Author's Note: these are actually double chapters since when it was originally posted chapters were only 4 pages in length (Word, 10 pt font) which is why sometimes it will feel as if there's supposed to be a cliff hanger in the middle of the chapter but isn't. Enjoy :)
Chapter 2
Blaster bolts ricocheted off the rocky ground, barely missing the last set of legs on the aggressive shan. It snarled, barring dripping fangs, baleful eyes reflecting the light of their campfire. Blue light whirled, humming as the blade cut through air and finally flesh. The shriek of the shan as it lost two of three legs on one side was hideous. A second cut was made as quickly as the first, before the mutilated shan hit the ground, silencing its cries once and for all.
A blaster bolt sped past his shoulder, close enough her smelled the ozone from burnt air, the shan's mate taking the bolt in the mouth as it was lunging to defend its mate. The Jedi Master coolly spun the blade around, intercepting the distracted creature and neatly slicing its head from between bony shoulder blades.
A yell had him spinning. Padmé was down with another shan on her chest, this one smaller than the first two.
Baby's first hunting trip.
Padmé had lost her blaster, and it lay several feet from where she was. The sharp claws of the shan's middle feet had dug into her thighs, keeping her legs pinned to the ground and Anakin could see blood welling from the deep incisions. Its back feet were planted firmly on the ground to keep its balance as its front feet worked in tandem with its snapping jaws to try and rend Padmé's head from her shoulders.
Her face was set in determined lines as she struggled against the shan. Claws had raked her delicate skin, rendering her hands and arms a mess of bloody lines. Her shirt was also torn from shoulder to waist, a view he had little time to appreciate. Anakin extended his hand, calling on the Force to fling the predator away. The shan let out a hiss of pure malevolence as Padmé scrambled for her blaster, heedless of the wounds she'd obtained or the fact that her shredded shirt was less than decent.
Anakin had no time to be distracted as the shan's feet hit the ground, sending it back towards Padmé just as her had slid around her blaster's grip. Anakin was bowled over from behind, leaving him no time to spare Padmé a thought. Claws bit into his shoulder but he rolled with the blow, throwing the small shan off. For it was a small shan, almost identical in size to the other smaller on.
Twins. Anakin's thought was caustic. Figures.
His lightsaber whirled, the light reflecting off the shan's fangs as he came in, perfectly balanced. The shan hissed again and then leapt away, bounding towards where Padmé was backing away from its sibling, her blaster lined up with its forehead and pouring shot after shot into the tough hide. Anakin followed, reaching to the Force once more and letting it work for him, channeling it carefully as he sent his lightsaber spinning away in an arc.
Padmé let out a yelp of surprise as she was plucked off the ground by invisible hands and held suspended above the advancing shan's. It gave her a good shot at the unprotected back of the shan's neck. She aimed and fired in a split second, sending her attacker to the ground with a final, menacing hiss. She turned her head in time to see Skywalker's blade dip, catching the second shan about the middle and neatly severing it in half as it made to leap up at her.
The lightsaber arced gracefully back towards Anakin's palm where he shut off the blade and looked up at her.
Padmé stared back at him, wondering if she should be grateful for his assistance - or if he'd take it wrong. She smiled roguishly instead. "Nothing like a little late night work out to keep the blood pumping, eh Skywalker?"
Anakin stared at her, amusement mirrored in his blue eyes. "If that's you idea of a workout Captain, I believe I'm in no danger from you after all."
Padmé laughed. "That was just the foreplay, Master Jedi, we haven't gotten to the good stuff yet."
Anakin stepped towards her - she was still suspended several feet above the ground. "Your true colors are showing, Captain." His look was pointed.
She glanced down at her chest and found her shirt in tatters. It clung to the curve of her breasts, barely keeping them decently covered, and sticking because of the blood. Blood, lots of blood; her blood. Padmé paled. "Get me down."
Anakin's look turned concerned as he carefully lowered her to the ground. The note in her voice was as close as he'd ever heard to panic. "Captain?"
Padmé stumbled as her feet connected to solid earth again, barely managing to keep her feet. Anakin put out one hand to help her but she pushed it away, stumbling the few feet to the stream. She tore the shirt off; heedless of the indecency of the act, or the effect it had on her concerned companion, and tossed it aside.
Her chest bare, her delicate skin marred by bloody lines and her face unnaturally pale, Anakin had never seen anything like her before in his life. Yet it was the underlying sense of unease and panic that drew him towards her as she fumbled with the buckles on her holster. Strange, she wasn't doing this to tease him; it was as if something had spooked her. "Padmé? Are you alright?"
She jerked as her said her name, tugging violently on one of the holster straps. "Kriffing thing." She didn't acknowledge him, struggling with the releases.
Anakin felt her panic rising and stepped in. He pushed her hands away and quickly, with sure movements, undid the straps.
Padmé said no word of thanks as she dropped the holster and stumbled into the stream, immersing herself up to her shoulders immediately. Her eyes closed as the water stung the wounds, rushing past at a fast enough pace to cleanse. She tilted her head back, letting the cool water revitalize her spirit and wash away the fringes of panic.
A shudder raced through her frame. Blood, notably her own, was a sight she couldn't bear.
"Padmé?"
Her eyes opened at the soft, concerned tone of her companion and she was grateful for the darkness that hid her blush. He must think her mad. "I'm alright, Skywalker. Thanks for the save back there."
Anakin crossed his arms over his chest, his boot tips just shy of the water's edge, and narrowed his gaze to try and see her better. "What was that all about?"
"The shan's got the best of me." She smiled, though it was crooked and lacked the normal vitality; she was still recovering. "I thought for sure I'd have to jam my hand down its throat and grab it's heart."
"I mean afterwards, Captain."
She winced. And just like that she was the Captain again; it just sounded so... impersonal. She preferred the sound of her real name on his lips. The way he drew out the end of it, like a caress with his tongue. She fought back a suddenly vivid image that quickly replaced the chill spreading through her body with warmth. "I can't very well risk an infection."
"It was more than that. You were afraid, more afraid than when the shan's attacked."
Padmé's expression darkened. Blasted Jedi and their Force. "It's nothing; let it go."
Anakin didn't budge. "If it's nothing then why are you lying in a stream wearing your pants and boots?"
Padmé froze and lifted one leg, staring at the offending piece of footwear she'd been sure she'd kicked off. She exploded out of the water with an expletive, stalking towards shore as water streamed off her skin. "Of all the stupid, idiotic, bantha-notioned, gundark brained-"
"Why'd you do it?"
Anakin's soft question cut her off as she stopped on the edge of the stream, barely feet from him. His gaze was on her face, but she could see his heightened color. Could almost feel the increased tension returning and her body responding accordingly. Visibly, thanks to her lack of attire. She shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing. "It seemed like a good idea at the time?"
Anakin cocked his head at her.
She let out an exasperated breath. "I can't stand the sight of my own blood, alright? I had to get it off me." She shuddered. The gashes on her chest and hands were stinging, beginning to well with more of the offending substance. She turned, moving to go back into the stream.
Anakin's hand on her arm stopped her. "Let me dress them for you."
She arched her eyebrows. "You're no healer."
"Neither are you, but that didn't stop you from offering the same assistance when I was in a similar circumstance." His eyes were compassionate, the desires banked and controlled in the face of her fears. "Besides, it will give you something to think about other than the blood."
Padmé looked ready to object so he took the matter out of her hands by sweeping her into his arms. She gasped in surprise, her hands automatically reaching for his neck, though she knew he'd never drop her. Not while she was injured anyway. She winced as his shirt caught the edges of a gash in her waist, but didn't protest. "Why, Master Jedi, sweeping a girl off her feet's against the Jedi code, isn't it?"
He glanced down at her, his eyes hooded and suddenly unreadable. "Keep that sharp tongue in your head for ten minutes and I promise I'll be gentle."
She blinked, surprised. "Threats, Anakin?"
She felt the misstep as he ducked into their tent, stumbling and almost falling as his voice fell from her lips. His grip tightened fractionally. She felt the hitch in his breathing and marveled at it. Was that all it took? She was placed on her feet as Anakin retrieved the med pack. "I was starting to wonder if you could remember my name, Captain."
"And I was starting to wonder if you knew mine, Skywalker." Padmé arched her eyebrows at him, completely unashamed of the fact she was standing before him in little more than skin-tight pants and wrecked boots.
He turned and stopped. "Truce, Padmé. Let's just get you cleaned up, alright?"
Padmé held her tongue as Anakin opened the med pack and pulled out a roll of bacta bandages. She held out her hands, but he shook his head, motioning for her to raise her arm. She did so, presenting him with her profile. His sudden shift in stance was as pleasing as it was frustrating. His fingers brushed her skin as he measured the length of the bandage he'd need, her body's reaction as instantaneous as his had been. Electricity seemed to arc between them. She smiled wryly, watching him cut the bandage length. No lack of chemistry, at least. She sucked in a sharp breath as Anakin placed the first of the bandaged, his touch gentle. He stared at her lower back, wrapped it upwards with his face coloring slightly as he gently lifted her breast with the tips of his fingers to secure the bandage just beyond the end of the first claw mark.
Padmé's mouth went dry at the fleeting touch. Damn him. She closed her eyes, turning her face away as he proceeded to do the same twice more, then three time over the swell of the same breast. The shan had gotten her good. He applied pressure to her arm, indicating she was to lower it, and proceeded to dress the wounds on her shoulders.
She couldn't help but admire his self control as his touch was sending heat and flame spiraling through her. Fortunately, he'd started with the deepest and most intimate of wounds, and slowly progressed outwards. Or maybe not so fortunately. Padmé was breathing heavily when he finally reached her hands, wrapping the last of the bacta bandages from the one kits around them. She took a perverse sense of pride in the fact that Anakin's hands were shaking almost as much as her own.
But damn that Jedi control! He finally dropped her hands and stepped away. A quick, cursory look and he nodded, before adverting his gaze. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "I suggest you dress in something loose, Captain; we don't have many changes for your dressings."
She stared after him as he left the tent, her body humming with frustration. Blast him! She fumed silently, going to the foot of her bedroll and digging through her bag. She pulled out a new set of clothing and proceeded to peal the still damp pants from her legs. The boots, ruined as they were, got tossed to the doorway. She was fuming, annoyed he'd not taken the opportunity when he'd had it, and grudgingly admiring him for the fact that he hadn't. Damn Jedi and their self control anyway.
Padmé slipped into the fresh set of clothing, careful not to dislodge the bandages, and Anakin's parting words finally sank in. She stopped, in surprise before beginning to chuckle to herself. The implications became clearer the more she thought about it. Anakin now knew about her aversion to her own blood, he'd feel honor bound to change the dressings at least once more. She smiled slyly, the memory of the feel of his hands on her skin making her shiver deliciously.
Just you wait, Master Jedi. You're in for the surprise of your life!
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Padmé woke sometime in the middle of the night feeling stiff and sore, her stomach and chest throbbing where she'd been clawed. She turned, curling around her wounds unconsciously as the pain of infection lanced through her system. Her bandages had come loose, and rubbed against raw wounds in a fashion that irritated already sensitive and inflamed skin. She clenched her jaw against the pain that lanced through her side, her hand covering the bandages through the shirt and applying pressure to try and stem the pain.
"Captain?"
Padmé squeezed her eyes shut, silently begging him to go away even as she hoped he wouldn't.
"Padmé?"
She felt the fabric of her bedroll shift as he knelt next to her. His hands were gentle as he placed his finger tips over the back of her hand. She moaned, that small pressure sending another wave of agony through her side. He didn't ask if she was in pain; he didn't need to. Anakin's hand flattened against hers, enveloping it, and she felt warmth pulse between them.
The pain receded gradually and her hand loosened on her side as she gulped down a breath of relief. Her eyes opened and she stared. Anakin was crouched over her, braced on one knee and one hand, his left hand warm against hers. His eyes were closed, his brow knitted in concentration as he drew on the Force to help her. Long hair framed his face, curling about his temple in a tantalizing fashion that had her hands itching to touch it now that the pain was disappearing.
Padmé couldn't take her eyes off him.
His eyes slowly opened to reveal crystal pools of concern that stared down at her tenderly. "Is that better?"
She nodded mutely. Her bravado had fled with his tender ministrations.
Anakin made to take his hand away but she rolled her wrist, capturing his hand in hers and keeping it pressed against her abdomen. Anakin's eyes darkened, his hand flexing against the smooth muscles and bandages, reading the invitation that was clear in her gaze. Padmé licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.
She wanted to make some witty comment, to thank him in her blaze fashion as if it was something he did daily, but she couldn't. The look on his face, in his eyes, had drawn any ability for coherent speech from her and left her words a jumble in her mind. His hand flexed again and slowly, ever so slowly, his posture changed fractionally. Lowering, his face nearing hers.
Padmé felt her breath catch as she read the inner conflict in his gaze. He was going to kiss her. Elation swept through her, but something else was close on its heels. Fear. The warmth of the realization of everything she'd worked for was swept aside by the instinctive knowledge that if he kissed her, she'd be lost.
Anakin's face drew nearer and stopped, level with his knee and she could see his silent conflict with himself. He wanted her but didn't dare give in. Padmé released his hand and rolled away, managing not to cry out as she put most of her weight on the painful wound. She stopped, breathing heavily as the pain began to seep back in, and squeezed her eyes shut.
"You're bleeding again, Padmé."
She shivered at the huskiness in his tone, hearing the underlying confusion and relief. He'd had a moment of weakness and she'd not capitalized; she'd turned him down. Padmé finally found her voice and she made her comment deliberately harsh, her game with him suddenly seeming more dangerous than before. "Do you get your kicks from ogling women in their night clothes, Master Skywalker?"
She could probably have slapped him and not shocked him more.
Anakin's tone changed to the more familiar, cordial tone she was used to. "I felt your pain, Captain; I was simply trying to help."
"You've done enough, thanks." Padmé found the strength to push herself up, managing not to faint as the agony returned, lancing from her back to her chest. She clutched her wound again, feeling it pulsing despite the bacta bandage.
"You have an infection."
"No kidding." She gritted her teeth, sending him a withering look. "Did you learn to make your diagnosis in Jedi school?"
Anakin regarded her solemnly. "My mother taught me how to recognize the signs before I learned the rudimentary healing skills. We'll have to reopen the wound."
Padmé felt her face drain of all color and she held her hands up, as if to stop him. Crimson greeted her gaze. She shivered, feeling the panic that she always felt when seeing her own blood - blood from an injury - one her skin. Anakin's hands folded about hers, blocking the crimson stain from view. His gaze met hers and held her mesmerized. His tone was soothing, comforting and almost hypnotic.
"It's alright, Padmé, everything will be okay. We just didn't clean it properly, lie back. That's a good Captain."
"You're not thinking of having your wicked way with me, are you?"
Anakin chuckled as he helped her lie back on her bedroll. "I prefer my women a little more lively."
"Like Barriss?"
Anakin didn't rise to the bait, nor the hurt she hadn't been able to keep out of her voice.
Barriss can have him, she decided peevishly, watching as he went through the process of removing the pain from her side through the Force. His hands moved then, opening her night shirt and exposing the angry red gashes across her ribs and side that had become inflamed through her bandages. Anakin reached out with one hand, bringing his light source from across the tent to illuminate the wound better.
Consequently, it also revealed the undamaged skin just as well. Anakin's gaze met hers and she could see the control he was exerting over himself as sweat beaded his brow. His hands were efficient as they stripped the useless bandages from her torso but they were far from impersonal. His fingers tips lingered on her skin as his thumbs brushed whisper soft caresses over the smooth plan of her stomach. Padmé squirmed, unable to help herself, as the pain seemed to be pulled from the wound and the banked flames of desire roared back to life.
Anakin pressed down on her stomach, his hand splayed wide to hold her down. "I'm sorry if I'm hurting you, but we have to clean this."
Padmé bit her lip. Hurting her? Force no! But she wasn't about to tell him that. She nodded instead. "Just get it over with, alright?"
"You're a lousy patient, Captain."
"And you're a lousy Doc - ooooh!"
Anakin had brought the edges of the wound apart and was now squeezing the puss from the wound. She gasped, the pain arcing through her body in a series of small waves. Anakin's hands worked quickly, and she thought she could see him drawing on the Force to draw more of the toxins from her system. Padmé lay as still as she could, her jaw clenched against the pain of the process, her face turned away.
Then, after several minutes of mind-numbing agony, it was over. Anakin's hands ceased their pressure and she felt something cool sliding over the lips of the raw wounds. His fingertips, coated disinfectant cream, were gently tracing the outlines. She swallowed hard, watching as the cream was absorbed and tinted pink.
Anakin then applied a new bandage. Covering the wounds, he firmly massaged the bandaged into place, his finger tips brushing sensitive skin as he did so. Padmé bit the inside of her lip, suppressing the shudder than ran through her with his touch, however fleeting. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he'd mistake her reaction for pain. Fire, Padmé. Her inner voice whispered softly, sounding the warning. If you tempt him and continue to tease him, you'll end up burned. This fire isn't like any you've ever played with before nor any you'll ever play with again. Is it worth it for-
She jumped as Anakin's fingers slid in a semi-caress down her side, distracting her from her thoughts and drawing her gaze back to his. His blue eyes were no longer the color of diamonds, but had deepened to dark cerulean. His hands shook and she could feel the tremble as his fingers worked along the bandage again. Her heart pounded, drowning out whatever her inner voice had wanted to say, and her world narrowed.
It was a new experience, completely foreign and the thrill of fear that had danced down her spine before returned. It had been a game to start; a game to tease and tantalize; to drive the oh-so-high-and-mighty-Jedi to distraction. To push him to his limits and crack that self control. She'd been teasing him for weeks, even since he'd joined her, but he'd invaded her dreams after their first meeting.
And suddenly, it wasn't a game anymore.
Anakin's head came down with a barely disguised groan, his hand splaying across her rib cage, cool against her super-heated skin. She could feel the indentations of his fingers as if she were being branded, but that thought was distant. Warm, moist heaven had covered her lips. The moan stuck in her throat escaped as her inner voice was effectively silenced once and for all. His lips were gentle, exploratory, as if apologizing for some kind of offence. Padmé couldn't think, didn't try to, instead her hands came up to twine in his hair, delving into the silken curls she'd been fantasizing about since she'd fist laid eyes on him. His head turned, slanting his lips more firmly and intimately over hers. Padmé opened her mouth to him, darting her tongue out to tease the seam of his lips.
He jerked as if struck and abruptly pulled back.
Padmé's eyes flew open and she lifted her head to watch him from her prone position, unable to do more than stare. Anakin stared back at her, the flames of desire warring with the tenets of his code; she could see the conflict in his gaze, the anguish as if he'd done something horribly wrong. He was fighting not only the desire that lept so readily to life at her touch, but the teachings of a lifetime. He fled, scrambling to his feet and darting from the tent.
Padmé's head fell back. She reached up, pressing her hands against her chest, trying to still her racing heart beat. The thrill of his kiss was slow to recede and, even as it began to fade, the revelation from earlier rushed into its void. Padmé closed her eyes, banging her head against the roll that qualified as her pillow.
Stupid. Her silent admonitions did little to calm her pulse or still the fire racing through her veins. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She'd just been through the most passionate kiss in her life and the man who'd given it was a celibate eunuch with a past of indiscretions. She supposed she should be thankful. His control would be well established when he saw her next and there'd be no hope of a relapse.
Her whole body tightened at the thought of another brush of his lips. Get a grip; it wasn't that good! But the ache in her body and the tingling of her lips, said otherwise. It hadn't even been an overly erotic kiss - simply a brushing of lips compared to some of the kisses she'd experienced. But never before in any of her encounters had she been so completely swept away to the point where no coherent thought was possible. She'd always been in control, the one calling the shots.
"Dangerous." She whispered the word, shivering at the thought, and pushed herself into a sitting position. She fastened her night shirt loosely about her waist, careful not to press on the newly secured bandages, and pushed to her feet. Well, she could deal with this; she could deal with him. Ignoring the little voice in the back of her head warning to run as swiftly as she could in the other direction, she collected a spare jacket, shrugged into it, and stepped out of the tent.