters as Anakin fights to free his clothes.

He hands Sabé the little bag, his fingers brushing against hers in the exchange.

"We'll pass on your congratulations,"Sabé promises Anakin as he hugs them goodbye, finally free from the trunk.

"See you around, sweetness," Saché tells him, kissing his cheek.

"Safe travels," Sabé tells them as they bid their final goodbyes, waving shyly one final time.

Then they disappeared into the crowd to look for the other Jedi, bags slung carelessly over their shoulders.