Aayla knows this is a mistake as soon as she sees Padmé Amidala.
She's seen holos of her over the years since that mission on Naboo, of course. Amidala is incapable of doing anything quietly, and especially in recent months she's been an outspoken opponent of any violence against Separatists, and constantly in the news for it. Aayla has done her best not to pay any more attention than she would have to any politician; she's a Jedi, and Jedi do not get to moon over queens, no matter how pretty they are.
The request the Jedi had been sent was written by Amidala's handmaiden, and manages to communicate most of the essential logistical information but very little of what the mission actually entails. Amidala wants a bodyguard to attend a function on Scipio; the bodyguard will go undercover as Amidala's date; and it will involve being able to converse knowledgeably about the refugee relief program on Naboo, for which materials will be provided. It's a whole month away, which is much more generous than the usual preparation time given by politicians who want Jedi support.
It does not mention why both Aayla and Quinlan have been requested, although it specifies them by name. On the way over, Quinlan joked that politicians were scarier than Sith, and if it had taken both of them to defeat Maul, they'd need to work together to defeat whatever political foes were on Scipio. The joke hadn't landed, because both of them had read the news articles about the attempts on Amidala's life—always near misses so far, but it wasn't hard to see why she was asking for Jedi protection.
A man with an eyepatch is there to meet them off the lift, and he brings them into an anteroom where Amidala and one of her handmaidens are sitting on one of the sofas in the middle of the room and talking quietly.
"The Jedi, Senator Amidala," he says, and Amidala and the handmaiden both look up and walk over, Amidala smiling in recognition. Her eyes widen as she takes in Aayla, though she covers it quickly. Aayla does her best to keep her mind on the task at hand instead of wondering what that means.
Aayla and Quinlan both bow and it's only as they straighten up that she realises she's positioned herself slightly behind and to the right of Quinlan, as if she were still a padawan. She hasn't worked many missions with him since she was knighted, and habit is hard to break.
"It's wonderful to see you again, Master Vos, Knight Secura. Thank you for being willing to fulfill this unorthodox request," Amidala says. They all move to sit on the sofas, Quinlan and Aayla on one and Amidala, her handmaiden and her guard on the other. "This is my head of security, Captain Typho, and my handmaiden, Sabé." They exchange nods in greeting.
"What is this function, exactly? You said it was on Scipio?" Quinlan is using what Aayla calls his Obi-Wan voice and what Quinlan calls his talking-to-politicians voice, pleasant and just interested enough to be polite. It's been two years since Aayla has seen Quinlan play the mild mannered Jedi and even though she knows it's an act, she has to admit he wears the role well. She has no doubt that certain members of the Council would be happier if he wore it more often, but she always finds it just a little unnerving.
"The InterGalactic Banking Clan is holding a party—officially, it's to celebrate its eighteenth straight quarter of increasing profits," Amidala says, in a tone that shows exactly how much she thinks of that achievement, "but it's more likely just a show of strength and stability to their important clients. Naboo has little to do with the Banking Clan, so I'm pretty sure the host invited me as a… personal friend. If the other guests are in fact people who have considerable dealings with them, then there's probably going to be other senators there, and I want the opportunity to speak to them about the Military Creation Act and hopefully sway their vote."
"The request said you wanted a Jedi to go undercover as your date," Quinlan says, "but we're not exactly certain on how you want that to work. Are you planning on taking us both?"
Amidala blushes, and Aayla can feel how amused Quinlan is, though his face is the picture of Jedi serenity. Aayla, for her part, does not think about how pretty she is. Quinlan's amusement is probably at them both.
"No, Sabé asked for you both because I trust both of you. I figured you would know your skill sets best to decide who's more suitable," she says. "I know the cover is not exactly standard; the host of the party is…" She pauses, clearly thinking of a way to say something diplomatically. "...I would prefer he didn't catch me alone," she settles on.
"You need a reason to refuse his advances and it would help if that reason could fight back," Quinlan suggests.
"Please don't fight him," Amidala says, though she looks relieved that Quinlan understands what she meant. "I don't think I need a Jedi as a bodyguard, truly, but—"
"With respect, Senator, you do," Typho interrupts.
"He's not a bad man," Amidala insists. Sabé does not react at all, which Aayla assumes is because she's trained to be invisible, but the guard twitches as if he wants to debate that.
"I'm more worried about assassins than Senator Clovis," Typho says. Aayla makes a mental note to discuss the possible threats with him rather than taking Amidala at her word; he doesn't say he's not worried about Clovis, after all.
"It's not that serious," Amidala says.
"You lose nothing by having one of us come along," Aayla points out. "You know what they say, after all—you have to be lucky every time, but the people who want you dead only have to be lucky once."
Typho nods in approval and relaxes slightly now that he knows he's surrounded by allies in his quest to keep Amidala alive.
"More than likely nothing will happen," Amidala says as if she's warning them.
"Then we have a lovely time eating fancy food and go home to do the minimum amount of datawork," Quinlan says, shrugging. "Sounds like an excellent deal for us." Quinlan has never described a political function as a 'lovely time'; after all, as a rule, they are full of politicians. Aayla can tell Amidala is running out of excuses, though, so she doesn't call him out on the lie.
"Which one of you will come?" Amidala says.
"Do you have a preference?" Quinlan asks, leaning back and slouching so subtly Aayla only knows because she's looking for it.
Amidala pauses for a polite amount of time to consider, eyes flitting between the two of them, and then ever so slightly longer. "No," she says in a measured voice, which definitely means yes.
Aayla wonders if it's her, and then crushes the thought because she is a Jedi, here in her official capacity as a representative of the Order to ensure a senator does not get assassinated, not as—not as anything else.
Quinlan smiles, and this time it's not his polite politician smile but a real one that all too often means mischief. "How many guests, do you think, would be involved with spice?"
"What?" Amidala says sharply, looking at him like he's grown a second head and that that head is very suspicious. Everyone in the room knows that if they tried, they would probably be able to find multiple politicians doing spice at the party itself, though the Jedi have no interest in catching something so minor.
"I've done some work that involved ingratiating myself with some important players in the spice trade, and obviously I was disguised, but there's no point in tempting fate. Knight Secura is better suited, in that respect, and I do already have quite a full schedule."
Aayla feels inexplicably betrayed, even though she does want to be the one to take on this mission. Perhaps it's Quinlan's slightly predatory grin, or perhaps it's the fact that Quinlan had dragged her out drinking yesterday because his schedule had cleared up once he'd found the source of the illegal arms that the CSF couldn't confiscate fast enough. She's not feeling betrayed because he's lying through his teeth about the spice—that's just being sensible. Amidala doesn't need to know it was actually a slaving ring.
She releases the feeling into the Force; he's trying to do her a favour, after all.
"It makes more sense for me to be involved in the Refugee Relief Movement, too," Aayla says. In her peripheral vision, she can see Quinlan nodding.
Amidala winces. "That's true," she allows. Nobody will want to dig deep into why a Twi'lek is involved with refugee work; even growing up on Coruscant hadn't been enough to shield Aayla from seedy comments, and she still remembers the day Quinlan had to explain why it wasn't safe to take her on a mission in Hutt Space until he was absolutely sure she could protect herself.
"Well, that's settled then," Quinlan says cheerfully. "Is there anything else you need me for?"
"Not unless Knight Secura can think of anything," Amidala says, looking at her.
Aayla shakes her head. "I can always comm you if we do want you for something."
"Right," Quinlan says and stands up. "It was a pleasure to see you again, Senator Amidala." He bows and then adds, "You two have fun!"
Aayla desperately hopes Amidala doesn't notice her face flushing purple as she says, "You too, Master," a beat too late. The door closes after Quinlan, and Aayla takes a moment to wish she had a more sensible master. Master Windu, perhaps, or Master Gallia.
When she turns back to face Amidala, she puts her hands inside her sleeves to hide the inevitable fidgeting now that she is the sole focus of attention.
"Do you have anywhere to be today? I don't want to keep you too long if you have other commitments," Amidala says. Sabé has produced a datapad from somewhere and is studiously tapping at it.
"No, Senator," Aayla says, shaking her head. "My most pressing duties at the moment all involve visiting the crèche or meditating to avoid doing datawork. You may even be saving me from Master Vos roping me into combing through tax audits."
Amidala laughs. It's not uncontrolled, but it seems genuine all the same, and her eyes sparkle. "Call me Padmé," she says. "We're supposed to be girlfriends, after all. We wouldn't want someone to hear you calling me Senator on a date."
Aayla can imagine what Quinlan would say in response so clearly he may as well be in the room. She does not say it out loud, because she doesn't have quite the self-assurance Quinlan does, nor the ability to get up and leave. The thought makes her face heat up anyway.
"Padmé, then," Aayla says. It's not the first time she's called her that—on Tatooine they'd addressed each other by first name when Padmé was pretending to be a handmaiden. The name feels far heavier on her tongue ten years later.
"We only have the barest bones of your part in this because it makes more sense for you to help create it, but if you worked for the Refugee Relief Movement we could have met there—I try to help refugees in person when the Senate's not sitting. Your position with the RRM allows you to work on Coruscant a lot of the time, so we're still able to see each other when I'm here."
"Perhaps I moved to a different department when we started dating, so I could be based here," Aayla suggests, pulling out her stylus and datapad so she can refer back to these details they're hashing out later.
"Sabé can send you her notes, if you like," Padmé says as Aayla opens up a new document to start writing in.
Aayla looks to Sabé and Sabé nods. "Thank you," Aayla says, and puts hers away.
"Moving departments recently is a nice touch—it would make sense as the reason no one has seen us together before now." Padmé looks impressed, and Aayla tries not to look visibly flustered. She has to remain professional; there's too much at stake for her to get so easily distracted. "What would your name be? I had a look on the holonet for ideas but the way they get combined differently in Basic from Ryl made it far too complicated."
Aayla chuckles. At least Padmé realised that — she's seen non-Twi'leks make up some really ridiculous ones. She hums in thought to buy herself a little time and then says, "Lyn Dira?"
"Sounds good to me," Padmé replies, nodding. "This is my girlfriend, Lyn," she says, as if to see how it feels in her mouth.
"Should we be seen together around the Senate district? Having lunch, maybe," Aayla asks a little too quickly to distract herself from Padmé's smile as she'd said her fake name. It is not the same as asking Amid— Padmé on a date. This is for work and is also pretend, but the tension is obvious as one of her lekku slips back behind her as she tenses in anticipation of a response. She should learn to control her physicality better, but perhaps that would sell the illusion better when they were in public...
"That's a good idea—I'm sure you have other things to do, but let me check what I have on and try to coordinate…" Padmé trails off as she concentrates on pulling up her calendar. "Centaxday at twelve? I have a meeting at one, but if we pick somewhere public enough we'll definitely be seen by someone."
"That works for me," Aayla says, noting it down in her own calendar. "The only thing I can't shuffle around is the saber class I'm teaching." This isn't strictly a lie, but it's not strictly the truth, either—there are things people will be disgruntled at her about if she has to reschedule them, but she's heard enough about the hectic schedule of politicians (well, good ones) to make time so Padmé doesn't have to.
"What's the class?" Padmé asks, leaning forward slightly.
"I teach initiates Ataru, one of the lightsaber combat styles. It's modified so it focuses on the foundational skills; they're just starting out, so at the moment I'm concentrating on the katas without any of the acrobatics. Seeing them improve is so satisfying—it's traditional to teach some initiate classes once you're a few years into your knighthood, and I didn't understand why until I started doing it. You can get a bit caught up in off-world missions, but this is more… incremental, I suppose. Small changes you have to nurture." Sabé has stopped writing, and Aayla becomes too aware of the fact that this has absolutely nothing to do with the mission.
"Could you show me Ataru?" Padmé asks, and then hurriedly adds, "Not now, obviously, but another time?"
"Of course," Aayla says. She bites her lip as she tries to think of where best to do it—anywhere in public would be a terrible idea, since Padmé's girlfriend is not supposed to be a Jedi, and demonstrating it would be easier with an opponent. And more impressive, the voice at the back of her mind says. "It would probably work best if you came to the Temple. You couldn't watch the class, but I could find someone to spar with. Master Vos, perhaps." He would tease her for it, but the only thing worse would be having to explain to someone else why she's showing off for a senator.
"Does he use Ataru as well?" Padmé asks, but before Aayla can answer Sabé makes a hand motion Aayla doesn't quite catch against her thigh and Padmé straightens up, her cheeks going pink. "We can talk about it later, after we've worked the details out for this party."
"Of course," Aayla says again, feeling a little like she's forgotten how to say anything more intelligent.
As Sabé readies her stylus again, Aayla thinks she might be smiling.