Chapter Five
It's Not a Coma!
While the Senator was busy doing all she could to make his Master comfortable, Anakin excused himself, promising to come right back. He had to have a word with Dormé and make sure he was reading his insights correctly.
"Step this way," he commanded as he took her arm, guiding her further away from the Senator's bedroom. "Please tell me you had nothing to do with this," he pleaded, spinning her around to face him, although her smug expression already answered his question.
"Don't worry. Everything's under control." Her sweet smile and doe-like innocence was not going to work this time! And when she brought up her hand to give him a patronizing pat on the cheek, Anakin stopped her; grabbing her by the wrist.
Maintaining some measure of control, the young man seethed between gritted teeth. "My Master is unconscious! He's burning up with fever! What did you do?"
"I promised you no one would get hurt, didn't I?" she argued, jerking away her wrist while the young man's eyes widened incredulously. "And that there will be no permanent damage? I believe I said those exact words."
He couldn't argue with that. Anakin actually did recall having that very conversation. But, come on!
"There will be no permanent side effects. He's just going to be off his feet for a while. And besides, you're always saying how Master Kenobi needs to slow down and relax a little. Now, he doesn't have a choice! You should be happy! Why are you looking at me like that? It's not a coma!"
His head was spinning. Was he ill too? Anakin wondered. If so, he deserved it!
The young woman's defense seemed justified, although a bit extreme. But then, as long as he'd known her, Dormé was often…intense.
Now that he thought about it, and since she'd mentioned it, he really could blame no one but himself! He knew what she was capable of, of what lengths she would go to get what she wanted – all while claiming it was for the benefit of others. Her heart was in the right place, just not her head!
"I'm just not sure this was such a great idea," Anakin calmly stated, keeping his voice quiet. He didn't want the Senator to overhear them. If she did, he wouldn't be surprised to find himself as a sudden hood ornament on one the vehicles whizzing by her balcony. "Couldn't you have thought of something better? Easier?"
"Easy isn't always best," the young woman replied confidently. Anakin groaned in preparation for the upcoming spout of Dormé-Philosophy. "Sometimes the most important lessons are the ones we learn the hard way."
She didn't often disappoint.
"Anakin, you wouldn't believe the trouble I've gone to in order to prepare for this evening! And I'm not talking about the meal! I've had to stretch myself pretty thin and take some big risks, and all for the sake of the Senator and Master Kenobi's happiness!" She began to pout, her lower lip protruding, and tears actually were forming in her eyes. At the sight of them, Anakin's anger began to recede. Just a little.
"Don't I get any credit at all?"
Ugh! This woman!
There was a mantra his Master had once taught him, Anakin thought would fit this situation, though he couldn't recall the words at the moment. And so, he just counted backwards from 10. A few times.
"Listen," he implored, searching her dark, anxious eyes. "I'm not blaming you. Not entirely. I was in on this too, although I'm not sure exactly what you've done. But promise me, Dormé. Promise me you'll fix this!"
The young woman sniffed and hesitantly drew him into her arms. Anakin relented and held her, while waiting for a reply.
"Everything is going to be okay!" she assured him softly. "Don't worry. And if by some chance, something bad happens, I'll come clean. I promise."
A knock on the Senator's front door prewarned Anakin that perhaps that certain 'something' Dormé was worried about might be happening with record speed.
Another knock sounded out while all he and Dormé seemed capable of doing, was to stand and stare at the door, prompting the Senator to emerge from her suite.
"Aren't you going to get that?" the woman muttered, the irritation of the situation and her aid's lack of assistance making her voice sharp. "Don't worry, I've got it."
"Got what?" Dormé was immediately on her employer's heels. "Who could be calling at such a late hour?"
"It's probably a healer from the Temple. I contacted the Jedi a while ago to send someone over to check on Obi-Wan."
Just as the Senator's hand reached for the door control, Dormé abruptly grabbed hold of it, stopping her, though causing a look of utter disbelief to appear on the other woman's face.
"You can't let them in," Dormé insisted, not releasing the Senator's wrist.
"And why not?"
Anakin realized he should step forward and provide some assistance, but discovered he was apparently frozen to the floor. Matters were worsening by the second, and he had the strongest feeling Dormé was about to incriminate herself.
"Because…" Dormé stammered, obviously not wanting to reveal what she'd done. This apparently wasn't part of her plan. "Because whoever is at the door will be exposed, that's why."
"Exposed…?"
Do you know how, during a severe thunderstorm when the blue skies darken and lightning bolts send everyone scampering for cover? That's how the Senator's countenance was, Anakin surmised. She was typically calm but concerned, her motions confident and her mind sure. She knew his Master needed help and had acted on her intuitions. Self-assured, confident, in control.
After Dormé's warning, however, the Senator's annoyance began to darken, her gaze infused with furious energy. When she spoke, it was with low, measured tones, and Anakin cast his gaze about the room in search of a good place to shield himself from the eruption he was sure was about to occur.
"What. Did. You. Do!"
"Now, Senator, don't get mad. It's just a little bug. Master Kenobi will be fine! Really!"
Once again, there was a knock upon the door, and Senator Amidala raised her hand to silence her employee, though her glare should've sufficed, Anakin thought.
"We'll talk about this later." The Senator's words were a promise, bordering on being a threat, and were spoken as she stepped to the side of the door and activated the security monitor.
Anakin decided it was safe to step forward at this point, and he looked at the monitor himself and noticed it was Healer Bant Erin who was standing patiently in the hallway.
"Healer Erin," Anakin took it upon himself to greet the Jedi, as he intentionally placed himself between the Senator and Dormé.
"Padawan Skywalker," the Mon Calamarian Jedi gurgled. "May I come in?"
"No!" Dormé stepped in front of him suddenly, her face and nose widening in a fishbowl effect on the monitor. "I'm afraid you can't. Master Kenobi is contagious."
"Perhaps I should be the judge of that," the Healer argued.
"I'm afraid not," Dormé answered back. "You're just going to have to take me at my word."
Healer Erin looked confused, her wide mouth grimacing with slight annoyance and confusion. After all, the hour was late, and now she was being kept from her duty.
"Tell her." The command came from Senator Amidala. It was concise and full of the authority her office provided. Dormé hesitated but a moment before submitting to it.
Huh, thought Anakin. He'd have to remember that particular tactic for the sake of future arguments.
"It's Plyridian fever."
The admission heralded a powerful punch from the Senator, which barely missed Anakin's ribs, though landed directly on its target, which was Dormé's left arm.
"Ow! M'Lady!"
"Don't even!" Padmé warned with a deadly glare. "You deserve so much more than that!"
"Plyridian fever?" the Healer repeated, her long, webbed fingers idly tracing her lower lip as she processed the information. "And just how did Master Kenobi happen to come in contact with such a rare contagion?"
When Dormé hesitated, the Senator stepped forward causing Anakin to step back. He was not about to get into the middle of a fight between these two women. He'd just get himself hurt!
"All right, all right!" Dormé acquiesced. "It was my fault. I exposed him to it! There, are you happy?"
"Why would you do such a thing?" the question was spoken by both Bant and Padmé concurrently.
"It's a long story. Do we really have to get into that right now? Shouldn't we be more concerned with making Master Kenobi comfortable?"
The huff which escaped the Senator's mouth was most likely due to the outrageous comment. She apparently was more interested in what the Jedi Healer had to say and chose to ignore Dormé for the moment.
"Gattis root is the only treatment I know of, and all it does is relieve some of the symptoms. I'm afraid the virus will simply have to run its course." The Mon Calamarian's face was even more discouraged than before, as all eyes shifted to focus upon the sole cause of all their worry.
"Gattis root. Got it. I mean, I'll get it!" Dormé announced in her defense.
"You do understand," the Healer's monitored voice drew their attention once more to the screen, "you will all be quarantined and will not be allowed to leave the apartment for any reason."
"For how long?" Senator Amidala asked, her face pinched with concern.
"The incubation period is four weeks. I'll contact the Council immediately. May the Force be with you."
With the rote farewell statement, Healer Erin bowed and stepped away from the monitor.
However, nobody was watching her departure. Instead, they were all staring at Dormé.
Poor Dormé, thought Anakin. It was nice knowing her. But she was dead. Senator Amidala had just killed her with one look.