Chapter Fourteen

The unexpected intrusion of Qui-Gon into the monitoring station startled the guard on duty there, but the Jedi Master did not apologize for his barging entrance, immediately moving to view the monitors of Obi-Wan's cell.

"That was some fight, sir. I would've called security, but it looked like you were handling yourself quite well."

Qui-Gon chose to ignore the remark, watching as Padmé knelt on the floor in front of Obi-Wan, tending the young man's wounds by dabbing the end of her sleeve against his lip. The action set off an alarm in his head.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked the stupefied attendant who followed the Jedi's jabbing finger pointing toward the screen.

His insinuation was obviously understood, but the guard merely shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. This is my first shift."

Qui-Gon huffed his frustration out and then gazed back at the monitors. "Can I get a copy of the recordings for the past three days?"

"Sure." The young palace employee said nonchalantly. "I'll have them sent to your quarters as soon as possible."

Not quite satisfied with the delay, Qui-Gon left the station anyway and headed upstairs for meditation before he tried to get some sleep. Perhaps he was worried for nothing.

On his way, he passed one of the queen's handmaidens in the hall. The one who regularly wore the royal disguise. She stopped him with a quiet plea.

"Master Jedi, have you seen her majesty? She's not in her rooms."

"Yes. She's below with the prisoner." Qui-Gon noted the look of acceptance with no hint of surprise at the news, and folded his arms across his chest with perplexity. "Tell me, does she often consort with enemies of the palace?"

"Oh no, sir. She just….has a tender soul. Always taking in some injured creature. There was this one time that she found a hare in the gardens. It had a broken leg and she brought it in and nursed it back to health. She didn't realize it was pregnant though and within a few weeks, the palace was overrun. There were little bunnies hopping around everywhere."

"Good night, handmaiden." Qui-Gon knew that he was being rude, but he wasn't going to get anything of use out of this young woman. Either she was extremely naïve, or the queen was.

He continued to his rooms, but following meditation had a change of heart. Perhaps Sabé had been right. Perhaps the queen was just being considerate and compassionate.

He hoped so. For her sake. He didn't wish to see her hurt.

Padmé pulled Obi-Wan up by his hand and took him to the platform bed, where he sat down in silence, allowing her ministrations to continue. The bleeding had stopped, but her touch had not, and it felt wonderful -- until her hand drifted down onto his chest and outlined a jagged scar that ran across his left pectoral and he winced with the remembrance of who he was, and what her station was.

"Does that hurt?"

"No." Obi-Wan breathed out, overwhelmed by the continuing, gentle caress upon his heated skin.

He had been with women before. His Master had made sure that he wouldn't be distracted by 'desires of the flesh,' and so Sidious had provided him sexual partners. Most of them were willing, but some of them had not been. Obi-Wan had assumed it was part of his training, and he did as he was instructed while Sidious watched. However, even the ones who were willing, the whores from the lower levels of Coruscant, did not make him feel like this. Like his heart was going to beat him to death or else stop beating entirely.

That dark, trusting gaze rose to meet his and made him catch his breath as an unwelcome thought invaded his muddled brain.

What if he was mistaking her touch? What if she truly was only being compassionate and caring? He was a Sith for Force-sake! A trained assassin. What would the Queen of Naboo want with someone like him?

Obi-Wan grasped her hand firmly around the wrist to remove the torturous caress, stricken with the feeling that he had to be correct, when Padmé suddenly came up from her seat and pulled him with her.

She led him to the corner next to the energized door, behind the pillar that framed the entrance, and he followed her, amazed with the realization that he would follow her anywhere.

"What are you doing?"

"Blind spot." She whispered. "Sh."

Obi-Wan glanced up to the opposite corner where the security monitor was located only to find that the pillar was blocking its view.

"Design flaw." Padmé noted with a grin. "We've meant to get it corrected, but never really had a reason to."

Amusement and curiosity was replaced by wonderment and revelation as her small hands reached up to grip the torn edges of his tunic and pull him against her body, arching into him, and sealing his mouth with her kiss.

Obi-Wan accepted it greedily, hungrily -- devouring her with lips, teeth, and tongue, swallowing the gasps that escaped them both, lest their voices were picked up by the monitor.

A moan was also covered as Padmé's hands insinuated themselves beneath his disheveled garment and swept the material onto the floor. He shuddered as her nails lightly traced across the pattern of scars on his back. The tremor was not one of revulsion, but passion, and Obi-Wan swam in it, taking her down into its depths along with him, deepening the kiss even more, until he felt the tremors of her own body and held onto her more tightly for support. He considered lowering her down to the floor until a voice called out from the doorway.

"Your highness? Are you all right?"

Flustered and gasping for breath, Padmé barely managed to find her voice. "Yes. I'll be out in a minute."

Within a few seconds, the footfalls of the station guard led away and Padmé turned back to Obi-Wan, her cheeks and eyes aglow.

"You'll need a new shirt. I'll have one sent down."

"Thank you, Mi'Lady." Obi-Wan teased with a smile.