Author's Note: The rating changes here to NC17/18/M etc. I owe inspiration regarding this to Noobian Rose, whose beautiful Ghosts story inspired the love scene. I hope she puts here one day, but for now its available at the Obidala Valentine Forums. I hope the wait has been worth it, as this is the first time I have put a M story here, so I'm a bit nervous as to the reception it will receive.
Part 23: Love in the Aftermath.
Padmé, my love, whatever happens, I'll be with you always, his voice murmured into her mind. She was reminded of that moment when he showed her the Force all those years ago on Tatooine, the safety she felt in his embrace, the light which shone around him like a halo and above all the love he rarely spoke of, for the feelings were in their infancy then. She wondered now at his choice of words, but time did not allow her to ponder their meaning fully, for another voice intruded on her thoughts, causing her to open her eyes and rise from the sand.
"Are you all right?" the Clone officer who had fallen with her asked.
She nodded. "I think so."
"We better get you back to the Forward Command Center," he declared.
Though her ears heard him, her mind heard something else, an elusive yet clear message, which she felt sure was from the Force. Now she understood her knight's meaning she shook her head, hoping she would not be too late to save him. "No, no. Gather up what troops you can. We've got to get to that hanger. Get a transport. Hurry!"
Obi-Wan, my love, do not despair yet. Help is on it's way, she uttered silently into her mind, hoping that elusive ally would send the message on.
Obi-Wan, my love, do not despair yet. Help is on it's way. Her voice calmed him immediately, just as the blue blade of his apprentice landed across the narrow gap between him and Dooku's lightsaber, saving him.
"That's brave of you, boy - but foolish," Dooku uttered in scorn. "I would have thought you'd have learned your lesson."
"I'm a slow learner," Anakin replied.
Obi-Wan summoned his weapon towards him with the Force, and called out to his apprentice before tossing him the lightsaber.
Anakin caught the hilt then ignited the blade, bringing both it and his own to bear on the Sith. He used the blades to the best of his growing ability, but Chosen One or no, he was no match for the former Jedi Master. It was not long before Dooku severed the hilt of Obi-Wan's blade, then Anakin's arm at the mid point between shoulder and elbow, sending the youth to land on the floor beside his Master.
Obi-Wan watched Dooku turn and he directed his eyes to the shadows splayed across the landing dock floor. A large one seemed to be moving steadily forward, and he wondered if Mace was coming to their aid.
But no, another, even more revered warrior was about to enter the fray.
"Master Yoda," Even Dooku's voice betrayed a certain respect.
The Grand Master of the Order rested his hands calmly on his gimmer stick, a gaze full of steel directed at his old Padawan, his very presence reminding Obi-Wan of one of his most vital lessons; size matters not. "Count Dooku."
"You have interfered with our plans for the last time," Dooku declared, before summoning a piece of machinery towards the revered master. Yoda let his gimmer stick clatter to floor as he summoned the Force to move the device away before it could do the serious damage which the Sith intended. Dooku tried another which produced the same response, before causing part of the cave's ceiling to fall on the Master.
Again Yoda deflected the fractured rocks.
"Powerful you have become, Dooku," he observed. "The dark side I sense in you."
"I have become more powerful than any Jedi," Dooku replied. "Even you, my old Master." He raised his hand and summoned Force lightning. But even that was avoided, the revered Grand Master using his bare hand to return it to the source.
"Much to learn you still have," Yoda judged.
Dooku retrieved his weapon. "It is obvious this contest will not be decided by our knowledge of the Force, but by our skills with a lightsaber."
As his opponent drew the ignite blade in a formal salute before himself, Yoda swept his cloak aside and called his own weapon to his hand. Opposite two of his students had the rare opportunity of seeing the Grand Master in a duel, a wondrous sight even in the midst of such darkness. Every cut, thrust, parry and strike was met, draining the Sith's energy until he could return the attack, leaping into the air. Neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan could isolate a single move from another so fast was Yoda's form, his blade nothing more than a green blur of light.
"Fought well you have, my old Padawan," Yoda remarked as their blades repelled each other in the space before them.
"This is just the beginning," Dooku replied. He summoned the dark side of the Force, directing his ally towards the crane nearest Obi-Wan and Anakin. The metal support tubes buckled under the weight before slowly descending. Obi-Wan tried to reach out with his own reserves to hold the crane aloft, and within the training bond he felt Anakin summon his depleted strength to assist.
Knowing it would not be enough, Yoda added his own strength to the task, and Dooku seized the chance he had engineered, darting into his ship. Within moments the craft was up and running, taking off out of a torpedo shaped exit.
Padmé's cavalry arrived too late, the gunship docking time for nothing more than useless blaster fire at the already out of range sail ship. Lowering her weapon, she ran inside, her keen gaze taking in the scene. Her heart stilled at the sight of her knight and his apprentice, their prone forms at right angles upon the bay of the hanger. Yoda was walking towards them, and she ran to Obi-Wan's side, her hand reaching for the comlink in her belt to call for medics. He summoned what was left of his Force strength to rise from the floor to meet her, but equally forcefully she pushed him gently yet firmly back down.
"Anakin's badly hurt," he protested, trying to resist, yet somehow unable to do so.
"So are you," she countered, her eyes running over his face before pulling at the material which surrounded his wounds, checking their degree of severity. Nimbly she cleared the area around them, preventing whatever infection had not escaped the lightsaber's blade cauterisation, yet managing to leave him almost completely clothed. Then her dark gaze returned to his face, surprised to see a smile honouring it.
"On second thought, I think I'll stay here with my beautiful and attentive nurse," he murmured, reaching for her hand. His face sobered as she grimaced at the pain to her own wounds which the stretch caused, before moving to sit by his side. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she assured him. "They're only scratches. Yours are burns."
"Mine can be healed by a Jedi trance," he returned, "yours need the medics."
"Do you really have the energy for one right now?" she asked him, not even surprised when he reluctantly shook his head. "Then just stay here and wait for someone else to do their job for a change."
"Yes ma'am," he replied, causing her to laugh.
"And don't you forget it," she added, making him smile again. Abruptly he tried to look for his apprentice, causing her to adjust her position so she could seem him being attended to by Yoda. The venerable Jedi Master was checking boy's wound, his gimmer stick tapping on the cavern floor in tune with his emotions.
"To think only minutes ago he was duelling sabers and floating objects," Obi-Wan murmured, causing her gaze to turn curious. She had never realised that Yoda was just as capable as any other Jedi in the field, assuming his size and his age prevented him from such combat. Evidently, though she had been mistaken, for clearly he had fought Dooku when Obi-Wan and Anakin were no longer able to.
Resolving to ask him later for the full details of the duel, she carefully sank down to lie beside him, her face seeking the soothing warmth which emanated from his chest. His arm came to rest around her, deftly avoiding the deep scratches across her back. As she closed her eyes and listened to the steady vibration of his heartbeat, another resolution formed within her mind.
Whatever faced them in the future, nothing would part them from one another in the midst of battle ever again.
Inevitably, they were separated, shepherded into transport which conveyed them to the large starship orbiting Geonosis, where the medical bay awaited their arrival.
Thanks to the days of his Padawanship spent in the healer's wing of the Temple, Obi-Wan used the Force to restore himself so he could leave his bed before a doctor could assess him, seeking the room where his apprentice lay. Only his natural courtesy prevented him from intruding upon the doctors who tended to the boy, forcing him to pace the floor of the waiting room until one emerged from theatre to speak to him.
"Thank you for waiting, Master Kenobi."
Now he turned round as the physician entered the room. "How is Anakin?"
"He is recovering well," the healer replied. "The surgery was a success. He will need some sessions of physical therapy, but the robotic appendage will soon become as capable as the arm which it replaced. If not better."
"Thank you, doctor," Obi-Wan inclined his head, though in his mind he still held several misgivings concerning that pronouncement. "And Padmé?"
"I'm sorry, who?" The physician asked, frowning.
Blast. Obi-Wan inwardly flushed at the level of concern in him which caused him to drop official formality for a moment. "I meant to inquire after Senator Amidala."
"I'm afraid Senator Amidala did not seek treatment, Master Kenobi," the physician replied, still frowning a little. "Should I ask her to come to the med ward?"
"No," Obi-Wan replied. "I'll go and find her myself. Thank you, doctor."
As soon as he was out in the corridor he sank into the Force, searching through the currents for the unique signature which belonged to her.
The location surprised him.
Silently he opened the door to the quarters, stepped through and closed them behind him with the Force. He paid no more than a glance to the surroundings, even though this was the first time he had visited the quarters assigned to him since arriving onboard. No, his concern was for the woman whom he quickly found, lying in his bed.
As he sat down upon the mattress before her, she opened her eyes, the slight flinch of her back causing him to inquire, "why aren't in the med ward, milady?"
"I wanted to see you," Padmé replied softly. "I thought you would prefer to heal yourself."
He couldn't help but smile at that admission, another sign of how well they knew each other. "I do," he confirmed. "I have no desire to trouble others, particularly in such circumstances as these. But you should be in the med ward. The last time I saw those cuts they looked deep and painful."
"It's just a scratch," she protested, moving to sit up. But the wounds across her back caused her to grimace in pain, belying her previous protest.
Rapidly he rose from the bed to climb behind her. She moved forward, allowing him sit comfortably, cautiously raising a hand to place her hair over her shoulder so he could study the injuries properly.
The cuts did not appear to be as deep as he had imagined them to be when he first saw them. He flinched as he recalled her scream at the pain which they incurred, the damage they were doing to her beautiful skin. Breathing in deeply, he focused himself into something approaching a jedi medic.
"I better attend to these myself before they get infected," he murmured.
She felt him brush her side as his hand reached down to his belt and retrieved something. A laser cutter as she discovered when he began to use it against what was left of her top. When he was done, she lifted her arms from the bed and slid the remainder off chest, adjusting the sheet she rested under for dignity's sake. Then she felt the warmth emanating from his hand as it hovered about her scratches, a quiet gasp escaping her as he used the Force to restore her skin.
Only when it was over did his hand conquer the distance and touch her. She turned to face him, about to thank him with softly spoken words and a kiss, but then she noticed the deep far away look of his blue grey eyes. While his hand caressed her, the mind was not aware of such movement, but somewhere else. At the fight with Dooku no doubt, reflecting on his decisions, his actions and the dubious nature of the results. She still had yet to hear a full account of it from him, but she knew the direction which his thoughts were taking right now. Her hand went to his face and caressed his cheek, halting his absent exploration and bringing the mind back to her.
"Obi-Wan, it was not your fault," she said softly.
He blinked at her, clearly not expecting such words to come from her. "How do you know I was thinking that?"
"Because I know you," she replied. "You did enough, more than enough. Anakin is his own person, rash, reckless and impulsive when his blood is up. And Yoda values the two of you too much to ignore your safety during a fight. He probably blames himself for failing to defeat Dooku, just as Dooku's underhand methods enabled his escape. Do not blame yourself, love. Others are culpable, not you."
She could see the protest form in his eyes, but before a word escaped his mouth she had covered it with her own. Idle hands became active once more, as he tangled one in her hair while moving the other in a wondrous journey across her skin. Deftly she managed to turn round in his arms, slipping herself underneath the sheet which no longer protected her dignity, all the while her lips not leaving his. Pressing herself against him, she strove to bring his mind away from the horrors which occupied them only hours ago, into the pleasure she was sure their first intimate union would ultimately bring.
When he felt her front ripen against him, Obi-Wan pulled away, breathing deeply. His eyes sought Padmé's, waiting. When her brown pupils met his; passion, desire and love clearly apparent, he didn't need to ask if she was sure and neither did Padmé for the emotions were equally reflected in his blue gaze.
She began to undress him, untying the belt and parting the tunic. His hands lingered down her back, a slow caress, briefly pausing to ease the passage of his clothes down to the bed. They returned to her belt when he was as bare as she and in unison they rose upon their knees to continue the disrobing.
Dropping the last item carelessly to the floor of the ship, Padmé turned her eyes upon him eagerly to explore his physique. Amid the now slight injuries from his duel with Dooku she saw the toned body of a warrior, not one who slavishly worked hard to keep his muscles, but one who used his figure as an extension of himself, another tool in his service to the Order and the Republic. There was no vanity in her Knight, only a confidence in his manner which hid a vulnerability few were aware of. It showed in his gentleness as his lips sought hers once more, waiting always for her consent before he continued, returning the touch with the same degree of emotion as she.
He had not been idle while she surveyed him, taking the time to return the favour, and now as he sought her lips once more, Obi-Wan savoured the image in his mind, admiring the curve of waist, her slender, lithe form which she granted him the privilege of seeing. Though no stranger to the secrets of women, he still considered her to be superior than any other he had known before her, for once he left Naboo there were no others who even came close to knowing him like this. Leaving her swollen lips he moved to sample those delights now, seeking the area of her neck where her pulse betrayed the pounding of her heart, his beard mingling with a lock of long brown hair, which, thanks to his curious hands, now hung free of any adornment or restraint around her.
A gasp escaped her lips as he nipped at the skin, and Padmé let her own hands grow curious, exploring the planes of his smooth chest upwards to his neck before caressing the shoulders to finish upon his back and in his long reddish blond hair. She remembered the short cropped style he sported when she first knew him, with the little ponytail shaped like a painter's wide brush and the long thin plait which he had told her once was the mark of a Padawan, with beads for every accomplishment.
Those small trophies were in her keepsake box back at her apartment on Coruscant, given to her after his knighthood ceremony one month after he left Naboo. The plait he gave to his Master, in gratitude for choosing to train him, but it was also something she had spent most of the nights after he left until then fantasising about, picturing herself using it to pull her to him for a kiss which would rival the one she impulsively bestowed on him in Mos Espa. Now she used his new, mature and even more attractive style to keep his lips worshipping her skin.
If he had been privy to her thoughts he would have smiled, but Obi-Wan was far more agreeably occupied in worshipping her skin, his mouth journeying further down her body, setting an exquisitely slow pace, pausing over those places where his talent in the Force told him would give her the most pleasure. Her own response was equally successful in divining those sources for arousal within him, causing him to wonder if he really had heard her that moment in the landing dock, asking him not to give up hope. She told him once that she was borderline Force sensitive, but until now he had never questioned to what extent it limited or allowed her a talent in using the ancient power.
Now they were about to join in the most sacred and intimate of ways, it felt right to let that power bind them together too, for both were ancient and holy within the nature of the universe. Sinking into it's embrace, he used the Force in a journey around her body, letting follow his lips and hands, straying where it may, lingering where she wished, for immersed thus, he could hear her desire clearly.
Then she touched him, and all coherent thought left his body. Her boldness in her desires soon came to match that of her questing fingers, causing him to loose control, not just of his emotions or feelings, but even of the Force. If it were possible their connection came from something far higher than that ancient strength, older than the dawn of time, revered more than any deity the galaxy could care to name. Future movements were a series of sensations brought on by sight, smell and touch, as everything within them combined for the first time in every possible way. He felt the Force explode around them, a silent continuous chorus of pleasure impossible not to sense, which only served to confirm the naturalness of their union, as though this was not the beginning of their love, but the middle.
Afterwards he fell back against the pillows, gathering her in his arms. Padmé smiled as she nestled her head against his chest in pure contentment. She had not meant for her kiss to lead to this, but she held no regrets that it did. Reality was far superior to the numerous fantasies she had dreamed over the years while their duty allowed them few opportunities to be together. Not only did their union feel natural with no awkwardness, it also felt blissful, easy, as everything else had when they came to know each other. She was not naive in the ways of love, she knew that relationships required work, the harder the better to be considered truly worth it, but with Obi-Wan, only their duties which took them from each other's company seemed arduous.
Suddenly he used his embrace and the Force to raise her so her face was level with his own. In a voice that seemed to be as rich and as deep as the shade of blue in his eyes, he uttered two words which would irrevocably alter their lives, both personally and professionally. "Marry me."
Padmé felt she should be surprised to receive such a question, but she wasn't, far from it in fact. She needed no time to pause and reflect on her reply, for not only did her mind know as soon as his rich voice finished asking the question, that elusive feeling which she first encountered ten years ago as she watched him free her pilots on Naboo, the sensation which she was sure came from the Force, confirmed it. "Of course," she replied, causing him to smile, before kissing her.
The union of lips was brief this time, a resolution formed by both of them as they realised there were many things which needed to be aired in conversation. He began the exchange, telling her of the duel which took place in the hanger, what he had felt the moment she fell, and the words he was sure her heard her say. As with every mission he felt at liberty to recant to her, the detail was present but concise, allowing her to imagine the scene in a way which did not differ too far from the reality.
When he reached the end of the tale it was her turn, and she confirmed his suspicions that she had indeed heard those words he sent her and replied in the same manner. She went on to tell him of where she had been held, and what Anakin told her concerning his feelings.
"I can't say I'm surprised," he remarked, "but I had hoped time with his mother would lessen their intensity. Not that falling in love with you is wrong, but in his mind you are upon a pedestal, and I fear the fall from grace will be harsh, for both of you."
Padmé nodded. "Even if there had not been you, I would not allow myself to fall for him. His mind has yet to conquer his emotions, with them he is still very much the child we met ten years ago. And of course, there is what happened on Tatooine to consider."
He stilled, a feeling of dread surfacing. "What happened on Tatooine?"
Softly she relayed to him what Anakin had told her, knowing he had to be made aware of the matter, not just as one of the boy's Masters, but because Anakin's entire future in the Order would be affected by this dark event.
Obi-Wan did nothing but listen, waiting for her to finish the tale of events before he made any reply. While his outward appearance was the perfect picture of Jedi serenity, his inner mental state was anything but. He felt sick at the sound of what his apprentice had done. The betrayal caught him to the quick, for it was a betrayal, not just of Anakin, but the Order and everything he had tried to teach his Padawan.
In one night, the Chosen One had committed an act which would change him irrevocably. Even the fact that he spared one thought for the consequences did little to change the disappointment he felt at learning this. He and Qui-Gon had been so certain they could teach the boy. Now it seemed all their efforts were for naught, this dark deed the price of their arrogance. Their confidence in their teaching had failed not just the Chosen One or the Order, but Anakin himself.
Padmé saw the thoughts and emotions playing across his features despite all he did to hide them. Softly she stroked his cheek, bringing his blue gaze to rest on her. "Do not blame yourself, Obi-Wan."
"How can I not?" he countered. "This is my fault."
"Why? What could you have done to prevent this?" Padmé queried. He bowed his head, thinking how to answer her, but before a word escaped his mouth, she continued. "I have seen you with him, listened to your doubts and counselled them. If your teaching is at fault, so is mine."
He could do naught but concede at this truth, for over the years they were apart he often confided in her his uncertainties over taking a Padawan so soon after his trials. A sigh escaped his lips as he wondered aloud. "What must he be feeling? I do not even know if he will confide in me or Qui-Gon about this. He must tell us before we can help him."
"What about the Council?" Padmé asked.
"They can never learn of this," Obi-Wan replied. "As far as they are concerned, one dark deed is enough. Anakin would be expelled and lost forever, chosen one or no."
Mention of the Council immediately caused Padmé to think of what he had just asked her, and her willing response. "And what of us? Can the Council learn of us?"
"I have to ask for their blessing, a matter of tradition. But Masters and Knights are not forbidden attachment, as you know." He slipped his fingers under her chin, raising her face to meet his. "Have no fear, my love, they will approve."
"Unlike Anakin," Padmé murmured. "My fall from the pedestal may come sooner than you think, Obi-Wan."
He grimaced, a slight frown settling underneath his beard. "Telling him will be difficult, but it must be done." Silently he shook his thoughts about that conversation away, knowing it would be wise not to speculate, and better to live in the moment, as his master taught him all those years ago. "Where do you wish to marry, my love? On Naboo?"
Padmé smiled. "Yes. In Varykino, the lake country. I have a house there, I used to spend every summer enjoying it's beauties. Do you remember when you showed me the Force?" He nodded. "Well, that balcony was straight out of my memories."
"I wondered where that was," he remarked, smiling at her enthusiasm. "A small ceremony, then?"
"Yes, only friends and family. I have no desire to turn it into a HoloNet event." She turned to him teasingly. "Especially as you have yet to meet my family. At the moment they only know you as the guy whose comms cause Padmé to almost trip up in her rush to answer them."
He could not help but chuckle at the image her words put inside his mind. "I better improve their opinion of me then, when I escort you home."
Abruptly she sobered. "I never did fight the MCA. Infact, I've almost endorsed it. Cordé died in vain."
"No, she didn't," he assured her softly. "The fight was taken out of your hands long ago. A darker hand has manipulated and engineered everything to conspire for this future. The Republic is heading towards a dark abyss, and we must ensure that we're ready for it."