(Spacer sentence placement in this location. Right here. So that my world will be more organized.)

Chapter Twelve

"Deferred Judgment"

Dormé entered the bedroom slowly and with heavy trepidation. She knew Obi-Wan Kenobi as a strict Jedi Master, devoted to justice, loyal to the Jedi and the Republic, and one who allowed his Padawan very few indulgences. If it were within the man's power, she would imagine he would forbid his Padawan to participate in any type of romantic entanglement. As far as she knew, there was no law against it. However, there had been occasions Anakin had cancelled a few of their dates due to his Master's disapproval. Eventually, the young man had apparently worn down his Master's reticence, and Dormé thought Obi-Wan had actually learned to accept their relationship.

Looking at him now with his grim face of discontent, she wasn't so sure.

"Have a seat, Dormé," he firmly suggested, motioning to the lounge chair he obviously made Anakin bring over to the side of the bed – within swatting distance, Dormé noticed. Although the man looked positively drained, his pale torso leaning against the bolster behind the bed, she thought it best to keep her guard up. She did as she was told, although keeping as much distance between herself and this venerable Jedi as she could.

"My Padawan has been kind enough to update me regarding the details of my current….situation," he began, with an unexpected politeness. "Plyridian fever, is it? "

"Y…yes sir," the young woman confirmed, her eyes wide, not sure what to expect.

"Are you aware of the side effects of such a contagion?"

Was he questioning her research abilities? She had done her homework! "Why yes, I happen to know that…"

"No," the Jedi Master silenced her with the single syllable. "I don't think you do. This virus has the potential to attach itself to midichlorian cells, effectively dampening Force senses. In some cases, it has rendered Force users such as myself, helpless, without the ability to use the Force at all. Are you understanding what I'm saying?"

Dormé was vaguely aware her mouth had dropped open at some point, and that she was gawking at him, but the information he had just shared was so outlandish! It couldn't be true!

"That's not what my informant told me," she defended herself. Did the man actually think she would do that to him? On purpose? "High fever, unconsciousness, and quarantine. That's all he said would happen."

"And who would this informant be?" Obi-Wan questioned in a stately and relatively calm manner.

She had made a deal she couldn't break! No one could know how she had obtained the virus. What if she needed to use his services again in the future?

"I'm not at liberty to say," Dormé announced bravely.

The gray-green part of the Jedi's eyes narrowed dangerously as he leveled at her what was definitely a glare. "Then maybe you're aware that the Jedi have ways of making people talk?"

He wouldn't! He couldn't! If his Force abilities were effected as he claimed, then he couldn't use it against her…could he?

As the thought crossed her mind, Obi-Wan's hand lifted from his lap, and suddenly, the hilt of his weapon came flying across the room, smacking against his palm. When it did, Dormé's pulse quickened substantially.

Okay, maybe he could.

"Just a minute, Master Kenobi! I had no idea the virus would do that kind of damage! Or I would've never used it! Honest!"

The lightsaber hilt was gently laid in his lap, a brow lifted, opening his eyes to their normal shape. "Then why?" he sincerely asked. "Why would you do such a thing? Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed the rest, but I've had the most strange hallucinations and my dreams lately…I just don't understand. Enlighten me, please. What would possess you to do this to me?"

There was a durasteel weight forming in the pit of her stomach, and no matter what her motivations had been, and how much she had believed in them, Dormé was being overcome with guilt. She could no longer look at the man's face, and instead, focused on her stockinged feet.

"I wanted the Senator to be happy," she admitted quietly and reluctantly.

"By poisoning me? How was that going to make her happy?"

His voice was lifting in tone and volume, raising Dormé to her feet. She could not sit still and talk about this at the same time!

"Because!" she explained as she paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. "Because if she had to take care of you, to nurse you back to health, perhaps she would finally admit how much she cares about you! Just like in that movie Anakin and I watched. Because, as you and I both know, you never stay put long enough for anyone to get to know you! You're always on the go! And even when you're here, you're not! You're so aloof and mysterious! You left Naboo without so much as a goodbye or 'see you later!' And how many years has it been? Ten? And not a single word!"

"What are you talking about?"

Confusion had knitted the Jedi Master's brows, causing Dormé to bite her tongue. He actually didn't know, did he? He didn't know how much the Queen of Naboo had cared and worried about him after the death of his Master, after he had been given a Padawan, much too soon in her opinion. How the young woman had wondered for years how he was doing, if he ever even thought about her.

Obviously, he hadn't.

She should just shut her stupid mouth, but it was too late. Dormé realized she had already said too much. There was no way Master Kenobi was going to let her stop talking now. She might as well let him have it. Both barrels.

"There's no way you can convince me that when you were on Naboo, you had no idea how much she cared about you. It was so obvious! Everyone knew it! Are you possibly that dense?"

"I beg your pardon! And please sit down, you're making my eyes hurt."

The young woman did as requested, though with a huff of disappointment. This wasn't going so well. Perhaps she should shut up after all, Dormé decided, propping her head heavily onto her hand while she waited for her words to sink into that thick skull of his. Which took longer than she thought it would. Several minutes passed as she waited.

"Let me know if I'm understanding this correctly," he began slowly as if someone were messing with the dimmer switch, "but what you're saying is Padmé developed a crush on me during my mission to Naboo? That was over ten years ago!"

"Indeed," the young woman agreed, "and it was more than just a crush Your Jedi Masterfulness."

"No, this is ridiculous. She was 14!"

"And now she's 24," Dormé pointed out, "and I'm pretty sure her feelings haven't changed. Possibly, may have increased, but that's not for me to say. Although distance can make the heart grow fonder..."

Once again, the man became sullen, apparently mulling over this new information. "No, that can't be true," he muttered, seemingly to himself, though loud enough for Dormé to hear. "She would never…"

"I've already said too much," the young woman announced suddenly, rising to her feet, a newfound confidence strengthening her resolve. The Jedi looked positively bewildered, and in this situation, that was a particularly good thing! "I'll be leaving now so you can get some rest," Dormé noted as she walked toward the doorway, pausing to turn back around once she had reached it.

"By the way, you spooned her yesterday."

"What?" The Jedi Master flummoxed. "I did what?"

"Spooned her," Dormé repeated with more enunciation. "You know…snuggled, burrowed, cuddled…whatever you want to call it. I couldn't have squeezed a space slug between the two of you if I'd tried. And the way you were smiling in your sleep….it was so sweet." She paused deliberately and released a sigh. " I'll see you later."

"I…"

More than satisfied with herself, Dormé bounded from the suite, a broad smile on her face. Both Anakin and the Senator, however, looked nearly as confused as Master Kenobi.

"Well?" they both asked her.

"How did it go?" the Senator pried.

"Just fine." Dormé radiantly replied. "Perfectly, wonderfully fine!"