" Padmé… "
Padmé was dreaming. More specifically, she was dreaming of him , of Obi-Wan Kenobi. She had never expected to dream of him. But then, she had never expected to see him again after ten years' absence. When she'd been a very young queen, she had found him to be a fascinating model of dignity and stoicism. Obi-Wan Kenobi had, all those years ago, exhibited features that Padmé Amidala had found admirable, and so she had admired him. She had not expected to lust after him so badly ten years on.
But here she was, dreaming of him. She was walking with him along some secluded forest path, talking with him in far more casual tones than they'd ever done. How nice that would be, the distantly alert part of Padmé's brain registered. In her dream, she noticed the vibrant blue of his eyes, the cocky slope in his smile, the gentle lilt of his voice. Padmé found herself breathing differently, even in her dreams, as she noticed these things about the Jedi Knight. Why was she noticing these things? Why did she care about Obi-Wan Kenobi's eyes, or his smile, or the way he said things? Why did she -
" Senator, wake up, if you please… "
Suddenly Padmé jolted, gasping as she sat up. Her eyes sprang open, and it was only then that she realized she was inches away from him. From Obi-Wan. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she registered that her head had lolled onto his shoulder when she'd drifted off to sleep. She scrambled away from him, holding her hands out in apology as she muttered frantically,
"Forgive me, Master Kenobi; I… I must have slipped off the wall. Sleeping on a freighter - I, really, I cannot apologize enough to -"
"Think nothing of it, M'Lady," Obi-Wan said graciously, and he cleared his throat quietly. He dragged his fingers along his brown leather boots, and Padmé watched carefully as the pink color faded from his cheeks. A wave of calm seemed to be settling over him as he studied the leather of his boots, and Padmé could not help but wonder if he was able to achieve the serenity using some sort of Jedi mental tactic. She rather wished she had such a tool available to herself right now. As it was, she settled for rifling through one of her bags and yanking out a holobook. She faced away from Obi-Wan and read in silence for a few hours, determined not to make the situation any more awkward than it had already been.
But she had difficulty concentrating on the words in the book, and she had to read many passages over to comprehend them. Her mind was stuck on what she'd seen in her sleep, on the thoughts of walking with Obi-Wan in the midst of a happy conversation. She still could not help but wonder why she'd imagined such a thing, and it further confused her to know that he was, even now, only a few feet away from her. It was humiliating to think that she'd leaned onto his shoulder, that she'd appeared weak and desperate. She could not allow herself to seem cloying, to appear hungry for him.
So she read in silence, nearly all the way to Naboo.
Obi-Wan Kenobi found politics tiresome. Indeed, he found that politics often actively interfered with justice, and he bore no fondness for procedural nonsense. As he stood in the throne room of the palace in Theed, he found himself paying much closer attention to the faces and actions of those around him than to the political conversation happening. He heard the words passing between the current and former queens, but his mind was focused on observing his surroundings.
"How many systems have joined Count Dooku and the separatists?" Jamillia, the current Queen of Naboo asked Padmé Amidala.
"Thousands," Padmé admitted. "More leave every day. It is…"
The conversation droned on, with both of the ornately-clad women seeming sufficiently concerned about the fracturing Republic. As for Obi-Wan Kenobi, he was marking and measuring the facial expressions of the guards and handmaidens. He was taking note of the exits, of the open windows, of the belts people wore where they might be hiding weapons. His job was to guard Padmé Amidala, not to partake in political small talk.
"I was thinking I might stay in the lake country," he heard Padmé suggest. "It is the most secluded place on Naboo."
She had turned her face toward him, and Obi-Wan jolted to attention. He nodded once, crisply, and agreed,
"It is essentially we get you out of Theed as expeditiously as possible, Senator Amidala. Provided we have the means to communicate with the Queen and with the Jedi Council, I do think wise to keep you in as remote a location as we can manage."
"But you must visit your parents before you go," Queen Jamillia insisted, closing her pale hand around Padmé's. "Your family has been so terribly worried over you, especially these past few weeks."
Padmé scoffed but gave a gentle smile and nodded. "I can imagine they have been, Your Majesty. With Master Kenobi's permission, I will spare a bit of time to assuage their worry."
"It was good to see you, Padmé," said Queen Jamillia, "even in the midst of this political madness. You continue to serve our people with great honor."
Padmé bowed and politely bid the Queen farewell. Obi-Wan did the same, and he kept his hand on his lightsaber hilt as he followed Padmé from throne room. Neither of them spoke as they wormed their way through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace. Padmé clearly knew this place like the back of her hand, for it had so long been her home.
There was a short detour to a private chamber during which a maid assisted Padmé in changing to a more muted, restrained blue traveling dress. Then the two of them headed out of the palace, into the streets and away from the central bustle of the city. They walked in comfortable quiet for a good while toward Padmé's family home, and Obi-Wan occasionally stole a glance toward her. She did not complain once about lugging her baggage, nor about the sober dress she'd changed into.
It was then that Obi-Wan realized that Padmé was, at her core, a simple girl who had been thrust into a complicated life.
"Let us pause here, Master Kenobi," she said after a while of walking, and Obi-Wan made a small noise to acknowledge her. She pushed aside some of the dark curls that had fallen into her eyes from her elaborate hairstyle and set down her suitcase, pulling her canteen from her belt and drinking water from it. Obi-Wan paused his steps and watched her, suddenly fascinated. She was not quite delicate, but neither did she seem crafted of steel. She was somewhere in between, like a very strong flower. It was rather mesmerizing, to see a creature of graceful composition, of eloquent speech and intelligent thought, yet hard as rock and iron in her resolve. There was something disarmingly beautiful about it all in combination, Obi-Wan thought.
He was shocked then, at the fact that he'd thought such a thing. He was a Jedi, and Jedi were not permitted such maudlin ponderances. She was a Senator of the Republic, and - far more importantly - his charge. And he was a Jedi Knight.
Obi-Wan gulped hard, working past the unruly knot in his throat and the strange flutter in his abdomen. He clenched his fists and felt his knuckles crack, and he shut his eyes against the unwanted spinning sensation in his head.
"Master Kenobi? Are you quite all right?" he heard Padmé ask gently. More irritated with himself than ever, Obi-Wan forced a sense of tranquility over himself, feeling calm pool in his chest. He nodded and opened his eyes.
"I have not, perhaps, stayed properly hydrated, M'Lady," he explained. Padmé looked a bit surprised. She glanced down to the canteen in her hands and thrust it to Obi-Wan at once.
"Drink!" She exclaimed, and Obi-Wan knew he had little choice now but to obey. He poured the water from the canteen into his mouth without touching it to his lips. It seemed a step too far to press his mouth to the spot where hers had just been. He would think then about what she might taste like, and that was a terrible thing to contemplate, no matter how distantly.
Oh, if Anakin Skywalker could be inside his master's head now, he would be scowling and laughing all at once.
Obi-Wan screwed the lid back onto the canteen and passed it back to Padmé. "Thank you, Senator."
"If we're to pay a visit to my parents, you may not refer to me as 'Senator.' It will make them so dreadfully uncomfortable. Please." Her brown eyes were wide then. Wide and very pretty.
What the blazes is the matter with you, Obi-Wan? He was shouting at himself in his own head now. Of course, it wasn't only him that was confused, he knew. He'd felt the pulsing waves of want coming from Padmé during her sleep, in the moments before he'd roused her from his shoulder on the freighter. It had almost been too much to bear then, with the feel of her face on his tunic and the dull course of her emotion in the Force.
Now they were staring straight at one another, and Obi-Wan wanted very little else but to turn from her and walk back to Theed, to board a ship for any other planet in the entire galaxy, to lose himself to meditation for an indefinite period of time. That wasn't an option, of course. He was a Jedi Knight, and right now his mission was to protect the very beautiful woman standing before him.
"My mother and father have not seen me in quite some time," she was saying patiently, "and to them, I am simply Padmé. After all the commotion, please just let me be Padmé for a while. Can you do that, Master Kenobi?"
He nodded silently, unable or unwilling to put any more fight into the matter. She turned her face, and she jerked her chin toward a picturesque, tree-lined road.
"That's the street just there. The house at the very end? That's the house. Shall we go?"
"Aunt Padmé! Aunt Padmé!"
"Oh, Ryoo! Pooja! How are you, my sweetlings? I'm so happy to see you!"
It was rather a strange sight to see the erstwhile Queen of Naboo, the Senator who had been subject to assassination attempts, crouching in a sunny alley with little children tangled in her arms. Obi-Wan held back, feeling as though he did not belong here. His own childhood had been spent in a Jedi training academy, and so scenes of familial warmth like this were altogether alien to him. Still, he could not deny that it was enlightening, if nothing else, to see Padmé Amidala in this context. It humanized her a bit more, to see the children's arms laced about her as they giggled.
"Where's your mother?" she was asking them, and one of the girls answered,
"Inside, of course!"
"Of course," Padmé cooed, petting the child's head. The two little ones dashed up the stairs into the sun-kissed home from whence they'd come, and Padmé turned toward Obi-Wan as she rose to her feet. She brushed her hands on her gauzy blue skirts and looked uncharacteristically bashful as she explained, "My nieces."
Obi-Wan nodded and managed a pleasant expression. He knew next to nothing of his own family, of course, which was just as well given the life he'd lived thus far. It did a Jedi no good at all to have strong memories of a family, owing to the prohibition against emotional bonds. Obi-Wan Kenobi, like most Jedi younglings, had been taken from his home planet as an infant and had not seen his parents since. His strict training in the Force was all he'd ever known. Anakin Skywalker still struggled with his love for his mother Shmi and the emotional burden that love brought with it. But Obi-Wan had no such burden. So it was with a bit of fascination, and a profound inability to relate, that he watched the reunion of the Naberrie family.
"Padmé? Oh, it is you!" A woman who bore many of the same facial features as the Senator came bounding down the stairs. Four little hands clutched her skirts - the children from before, latching onto a woman who was clearly their mother.
"Sola! I've missed you." Padmé wrapped her sister up in a squeeze on the second step from the bottom as a pair of middle-aged humans appeared in the doorway at the top of the staircase. As the sisters embraced, the parents watched with tearful smiles, and Obi-Wan felt utterly uncomfortable. The elder sister - Sola, was it? - chatted with Padmé about weather and travel for a moment, until Padmé seemed to snap to her senses. She smiled up at her parents and then turned to gesture to Obi-Wan. Her brown eyes locked onto his, and he felt an odd twist in his stomach for a moment until she informed him,
"Master Kenobi, this is my family. My parents, Ruwee and Jobal Naberrie, my sister Sola, and my little nieces, Ryoo and Pooja." She turned back to her family and said in a firm, proud voice, "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi Knight. He has been assigned to guard me while I'm here on Naboo. Just a safeguard, nothing too extreme. I know you'll all show him great hospitality."
"You're lean now, Master Kenobi, but by the time our mother's finished with you, you'll be fat and happy," said Sola, holding her sister's hands and winking. Obi-Wan gave a quiet laugh, and from the top of the stairs, Padmé's mother - Jobal - insisted,
"Well, come inside, all of you!"
"Before I do, I think I should like to perform a quick safety sweep of the exterior," Obi-Wan said briskly, and Padmé's parents exchanged a worried glance.
"Is it so serious as all that, Padmé?" Ruwee Naberrie eyed his daughter with alarm, and Padmé gave a nervous little chuckle.
"It's all part of politics, Dad. Why don't you show Master Kenobi around the property so that he can feel assured of its safety?" She took a few steps to Obi-Wan and picked up the suitcases from beside him. Her face was warm and kind then, and her voice far more quiet. "Sola and I will take your bags inside, Master Kenobi, since we intend on staying the night here. We'll get something ready to eat. I'm famished; I'm sure you must be, as well."
Obi-Wan tried to keep his expression impassive. He was struck by how very human she seemed here, among her home and her family. In a way, it was endearing, but it also frightened him. She seemed much more fragile here, more vulnerable. Since he had been sworn to protect her from very real threats, Obi-Wan felt as though he had to be more on guard here than ever. He watched her go into the house with her sister, mother, and nieces. Ruwee Naberrie, the patriarch of the clan, traipsed down the stairs as the women passed him, and he said to Obi-Wan in a benevolent but careful tone,
"The back gardens are just this way, Master Kenobi." Obi-Wan followed him through a gate that slid open with a motion sensor. The dense grasses in the garden were being mowed by a dedicated droid, while another, more specialized gardening droid tended to a bed of flowers. Obi-Wan stood in the middle of the lawn and shut his eyes, reaching out in the Force and silently searching the area around the house. He could feel no explicit danger, no pulsing threat or ominous presence. But he had been wrong before. He opened his eyes and looked to Ruwee Naberrie, seeing the way Padmé's father was staring up at the opened window of the raised kitchen.
"Padmé is a very skilled diplomat, Master Kenobi," Ruwee Naberrie mused, and Obi-Wan frowned as he said,
"So she is, sir. I… I have been impressed with her for a great many years now."
"Have you known her a long time?" Ruwee asked, and Obi-Wan hesitated before he replied,
"Ten years, sir. It was my own Jedi Master and myself who took the Queen - Padmé - off of Naboo during the invasion."
Ruwee's tired eyes softened. "For that I thank you, then. You are a Jedi, so you are not a father, correct?"
Obi-Wan shifted where he stood, noticing the way the gardening droid behind Ruwee had ambled to a watering spigot and was now irrigating the flower bed. Obi-Wan addressed Ruwee again. "No, I am not a father."
"Then you may find it impossible to relate to my conundrum, Master Kenobi. But I shall explain it nonetheless, for you seem like a bright fellow. Padmé has a gift for politics. She has a brilliant mind and a soul destined for servitude of the Naboo. She has spent years - her entire youth thus far - in a dangerous but mostly effective campaign to keep the people of this beautiful planet safe."
Obi-Wan nodded, trying to seem at once interested but distant as the man spoke of Padmé. He tried to think of her only as the Queen, as the Senator, as his security charge. Somehow, the image of the pretty-eyed young woman kept creeping in. It didn't help when Ruwee Naberrie added in a pained voice,
"Padmé may well be a skilled politician, Master Kenobi, but above all else, she is my child . She is my daughter, and for all the decoys and handmaidens they may give her, in my eyes there will never be a replacement for her. You understand me. I can see it. The pain I felt when word reached us of the assassination attempts… I know that promises are empty in times such as these, Master Kenobi. But, will you at least assure this worried father that you will try your very best to keep my daughter safe?"
Obi-Wan felt something then that he could not ever remember feeling. Perhaps he'd come close on Tatooine, when he and Qui-Gon Jinn had left Shmi Skywalker behind with Anakin in tow. They'd promised the woman they would care for her son, and she'd cried as they'd walked away. Somehow, this was not quite the same. There was a qualitatively different undercurrent here that Obi-Wan could not quite place. He put his lips into a flat line and nodded as the mowing droid drifted neatly by them on the vibrant grass.
"I promise you, sir, that my full power and loyalty as a Jedi Knight continues to be devoted to protecting your daughter. To… to protecting Padmé. I do promise that much." Obi-Wan put his hands on his hips, glancing up to the open kitchen window as a chorus of female laughter leaked down into the sunny gardens.
"They sound far too happy," said Ruwee Naberrie, his pale eyes glinting a bit. "Let us go inject a somber male presence into the kitchen, shall we?"
"Is there anything else I can get for you, Master Kenobi?" Padmé maintained her instinctive sense of diplomacy as she stood outside the guest room in which Obi-Wan had been settled. He leaned a bit against the threshold and shook his head, glancing about as he said politely,
"Nothing at all, Senator. It is a lovely home. Very comfortable. Your mother is an excellent cook."
"Well, now. I deserve at least some of the credit. I baked the muja muffins." Padmé smirked rather playfully at Obi-Wan, who smiled back more easily than she'd seen him do before.
"And, indeed, M'Lady, those were the very best part. The best muja muffins I've ever eaten. If you decide that a lifetime of politics doesn't suit, you are young enough to consider a decades-long and doubtlessly successful career as a muja muffin baker."
Padmé laughed aloud at his cheek, and she rolled her eyes as she confirmed, "In the morning, we leave for the retreat at the lake, yes?"
Obi-Wan nodded, his impish expression fading just a bit. "It is as you suggested to the Queen… it will be safer there. More secluded."
"Of course. I hope you rest well. Goodnight, Master Kenobi." Padmé grinned at him once more, and she felt like a fool as she silently pleaded for a final smile in return. When his lips curled up, she felt her stomach flutter, and it took everything Padmé had to turn on her heels and walk down the corridor as Obi-Wan's door clicked shut behind her.
You've devolved into a simpering child, Padmé , she scolded herself, wringing her hands in front of her as she padded barefoot back to her own room.
"I've never seen you so breathless for a man before," she heard a quiet voice say from an open doorway. Padmé turned to see Sola shutting the door of her daughters' bedroom, yanking a modest robe about herself as she raised her eyebrows at her younger sister. Padmé frowned and shook her head.
"It's nothing, Sola," she whispered, flicking her eyes back toward Obi-Wan's door. She was convinced he could hear them, being a Jedi, so she beckoned for Sola to follow her into her own room. In the dying light of the sunset, the space was a warm gold, and it felt more like home than anywhere else in the entire galaxy. Padmé sank onto her bed, and Sola sat beside her. The elder sister wore a look of abject pity that rather confused Padmé. Sola took Padmé's hands in hers and said solemnly,
"I might suggest, dear sister, that perhaps you look at Master Kenobi the way you do because you're frightened of all the recent attempts on your life. But I know better than that. You're not afraid of anything. You never have been."
"Sola…" There was warning in Padmé's voice, as she started to pull her hands from her sister's. Sola held fast and dug her teeth into her lip. Behind her, the sunlight dimmed a bit more, and the sound of birds through the open window began to fade.
"Padmé. You have given so very much of yourself to our people. How tired you must be. How lonely you must be. And him, as well, the honorable man that he is."
Padmé felt her mouth drop open, and she stared at her sister in shock. She scoffed and asked incredulously, "Exactly what are you suggesting, Sola? Master Kenobi is as you say… honorable . He is a Jedi Knight, bound by his duty and by a code of ethics. As for me? I am a politician who has only come home to reassure my family that I am in no immediate danger."
"You are home because you are in immediate danger. Isn't that so?" Sola said, and Padmé pinched her lips as she realized her sister was too smart to be fooled. She yanked her hands away, rising from the bed and closing the shutters on the windows. The night air on Naboo could get a bit chilly, so she pushed a few buttons on the wall to set a comfortable temperature. She turned back to the bed and saw that Sola had risen to her feet.
"All I want to say to you, Padmé, is that I hope you find a way to… I hope you can give yourself happiness for once, before you're too old to enjoy it." Sola nodded and started toward the door. She put her hand on the panel to open the doorway and said very carefully, "I am a mother, so my senses of observation are more attuned than you might think. I see the way you look at Master Kenobi. I also see the way he tries not to look at you. I hear the flirtation in your voices. And I see no fault in any of it. I only wish you would relax , Padmé. For once. Get a good night's rest so you can travel safely in the morning, will you?"
Sola opened the door and walked through it, flashing Padmé a sad little smile as she did. Padmé huffed a bit as she changed into a nightdress. It was an unadorned white garment, much simpler than the things she usually wore as an official representative of Naboo. She cinched a plain, scarlet robe around her waist and lay on her back in bed, gazing up at the ceiling and contemplating what her sister had said. Then she tried not to contemplate it, for the confusion that washed over her was almost too much to bear.
She rolled onto her side and pulled the blankets up around her, remembering how much easier life had been before she'd become a politician. There had been no nights tormented by thoughts of votes or statistics. There had been no niggling worries about betrayal, nor the constant fear of war. There had not been the ever-present anxiety that she was a failure about to die. But Padmé knew full well she could never step away from this life. Politics flowed through her veins just as surely as did blood.
Sola had been right, of course. Padmé found Obi-Wan Kenobi almost intolerably handsome. And she found him kind and helpful. It soothed her to be around him, especially in these chaotic times. Padmé was very glad indeed that it had been Obi-Wan to bring her to Naboo. She thought back to the way Anakin Skywalker had stared at her, his eyes almost predatory, and she shuddered in her bed. The little boy from Tatooine had turned into a leering young man, she thought, and she would not have been at all comfortable to be alone with him for days on end.
Somehow, Padmé managed to drift off to sleep. Her mind was swirling and troubled, but eventually her childhood bedroom gave way to the velvet depth of sleep. Even there, in the dark and quiet, Padmé was not safe from her mental torment.
She dreamed of Chancellor Palpatine's lectures on just how serious everything had become, on how the Republic was coming apart at the seams. She dreamed of Anakin Skywalker as a pouting little boy and a scowling grown man. She dreamed of Cordé, lying bleeding on the ground after the explosion that had been meant to kill Padmé herself, as Klaxons blared around them. She dreamed of Obi-Wan Kenobi fighting off dozens and dozens of strange-looking humans and droids, on his own with a lightsaber while a wave of enemies crashed upon him. She dreamed of Obi-Wan pressing her against a wall and doing unspeakable things to her, and then being yanked away by unseen hands before a lightsaber drove straight through him. She dreamed that she was screaming, pulling her clothes back up as Obi-Wan's blue eyes met hers. She dreamed he was dying, lying on the ground as the life slipped out of him, as a hooded figure shut off a lightsaber and muttered something about the Dark Side, and -
Padmé gasped, sitting bolt upright in her bed and grasping at the blankets around her. She caught her breath and swept her hands over her cheeks, rubbing away the tears that had come during the ordeal. Then she let out a little yelp, for her bedroom door creaked open, and the space around her was abruptly bathed in a vibrant blue light.
"Are you all right, M'Lady?" she heard Obi-Wan's voice ask, his tone husky with sleep. She met his eyes in the glow of his lightsaber as the door shut behind him, and she suddenly found herself willing away a fresh flood of tears. Padmé gnawed hard on her bottom lip and nodded.
"Just a nightmare, Master Kenobi," she assured him, trying to sound calm. She heard the tremble in her own voice, though, and she reached up to drag some stray curls from her face. Her heart still raced in her chest, and she saw the way Obi-Wan's eyes studied her. She attempted a reassuring little smile from where she sat, knowing that it came out much more like a grimace. "I'm sorry if I woke you; did I cry out that loudly? My parents and the children… I should not have -"
"I felt a tremor in the Force, M'Lady. But I wouldn't worry after your sister's children. You made no sound that I know of." Obi-Wan glanced around the room, and he finally turned off his lightsaber. Padmé blinked through the abrupt darkness, her eyes taking a moment to adjust again to the dim light. Finally, she could see the Jedi Knight once more, and she felt an unwanted clench in her chest.
"As long as there is no danger, I shall go back to my own room," he said, rubbing at his beard as he tucked his lightsaber hilt back into his belt. He nodded, looking a bit perplexed, and he said quietly, "Goodnight, then, Senator."
"Please don't call me that right now," Padmé pleaded, impulsively drawing herself from her bed. Obi-Wan's eyes went wide, and he took a step backward as Padmé approached him. His voice cracked a bit as he whispered with obviously feigned calm,
"I think it more important than ever that I call you by your title now, M'Lady."
"Hmm." Padmé rolled her eyes, feeling them burn a bit as she did. "Yes. Let there be no impropriety. I understand."
She was standing a short distance from him now, but she stopped and adjusted her posture into the formal, diplomatic stance she used with strangers. Obi-Wan's face morphed a bit as his eyes cast up and down her form. Padmé realized suddenly that one shoulder of her nightgown had drifted, that part of her torso was immodestly on display. She made no effort to fix her garment, but she noticed the way Obi-Wan turned his blue eyes toward the wall. Anakin Skywalker would not have done that, Padmé knew. Anakin would have ogled her, and that was why Obi-Wan was here. Because Obi-Wan was looking at the wall while his brows furrowed and his cheeks reddened.
"Thank you, then, Master Kenobi," Padmé forced herself to say. She pulled the shoulder of her nightgown up, not wanting to cause her kind-hearted guardian any discomfort. She was more frustrated than ever as she added, "I do apologize for disturbing your sleep."
He shook his head, still not looking at her. "It is no trouble at all. It is the only reason I am here, Senator. To… to keep you safe."
"Well. You do a fine job of that. Making me feel safe." Padmé nodded crisply and sighed. Obi-Wan still did not move, and she wondered what was delaying him if he'd been so anxious to go. She watched his blue eyes slowly flutter closed, and for a long moment she was baffled. It was as if he were sleeping on his feet. Then she realized he was meditating, a tactic she knew Jedi frequently employed.
Padmé tried not to gawk at Obi-Wan Kenobi as he meditated. But she was fascinated by the way the lines around his eyes relaxed visibly, the way his mouth loosened and his lips fell open a little. She was transfixed by his red-gold eyelashes, by the steady oscillation of his breathing with his arms crossed over his chest. After a while, Obi-Wan looked at Padmé again, and his blue eyes flashed. He squared his jaw, and Padmé noticed a little quickening in his breath that she had not at all expected.
"Did it help?" she whispered, referring to the meditation, and Obi-Wan shook his head no. Padmé was not sure at all what to say or do then. The basest part of her wanted to touch him, to raise her hands to his cheeks and feel the scratch of his beard beneath her fingers. But Padmé Amidala was nothing if not a politician. She was nothing if not a diplomat. So she took a deep, shaking breath, and she gave him the most steady expression she could manage.
"Thank you again, Master Kenobi," she murmured gently. "I shall do my best not to have any more nightmares."
His mouth turned into a sad little smile as he said kindly, "I would be the last to fault you for doing so, Senator. After all you have seen, I would be far more alarmed if your sleep was peaceful."
For a minute then, Obi-Wan Kenobi looked as though he were weighing a very important decision. Finally he nodded down to Padmé, and he reached out with a hand that shook much more than Padmé would have expected from an experienced Jedi. She tried desperately not to make any sound when his palm settled on her cheek, when his fingers snared in her dark curls. She tried not to let her breath be quick and shallow as her lips fell open. But it was no use, because Obi-Wan had lowered his face to hers. He moved smoothly, as though he were afraid he would change his mind if he waited another second.
The only coherent thought that went through Padmé's head was how very gentle he was as he kissed her. His lips pressed to hers, warm and sweet and gentle . So little in Padmé's life had been gentle, but he was. Obi-Wan was. She knew he was not gentle when he was wielding a lightsaber. She had seen him be domineering and flinty with Anakin Skywalker. But he was gentle now, in the way his hands cupped her face and pulled her up against him. He was being careful and slow as he dragged his lips against hers.
After a moment, Obi-Wan's gentleness started to give way to something more urgent. He still soothed her with his lips and his hands, but he quickened against her a bit. Padmé noticed how rickety the Jedi Knight's breath had become on her mouth, and she shivered at the feel of it. A little spark ignited somewhere in the back of her mind, and she began to kiss him back.
He had meditated for a moment to try to keep himself from doing this - to try to control the way he wanted to kiss her. But it hadn't worked. Obi-Wan Kenobi was almost always able to shroud himself in calm, in serenity, during moments of crisis. This time, it had not worked.
She tasted like the liquor from Akiva that was honey at the front and lavender at the finish. She was just as intoxicating as that, too. Obi-Wan knew he should pull away, that he should have never pressed his lips to hers at all. But the most wild corner of him told him to keep going , to kiss her more deeply.
So he did. And he liked it.
After a moment, she was standing against her bedroom wall, and he was looming over her with his arms bracing him. It was getting much too intense, he realized. He was exploring her mouth now, and she was making a little mewling sound that was far too lovely. Obi-Wan should have been disturbed by the way his own tongue was tracing the roof of her mouth, by the way she was sucking his lip between her teeth, by the way her hands drifted aimlessly around his chest. He should have been disturbed by her, by himself, but he wasn't. He liked it.
He felt a twitch between his legs, a warm flush and an aching need. Padmé's fingers curled tentatively around the edge of his belt, and her wide brown eyes searched his face as Obi-Wan wrenched himself away. He felt his chest heaving, felt his mind spinning out of control and his heart thumping like a war drum.
He frowned and pinched his lips, taking Padmé's hands gently in his and bringing her knuckles to his lips as he forced himself to step backward. Suddenly he woke up, and then it was not Padmé who had been having the disturbing dreams. It had been Obi-Wan Kenobi who had been lost to insanity. He blinked quickly and released Padmé's hands. He was ashamed then, and he worked through the ringing in his ears and the burning in his veins to ground himself again.
"I can not… I can not possibly… apologize enough, Senator Amida-"
"Obi-Wan." Her voice was breathy but stern, and she swept the back of her hand over her lips as her cheeks colored. "Don't do that to me. Believe me, I understand the predicaments on both sides here. Let's just each go to bed, shall we? We have both had a difficult… a chaotic time lately."
Obi-Wan nodded as formally as he could and cleared his throat. He yanked his tunic down farther around his hips to cover what he suspected was rather obvious evidence of what kissing Padmé had done to him. He dragged his thumb over his beard and said in a precise tone,
"Please be ready to leave at sunrise. An amphibious speeder has been arranged to transport us to the lake district. It will be here early in the morning. You have my word, Senator, that I will conduct myself with strict professionalism going forward. I do… I apologize."
Padmé stared at him, and Obi-Wan could not interpret her gaze at all. She had years of practice in hiding her emotions, and he thought it unwise to reach out in the Force and try to read the pulse of her signature.
"Goodnight, Obi-Wan," she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
"Goodnight." He opened the door and stalked through it, cursing himself under his breath. It was not until he was alone in the guest bedroom again that Obi-Wan was able to steady his mind and his body.
He curled himself up atop the bed, folding his arms and legs and surrendering his consciousness to meditation. He was determined now to cloak himself in the Jedi Code.
He thought of the sight Padmé's shoulder, bared a bit from the way her nightgown had fallen. He had looked away out an inherent sense of decency, but the image of her smooth skin had burned itself into his mind. Now Obi-Wan willed it away, shoving it aside.
There is no passion. There is serenity.
He thought of the taste of her - the sweet, intoxicating warmth of her lips that had made him come alive from the inside out. He thought of the little whimper she'd let out when her back had hit the wall, of the way her shaking fingers had touched his belt uncertainly. Obi-Wan willed all of that from his head, or at least from the forefront of his consciousness.
There is no passion. There is serenity.
He thought of the things she'd said to him. Telling him that he did a good job making her feel safe. Demanding that he use her real name. Asking him whether the meditation had helped him control himself.
There is no passion. There is serenity.
He had been a fool to kiss Padmé, he knew. They both had their duties. Obi-Wan Kenobi's duties did not include lust toward the young Senator from Naboo.
After what felt like forever, Obi-Wan's mind stilled, or at least calmed. The images of Senator Amidala faded enough that he did not feel so frightened of his impulses. But as Obi-Wan drifted back off to sleep, on his back atop the blankets, he thought of Anakin Skywalker and his professed crush on Padmé Amidala.
He could not blame his young Padawan one bit for being infatuated. Obi-Wan Kenobi was no hypocrite.