(spacer)
Chapter Twenty
"Dr. Dormé"
The dishes were soaking in the bathing room sink. Padmé didn't think it was a good idea to disturb the pair they had left in the common room, although she couldn't detect any evidence of an ongoing battle. And as long as Anakin's blood wasn't puddling beneath her door, she assumed everything was safe and back to normal.
As was the routine in her bedroom. She readied herself for bed in privacy, while Obi-Wan did the same and they slipped beneath the blankets on the opposite sides of the bed.
They spoke of mundane things such as their favorite seasons, colors, smells, animals, and what made them most happy. At some point, there had been an unspoken agreement between them, that Obi-Wan's recovery would be a time to relax. Essentially, that meant their conversations were trivial, the topics simple and unimportant.
For Padmé, however, the time they had spent in simple pillow talk had been more meaningful than any other type of discussion. Through that time together, she had had the opportunity to get to know the man beneath the plain brown robes, the person hidden behind the mask of Jedi austerity. While the rest of the galaxy saw Obi-Wan as a fierce warrior, she had been given the rare glimpse of his insecurities, his fears, and loyalties outside his circle of colleagues.
The experiences and information she had gained humanized him, making him far more attractive than she had earlier perceived. She was not ashamed to admit she was becoming quite fond of him, and now held him in high regard.
After wishing him a pleasant sleep, Padmé drifted lazily, dreaming of a peaceful waterfall in the Lake Country of Naboo; of holding hands with a man, whose identity she could not discern, but someone who filled her with serenity.
When she woke up the following morning, hands quite similar to those in her subconscious fantasy were once again wrapped around her. Like every morning, they had gravitated toward each other during the night. The only difference was that this time, she was facing Obi-Wan; his chin parked on the top of her head.
He had not yet stirred, and so Padmé took the opportunity to appreciate the warmth of his chest peeking through the vee of his tunic, the steady intake and output of his breath, the slow rhythmic beat of his heart. She wasn't sure how long she studied him before he stirred, squeezed her tight, and then abruptly turned away from her.
For some reason, the usual action on this particular day was wounding; a bruise to her ego and a laceration upon her patience. Perhaps he wasn't feeling well just yet. He usually didn't until he had taken his daily dose of Gattis root tea.
"How are you this morning?" she asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Hm?"
He was distracted apparently. It had taken him a few seconds to even acknowledge her voice.
"Oh. I believe I may be improving," he finally answered distractedly. "I'm not as dizzy as I have been."
"That's good to hear," Padmé told him, although her words didn't quite match her attitude. What was wrong with her? Why was she suddenly unhappy to hear he was finally doing better? Was she that insecure? That selfish, that she wished for him to be sick, so that he would stay with her?
Preposterous!
The thought jolted Padmé from the bed as she headed to the bathing room to prepare for their day. She was going to take up her morning making first meal alone, which would hopefully give her more time to think about the random, irrational thoughts in her head.
These days, Obi-Wan managed to dress himself and had already made his way to the veranda, although, Padmé noticed he wasn't in the chair he had claimed as his favorite. Instead, he was on his knees in an obvious meditative pose, the rising sun shining brightly upon his copper hair.
Another surprise this morning was when she found Anakin asleep on the sofa. Due to the lack of noise the night before, Padmé had believed, he and Dormé had possibly made up. But then the lack of noise could've also meant they hadn't. Either way, she ignored the young man for the time-being and headed into the kitchen, where she discovered Dormé.
"Good morning, Senator," the young woman greeted, as she searched the cupboards. They were starting to run low on supplies, Padmé had noted and were going to be forced to have some delivered soon.
"Good morning, Dormé," the Senator matched the young woman's cheerfulness. "How is everything?"
"If you're asking how Anakin and I are, everything is fine."
Padmé paused in her own search for ingredients and stared at the young woman in disbelief. No shouting, no embarrassingly loud make-up sex? "What do you mean by fine?"
Her aid smiled at her knowingly. "We had a long talk last night. We decided to take a break; to take a step back and see if what we're doing is healthy. Anakin has enough stress in his life. I don't want to add to it."
It was one of the most mature things she had ever heard come out of her assistant's mouth.
"That's very…wise of you both," Padmé stuttered in surprise.
"And that's exactly what we thought you'd say," her assistant chuckled as she activated the heating unit to boil a kettle of water.
"You don't need to worry about us any longer, Senator. And don't say you weren't because I know you were. We'll figure it all out on our own."
Padmé was stunned and stepped back as Dormé pulled two pans from the lower unit, which were filled with the pastries she made on only special occasions because they were so much trouble. She must've been in the kitchen half the night!
The young woman peered through the room's divider and then turned back around, smiling. "Looks like we'll finally be able to enjoy some time alone. It appears Master Kenobi needs a moment, and Anakin is going to sleep for a while. Come, join me at the table."
In the back corner of the kitchen was a bar which would seat two. It was there, she and Dormé enjoyed the quiet morning.
"Now that you no longer need to worry about my personal life, let me ask you about yours." The young woman eyed Padme over her cup.
"My personal life is really none of your…"
"Before you say another word," Dormé interrupted, "you should be aware, I have plenty of other ideas in my head."
The pastry went sideways in her throat, causing Padmé to choke. "Don't you dare!" she exclaimed as quickly as she could.
"Just saying.," her assistant held up a hand in temporary surrender. "Unless…you're willing to give me the information I require."
The delicacies she had been enjoying just a few moments ago now seemed dry and tasteless. Padmé picked up her cup instead and sipped at the creamy, caffeinated beverage. "There isn't much to tell."
"Oh, come on!" Dormé pleaded, incredulity lifting her brow. "You've spent a week in the same bed, and you're going to tell me that nothing has happened?"
"Not so loud!" Padmé scolded. "I don't want Obi-Wan to hear!"
"Trust me, he's no longer on this planet." Dormé reached for another pastry and stuffed half of it in her mouth and chewed. "I just can't believe you were in the same room, in the same bed, and didn't touch each other!"
"I didn't say that," Padmé admitted quietly lifting both of her friend's brows this time. "We…held each other."
"You. Held. Each other." The young woman tossed the uneaten half of her portion onto the table and threw up her hands. "That's it! I give up!"
Starting to flush with a hint of embarrassment, Padmé focused upon the mosaic patterns on the tabletop. What she and Obi-Wan had shared so far had seemed so special! Dormé made it sound…pathetic!
"Unless…"the young woman broke into her tortuous thoughts, leaning forward once more. "Unless there's a reason…"
"Like, he's been sick?" Padmé proposed. It seemed a good enough reason for her. Well, up until just now.
"It's more than that. Most men wouldn't pass up an opportunity like the one he's had while on their death bed! There's got to be more to it!"
Padmé could tell just by looking at her aid that the machinery in her head was working overtime. She would give anything to be anyplace else, but there was no point in excusing herself from the room. It wasn't like she could escape; so, she sat and waited.
"What if…" the young woman began as Padmé mentally prepared herself.
"What if you have the wrong plumbing?"
It was going to be worse than she'd thought. "What?"
"You know! What if his lightsaber swings the other way? Or his speeder doesn't fly straight? Have you ever thought of that?"
"Are you clinically insane?"
"Why would you say that? Do you know something I don't?" Dormé defended her outlandish accusation. "Is there a rule? A part of their sacred code I don't know about? It takes all kinds, you know."
"Stop, just stop!" Padmé dramatically dropped her head onto the table. She couldn't listen to any more!
"Think about it," the young woman leaned over her, a hand gently petting her hair. "You are a single, attractive, and intelligent young woman. Master Kenobi is a single, attractive, intelligent man. If the two of you can't make a connection, then there's something wrong. And my guess is, that something is him!"