(SPACER)

Chapter Thirteen

"Assistant, Matchmaker, Secret Agent"

It took a couple of hours before Padmé felt comfortable enough to interrupt Obi-Wan's privacy, even after she had been nearly nagged to death by Dormé to do just that. According to her personal assistant, 'the ground was fertile for planting' – whatever the hell that meant. The problem was, he hadn't asked to see her and she didn't wish to intrude, even though this was her home, and he was in her bed.

A few hours had passed, when the sun dipped low behind the buildings of Galactic City, before Padmé decided to check on him. It would be mealtime soon, and she was going to use that as an excuse.

Padmé knocked tentatively on her bedroom door and entered once she heard him acknowledge it. She first noticed he had managed to sit upright and had perched himself on the edge of the mattress. He greeted her with a thin smile.

"Hello there."

"Good evening," Padmé replied in a pleasant voice, seating herself upon the lounge chair which she noticed had been moved next to the bed. "Feeling better?"

He cocked his head at the query and sat up a bit taller. "Yes and no. I think the fever has subsided, but I'm weak as a crechling. This is as far as I could manage."

"Is there something you needed? Can I get it for you?"

The smile returned, only this time it crinkled his eyes. "You are the most courteous politician I have ever met," he joked. "Here I am, infringing upon her personal life, your home, your generosity…"

He didn't appear to be joking, but he couldn't be serious! "Are you kidding? It almost sounds as if you're apologizing for something which was completely out of your control!"

The Jedi Master inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly, his gaze focused somewhere on her carpeted floor. "Was it? I'm smarter than this! I should've detected something. It's what I do! I try my best to be wary in any situation, to guard against any attempt at sabotage against myself, my Padawan, or whoever may be in danger….you," he added as his focus returned to her.

"How can you say that?" Padmé argued. "There's no possible way you could've known Dormé was capable of such mischief! I didn't, and I've known her as long as anyone."

Obi-Wan sat quietly for a moment, his gaze taking in the hues coloring the horizon outside her bedroom windows.

She could choke Dormé for this! Obi-Wan was the most kind and gentle man she had ever known. He didn't deserve such awful trickery and treatment!

"Was it bad?" she asked after some time, to try and keep the conversation going.

"The fever? Not entirely, no," Obi-Wan answered, grinning lopsidedly. "Although, I did experience some rather strange hallucinations. There was one in particular: I was lying here in this room, when you brought in Jar-Jar who wanted to see me. He talked with me for a while, and then suddenly announced he was the Sith Master the Jedi have been looking for. He even had a lightsaber with him and he knew how to use it! Isn't that wild?"

Padmé chuckled at the absurd possibility. "Strange indeed."

"But there wasn't anything strange about yesterday," he mentioned tacitly, turning serious all of a sudden. "My apologies if I offended you in any way, with my…my.."

What was he stammering about? Padmé wondered. Yesterday? What had happened yesterday?

Oh my. Yesterday! The snuggling!

Color quickly rose to the young woman's cheeks. "You recall that?" she asked sheepishly.

"Your assistant happened to mention…"

"Of course she did," Padmé groaned.

"In my defense, I wasn't exactly aware of what I was doing. This is your home, and I am the one imposing….my sincerest apologies."

"Obi-Wan," As Padmé spoke, she reached out to touch his hand, her breath catching when he immediately rotated his wrist in order to curl his fingers around hers. "I'm the one who's sorry," she continued once she was able. "I'm sorry for what Dormé has done to you. She had no right, no matter what her intentions were. And I'm sorry for yesterday. I was tired and hadn't slept very well…and you were having bad dreams or whatever they are, so I lay down next to you to try and calm you. I guess I fell asleep…"

"Dormé! What are you doing? Do you realize how dangerous this is? What if you get caught?"

The assistant pulled her ear off the Senator's door where she'd been eavesdropping for the past several minutes. "If you don't be quiet, then I will be! Now hush! I'm missing the important stuff!"

Once again, the young woman pressed her profile flat against the durasteel.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Anakin murmured from behind.

"Sh!"

"Besides," he continued. "There must be a more reliable source. Aren't there security monitors throughout the apartment?"

"The Senator had the ones in her suite disabled. This is the only way. Now be quiet!"

The young man tried to do what he thought best, but once again was influenced to go the wrong direction, and before he realized what he was doing, he had joined Dormé in her espionage, his head now in place right above hers.

"What was that my Master said? He 'didn't know what he was doing?' What was he doing?"

"Cuddling!" Dormé hissed. "That's old news! Now be quiet!"

The pair pressed their full weight against the door, straining to hear the quietly spoken words through layers of steel, when Dormé began to growl with frustration. "What's with all the apologies? They're never going to get anywhere if they don't quit telling each other they're sorry!"

"What's happening now?" Anakin asked when he noticed everything had gotten quiet. Much too quiet. He knew he should move, but he was quite comfortable where he was; his arm wrapped about Dormé's tiny waist, the intoxicating smell of her perfume drifting into his nostrils…

"Maybe they've reached their limits of humility and have finally gotten down to business!"

That would be nice, but Anakin didn't think so. In fact, he suddenly had a bad feeling about this. Due to her numerous feminine distractions, he wasn't quick enough to react when the Senator's door abruptly opened and he and Dormé tumbled down onto the bedroom floor.