"Thank you for coming, Anakin. I trust you had no problems flying yourself here discreetly." Obi-Wan met his student's eyes, and Anakin replied curtly,
"No problems at all, Master. It's an easy route." Anakin turned to Padmé, and his expression morphed. His posture changed, and he was a bit too obvious in how his eyes flicked up and down the front of her and took in her exquisite green gown. Anakin touched his hand to his hip, to the lightsaber there, and he inclined his head almost reverently. "Senator Amidala. I'm so relieved to see you're still safe."
Padmé laughed airily. "Did you not have confidence in your master's abilities to properly guard me, Ani?"
Her words and her tone were no accident, and Obi-Wan felt an odd heat in his ears as he watched Anakin's mouth fall open. He seemed flustered for a split second, but then he regathered his confidence and said in an oily tone,
"All I meant, M'Lady, is that your safety and well-being has so consumed my thoughts since you left Coruscant. That's why I'm glad to see you safe… and looking as lovely as ever."
"Anakin…" Obi-Wan glared at his Padawan, feeling a bizarre twist in his stomach as the boy flirted so brazenly with Padmé. Anakin cocked his face toward Obi-Wan and looked a bit smug. "Forgive me, Master. You're very right. That was too bold of me. Even if it is the truth."
Obi-Wan felt a bit of seething anger then, and he had to take a moment to collect himself and force calm to flow in his veins again.
"You will mind your thoughts and your words, my young Padawan, and you will conduct yourself in a manner that suits a member of the Jedi Order. Do not show me that you can not be left alone." Obi-Wan pinched his lips, and Anakin's arrogant facial expression gave way as he nodded crisply.
"Of course, Master."
Padmé sighed with audible frustration and walked across the sunny palace room in which they were meeting. She looked out the window for a moment, down onto the doomed green roofs of Theed, and she asked carefully,
"Anakin, what have you found out so far about the assassination attempts? As much as I enjoy being back home, I need to return to my official duties as quickly as possible."
She turned to face the two Jedi men, her eyes hovering on Obi-Wan's for a brief moment before turning to Anakin. The boy cleared his throat and said,
"Even now, Senator, investigations are being made about the toxic dart Master Kenobi and I took from the dead bounty hunter. It has been complicated and difficult to source it, but -"
"You will have no solid leads on that dart?" Obi-Wan asked rather incredulously, and Anakin flashed him a look of indignation. He shifted on his feet and said hotly,
"As I said, Master, I am hard at work at sourcing the weapon. The Jedi Archives and the analytics droids could give me no information whatsoever about it. I sought out the advice of other experts, but no one had any insight. I was unable to trace the dart, and thus the person who ordered the last assassination attempt. But I continue to work hard on -"
"How?" Obi-Wan demanded. All of a sudden, he started to feel the same unease he'd sensed at the lake retreat. Something was off about Anakin's investigation, and Obi-Wan could not ignore the Klaxon sounding in his mind. He folded his arms into his robe and tried to project a calm sense of authority as he clarified to Anakin, "Where is the dart now?"
Anakin hesitated for a second, and Padmé turned her face to Obi-Wan with a question in her wide eyes. Finally, Anakin said, "I met with Chancellor Palpatine, in the hopes that he might be able to give me some new insight. He has the dart. He's going to consult with some additions weapons specialists, and I have submitted a surreptitious request for a meeting with the Siniteen bounty hunters on Coruscant for more advice."
"You gave the dart to Chancellor Palpatine?" Obi-Wan said incredulously, knowing he was being harsh in his tone. Before Anakin could answer, though, Obi-Wan knew the truth. It was because the boy had been ashamed to admit he was having difficulty. He had not wanted to appear weak. So he had sought out mentorship and advice from someone besides his Jedi master.
And that , Obi-Wan realized, was the source of his unease. The fact that the threads of his bond with his Padawan had frayed… he had felt it in the Force.
"I do not mean to be ungrateful for your efforts, Anakin," said Padmé, folding her hands neatly before her green gown, "but I worry that so little progress has been made in allowing me to return to Coruscant. I have a duty to fulfill for my people, and I can not fulfill it from a lake retreat."
She may not be a queen any longer, but she looked more regal now than ever, Obi-Wan thought. Padmé's moss-colored gown hugged the shape of her body without compromising her physical grace. Her hair had been twined into an almost unfathomable knot of braids, looped and piled atop her head. She bore no title of queen these days, though one might swear her braids today were her crown - such was the majesty imposed upon an observer.
Her confidence was marked and noticeable now as her eyes trained on Anakin Skywalker with a questioning glare. Anakin had been looking at Obi-Wan for some reason, but he turned his face back to Padmé now that he was under the weight of her glare.
"When do you suppose enough progress might be made for me to carry out my duties as Senator?" she asked Anakin pointedly. "Much as I might enjoy whiling away the days with Master Kenobi, my place is on Coruscant right now."
Anakin looked a bit confused then. His gaze flicked between Obi-Wan and Padmé, and then his eyes narrowed. In that moment, Obi-Wan felt a flicker of panic, and it was clear. Anakin could see; he was not blind and never had been. He was stronger in the Force than just about anyone Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever encountered. The boy would be able to plainly feel the pulse of attraction emanating from his master toward Padmé. Anakin scowled, making no apparent attempt to hide his displeasure and surprise as he said to Padmé,
"M'Lady, I apologize for the misunderstanding. I suppose I was not aware that I had only a few days to figure out this very complicated plot. Perhaps if you doubt my abilities with the investigation, you might consider sending my master back to Coruscant, and I can stay here to guard your safety."
Padmé tightened and tipped her head. Her braids shifted as she moved, slithering over the fine emerald material of her gown. In the sunlight, she glistened like a pearl, looking opulent and dignified in comparison to the plain-clothed Jedi. Her voice was prim and diplomatic when she spoke.
"Of course there is no strict timeline, Anakin. I only hope you can understand why it is that I might hope to get back to my Senate duties quickly. I have confidence that you, working together with Master Windu, will work quickly and effectively to solve this terrible mystery."
Anakin looked disappointed for a moment, and then he looked offended. He nodded, though, and Obi-Wan said to him in an unequivocal tone,
"I will compile a list of codes for you before you leave Naboo, Anakin. I would like detailed updates on the investigation every other day at minimum, via subspace transceiver, using the codes."
Anakin turned the corners of his mouth down. "Of course, Master."
"You will stay for an evening meal and a night in a comfortable room, won't you, Anakin?" Padmé said, her tone suddenly genial and hospitable. She gestured to the marble columns surrounding the space. "There are many guest rooms in the palace. You should rest before flying yourself all the way back to Coruscant."
Anakin turned his face to Obi-Wan with an almost sarcastic twitch of his eyebrow. "If my master says it's all right, Senator, then I will stay."
Obi-Wan smirked. "Yes, my young Padawan. Of course you will stay. But you must see if you can convince Senator Amidala to venture to the palace's kitchens. You haven't experienced the splendor of Naboo until you have tasted her muja muffins."
Padmé stared at the ceiling in the guest room she'd been granted by the Queen. She had never been in this particular room before, though she knew the palace well. The ceiling was high and arched, and in the nighttime, a dull blue glow was cast across the marble. Padmé had been staring at the ceiling for so long now that it was swimming before her tired eyes. She thought she would probably be staring at the ceiling until the morning. Sleep was not coming easily tonight.
Today had been… confusing. It seemed like an eternity ago since Padmé had been lying on her back with a shirtless Obi-Wan Kenobi atop her, his fingers on the inside of her thigh. The very memory of that made Padmé's body flush with heat again, and she stirred beneath the brocade blankets on the wide bed. Yes, that felt like a whole lifetime ago, though it had only been twelve hours or so. In the intervening time, Padmé and Obi-Wan had traveled back to Theed on a speeder, had settled into guest quarters at the palace, and had met with Anakin Skywalker.
Padmé thought her worst suspicions about the boy had been confirmed in that meeting. His leering stares and overconfident posturing had been worse than ever today. She was not entirely sure why Obi-Wan had felt uneasy about Anakin's progress with the investigation on Coruscant. It now seemed, however, like Obi-Wan had been right to be suspicious.
He'd also clearly picked up on the attraction between Padmé and Obi-Wan. Anakin's glare had sharpened and grown cold after he'd seen the way Obi-Wan had studied Padmé in the sunlight. Padmé had noticed Obi-Wan's gaze, too. His blue eyes had searched her as though she were water in the desert, and there had been an almost tangible aura of confused need about him. Padmé knew that if she could pick up on such a thing, surely a Jedi Padawan like Anakin Skywalker could pick up on such a thing.
Padmé wondered whether she had been as obvious. She'd tried very hard not to be obvious. She had tried to look refined and dignified during the meeting with Anakin. She'd spent years honing her skills at hiding her feelings. She had spent over a decade perfecting the art of turning her human face into an illegible mask. The safety of planets, the viability of laws, had relied on Padmé Amidala's ability to shut others out.
But today, she thought, she may have been a bit obvious. Anakin Skywalker may well have noticed the way Padmé so often found herself looking at Obi-Wan's belt and remembering the feel of its metal clasp under her fingers. Anyone in their right mind would have clearly seen how deeply it was that Padmé's and Obi-Wan's eyes had met when he'd helped her up the stairwell, holding his hand out in a gentlemanly fashion. Anakin had been watching then, and Padmé knew that a certain look had come over her when she'd taken Obi-Wan's hand. She had probably been very obvious.
She shut her eyes, sick of staring at the ceiling of the guest room. The hum of speeders on the Theed streets had quieted, and Padmé knew that most of the people of the city were at rest. Sleep still did not come to the former queen, however, so Padmé decided to try a different tactic for relaxation. Her fingers edged beneath her blankets, and she pulled at her delicate pink-and-black lace nightgown. Her fingers danced up the inside of her leg, tracing the same path that Obi-Wan's fingers had done earlier. It didn't feel nearly as good now, to be touching herself instead of having him do it. But it at least took Padmé back to when he'd been hovering above her, his arms flexed and his eyes alight.
She felt a little clench between her legs and gasped, wanting much more than the ghost of her fingers on her thigh. Obi-Wan had seemed unable to continue earlier when he'd learned that Padmé had no physical experience with a man. She wanted nothing more just now than to get that experience, no matter what emotion went into doing so. It might have been a wonderful thing, she thought, to have continued earlier with Master Kenobi.
She was properly wet between her legs now, and that became very obvious when the pads of her fingers touched at her folds. Padmé arched her back, wondering distantly if this was something Obi-Wan would have done if he hadn't stopped. Would he have twisted his fingers into her body, Padmé wondered, and thumbed at her nub to drive her mad? She did it to herself, cursing how thin and smooth her fingers were, since they felt nothing like his would.
Padmé rolled herself onto her stomach, ignoring the way her lace nightgown clung and gathered about her. She began to grind her body against the base of her hand, hooking her fingers inside herself and wondering if it would have felt anything like this with Obi-Wan. She panted against her pillow, her left hand clutching desperately at the sheets as she rocked her hips and wrenched her eyes shut.
She remembered the way it had felt when he'd ground his erection against her, and she moaned aloud. She'd wanted to find out much more about what lay beneath Obi-Wan's trousers, but she hadn't had the chance. She probably never would have the chance; he had shut down that option today rather unequivocally. And Anakin's suspicion would only make Obi-Wan more hostile, Padmé knew. But then she remembered the way his hard lump had felt as it rubbed her abdomen, and she groaned again. Her fingers and hips worked in tandem now, faster and faster until -
Everything exploded in an instant. There was heat, and cold, and then heat again. There was a ringing so loud in Padmé's ears that she would not have been able to hear a Klaxon going off in the bedroom. There was a spectacularly pleasant tingling, the feeling that a long-simmering itch had been assuaged. Padmé's womanhood cinched erratically around her fingers, and her hand was a sticky mess by the time it was all over. She couldn't bring herself to care. She lay face down on the sheets, panting with a little sheen of sweat on her forehead.
"Obi-Wan," she heard herself whisper, distantly wishing that he would come barging into her room now the way he'd done at her parents' house. But, for all Padmé knew, he was speaking privately with Anakin or meditating. In any case, whispering his name a few more times did nothing to summon him. She lay on her side and stared at the bedroom doors, but no one came through them. What did happen, though, after many hours of insomnia, was that Padmé's eyelids grew very heavy indeed. She fell asleep to thoughts of the Jedi Knight, of his red-gold hair and the feel of his hands. She fell asleep to the taste of his kiss on her lips and the sound of his gentle voice in her ears.
And for the first time in a great long while, Padmé's sleep was easy and peaceful.
"Please go to sleep, Anakin."
Obi-Wan's voice was drowsy and a bit irritated, but Anakin could still hear the underlying affection in his mentor's words. He blinked his eyes across the dimly-lit guest room in which he and Obi-Wan had taken up residence for the night. They both lay atop the rich blankets of their respective beds, each used to lifetimes of hardship that made the Naboo palace almost uncomfortably opulent. Anakin sighed and put his hands beneath his head, staring up at the ceiling as he muttered,
"I'm sorry, Master. I sleep poorly these days… ever since I started having those dreams about my mother."
Obi-Wan's face turned where he lay on his own bed, and his tired eyes softened. "I do hope you'll remember what I told you. Very often, such things not portents of the future, nor harbingers of doom, but only nightmares. Still, I know you are troubled by them. You love your mother, and you can not help that."
Anakin scowled. "It must be easier to have been raised in the Jedi Temple, to not remember your family. That way you don't have to worry about anyone you love getting hurt."
Obi-Wan hesitated for a long moment before he finally said, "No, I suppose I don't."
There was a silence then, in which Anakin pondered the way Obi-Wan had looked at Padmé during their earlier meeting. He tried to shove the thought aside, knowing that distrust toward his master was wrong and that he needed to focus on his mission. To distract himself from the ugly coil of suspicion in his belly, he asked Obi-Wan,
"What was it like? Growing up as a Jedi youngling?"
Obi-Wan scoffed quietly into the darkness. "I never knew any differently, I suppose, so I've nothing to compare it to. In many ways, it was rather pleasant. The Jedi Temple is a magnificent place to be, even for a small child. And I think I knew, from a very young age, that to be a Jedi was something very special. Very important. So I rarely resented the difficulties, even though Master Yoda was very strict."
Anakin thought over Obi-Wan's response and let his eyes close. He breathed deeply, trying to slow his racing mind.
"There was one time… oh, I must have been only five or six years old…" Obi-Wan mused. "I managed to get very lost in the Jedi Temple. We were expected to know its layout by heart, and so the instructors would release us, blindfolded, and tell us to take off the blindfolds and work our way back to our clan quarters."
Anakin snorted a bit. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and gave Obi-Wan a cocky look across the dimly-lit room. "And you got lost, did you, Master?"
Obi-Wan smiled wistfully, as if it were distantly pleasant for him to remember the incident.
"I took off my blindfold, and I was in a refectory I'd never seen before. It must have been some other clan's preferred dining hall, my little brain thought. For a little while, I searched for some clue of what level I was on, what sector of the building I was in… but it was hopeless. After three hours of wandering around the refectory, I just sat down at a table and asked a droid to bring me some ghibli fruits."
Anakin laughed aloud at that, watching as Obi-Wan's blue eyes crinkled. Obi-Wan shook his head and grinned as he did a fair imitation of Master Yoda's voice.
"' Stay focused on your task, you must, young Kenobi .' That was what Master Yoda said when he finally found me. ' Time for eating ghiblis, you were allotted not.' That stuck with me, you know. The way he taught me not to get distracted."
Obi-Wan's smile faded a bit then, and Anakin realized the purpose of the allegory. Perhaps the tale about the little boy and the ghibli fruits had been true. Perhaps not. It didn't matter. Obi-Wan was telling his Padawan to stay focused on the investigation on Coruscant. Anakin nodded solemnly, lying back and shutting his eyes again.
He was very nearly asleep when a nagging sensation of warning prickled against his consciousness. Through the Force, Anakin could feel that something was off in Padmé Amidala's room. He had trained his senses to feel for her in the Force, to be on alert for danger, and now he could tell that something was wrong. Anakin sat up quickly and reached for his lightsaber, springing from his bed and activating the blade on instinct.
"Master, don't you feel that?" he demanded, shocked by the way Obi-Wan was still lying on his back with his eyes shut. Anakin
gripped his lightsaber hilt and stared down at his master in the blue glow.
"Yes, I feel it," Obi-Wan answered, his voice a bit tight. Anakin was confused. He turned his eyes toward the door as a fresh wave of alarm came over him. The anxious pulse was growing stronger.
"Something is wrong," Anakin hissed, still baffled by how unaffected Obi-Wan seemed to be by it all. Anakin jabbed his lightsaber toward the door as Obi-Wan sat up with a heavy sigh, and he exclaimed, "We need to go, Master! Something is wrong with Padmé; can't you feel it? We need to go to her right now. I'm going."
He was panicking, he knew, but the tension in his head was so strong now it almost hurt. Obi-Wan held his hand up and shook his head, looking… amused? No, that couldn't be right…
"Trust me, my young Padawan, we do not need to go into her room right now."
Anakin's mouth fell open. His heart was racing and his breath was shaking, so strong was the ache coming through the Force. "But -"
"She is fine." Obi-Wan's tone was very firm then, and his eyes were wide with confidence. He licked his lips as though they'd suddenly gone very dry. "Lie back down, Anakin, and ignore it."
"Ignore it?" Anakin shut off his lightsaber and tucked it into his belt, furrowing his brows at Obi-Wan as he sank onto the edge of his bed. He tilted his head in confusion. Obi-Wan was keeping something from him. "What's the matter with her?"
Obi-Wan shut his eyes and dragged his fingertips over his beard. "I need you to defer to me now and not argue, Anakin. I assure you that the Senator is… she's fine."
Then, all of a sudden, Anakin understood. In one horrifying instant, he understood. Obi-Wan Kenobi recognized that the stress coming from Padmé in the Force was not fear or danger, because he had felt that same pulse from her himself. It wasn't terror, but it was something just as powerful - possibly more so. Padmé was 'fine.' That was what Obi-Wan had said, and he'd said it in a way that indicated he was intimately familiar with just how 'fine' Padmé could be.
Perhaps she was in her room with an old acquaintance from Naboo. Or perhaps she was alone, thinking of Obi-Wan Kenobi. But it was clear now that the sensation roiling through Padmé's Force signature was arousal.
"Master, have you and..." Anakin began quietly, struggling to sound controlled. Obi-Wan raised his eyes to his pupil, looking resigned to the question he knew was coming. Anakin managed to choke out the rest. "Have you and Padmé been together while I've on Coruscant?"
Obi-Wan pinched his lips and stroked his fingers over his beard. Anakin felt a fresh surge of pressure through the Force, and Obi-Wan winced as he registered it, too. Finally, Obi-Wan said quietly,
"Well, of course we have ' been together. ' We have been more or less alone with one another for days. But if you're asking what I think you are asking…" Obi-Wan lowered his face for a moment and laughed softly, "Given your level of suspicion, my young Padawan, you might be surprised by just how very not together I've been with the Senator."
Anakin's breath quickened in his nostrils, now because of the anger that had spiked in his veins. He felt his chest crumple, too, with a very unwelcome sensation. He was hurt. He was wounded by the idea that his master and the girl he'd wanted for years might be attracted to one another. Anakin couldn't be sure that Obi-Wan wasn't lying, either. It was quite likely that the two of them had done something terrible together. Now, more than ever, it was very clear that Obi-Wan was deeply affected by the arousal coming through the Force from Padmé. His fingers were tightening around his knees, and his face stared at the floor as he murmured,
"I… I'm going to meditate."
"Need to get the memories of her moaning out of your head, Master Kenobi?" Anakin sneered impulsively, and Obi-Wan raised his face with an expression of shock. The Jedi Knight's eyes flashed, and then he looked as though the boy had driven him straight through with a lightsaber. He rose to his feet and walked a few steps across the room. There was warning in his voice then as he said,
"Anakin, you are allowing an utter illusion to rob you of your senses. You must stop perseverating on Padmé Amidala."
"Forgive me, Master. I will try to do as you say, but it is impossible not to notice the hypocrisy." Anakin folded his arms over his chest, blinking slowly and trying hard to ignore the way the throb from Padmé's room was growing more insistent. Anakin gave a derisive little laugh and said in a cruel tone, "She's not good at keeping quiet, is she? Even when she says nothing at all."
"Be silent, my young Padawan!" Obi-Wan's voice shook just on the edge of control, his tone more harsh than Anakin had ever heard it. Obi-Wan shook his head quickly and folded his arms into the sleeves of his brown robe. When he spoke again, it seemed like he'd somehow steadied himself. Anakin felt a spike of envy for his master's abilities with meditation; there was no way he could have calmed himself right now.
"A Jedi must never feel possessive of another person, Anakin. This is essential," Obi-Wan said. "For all either of us know, Padmé Amidala is enjoying the company of some dashing young palace guard in that room right now."
Anakin flinched, but Obi-Wan gave him a very meaningful look.
"That must be an acceptable thing for the Senator to be doing in your mind, Anakin. Otherwise, you are being possessive. Otherwise, you are being jealous. You may find her pretty, and you may want her. But it is another thing entirely to want her for yourself . Do you understand the difference?"
"I understand, Master." Anakin felt his eyes burn, which embarrassed him. He had very rarely cried in front of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he was not anxious for one of those times to be because of a girl. A woman. A politician.
He tried to distance himself mentally from her, to remove himself from the possessive cravings that seared in his veins. It didn't really work, and he groaned softly in frustration when the throbbing twinge in the Force accelerated. Whatever Padmé was doing, she was enjoying it so much now that the Jedi who had attuned themselves to her could practically feel it themselves. Anakin watched as Obi-Wan's cheeks darkened, as his arms tightened around each other and he began to pace. His master, it seemed, was even more affected by the sensation than Anakin. Then, suddenly, the pressure abated, giving way to a profound sense of peace.
It was obscene, once Anakin realized what had happened. He would not have paid so much attention to Padmé's signature in the Force if he'd known what he would be coerced to endure. It might have been an arousing experience to vicariously feel Padmé's pleasure, except that Anakin had such a strong suspicion of something brewing between his mentor and the woman. Anakin felt an unwanted straining in his trousers that made him acutely uncomfortable, a cruel reward for having felt a shadow of what Padmé had. He turned away from Obi-Wan as his master said gently,
"Sit on your bed and meditate until morning. I will do the same. Neither of us is fit to speak further on this matter now."
Anakin folded himself atop the brocade blankets of his bed, which suddenly felt stupidly ornamental. He shut his eyes and tried not to feel betrayed. It took a long while and a lot of effort, but finally Anakin felt his mind give way, as though the floor had dropped out from beneath him. Then he was wrapped in the comforting embrace of an empty black ether, and there was no more thought of treachery.
"Good morning."
"Obi-Wan." Padmé turned to face Obi-Wan, her heavy black velvet gown dragging on the marble floors as she crossed the ornate dining room. Droids and serving staff were setting up a luxurious breakfast at the long table in the center of the room, which Obi-Wan noticed had been set for three. He hesitated for a moment, and then he said,
"Anakin will not be joining us. He is already on his way back to Coruscant."
Padmé's eyebrows flew up, but she nodded and glanced at the others in the room. Obi-Wan could tell that she was carefully choosing her words and tone then as she said, "I see. No matter. GG-7, would you mind clearing one of the table settings, please?"
The serving droid turned to Padmé at the sound of her name, and she chirped happily, "Gladly, Senator."
Obi-Wan frowned at the way that even the droids addressed Padmé by her title here. He looked straight at Padmé and said seriously, "We need to leave Theed as expeditiously as possible. There is no secrecy for you here."
Padmé nodded and lowered her voice. "I know. But I am also hesitant to go back to the lake retreat. I wonder whether it might not be smarter for us to go somewhere else entirely and not to communicate our travel intentions."
Obi-Wan gave her a knowing nod. She didn't want anyone knowing where they were going, not even Anakin. Obi-Wan could hardly blame her. From the sounds of things, the investigation on Coruscant was proceeding languidly, and far too many individuals right now knew that Padmé was on Naboo.
She flicked her eyes around the dining room again and murmured very quietly, "The Queen informed me this morning that there is a large freighter leaving for Bellassa this afternoon. A refugee transfer from a dying system in the Outer Rim. A few months ago, I privately negotiated with the senator from Bellassa for these refugees to be housed in their cities, where the environment is more suitable for some of the species. They're here for a quick transfer, and we can get on the freighter."
Obi-Wan scoffed, looking out the windows at the tranquil planet and wondering just how it could possibly be considered 'inhospitable.' Just the same, it made sense for them to go to a faraway city, where they stood a chance of getting lost in the swarming multitude.
"Refugees again, then," he said to Padmé. Then he tipped his head and added, "No golden veils this time. You need to look genuinely wretched."
She smirked. "I shall try. I promise."
"Is there anything else I may get for you, ma'am?" The LEP servant droid's voice used a strange cadence and pitch as it set down Padmé's luggage. She looked around the suite in the Eclipse hotel, thinking that the city of Ussa was one of the most beautiful she'd ever seen. She turned to the LEP droid and said politely,
"No, thank you. We'll be fine. You can tell the other staff and droids not to come unless summoned, if you please."
"Certainly. Please do not hesitate to notify hotel staff of your slightest need. Everyone at the Eclipse seeks to ensure that your stay is comfortable and luxurious."
"Too much comfort breeds laziness, you know," Obi-Wan said smartly from beside Padmé. She snickered a bit, for the poor droid couldn't pick up on Obi-Wan's sarcasm.
"Is that so, sir?" the droid, hummed. "How interesting. Good day." They watched the LEP droid waddle out of their suite, and as soon as the door had hissed shut, Padmé sank into the stylish white chair in the corner.
"Please forgive my ill manners, Master Kenobi, but if I do not get these shoes off, I think I will cry." She growled a bit as she yanked the elaborately embroidered shoes she wore. They had square, platform heels in the style of the Core World elite, and they had been one piece of Padmé's camouflage since disembarking the refugee freighter. She had deliberately brought clothing to Bellassa that would blend in with the local fashion. Padmé found that everyday Bellassa fashion was lovely, almost ethereal, and she had to confess that she was quite fond of the airy silver-white dress she wore. It was made a delicate tulle into which were sewn the tiniest seed pearls Padmé had ever seen. A diaphanous cape flowed down her back, along with her hair, which she'd left long in the way the Bellassa women did.
But... the shoes. The damned shoes, with their very impractical heels and their pinching construction, had been torture for hours now. Padmé rubbed at her ankles and feet, and she murmured up to Obi-Wan,
"The service here is exceptional. I'm sure the LEP droids could get a second bed brought up very shortly for you, Master Kenobi, if that would make you more comfortable."
"I think that would make it a bit obvious that we are not the married couple we declared ourselves to be upon check-in. Or, it would at least trigger a flurry of whispers about the unhappily married couple in Suite 17." His face was kind as he half-smiled and surveyed the rooms. He looked very handsome, she thought, in his own disguise - a pair of beige breeches with stylish brown boots, and a fashionably-cut jacket with a high neck and leather detailing at the shoulders. Obi-Wan ambled through the suite, jerking his head toward the little sitting area as he told Padmé, "I will be perfectly fine on this clean, cushy floor. No need to arouse suspicion in the hotel staff."
"You are not going to sleep on the floor," Padmé said, rolling her eyes as she rose from the white chair. She was frustrated, all of a sudden. For many days now, she and Obi-Wan had been like a moon and a planet. They were drawn together, yet pushed just far enough away to keep from colliding. Padmé was tired of orbiting. She wanted to collide.
"I saw an advertisement for a restaurant in the Bluestone District that claims it has the best pulpfish filet in the galaxy. I know a place on Hosnian Prime that would call those fighting words, but I'm willing to give it a fair shake. Shall I call down for a taxi speeder?" Obi-Wan's vibrant blue eyes studied Padmé's for a moment, looking uncertain. She felt her mouth drop open, feeling her heart flutter a bit at the idea of going to a restaurant alone with him. It shouldn't have been so exciting, but it was. Just as quickly as Padmé's anticipation grew, though, it was smothered.
"On second thought," Obi-Wan said quickly, walking briskly to a menu of services on the small desk, "It is probably unwise to go to such a public place if it isn't necessary. And then, there is the matter of your feet. Of the shoes… the discomfort from the shoes."
Padmé wasn't sure whether she ought to laugh or cry at the flustered way Obi-Wan was acting now, so she did neither. She watched him flip through the holo menu, and she said quietly,
"We can just have the staff deliver food here. That will be fine. I'm going to take a bit of time in the 'fresher, if you don't mind. Can you order dinner?"
"What would you like to eat?" Obi-Wan asked as Padmé opened the door to the luxurious refresher. She shrugged and tried not to look too hard at the way his jacket showed his form.
"I'm not picky," she insisted. "You can choose for me. I trust you."
His face was odd after she said those last three words, almost as though she'd hurt him by saying such a thing. But he nodded silently and made a move for the service comlink, so Padmé slipped into the 'fresher and closed the door.
'Obi-Wan! Look out!'
Padmé struggled against the heavy shackles that bound her wrists and ankles to the wall. She could not free herself to get to Obi-Wan. From all around them, the red glow and the heat of the lava gave the scene a hellish atmosphere. Obi-Wan turned his head at Padmé's warning. He rose his lightsaber toward the newest onslaught of battle droids, which marched in clean formation toward him with their blasters aimed at his chest.
He was all alone in fighting them, and they seemed very determined to kill him. One droid fired a blaster shot, which ricocheted off of Obi-Wan's blue lightsaber when he blocked it. Then another droid fired, and another and another, until there was an unceasing volley of light shooting toward Obi-Wan. He blocked all the shots somehow, with almost superhuman speed and agility. He was leaping and dodging, swinging his lightsaber to block the shots as though he knew about them before they happened. It would have been a beautiful thing to watch under different circumstances. His skill was miraculous.
But then one of the battle droids turned to its left and said, 'Secondary target acquired.' The droid raised its blaster toward Padmé, and she realized she was about to die. Then the droid collapsed into a heap of clanging metal, for Obi-Wan had seen it take aim at Padmé, and he had struck. He'd cut the droid in two with his lightsaber, and he raised his blue eyes to Padmé as he said gently,
"Wake up, Padmé."
He was no longer blocking the blaster fire now, and a curious thing started happening. Shots began to hit him, one by one. Instead of crumpling down on impact, though, Obi-Wan seemed to be falling asleep where he stood. It was as though every blaster shot was leeching some of the life out of him. Somehow he still stood, clutching his lightsaber. His eyes, now dull with exhaustion, met Padmé's again as she ripped at her shackles. His voice was weak and distant now.
"Wake up, Padmé..."
She jolted awake, her eyes springing open as she flung upward in bed. She gasped for air like she'd been drowning. She was about to call out to Obi-Wan that it had only been another awful nightmare, that there was no need to turn on his weapon and panic.
But he was already there. He was kneeling beside her bed, and it took a moment for Padmé to realize that his hands were already on her. He was dragging the pad of one thumb beneath her eye, wiping away the tears that had come during her tormented sleep, and his other arm had laced protectively around her waist.
"It's all right," he whispered, his lovely eyes looking very sad.
"Obi-Wan," Padmé said in a shaking voice. She shuddered and clutched at his face. "You were… there was lava, and so many droids, and you were fighting them all by yourself, and I couldn't… I was stuck, and I… but you…"
He shook his head and narrowed the space between them, shifting on his knees. "That was only in your sleep, Padmé. It's all right. You're safe. I've got you."
He leaned forward to kiss her - just a gentle brush of his lips on hers. Padmé whimpered against his mouth, knowing she sounded like a child and not much caring. His fingers worked their way into her hair and soothed her scalp, and his other hand rubbed gently at her back.
"I've got you," he whispered again, kissing her more deeply for a moment.
Padmé felt fresh tears rush to her eyes at once, for in his face and his words, she detected no lust. She felt only emotion - only the sort of emotion Jedi were not permitted to feel. She started to genuinely cry, to shake and gasp. Her nose was running, tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, and it got worse by the second, because of how Obi-Wan Kenobi reacted. He did not recoil at her sudden and uncharacteristic explosion of tears.
He just kissed her, carefully and gently. He might have been meaning to soothe her tears away, but it only made Padmé cry harder.
She had never intended to look into his eyes and feel her stomach flutter. She had never meant to go slack at his touch or to find herself exchanging playful smiles with him. She had certainly never thought that her most distressing nightmares would involve him dying while protecting her.
"Hold me, please," she managed to whisper after a while, and Obi-Wan obeyed at once. He rose from his knees, and Padmé slithered to her right beneath her blankets. Then he really was there, leaning against the elaborate metal bed frame with her pillow behind his back. He was cradling Padmé to his bare chest, and she was holding onto him like he was a raft in a churning sea. His hands rubbed gently around her shoulders and arms, and every once in a while, he lowered his face to kiss her hair.
The silence between them was entirely too comfortable, and they both knew it. Padmé curled her leg over Obi-Wan's hip after a while, and she realized that his loose sleeping trousers did not hold the insistent hardness she'd felt from him on Naboo. No, she knew. None of this was lust.
As if he'd read her mind, Obi-Wan murmured down to her, "If all I wanted was to touch you, Padmé, it wouldn't be so bad. The problem is that I need to feel you. There is… there is quite a difference."
"I know there is," Padmé nodded against him, shutting her eyes and listening to the thrum of his heart. She wondered if his hurt as badly as hers did. She wondered if she ought to have sent him back to Coruscant after all, for both of their own good. She looked up at him, reaching to drag her fingertips over his red-gold bears, and she whispered, "I don't want to ruin your life."
He quirked up half his mouth and shut his eyes, looking as though he were both in pain and amused. He shook his head and insisted, "No. You could never, even if you tried."
She shut her eyes again and focused on his steady breath, on the warmth that came from his body, on how wonderful it was to be this close to him. She felt him touch his lips to her forehead, felt him pet her hair for a minute, and then she heard him murmur,
"Go to sleep, Padmé. I will keep the chaos from your mind. Just rest."
She was too tired to answer, but she believed him. She could feel his hands stroking her, could feel some sort of pleasant pulse between them, and she knew he was telling the truth. He would protect her sleep using some power Padmé could not comprehend. He would do it because he was gentle and kind and wonderful, and Padmé wished distantly that she had had the courage to tell him that she was falling in love with him. But it was too late; her mind had given way to sleep.
The sunlight was very strong coming through the hotel windows, and Obi-Wan should have closed the electrochromic blinds the night before. That was the first thing he realized when his eyes blinked open.
The second thing he realized was that he was completely entangled with Padmé Amidala. When he'd last been awake, he'd been propped up against a pillow with her cradled on his chest. Now they were both lying down, facing one another, woven into a kind of human braid. One of Padmé's arms was cast around Obi-Wan's shoulder, and he was hugging her close around her waist. Their legs were tangled with all four of their feet in a bundle. Her hair tickled his chest a bit, and she had burrowed her forehead against his sternum.
Obi-Wan had never felt anything so blissful in all his life. It also felt profoundly dangerous. After he'd fallen asleep, his body had instinctively meshed with hers. At his core, he needed to be near her, to hold her and feel her, and that fact should have set alarms off in Obi-Wan's mind. Instead, he breathed in her warm scent and pulled her closer than ever. She raised her face slowly at the motion, her brown eyes blinking open and staring at him for a moment. Obi-Wan was not sure what to say, so he said nothing at all.
Neither did Padmé, who just looked at him as she planted a few kisses on his chest. That did not help the feeling of arousal between Obi-Wan's legs, and he grunted quietly as he shifted. It was normal and natural, of course, for a man to wake with an erection, but his was only getting more insistent as Padmé's hand drifted down his arm. She sucked in air when he moved a little and she felt his hardness on her leg, and Obi-Wan shut his eyes.
"It will pass," he assured her. "Most… most men wake like this."
"Most men wake up holding a woman who thinks very fondly of them?" Padmé asked skeptically, and Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered back open as he took in her words. Her face was solemn, and she reached between them and rather confidently stroked him through his trousers. Obi-Wan gasped and pulled his hips back a bit, starting to shake his head. But Padmé had propped herself up onto her elbow now, and she murmured, "Tell me whether this is a mere function of your anatomy, or whether you actually want me."
Obi-Wan could not help but laugh a bit. "It's both," he said honestly, his teeth plunging into his lip as he felt her fingers at the waistband of his trousers. Oh, yes. He wanted her. He wanted her so badly that his breath was catching strangely in his chest and his fingers were shaking as he dragged them up her back. He thought about putting a stop to it all, the way he'd done on Naboo. This was about to spiral out of control, he knew. But then he realized that his physical want for Padmé was the very least forbidden part of the whole mess. His hand tightened on her back.
Padmé rolled herself a bit then, and Obi-Wan turned onto his back as she straddled his hips and looked down at him. She was very pretty like this, with her curly hair a bit wild around her head and cheeks starting to go pink. He couldn't move as she peeled her pale green peignoir from her shoulders and dropped it onto the floor, and he couldn't move when she made a move for the hem of her matching silk nightgown. Obi-Wan shut his eyes and gulped, because all he could think about now was the way her breasts were so visible through the material of her nightgown and how badly he wanted to feel her skin there.
"Obi-Wan," she murmured, "will you look at me?"
He sighed, feeling her fingers dance over his bare chest. He forced his eyes open, and Padmé shifted her hips against his erection.
"A good diplomat never begs," Padmé said in a soft tone. "A good diplomat negotiates. You put a stop to… to this on Naboo. I'd like to negotiate terms with you to ensure that… that you don't put a stop to it today."
Obi-Wan scoffed, feeling his chest clench at the sight of her serious words mingling with the uncertain quirk of her lips. He squeezed her hands in his and nodded, knowing that it was useless to fight her off anymore. It would do no good to try to save himself now. He was already lost.
But Padmé looked a bit less certain then, as she ground her hips against his and chewed her lip. She laughed lightly and said, "I don't know what I'm doing. I will require some guidance. I don't want to make myself look foolish."
"You look anything but foolish right now," Obi-Wan assured her. He let his hands drift on her thighs, making her shiver a bit, and he mumbled, "You look very beautiful right now. Even more than you usually do."
Padmé surprised him then by pulling her nightgown up and over her head. It joined her peignoir on the ground, and then she was atop him in nothing but her underwear. She pulled Obi-Wan's hands up to her chest and encouraging him to cup her breasts. She flashed him a look that was almost questioning. Obi-Wan felt a groan being pulled from the bottom of his throat as he felt the soft, pillowy flesh of her small but shapely chest. He caressed her, squeezing slightly and pulling his fingers over her hardening nipples. Padmé sighed and arched her back a little, rolling her hips and making Obi-Wan's cock twitch beneath her.
"Oh, kriffing stars." Padmé's face twisted a little at the friction between them, and Obi-Wan struggled not to laugh at the sound of her profanity. She was coming apart at the seams just as surely as he was.
"Will you lie on your back?" Obi-Wan asked, suddenly wanting to touch her more carefully. Padmé's eyes went wide, as though the gravity of it all had finally settled into her veins. But she acceded to his request, shifting off of his hips and leaving him with an extremely evident bulge in his loose trousers. She settled on her back, her fingers twining nervously in her curls as her breath shook through her lips. Obi-Wan hovered beside her, touching his lips to her forehead and whispering carefully, "There is nothing at all for you to fear right now, you know. You need only hint that I stop, and I will stop."
"I'm not going to ask you to stop," Padmé said confidently, her wide brown eyes meeting his. Obi-Wan tried to be delicate in asking the question that had to be addressed.
"Do you… are you protected in any way?"
He hoped she knew what he meant, and a look of realization did come over her eyes. "They gave me an implant when I was younger. Just in case."
Obi-Wan knew that it was common practice for women to be have a tiny implant placed in their arms upon reaching physical maturity. The device was an indefinite and completely reliable way to prevent unwanted pregnancy, but it could easily be removed later in life. Discussing such a thing with Padmé just now might have killed the momentum of what they were doing, had they both been less rational people. Instead, it seemed to further cut their mental binds, to set them both just a little more free.
Before Obi-Wan knew what was happening, he had begun to kiss her breast. He wondered distantly whether his beard scratched her skin. If it did, Padmé expressed no discomfort. Instead, she arched her back, and her fingers tangled into Obi-Wan's hair. He hooked his hand under the waistband of her underwear, and she shimmied a bit as he pulled them down. He pulled his head from her chest and stared at her face as a fierce hunger took him over.
"Are you cold?" he asked, for some distant scrap of decency in his brain realized the suite was a bit chilly and she was naked. But Padmé shook her head, her hands still in his hair, and she whispered,
"Will you touch me here?"
She guided his fingers between her legs, and Obi-Wan felt his mouth drop open as he tried not to stare too hard. He had trouble breathing then, or thinking, or doing much other than feel her. She was warm and soft, and already very wet. He traced slow circles around the outside of her womanhood with his fingers, watching her face as she reacted. She gasped and grabbed at the sheets, and Obi-Wan gradually increased the pressure of his touch. He slid one finger inside of her, and then another when she did not protest. His thumb worked around her nub as he slowly twisted and hooked his fingers. Padmé squeezed her eyes shut and licked her lips, her hands tightening on his scalp as she murmured,
"I like that."
Obi-Wan liked it, too, so much that his erection now almost hurt. He shifted where he lay, trying to ignore the insistent pulse between his legs. As if she'd sensed his body's urgency, Padmé opened her eyes and gave him a warm smile. Her hands moved from his hair down to his shoulders and squeezed a little, which felt very nice indeed. She brushed her fingers down his back, around his ribs to his stomach, and then she pulled on the tie holding his trousers around his waist. Obi-Wan groaned again, knowing he sounded feral and not caring. His fingers twitched on her silken folds as she toyed with his waistband. Finally he shut his eyes and mumbled,
"Should I take them off?"
"Yes. I think you should," Padmé answered. Obi-Wan sat up a bit as he pulled his hand from her and used shaking fingers to shove his clothes away. He resettled himself above her, feeling her knees touch his waist as she brought her legs up around him. The tip of his cock brushed her wet entrance, which made him hiss and her whimper. Her hands clamped around his biceps, as if she were going to fall from a great height without him.
"It might hurt a little," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I will be as gentle as I can."
Padmé's fingers curled more tightly around his arms, and she nodded as she stared up at him. Stars , but she was beautiful, Obi-Wan thought. In her wide brown eyes, he could see all her intelligence, all her bravery. He could see the underlying current of compassion that flowed in her soul. And he could see, so plainly that it almost frightened him, that she loved him a little bit.
He reached between them and guided himself into her cinching, wet warmth. Padmé did a very convincing job of hiding her physical discomfort as Obi-Wan edged his hips forward. If not for the wild flash in her eyes and the spike of pain in the Force, Obi-Wan would not have known that it had hurt. But he could feel her more completely, probably, than many others would have been able to do. So he petted her hair and propped himself on one elbow, rocking very slowly as he whispered,
"Tell me to stop and I will."
"No." Padmé shook her head, still holding his arms for dear life. "No. Don't stop."
Obi-Wan found a rhythm then, rocking his hips smoothly against hers as he cupped her face in his hand. She was so warm, he thought. Warm and tight around him, as though he was supposed to be inside of her. He hadn't realized, he supposed, how very long he'd been without a real home until he found one there with Padmé. He certainly had not known, until right this minute, how badly he had needed someone else. For what felt like a very pleasant eternity, Obi-Wan pushed his hips forward and then pulled back. In and out. In and out. It was like breathing, but so much better. Wet and warm and sweet and home .
"Obi-Wan," Padmé whispered, her eyes searching his desperately and her hands going around him to press against his back. She breathed very deeply a few times, and her cheeks flushed scarlet. Then her lovely eyes fluttered shut and her lips shook. Obi-Wan felt the same surge of gratification in the Force that he'd sensed from her that last night on Naboo. He grunted softly and slowed his hips when felt her clenching around him. Her fingers dug into the skin of his back, and then he heard her say,
"Stop holding back, Obi-Wan. I can feel you holding back. Empty yourself into me."
She did not mean those last four words to be vulgar, Obi-Wan realized. The double entendre was still there, but what she'd really meant was for him to let forth the flood that was threatening his old and sturdy dam. She was right. Even now, as he began to rock his hips again, Obi-Wan could feel the tense barrier that he'd made for himself in his mind. It was like a screen before him, protecting his integrity from problematic intrusions like affection. And Padmé was very right. If he didn't let that shield down, he would never actually feel her.
He shut his eyes and called forth the skills he'd honed over the years in self-awareness and meditation. He focused hard on the feel of her body beneath him, on the feel of her warm sheath holding him snug. He reached out into the Force and perceived her presence as a swirling ball of luminous heat. She was like a star unto herself, a radiant presence that reined in everything about it with an authoritative beauty.
"Obi-Wan," he heard her whisper again, and he could feel her hands on his face. Her fingers were drifting over his beard, up to his cheeks and into his hair. He opened his eyes and saw that she was arching beneath him again as his hips thrust more firmly. She was tensing like a string about to break again, and Obi-Wan groaned helplessly as he felt himself coming undone. Her legs tightened around his waist, her ankles hooking behind her back as he quickened his movements. Her breasts were swaying elegantly as she was ground against the sheets, and a delicate sheen had appeared on her forehead.
"Kiss me, please," she murmured up at him, sounding almost intoxicated as she blinked slowly.
"I taste like sleep in the worst way right now, I assure you," he muttered, shaking his head and smirking a little. His hips were jerking more erratically now, as the tension in his abdomen coiled and built like a fire being stoked.
"Obi-Wan," Padmé said more resolutely, gasping as she drove her head back against the pillow. Her curls flared about her like a wild halo, and her hands clutched at the blankets as she demanded again, "Please kiss me."
He did as she said. He pressed his lips to hers, and he felt her breasts against his heaving chest as the planes of their bodies went flush together. Then it all detonated, and Obi-Wan tore his mouth from Padmé's. He sat up and let out an embarrassingly savage growl. His fingers were knotted in her hair, and he could feel his seed pumping into her as his mind went black and hot. There was nothing at all for a moment - nothing except for her.
He finally pulled his softening member from her, acutely aware of the obscene way a trail of wetness followed him from her body. Somehow he managed to roll onto his back and pull Padmé against his heaving chest. She wrapped her leg around his hips and draped her arm over his chest, and they lay like that for so long that Obi-Wan almost wondered if she had fallen asleep.
He stared at the far wall, which was unadorned except for some artwork of a craggy mountain scene. His fingers drifted around her arm and her back, but all he could think about was how he had crossed a line and could never go back. He had fallen in love, and there could be no erasing that stain now.
"You're somewhere else," Padmé noted softly, and Obi-Wan shut his eyes. Padmé's hand pressed against his chest, and she said in a knowing tone, "You're distraught over this because possession is forbidden for the Jedi."
"Lucky, then, that you do not belong to me," Obi-Wan said in a rather blank voice. Padmé sighed quietly, and he felt her move to rise from the bed. He opened his eyes when he felt her physical absence, and it was everything he could do to stay silent at the sight of her standing naked beside the bed.
"I'm going to take a shower," she said resolutely. "And then I think I would like to go for a long walk in the Commons. It's a grassy park in the center of the city, and I'd like to see it."
Obi-Wan sat up and dragged his fingers through his hair. He nodded once at Padmé. He was still her bodyguard, after all, as appointed by the Jedi Council. No sin they committed could undo the reason why they were here. Someone had tried to kill Padmé Amidala more than once, and it was Obi-Wan's duty to keep her alive. But if she wanted to take a walk in a park, then he would walk with her in a park.
Like all products made from the fruit of the same name, namana liquor induced a feeling of deep euphoria in those who imbibed it. It was for this reason that Anakin Skywalker chose a glass of the stuff when he ordered at Saludi's. The cantina was known for the sordid deeds of its questionable customers, and tonight Anakin was happy to be counted among them. He swigged at the namana liquor before him, which was sickly sweet but had at least served its purpose of dissolving his troubles. Anakin could hardly remember why it was he'd been upset when he came in. Something about his mission to investigate the assassination attempts on the Senator from Naboo. The investigation wasn't going well. Anakin couldn't be bothered to care.
"Oh, but you're far too sweet-faced to be in a place like this," said a smooth female voice from beside him. Anakin set down his glass of namana liquor and smiled at the pretty woman who had taken the next seat at the bar. She was tall and thin, with a short metallic dress that showed off her endless legs. Her skin was dark and smooth, and her braided black hair hung heavily over one shoulder. Her eyes glittered as she seemed to take in Anakin's surveillance of her form.
"See something you like?" she asked provocatively, and then Anakin realized she was a prostitute. He didn't care. She was very pretty. He nodded.
"My name is Era'omok. What did you say your name was?" the young woman raised her eyebrows, and Anakin smirked.
"I didn't. It's Anakin."
"I've got a place not far from here," Era'omok informed him. She jerked her head toward his glass and said gently, "Finish your drink and come with me."
Anakin emptied the glass of namana liquor into his mouth. The next few hours were a blur. He followed the Era'omok to an apartment building across the street, and they took a turbolift up many stories. Their clothes wound up in a pile on the floor, and the namana liquor was so deep into Anakin's veins that he moved purely on instinct from then on. Era'omok was warm and gentle with him in his inexperience, which he would later count as some small comfort.
He made his way back to his quarters at the Jedi Temple in a taxi speeder, knowing that even Anakin Skywalker could not pilot a ship when he was this drunk. He could have used his powers in the Force to sober himself up, but he had very little inclination to do so. As he kicked off his boots and yanked off his tunics, Anakin felt a strange twinge in the Force. It was a sort of fear, a panic, a pain. It leeched into his mind and ate into the euphoria from the namana liquor.
Anakin shut his eyes and wobbled where he stood. He searched in the Force for the sensation, wondering whether his mind was tricking him in his drunken state. The sense of dread and pain grew stronger and more insistent, but still Anakin could not trace it. A tiny part of him wished that Obi-Wan was here so that Anakin could enlist his master's help, but then Anakin remembered that he was currently very angry with Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Agony. Twisting, wrenching, physical agony. Pain. Death.
His mother.
Anakin's eyes flew open and his intoxication gave way to the panic flushing through his veins. He took a moment and used the Force to clear his head, and he honed in on the awful feeling again.
Torture. Misery and tears. Screaming and fire. His mother.
Anakin wrenched his boots onto his feet and yanked his tunics back on. He snatched his lightsaber and thrust it into his belt, and he dashed from his quarters. As he trotted through the hallways, he worked to further clear his mind. He would need to be sober if he was going to pilot his own ship to Tatooine.
"And then the Padawan must go through a series of trials before advancing to the rank of a Jedi Knight." Obi-Wan glanced down to Padmé as his boots crunched on the gravel path beneath his feet. "The trials are intended to sift out those who do not possess the resolve or strength to operate fully as a Jedi. Much as he longs to leave behind the life of a Padawan, Anakin is not quite ready; I can tell in my own way. He will be soon enough."
Padmé nodded and squinted at Obi-Wan as they walked. The sunlight on Bellassa was not hot at all, but it was almost blindingly bright. The Commons, a lovely grassy expanse through which wound ribbons of walking trails, had turned out to be quite a sight. For their walk in the Commons, Padmé had opted for an airy tulle gown of pale pink with heavy red embroidery up the skirts and over the shoulders. But under the skirts, she wore practical shoes she'd brought from Naboo. Disguises be damned; she could not walk in the shoes from Bellassa.
"What did you have to do for your trials?" she asked Obi-Wan. "Or can you not tell me?"
He looked thoughtful and hesitated, and then he scratched at his beard as he said, "Strictly speaking, I did not have to complete the trials."
"Why not?" Padmé asked curiously. Obi-Wan's blue eyes looked strained for a moment then, and he ambled from the path toward a thick tree. He leaned against the tree trunk and folded his arms over his chest.
"I'm sure you remember a certain Dathomirian Sith Lord?" he prompted, and Padmé felt her eyebrows go up.
"Darth Maul? What of him?"
The first time she'd met Obi-Wan Kenobi, ten years earlier, he had helped save her planet from destruction. For that, Padmé would forever be grateful. She could still see the terrifying red and black face of Darth Maul. She knew - she had learned after all the mess - that it had been Obi-Wan Kenobi who had killed the Sith Lord. The villain had struck down Kenobi's master first, but apparently Obi-Wan had bravely defeated Darth Maul in lightsaber combat.
"The Jedi Council decided immediately after the Battle of Naboo to confer the rank of Knight upon me. In light of my having killed a Sith." Obi-Wan dragged his teeth over his lip and said thoughtfully, "I think I might have preferred the trials, but it all happens how it's meant to, I suppose."
"The people of Naboo owe their lives and happiness to you," Padmé said quietly. " I owe my life and happiness to you, too." She reached for his hand and dragged her thumb along the inside of his wrist. She heard him suck in breath, and she met his vibrant blue eyes as the leaves overhead rustled and sent dappled shadowing over him.
"I was only doing… I did exactly what I'd been raised to do. There was no heroism in it. I assure you." Obi-Wan's voice cracked a little, and Padmé swallowed heavily.
"Are you very angry with me?" she asked, and Obi-Wan slowly shook his head.
"No, Padmé. I am frustrated with myself. What transpired this morning was only the culmination of a long stretch of misconduct on my part. My mind has betrayed me, I think."
"Not your mind. Your heart, perhaps," Padmé said sadly. It was difficult to hear the way his voice was empty of its usual sarcastic bite. She sighed and turned to look at the lake. The bright sunlight glinted on the little ripples the breeze sent across the water. It was peaceful here. A tiny corner of Padmé's head wanted Anakin Skywalker to take his sweet time solving the mystery of the assassination attempts. Then she could stay here with Obi-Wan. That was a selfish thing to think, of course, and a foolish thing to think. Padmé sighed again and stared at the water as she murmured,
"I feel too safe here. My life is not safe, but you make me feel safe. How is it that you manage to do that, Master Kenobi?" She turned around and looked at him, and he pulled himself from the trunk of the tree.
"I was commanded to keep you alive, Senator."
"That is very different from making me feel safe," she noted. Obi-Wan took her face in his hands, and Padmé could have melted into him as his blue eyes bored into hers. His mouth quirked halfway up, and he kissed her carefully. When he pulled away, Padmé was dizzy and wanted more. The path was deserted, and it was a long way up the grassy hill beside them to the main part of the park. She wanted him to kiss her again and again, right here in the open. But she knew, deep down, that his one kiss had said everything he needed to just now.