Obi-Wan sat alone in their booth at Dex's Cafe, poking at a plate of scrambled eggs with a fork and staring at an untouched cup of hot chocolate – with extra whipped cream –both of which had long since turned cold. Compared to the images of the handsome war general strewn across the HoloNet, the man sitting in the restaurant was almost unrecognizable. His hair was uncombed and sticking up every which way, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen and his breath carried more than just a hint of alcohol. He hadn't even changed out of the bloodied clothing he'd worn that day on Mandalore, let alone gathered the strength to shower.

As he looked down at the smeared blood on his sleeve, he let out a shaky sigh.

"Obi-Wan?"

He looked back up to see the familiar face of his friend, Senator Padmé Amidala. She'd traded in her usual formal Senate garb for a pair of gray slacks and a black sweater. Her long, dark brown hair hung in a low ponytail that hung down to the middle of her back.

"Senator," Obi-Wan slurred slightly, looking back down at his picked-over plate. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"May I join you?"

"Whatever."

She didn't need to ask any questions. Everything she needed to know, she'd already read in Obi-Wan's official report to the Senate. She kept it together long enough to make the flight from her office in the Naboo embassy to her apartment several miles away. It wasn't until she made it to her apartment, and into the arms of her waiting handmaiden, that she unleashed the torrent of tears she'd been holding in all night. Satine had been a dear friend of hers, and one of her closest confidantes, since her early days as a senator. Padmé had gone to her for almost everything and the thought of her being gone now, without so much as even a proper funeral, was too much to bear.

As much as it had affected her, though, it didn't hold a candle to Obi-Wan's pain.

"Obi-Wan...talk to me."

The Jedi continued to poke at his eggs, not looking at the senator. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity filled with awkward silence, Padmé sitting across from Obi-Wan and watching as he played with his meal, he looked up at her.

"I'm not stupid, Padmé," he slurred, the alcohol on his breath making its way to her nostrils.

"What?"

"I know...damn well...what's going on...between you and Anakin. I just...don't care anymore," he said, his voice cracking. "I loved her, damn it. But I didn't even tell her. That was the last thing she ever said, and I didn't even say it back."

"Obi-Wan."

Without so much as a warning, the plate of eggs rose up in the air and flew across the diner, barely missing Padmé's head. He looked straight into her eyes and, for a split second, she could see a flash of yellow in his eyes.

"I'll kill the bastard," he said, his voice strained with a new anger unlike him. "I'll gut the son of a bitch like a fish for what he did. I'll make him pay. I'll make them all pay."

"L-let's go home," she stammered, clearly shaken and unsure how else to respond to him. "I have a spare bedroom. You can sleep it off. Dormé can wash your clothes. A-anakin has some pajamas you can wear."

He collapsed into tears. She stood up and stepped over to his side of the booth. He grabbed her outstretched hand and obeyed her silent plea to stand up. Then, without warning, he wrapped his arms around the petite senator and laid his head on her shoulder. His body shook with every short, heaving sob that left it.

"I'll make them pay, Padmé. I swear on everything holy, I'll make them pay."