Chapter Ten

Rays of the early morning Naboo sun had just begun to peek over the mountainous Theed horizon, casting its hazy light through the lofty, arched windows of Theed palace, setting the highly polished marble floor aglow with its soft amber radiance.

A lone palace official, member of the royal guard made his way down the stone steps, sipping a mug of steaming chav as he went, his blaster tapping against his thigh. He exchanged a grunted 'morning' to the guard on duty in the holding cell monitoring station before taking his place before the flickering images. Several views were revealed to his sleepy gaze as he took a long draw from the mug he held, but they all revealed the same thing.

A sleeping man curled up on the raised platform of the holding cell bed. The same thing as yesterday morning, and the same as the day before that.

He leaned back in his chair, bringing his drink with him and cupping his hands around its warmth. It was cool in the palace this early and the high vaulted ceilings and multitude of windows only added to the chill.

His shift would last four hours until the Captain would take his place at 0800. That was the perk of being an officer, he supposed. Only low-ranked officials such himself get the shifts in the middle of the night.

The only thing interesting about the post was that the man he was guarding was apparently a representation of something that was supposed to be extinct nearly a thousand years ago. A Sith warrior. The young guard didn't know much about them, except it was rumored they were trained assassins; deadly individuals who were the adversaries of the Jedi themselves.

But the man he had been watching for the past three days didn't appear dangerous. All he did was sleep. At least on his watch, that's all he did.

However, it was his duty to monitor the situation and report anything out of the ordinary to Captain Panaka, and although he would much rather be sleeping right now, if he ever wanted off the graveyard shift, he was going to have to do his job well.

Time ticked by quite slowly, the chav having long-since turned cold, the video game he had brought with him to play had turned boring, but still the young man sat, slumped in his chair until movement on every screen drew his attention away from criticizing fingernails that badly needed trimming.

He activated one camera to record a zoom shot and watched with some interest as the Sith tossed and turned on his bed, his breathing having turned erratic, and a frown etching the prisoner's brow.

Apparently, he was having a nightmare. Nothing the guard would consider too exciting in a day's work, but it was something. He'd have to report it to Captain Panaka.

White hot pain seared through his body, arms stretched up and out, ligaments and muscles protesting, but he kept his screams to himself. If he screamed, the beating would only turn worse and be longer. The best thing was to endure it, cast it all into the Force.

Just as his Master had taught him.

It was the way of the Sith. Part of his training. He should consider it a favor, his Master had told him once. A favor that a Sith Lord would take the time to teach him endurance. To beat him bloody. Because one day, he may be in a situation where he would be a prisoner and he would be beaten. They would ask him questions, and he could give them no answers. No matter how much torture he would suffer.

And so he endured. Transforming the pain into anger and drawing upon the darkness that dwelled in his heart. Just a few more lashes and it would be over, but first, as always, the real torment would begin.

His Master would drag up his past, the fact that he was once a Jedi, throwing scorn like salt into his wounds, entering his mind and tearing away anything true and good left in him like meat from his bones.

He hated the Jedi. He hated the Sith.

He hated himself.

There was a pause followed by a sense of movement behind him, and he flinched, knowing what would happen next, but he would not resist. He opened his mind to allow his Master to enter, preparing himself for the rasping words of malevolence that would fill his thoughts and his hearing.

However, the words were different this time, as was the voice. They were soft and gentle and spoke of kindness and comfort.

"It's okay, Obi-Wan. Sh. It's just a dream. You're safe now."

He grabbed onto the gentle touch that was caressing his face and bolted up from his position, glaring not into the eyes of Darth Sidious, but into wide, trusting orbs of dark brown. Eyes that held no fear, even though he held painfully onto her wrist.

"You shouldn't be in here." He scolded, dropping Padmé's hand.

"You were having a nightmare."

"It wouldn't be the first."

She was watching him, but not with pity or even curiosity, but with concern and caring. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that. And it was amazing that she was now, even after what he had done, the way he had spoken to her, and knowing what he was, and what he was here to do.

He should tell her to leave. There was nothing to hope for here. He wasn't a fool, but the words wouldn't come and the light from her smile pierced his heart.

"You….you didn't come to see me yesterday."

"I know. I'm sorry. We're preparing for the arrival of a validation committee from Coruscant. They'll be arriving some time later this morning. They're coming to discredit the Trade Federation's claims on Naboo trade routes."

Her voice trailed off when it was obvious he wasn't paying any attention to her words, but he was paying attention to her mouth. His eyes seemed drawn there, and it was then that Padmé flushed with the realization that she was still sitting quite close to him.

"I don't have much time." She continued, feeling the need to move away, but not wanting to cause him any worry, so she stayed where she was, highly aware of the fact that their thighs were touching. "But I wanted you to be aware that there is another Jedi coming to evaluate your situation. Someone named Mace Windu."

"I don't remember him." Obi-Wan answered after a moment's thought and Padmé could see the honesty in his answer. "Who else?"

"Just a few senators involved in galactic trade policies, and Senator Palpatine, of course."

Padmé watched Obi-Wan's face carefully to judge for any anxiety on the news of the visiting Jedi. Surely, he would understand the implication of such a visit, but his face remained completely passive and she smiled, relieved that he was not upset. She was worried enough for both of them.

Rising to leave the cell before the guard reported her intrusion to either the Captain or Qui-Gon even though she threatened him not to, Padmé flinched slightly when Obi-Wan reached out to grab her hand.

She didn't want him to take the reaction wrong. She wasn't afraid of him. She had never been afraid of him. She was just surprised, that was all. And so she grabbed a hold of it tightly, smoothing over the back of his hand with her thumb, which could easily be mistaken for a caress. But she didn't care because that's exactly what it was.

"Thanks." He said quietly, the word seeming almost painful for him to say.

"What for?"

The young man concentrated for a while and then slowly shook his head. "I don't know."

In understanding, Padmé nodded her own. "I'll come see you later."

She disappeared out the doorway, activating the beamed energy gate on her way, leaving Obi-Wan alone in his cell, his previous calm betrayed by a ripple of fear.

His Master was coming.