From Darkness, I Rise

by Kurenaino

The Jedi are thrust into a war that threatens to tear the galaxy apart, and prospects are bleak when the fearsome Sith Negotiator begins to win key victories against the Republic. Sequel to From Grace, I Fall. Also, more Sith!Obi keeps the sadness away. Search your feelings. You know it to be true.

96. Mire

AN: Alternatively titled, "Anakin's Worst Day Ever." I feel like I should give a warning/disclaimer on this one. This chapter deals with the very real mess that is emotions. Really, I get really down into it, so if you don't think you can handle a girl struggling with emotional complications brought on by infidelity, then you might just be better off reading to the break and stopping there. Unfortunately, this is a thing that happens in real life, and I ain't shying away from it in fiction. Consider that your warning. Enjoy, peeps! Still snowed in. Will write more later.

Chapter 96: Mire

It took three days for the entire galaxy to fall to pieces. Three days, and it had chosen to do so during Anakin's extended shore leave. It had been a necessity for Skywalker so he could feel balanced once again after his rash of temper when he found out about Padmé, her infidelity, and the apparent Sith manipulation of her mind. His time was spent evenly between meditation with Qui-Gon and working things out with Padmé. It was going well enough, though talks with Padmé had been difficult at first, with Qui-Gon to cool the passions of them both, they managed to reach an easy peace, enough to sit down and talk without the conversation drifting inexorably toward Padmé's affair with the Sith Lord, or the physical violence Anakin had resorted to when he found out.

They differed in opinion on nearly every matter, from politics to social issues, from the role of the Senators to the place of the Jedi. Their talks became debates, which became nearly arguments, and through it, Anakin could feel her passion, the strength of her conviction and resolve, and it made him lover her all the more, remember why he had loved her in the first place. It seemed she felt the same, because the two of them often found themselves breaking off talking early in favor of flushed and heated passions, afternoons extending into nights extending into mornings in the warm confines of her bed, long enough to make them both late for their duties. It was almost enough for Anakin to forget that Padmé had been unfaithful, even if it was the doing of the Sith, almost enough for him to forget that Kenobi's hands had been over her, that he had been inside her. When he and his lovely Senator were joined, he could almost feel Kenobi's presence inside her, swore he felt the culmination of their lust within her, could see their animalistic lusts every time he closed his eyes...

Qui-Gon helped, as he always did. He helped him let go, helped him understand that the more he was invested in Padmé, the easier it would be for Kenobi to manipulate him, the more likely it was that Obi-Wan would seek her out once again. It made perfect sense, of course, and Anakin was struggling with it. It was terribly difficult to distance himself from Padmé, even as a simple exercise, and while he could do it, it required the entirety of his focus and Qui-Gon present to walk him through it. What didn't leave, though, was the almost maddening desire to destroy the Sith, but mostly, his wrath was focused on Kenobi, the face of the monsters that were manipulating his beloved. Everyone agreed that the Sith must be destroyed, but for Anakin, it had become dangerously personal, so personal that Qui-Gon had suggested that he leave the hunting of Kenobi to another Jedi, as Anakin was tipping dangerously into the realm of revenge, a pool he had drank from before, and must never again.

Anakin disagreed, of course, and claimed that when the time came, he would do what must be done, the way it must be done. After all, with his additional time with Padme soothing the wound in his heart, he knew it would be alright. Still, all the talking, all the time spent, all the passionate nights together they shared left Anakin thinking that it still was not enough, so with that in mind, he suggested again that they get married, the hope that binding them together in such a way would bridge the gaps he felt were there. She agreed, of course, and the two of them rushed to Naboo on a diplomatic mission, the Senator and her Jedi guardian, and were quietly married in her luxurious estate. It was everything Anakin had hoped for, and when they had consummated their vows, things felt different for him. This was just what they had needed. Perhaps love alone wasn't enough, but love plus a vow of dedication like marriage could serve as the bridge to keep them close, even when he was away for extended periods of time.

Three days of marital bliss were brought to an abrupt, disappointing end when Anakin had returned to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to find that the galaxy had, in fact, fallen to pieces while he was enjoying his honeymoon on Naboo. This was demonstrated no better than by the hologram of Admiral Tarkin, a man known for his legendary composure, finally losing his shit.

"And you!" Tarkin had shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Anakin when he entered, the General's appearance interrupting the Admiral's rant. From the look on Mace's face, the interruption was extremely welcome. "Three days, General! You have answered no calls, no messages, where have you been?!"

"Relax, Chancellor Palpatine sent me to escort Senator Amidala to Naboo for-"

"Relax?!" Tarkin gasped, highly offended, and his outrage was beginning to burn the tips of Anakin's ears with embarrassment. "I will not relax, General, you have abandoned your post! And in your absence, our favorite Separatist menace attacked Tatooine."

"...w-what?" Anakin felt the blood drain out of his face, his breathing stopped, his heart pounded furiously in his chest. "You got him, Tarkin," Anakin head himself say, but his voice sounded distant, distorted, far away, as if he were speaking underwater. "You defended the planet and you captured Kenobi, like we talked about. You called in the ships from Geonosis, you crushed the Mandalorians, and you blockaded the system, right Tarkin?!"

A furious laugh came from behind Tarkin's clenched teeth. "Oh, I called the fleet in, General. Seven Star Destroyers came to our aid, we had hundreds of thousands of ships in the air! Republic forces swarmed the planet and it wasn't enough to save it."

Anakin's fist clenched by his side. "The Mandalorians-"

"Weren't there, General!" the Admiral snapped. "No ships were there. The attack began from the ground!"

Anakin didn't know what to say. The cold lump in his chest told him it was Kenobi, but if no ships were in the system, than something had changed. "Maybe Jabba-"

Tarkin scoffed and stopped the Jedi's train of thought. "What purpose would Jabba have in attacking his own planet? No, this was Kenobi, and he came to the planet under the cover of stealth in the Umbra." The galaxy map extended and focused in on Tatooine, where Tarkin swiftly began tapping points on the planet's surface that lit up. "Mos Entha and Bestine experienced explosions which completely destroyed their spaceports, but suffered no further damage. Mos Shuuta, Mos Espa, and Mos Eisley all experienced total destruction. The casualties so far total over eighty thousand, and the number continues to rise as we find more bodies."

"How can he destroy that much with no army?!" Anakin shouted, his heart pounding so hard he couldn't hear anything for the beating in his ears. "The Umbra isn't that big, it can't fit a force big enough to cause that kind of damage!"

"Witnesses reporting two rancors beg to differ. Sir." Anakin shook his head in disbelief as the damage reports appeared for him to examine. It was impossible to cause this much damage without an army, even with two rancors. This wasn't just one city, this was all of them, and maybe they didn't all face complete annihilation like Mos Eisley, but they all had been attacked simultaneously. "We would have launched a counter-offensive sooner, General," Tarkin said again, "but it took us some time to identify the cause of the attacks, and we have been forbidden from interfering in Hutt affairs. It took valuable time for us to rule out their involvement."

"My brother's down there, Tarkin," Anakin whispered, his voice quivering with unrestrained fear. "Is my brother safe?"

"How should I know that, General?" the Admiral growled. "I don't know who your brother is, or where he lives, but if he was located in one of the cities at the time of the attacks, than there's a good chance he is dead."

With a whimper of absolute panic, Anakin whipped out his comlink and immediately put in a call to Owen, muttering for him to pick up under his breath as the device beeped, trying to establish a connection. After a minute, the call dropped, and with a curse, Anakin called again. This was a direct assault on his family, he knew it was. First Padmé, and now his brother, but how had Kenobi known about them? If anything had happened to them, anything at all...

This time, the call went through, and an out of breath Beru stood smiling at Anakin. Skywalker breathed a heavy sigh of relief, his body relaxing and his legs turning to jelly as the mad rush of adrenaline wore off. "Anakin!" the woman cried excitedly. "I'm so glad to hear from you!"

"Yes, yes," he said softly. "Is Owen around?"

She shook her head. "No, he's out tending to the vaporators." She grinned broadly. "I heard you got married, Anakin!" Fortunately, the only Council member present was Mace Windu, and Anakin didn't need to look at him to feel his dark, hard eyes slowly turn on him, staring at him so intensely that Anakin could have sworn he was looking straight through him. Tarkin, however, was just unamused.

"Married?" he repeated, running his hand through his hair and trying to look disaffected. "No, not me." How could she have known about that? Nobody knew about that! Beru frowned.

"Oh..." she said, a bit disappointed. "They must have been mistaken. They have been out fighting the war, I guess it's not uncommon to get bad information sometimes."

"They? Who is they, Beru?" Anakin asked, the lump in his stomach growing heavier with each passing moment, and she smiled brightly once again.

"Your friends!" she said firmly, leaning in as if to remind the stunned Jedi. "The Jedi! There were here on the planet on a mission, they came looking for a place to stay when the attacks started. They said you told them it would be safe with us! Oh, what were their names," she said, her hand to her chin as she thought, and Tarkin, Windu and Skywalker all leaned in, their full attention given to the woman as she gasped happily. "Luminara, that was the girl's name! And Quinlan! Your bother spoke a lot to him!" Mace and Anakin paled, and despite himself, Skywalker began to shake. "And the other one..." she mused, looking up as if that would help jog her memory. "You know, I don't think I got his name," she said, sighing wistfully. "But he was so handsome, and he had the most amazing gold eyes!"

"Are they still there, Beru?" Anakin said frantically, but the woman shook her head.

"They left this morning. They said they had to go before more ships came around."

"I have to go, Beru," Anakin said swiftly, and didn't wait for her to respond before he cut the connection and fell into one of the Council chairs, his legs too shaky to hold him up. "Kenobi..." he said under his breath. "That must have been Barriss he was with..." which explained how the Sith Lord knew about his family. Barriss and Anakin were close. Very close, and she knew nearly everything about him, from his triumphs to his struggles. Sith Hells, she had been there for most of it. If she was working with Kenobi now, what else could the Sith Lord possibly know about him? But worst of all was the fact that Obi-Wan had been there. In the Lars homestead, surrounding by his good natured, loving, oblivious brother. He could have hidden anywhere, and he sought out the people Anakin called family. Rage unlike he had ever felt rushed through him. This was worse than what happened with Padme. This was worse than anything Kenobi had ever done. What had Obi-Wan done to them? He was going to kill him. He was going to kill him. He swallowed hard to wet his dry throat. "And if Quinlan was with him..."

"Quinlan Vos," Mace said, his voice tired and heavy, "has fallen to the Dark Side. Ahsoka returned from her mission and confirmed this. There can be no doubt."

Ahsoka. He needed Ahsoka. His mind was swimming, and Quinlan's little Padawan would know more. She didn't trust the Council much, like her Master, and there was no way she was telling them the whole story. Anakin needed to know what she did. He nodded solemnly. "Where's Ahsoka?"

"I don't know," Mace said, and Anakin braced himself, the tone in the Master's voice indicating that nothing good could come of the question. "Ahsoka left the Jedi Order."

All Anakin could do was stare at Mace searching his face and sensing him in the Force for any trace of humor, any indication that this was some waking nightmare instead of reality, but he found nothing. Just the cold, hard face of a Jedi Master that had already let go. "...you just let her leave?!" Anakin shouted, his temper rising to dangerous levels as he thought about his close friend, all alone in a world at war without the Jedi Order to fall back on. His hands were shaking, and all he could see was red fury, all his work on centering himself with Qui-Gon wasted in an instant with the knowledge that Ahsoka Tano was, now and forever, out of his life. And the Order had allowed it.

"We are not jailers, Anakin," Mace said, his voice weary. "We could not keep her against her will. It was her decision to leave, it wasn't a choice that we could have made for her."

"She is a Padawan! She shouldn't have a choice! Not when there's a war going on, not when we need Jedi! We need her! I need her!"

"Calm yourself, Skywalker," Mace growled. "Your attachments are getting the better of you! Again."

"There are more important things to discuss than Ahsoka Tano," Tarkin sneered, and anger flashed through Anakin for a moment before he realized that they were right. They had a job to do. He took a deep breath, centered himself in the Force...and focused on his hatred for Kenobi. This, all this, was his fault. His relationship troubles with Padmé, her rape at his hands, the attack on Tatooine, the splintering of the Jedi, the destruction of entire planets, the fall of Quinlan Vos, Ahsoka leaving the Order, and who knew what the Sith bastard did to his family on Tatooine. It was all his fault. All of it. His rage focused him on the task at hand, hot and burning in his chest despite the chill he felt. He steepled his fingers together, brought them to his lips, and looked at the galactic map.

"So our trap has failed," he said coldly, and Tarkin sputtered, started to speak and was silenced when Anakin held up a hand, furious eyes glaring holes into his Admiral. "It's no matter. We know where he's heading next. He's going into Hutt Space to finish the job. After his attack on Tatooine, I bet Jabba will be more than happy to help us destroy that bastard." He was met with silence, both the Jedi Master and the Admiral averting their eyes. "...what is it this time."

"It seems," Tarkin started, "that Jabba may have been in league with Kenobi. The Mandalorians attacked Nal Hutta yesterday and executed the entire Hutt Council."

"It's highly suspicious that Jabba lives, despite Tatooine being attacked when the rest of the Cartel has been killed," Mace said. Anakin gripped the arm of the chair so hard that the pressure of his mechanical hand made it groan.

"Alright, so where's his next target in Hutt Space?" Anakin snarled, and Tarkin shook his head.

"Nowhere, General. Bo-Katan has declared Hutt Space for Mandalore as part of their new Empire, and Jabba endorsed them."

"Oh, I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!" Anakin screamed, leaping from the chair and pacing back and forth like a wild animal. "I was gone three days, people!" He snarled in frustration and ran his hand through his hair with such aggression that it threatened to rip from his head. "Do we have any other way to track him?!"

"Not through the Mandalorians," Tarkin grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his commander's wrath seeming to settle him back into his usual cool. "However, General Windu has told me that it is likely we will be able to hunt him down through the renegade Jedi, Quinlan Vos. His sources seem to believe that the two will always return to each other."

Anakin's heart stopped. And he had Padmé. Obi-Wan was certain to return to her, especially since he somehow knew that they had gotten married. But how. Padmé had told nobody about it. Anakin had told nobody about it, not even Qui-Gon, not yet. So how had the Sith Lord known? Did Kenobi somehow have a mental connection with the woman? Had he felt it when they were wed? Or was it the Sith Master, a manipulator deeply seated inside his wife's mind that knew everything without being told? Or maybe...

Maybe Padmé had simply told Kenobi herself.

Jealousy and anger raced through him at the very thought of it, his entire body shaking with cold that seeped bone deep. He tried to shake the idea from his mind. It was absurd, wasn't it? Padmé would never do that, would never give information to the Sith, would never help him. But then, she had gone to bed with him. Anakin could still see flashes in his mind of the two of them together, wild and untamed and feral like beasts, nothing more, but it was enough. She had gone to bed with a monster, and Qui-Gon may have said she was forced, manipulated, pulled toward that end not by Kenobi, but by another Sith, but that didn't explain everything else. Padmé had always had a soft spot for Obi-Wan, had always been physically attracted to him, had lusted for him long after she thought he was dead, and when she learned he was alive, it was renewed stronger than before. She had always desired Obi-Wan. Always. Even when they were together. Even now...

It made him wish that he had choked her header and never let go.

"We'll find a way, Tarkin," Anakin said quietly. "I'll be there as soon as I can. We have several ways to trap him, we just need to plan which route to pursue. Don't forget, we know where he lives."

"...understood, General," Tarkin said crisply, his hands folded behind his back. "I'll draft up some preliminary plans for us to discuss once you arrive."

"You do that. I'm leaving now." With a curt nod, Tarkin vanished, the transmission ending, and Anakin swiftly rose and turned to leave, but was stopped when Mace called his name. Skywalker glared at him over his shoulder. "What."

"Married, Skywalker?" Mace asked, gently and almost playful, but Anakin was having none of it. He reeled on the Master, his entire body shaking in rage.

"Sith lies," he snarled. "He's using my family against me, he's using them to tear me apart and ruin my standing in the Jedi Order!"

"Peace, Anakin," Mace said, holding up a calming hand toward the angry Jedi. "I agree with you. But if your standing with us is ruined, it will be your own doing. Your emotions are out of control. There's fear and hate and so, so much anger in you when there's no cause for it."

"That Sith-"

"Is doing exactly as he has been doing since the beginning of the war, Anakin," Mace said sternly and loudly, and the harsh tone was enough to shock Skywalker out of the worst of his anger. "The only difference now is that he's focusing on you personally instead of the Order as a whole. He's trying to weaken you because you're a threat to him, and everyone knows it." He pointed an admonishing finger at the Knight. "Don't prove him right by forgetting your training and giving in to your emotions like this. He will win if you can't control yourself."

"I'm...trying," Anakin said, his anger freezing under the chill within him and becoming irritation instead.

"As our Grandmaster likes to say, do, or do not. There is no try." Windu frowned. "We're in dire need of Masters in this war, Skywalker, and you're a candidate for that." A flash of hope, unrestrained joy passed over Skywalker's features, but it stopped dead when he looked at the cold, hard stare of Mace Windu. "You will never be a Jedi Master if you allow your emotions to rule you like this. Do you understand?"

"...yes," Anakin said softly, effectively admonished, and Windu nodded.

"Go. Return to the war. May the Force be with you, Skywalker."

Anakin bowed and left without another word, his thoughts on Padmé, on Tatooine, on the new Mandalorian Empire, on Quinlan Vos, on Ahsoka, on Barriss, on Obi-Wan Kenobi. He didn't understand how everything could have gone so badly in the span of three days. He shook his head to clear it, rubbed his temples with his fingers, and thought back on what Qui-Gon had said. All of his anger and hate was rooted in fear, so...what was he afraid of? He was afraid of never seeing Ahsoka again. He was afraid of the Sith destroying his family to get to him. He was afraid of letting the Jedi down. He was afraid of losing the war. He was afraid of what that Sith menace had done to Owen and Beru. But most of all, he was afraid of losing Padmé. That was where his anger was coming from, and remembering the things he wished, he felt ashamed. Fear was clouding his judgement, keeping him from connecting with the warm comfort of the Force, and it left him cold, shivering, feeling so, so alone.

He took a deep breath, opened himself up, and felt the Force rush into him, fill him, warm him and ease his fears. Of course Padmé hadn't said anything to Kenobi. When would she? He had been with her the entire time, and the events just didn't line up. Something else was going on, and his jealousy, intense and consuming and driven by fear, had kept him from seeing the trust. He could feel his body relax. Things were better between them now, and they had worked out so much over the course of the week, and now that they were married, they were bound together. It was unbreakable. He smiled, his fears released into the Force, and he headed to his ship so he could join Tarkin in plotting the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

---

Anakin Skywalker kept the council of Qui-Gon Jinn. It had always been this way. They were closer than father and son, a bond so tight, so strong, that nothing could get between them. They relied on each other for nearly everything, and though the Jedi exulted the need to remain unattached, Qui-Gon and Anakin paid no mind to such, living in the moment instead of in fear of what may happen in the future. Padmé had someone like that as well. She had two someones. The first was Bail Organa, a man who she loved dearly. Bail had taught her nearly everything she knew about politics, had been a fellow royal when she was Queen, had mentored her when she decided to take up a career in the Senate.

Of all her friends, he was her closest. After his disgrace at the start of the war, she had helped him slowly work back into the public favor, aiding him in whatever way she could until they found his niche in relief work. Slowly, Bail Organa was seen again not just as a respected Senator, but as a treasured humanitarian, one that reached out not just to Republic worlds in need of aid, but Separatist worlds as well. His work kept him away from Coruscant more often than not, however, and as such, Padmé sat in the apartment of her other someone.

"I just don't know what to do, Palpatine," Padmé said softly, her legs pressed tightly together, her shoulders hunched and tense, which made her appear to be almost comically small in the large, red chair beside a low, simple coffee table. They both occupied 500 Republica, and while the Chancellor had the spacious, luxurious space at the top of the massive building, his rooms were far more sparse than the former queen's. Palpatine was a simple man who had no desire for material wealth or possessions, keeping only what he must to maintain appearances befitting the Chancellor of the Republic. Given all the wealth and greed and corruption the Separatists objected to, Chancellor Palpatine was a fine figurehead to spur the change that needed to happen.

"I admit, it's a difficult situation," Palpatine said softly, laying a cup of tea on the table before the former Queen. "You're certain nobody else knows about this? If this were to get out, it would hurt both of you a great deal."

She shook her head. "You know. Anakin's mentor knows. I was going to tell Bail, but he's been out in the Arkanis Sector for months."

"It's just as well," he said softly. "The fewer the people that know, the less likely it will get out." Palpatine sat in the chair opposite her and leaned forward, his face filled with concern. "You know I just want what's best for you, Padmé."

She nodded, her eyes cast at the floor, but she smiled softly. When Organa took his leave of absence from the Senate, it was Palpatine that had take up his role of mentor to young Amidala, and while she was accomplished in her own right, she found the Chancellor to be warm, understanding and trustworthy. What's more, they were both from Naboo and bonded over this, sat together and had long talks about their common heritage, the art of their planet, issues concerning their home world, and so, so much more, and all spoken in the native language of Naboo. Being around Palpatine made her feel nostalgic. It was like...being home.

"May we review it once again?" he asked, a hand extended apologetically. "Just to make certain I fully understand." The girl nodded, and Palpatine took a deep breath. "You have been with this Jedi for some time now, yes?"

"Since the start of the war, but seriously..." She rocked her head back and forth, considering everything that they had gone through. "Two years, perhaps."

"And your...lover?" he asked, and the girl flushed deeply and stared at the ground.

"...I loved him before Anakin," she whispered. "Then he...left, but I never forgot him, and now he's back in my life and...a-and so much has happened, Palpatine, I can't-"

"Hush now, Padmé..." he said soothingly to her, his hand extended in a calming gesture, and she did feel calm wash over her. Slowly, her body relaxed against the soft, red cushions of the chair. "He came to you again at the start of the war, yes?" She nodded. "And when exactly did you become lovers?"

"...it must be two weeks ago now." She sighed, her breath shaky as it left her, and Palpatine reached over and affectionately pat her hand. It would be alright. She knew it would be.

"And he's a Separatist?" Her jaw clamped shut. They had spoken about this before, but the subject was something of a sore one.

"He was, yes," she said defensively. "Then he joined Mandalore, and...w-well, it fell apart after Satine, and..." Padmé sighed and hung her head. "Yes, I suppose he is a Separatist again. He's certainly not with Mandalore now." Palpatine chuckled, actually chuckled, and Padmé shot him an angry glare, and he quickly put his hands up to calm her. "This isn't funny!"

"No, no, it isn't!" he agreed, his voice laced with amusement, which was not amusing to her. "I understand, Padmé. This Jedi of yours is forbidden. This Separatist of yours is doubly forbidden. There is a certain...allure to that which is forbidden."

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, yes, exactly." She sighed, a small smile on her lips. Palpatine understood. He was, after all, a man who had experienced a great deal in his life. Perhaps even the Chancellor felt love for one, but lust for another. Such things were not unheard of, and she often heard other Senators discuss the illicit going ons of their peers. Padmé had always looked down on them before, but now that she had done so herself...well, love and lust and feelings concerning old lovers was messy business and far, far more complicated than she had initially believed. She was growing up, and as she thought so, she felt herself fill with a sudden confidence. Yes. This wasn't wrong, she was just...experiencing a deeper side of herself.

"The Jedi talk about this often," Palpatine said, a small smile on his lips. "Some philosophical interpretation of emotions they call the Dark Side."

"The Dark Side is real, Chancellor," Padmé said softly. "I've seen it." He shrugged.

"I wouldn't know anything about it, since I lack their connection to the Force, so I cannot truly ever understand, I suppose. I can just...relate their philosophy to myself and my own experiences." He chuckled and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "I confess, it's not enough to truly understand the Jedi, but I do try."

Padmé had not thought about it like that before. To her, the Force was always Anakin's domain, laser swords and fruit floating, light and dark, good and evil. She knew the Code denied the Jedi emotions, attachments, and romantic relationships, but she never stopped to consider why. The only answer she ever got was that such things could lead to the Dark Side, which she understood as evil, but...how could love and friendships lead to evil?

"Well..." she said softly. "How do you understand it?" Palpatine smiled gently.

"The Dark Side, from what I understand, isn't so simple as evil. From they way the Jedi speak of it, it seems to encompass all emotions that are deeply felt." He shrugged. "Darker emotions, perhaps, like anger and hate, but that cannot be all of it, or else the Jedi wouldn't call it seductive."

She opened her mouth to argue, but found she couldn't. The Chancellor...raised a very good point. "I hadn't thought of it like that," she confessed. "Anakin always said it's evil, so I just assumed he knew what he was talking about."

The Chancellor chuckled softly. "I suppose he says all Separatists are evil as well?"

Padmé frowned, wrinkling her nose as she did so. "Yes," she said, chuckling softly. "He doesn't understand that there are good people on both sides, but I suppose if you're out fighting, that isn't a luxury you can afford to have. I suppose it makes killing easier when we're good and they're bad."

"Yes, I suppose it does," Palpatine sighed. "But life isn't so simple as that, is it, Padmé?"

"No, it isn't."

"And neither is your current situation." Padmé flushed and averted her eyes. It was very like Palpatine to bring things full circle. "The way I interpret the Dark Side, as the Jedi see it, is the Dark Side is the realm of emotions, vast and complicated, encompassing the greatest highs, and therefore, the lowest lows. Which, I suppose, is why the Jedi avoid it. One cannot find peace and tranquility in turbulence."

"But you wouldn't find real joy either, would you?" she asked, and Palpatine gave her a tired smile.

"I suppose not, but there is a kind of happiness to be had in peace and calm. True, it isn't so...consuming, perhaps, as anything with great emotion, but there is a price for everything. Not all of us can be Jedi, certainly."

Padmé scoffed. "Most of us can't. But it isn't just that!" Padmé blurted out before she could stop herself, the Chancellor's eyes wide and questioning, and she couldn't stop then. "The Jedi said I was...influenced. To start this affair, that it wasn't my choice."

"Hmm..." Palpatine stroked his chin. "Do you think you were influenced?"

"...I don't know."

He shrugged. "Perhaps what they saw was just your desire for your Separatist lover. After all, lust, perhaps, is seen as a negative emotion. Wrongly so, but it is. They may have interpreted that as the Dark Side. I suppose that's why the Jedi say people may be seduced by the Dark Side," Palpatine said, slowly standing from his seat and offering his hand to help the woman up. "And why they say that once the first step is taken, one can never go back." He smiled gently as the girl, her brown eyes wide as she listened intently. "The first step is the hardest, but each one becomes easier after that. Who would give up such passion once they have it?"

"...I-I don't know..." Padmé said softly, mindlessly following the Chancellor as he led her to the door.

"As for your problem..." he softly drawled. "I don't think it's so terrible. Each of these men is important to you, clearly. Perhaps they both have a place in your life..."

"Y-yes..." she said softly, almost mindlessly, and she felt that Palpatine was right. He was always right. She loved Anakin, But Obi-Wan needed her. He couldn't abandon either of them, not now, not ever...

"Enough of philosophy for one night, my dear," Palpatine said, covering his mouth as he yawned. "It's getting late, but I would be more than happy to discuss this with you again whenever you may need it."

The Senator bowed, a faint smile on her lips. "Thank you, Palpatine. You're a true friend. Everything is always so much more clear after I see you." With a small smile and a respectful inclination of his head, Palpatine shut the door as Padmé stepped out into the hallway, leaving the Senator to ride the elevator down to her own apartment and contemplate her thoughts.

Palpatine was right about all of it. The situation was complicated and, from his perspective, a thing of the Dark Side, and she had tasted it with Obi-Wan. It was passion and fire, much like she had with Anakin, but with Obi-Wan it was far more intense, the furry of his passion barely contained, the doubly forbidden nature of their relationship making it feel so wrong and when she had him, it was all the sweeter for it. She had taken that first step, and she knew the next time would be easier, knew that it would happen again. It had to. She wanted him.

But it wasn't only that, it wasn't just to satisfy her own lust. Obi-Wan needed her. He was hurt, grieving, wrongly accused by the Jedi of burning the planet, and that may not have been the only thing they laid at his feet that he was innocent of. After all, the Jedi loved to blame Obi-Wan for the worst things in the galaxy. Not the Separatists. Not Count Dooku. Him, her fallen Jedi Knight. Her outcast protector. It was terribly unfair, and Obi-Wan didn't deserve such. She had recommitted to Anakin, yes, had even married him, as she intended to, but now that he had flown back to the war, things felt...the same. Not the same, perhaps. Anakin was angrier, more protective, a bit overbearing, nearly possessive...it came from his passion, yes, but it wasn't what she wanted. She understood it all, of course, but if they were going to make a partnership work, there needed to be trust, and trust could not be built in the span of a week, no matter how hard they had worked at it.

She knew why Anakin didn't trust her. She didn't deserve his trust, not after what she had done, but Qui-Gon didn't seem to think it was entirely her fault. Still, Anakin had blamed her for her attraction to Obi-Wan, which was in his right, and for her past love of the man, which most certainly wasn't. Her trust in Anakin had been broken as well when she looked into his eyes, his strong hands wrapped around her slender neck, and saw murder. She hadn't thought Anakin capable, but there was a monster inside her husband, and she had seen it. It was frightening, terribly so, and she never wanted to see it again. A few days together of sorting through the mess had mostly smoothed things out between them, but the core issue was not resolved. She loved Anakin. She wanted Obi-Wan.

In Anakin's desire to protect her, she had been assigned a Jedi guard, one that moved to be by her side not five minutes after Anakin had slid out of her that morning, and hadn't left until her meeting with Palpatine, the Chancellor dismissing the Jedi when he had promised to care for her that evening. Padmé disliked being caged, even if she understood why. She wasn't a possession, not to Anakin or anyone, and the idea that there was a Sith Lord in her mind influencing her actions only made her crave freedom more. Nobody told Padmé Amidala what to do. She entered her apartment and locked the doors behind her, kicked off her shoes, and threw herself on her couch, her long legs draped over the armrest as she undid her elaborate hairstyle, the dark brown locks cascading onto the couch as she undid the ringlets. It was a long day and she was, again, as she so often was, alone.

Two years, she and Anakin had been together. It felt like so much less. A night here, a few hours there between months apart added up to very little time at all. This past week had been the longest she had spent with the man in...well, ever. Thinking about it now, in light of what she had spoken about with Palpatine, it made so much sense why she would feel this way, why her emotions would be so torn, why she was conflicted between her love and her lover. It was a...darker urge, perhaps, but a real one, driven by her need from being alone for so long, and with two men to imagine at night, everything became...confused. Things were clear when she was busy, or when she was with Anakin, but when she was alone, when she had time to think about him...

That's when the trouble started.

"You look troubled, your Highness."

She gasped and sat up straight, her heart pounding in her chest not just from being startled, but from a fair bit of excitement as well. She had no idea how he got in, but when she saw him standing there, dark and handsome and so much healthier than last time, she supposed it didn't matter. "How did you get in here?" she said firmly, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face, and she quietly wondered what was wrong with her.

He help up his hands to show they were empty. "Nothing sinister, my Lady. Your droid let me in."

"Where is 3PO?" she muttered, rising from her spot on the couch to meet Kenobi, and she took his hands in hers almost absently, flushed when he kissed her cheek, felt light-headed when her heart began racing...

"In the other room," he said softly. "I had to shut him down. He did, however, offer me tea while I waited for the Jedi to arrive and arrest me."

"Oh, how very thoughtful..." she said, laughing softly as she cupped the bearded cheek, looked up into fierce gold eyes, and she felt the familiar warmth of arousal spread through her. She shivered, pressing closer against him as if looking for warmth that could ease the sudden chill she felt, and the long, light fingers that brushed down her spine seemed to take the cold from her. She wanted this, but at the same time...

She looked up and smiled gently at the alleged Sith Lord. "I know what we said last time, but..."

"Too fast for you?" he asked gently, running his fingers down her pale neck and she shivered, a voice deep inside her begging him not to stop, but stubbornness and her commitment to Anakin prevented her from giving voice to it. Somehow, though, she felt the Sith Lord felt it anyway when he smiled knowingly and slowly backed out of her grasp. "That's fine. Being your lover doesn't just mean warming your bed while your boyfriend is away."

"Husband," she said softly, averting her eyes so she didn't need to look at Obi-Wan as she said it. "He's my husband now, we-"

"I understand," was his calm, measured answer, and she felt herself breathing a sigh of relief. "A little fast for marriage though, isn't it?" She tensed, and a soft brush of his hand upon her shoulder immediately relieved her tension. "Satine and I were together for ten years, and we never married."

"Well, you couldn't get married, you had to keep your involvement a secret." She was answered by a questioning arch of his eyebrow that without words seemed to tell her how absolutely ridiculous that sounded coming from her, who married a Jedi Knight, and then his face fell, the bright golden eyes seemed to dull, and she felt awful for speaking so casually about what he had with his Duchess. She knew nothing about it, after all, and she was supposed to be helping him through it, not making him feel awful about it. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan..." she started softly, reaching out with her hand to stroke his chest, and the man shuddered under her touch.

"It's fine, Padmé," Kenobi whispered, his voice distant, his eyes so very far away, but he smiled softly at her regardless. "She's dead. Not talking about it won't change that, and...I'd rather not forget. Ni partayli, gar darasuum, the Mandalorians say. I remember you, so you are eternal." Obi-Wan reached out and took her hand in his, ran his thumb over the back of it in small, slow circles. "I don't want her to fade from my memory because it hurts too much to think of her..."

This was what she was for, this was why she was here with him, and this is why she had been so willing to accept her old love back into her life, despite her current relationship. She had always known, but it was made clear to her now. Her old friend was suffering, and she would do anything she could to ease it. Qui-Gon had been right, though she had denied it at the time, vowed to herself that she would remain true to Anakin, but the Master had said this would happen again. Palpatine had been correct as well. This was...complicated. Being lovers wasn't the point. The fact that they had tangled together in a mindless haze of intimacy was...incidental. It all came from this, a deep, emotional connection that went far beyond her comprehension. They weren't made for each other, she knew that. Obi-Wan's heart belonged to Satine, would always belong to Satine. But she was cruelly taken from him. He had nobody now, but Padmé wouldn't allow him to suffer alone.

Even now, there was a twinge of jealousy within her for the late Duchess. She had captured and held the heart of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and even in death, she wouldn't let it go. Padmé wondered for a moment why she felt this way, if she had always been jealous of beautiful Satine, ruler of an Empire, lover to the powerful, handsome Negotiator, prospective mother of his child. Through the haze in her mind, she couldn't sort it out, but deep within her was a voice, small and smooth and awful, whispering that she was glad the Duchess had perished. If she hadn't, she never would have been able to be this way with the grieving Sith Lord...

She whimpered, shook her head violently to clear the disgusting thought from her mind. It wasn't her own, it wasn't. She'd never wish harm on anyone, least of all her lover. She smiled at Kenobi, cupped his cheek in her hand, and he almost desperately pressed into her touch, his gold eyes closed and his own hand coming to lay over hers. She'd help him through this. As his friend, as the former object of her affections, she had a duty to. And if they happened to fall into bed together...well, it was a natural result of being emotionally close, of being a source of comfort, and she certainly couldn't fault herself for that.

And yet...

"Obi-Wan," she said quietly, averting her eyes, but his long fingers hooked under her chin and forced her to look into eyes that were far too intense, and she shivered. "I married Anakin because-"

"I know," he said softly. "Your emotions are a mess. You're confused, conflicted, and you thought it would help clear your mind."

Was that it? She didn't know. It could have been, but the longer she looked at him, the more sense and reason seemed to flee from her. She tore her eyes away. "Can we just...talk?" she asked softly, almost desperately, nervous as to what his reaction would be, but a soft hand at her elbow leading her to the couch eased all her fears.

"Relax, Padmé," he softly commanded as he sat beside her, and her body did relax, the tension in her mind, all her doubts and fears simply vanishing. "We can talk, yes."

"You're controlling me," the Senator whimpered, her shoulders beginning to shake as if she was struggling, and the Sith Lord looked sternly at her.

"You know I have not. You know I would not. We have always desired each other, and you know that using the Force would put me at risk of discovery."

"But you still use it, don't you?" she asked, her voice rising in near panic, and Kenobi's eyes narrowed as he examined her.

"Yes..." he said softly. "Why? What do you know that I don't?" It was true that there was a soft, subtle pull of darkness within her, so faint, so subversive that on reflection, he hadn't been sure he had actually seen it. He was, after all, admittedly insane, and his senses could almost not be trusted. But still, he thought he had felt the pullings of his Master. He wasn't sure, but...

"The Jedi said I was being manipulated," she said swiftly, and sense slowly begun to reassert itself. "The Jedi said my consent in the matter was highly suspect, Qui-Gon said he felt something in me and you said-"

"Wait, Qui-Gon felt something?" That changed things. The Jedi weren't supposed to be able to sense the Dark Side. It was possible that Qui-Gon was mistaken, misinterpreted lust and infidelity for manipulation out of the mistaken belief that the woman's emotions couldn't change course. But Obi-Wan had felt something as well. This was no mistake. "Padmé, if he said I raped you, I-"

"He didn't say that," she said swiftly. "He doesn't think you're involved. He thinks it was someone else, and he thinks you're a pawn in this as well."

The idea was laughable. Him? A pawn?! Sidious was his Master, yes, and he moved pieces as he saw fit. He earned his loyalty on Mandalore when he had rushed to help him deal with Maul, and perhaps he had a greater thing in mind with Padmé as well. He thought that it was to bring about the birth of his new apprentice, a child powerful in the Dark Side that would come to be the future of the Sith, but...if that was the intention, why was he toying with her? Why wouldn't he just move to manipulate her away from Skywalker and to him instead of playing this infidelity game? The simplest answer was that these things were beneath Sidious, that what was happening here was simply a woman, confused and alone and torn between two lovers, and the Jedi, emotionally stunted as they were, had no idea how to call this anything other than the Dark Side manipulations of the Sith. But then, Qui-Gon hadn't blamed him, when he was clearly the most likely offender. After all, he had done this before, and Qui-Gon...Qui-Gon...

"Show me," he said swiftly, extending his hands out to her, and the woman recoiled, fear and mistrust on her face, as if she had suddenly realized the implications of her actions. Kenobi frowned. If Qui-Gon did sense something within her and knew it wasn't Kenobi, than he was drawing dangerously close to Sidious. But more than that, if his Master was trying to manipulate him...if this whole thing had to do not with Padmé and her child, but with Skywalker...

This was history repeating itself. Anakin Skywalker, Force Nexus, the greatest potential that the Jedi had ever seen, was haunting him, and if Sidious was looking at the powerful Jedi as something other than a threat...

Obi-Wan wouldn't be betrayed. He wouldn't have another Master taken from him by Skywalker. Not again.

"I won't let you inside me," Padmé snapped. "I know what you can do, I know how you manipulate people!"

"And I have said I would never manipulate you." He frowned. "But someone may be, and if there's something there, I want to know. The Jedi can only tell you so much, but I know the Dark Side, I know how the Force ebbs and flows within it. Qui-Gon couldn't tell you what's there, but I can. Please." He held his hands out to her again. "Do you trust me?"

"...yes," she said softly, though she couldn't explain why she did. Maybe it was something in his voice, the worry in his golden eyes, the sincerity on his face...she didn't know what it was, but she trusted him. Obi-Wan wouldn't hurt her. He had many opportunities to, and he had always touched her with a gentle hand, had always treated her with respect, and if their passions left dark marks upon her pale skin, they were welcome, simply the result of fierce intensity. She trusted him.

He touched her face, gently caressing her cheek as he slid those long fingers into her hair, his eyes searching and feeling every expression on her face, and Padmé sucked in a shuddering breath when she felt him enter her mind. It was unlike how it felt with the Jedi. Theirs was a feather light touch, an unassuming caress that felt warm and comforting. Obi-Wan's touch was nothing like that, and it was all she needed to know that he hadn't lied to her. Obi-Wan had never been inside her mind. She'd remember it. It was true that he had once commanded her aboard the Tranquility, but that had been to prove a point. That was an encompassing grasp, cold and inescapable, a haze of mindless obedience that obscured her ability to resist. But this was nothing like that.

If Qui-Gon's touch had been the soft lapping of water, Obi-Wan's touch was fire, burning and intimate as he moved within her, gentle, perhaps, but his touch had focus, purpose, a clear goal of what it was looking for. She didn't feel herself change, didn't feel as though he was making her bend to his will, he was simply...looking. With a growl of frustration, she felt the Sith suddenly withdraw, his eyes furious, his face drawn in irritation, and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Padmé," he said softly. "If there's anything there, I can't feel it. I...thought I may have before, but..." Kenobi hissed and looked away. "Maybe this is something only a Jedi can truly see. Maybe...the stronger the light, the darker the shadow that's cast, and there is no brighter point in the Force than Qui-Gon Jinn."

"So...this is just me?' she asked carefully, and she could feel the warmth within her spread as she said it, her mind slowly beginning to drift toward want and desire, though she had given herself no cause to do so. Perhaps it was as simple as wanting him, as simple as the lust that drove her to be unfaithful even now, after she had said she would not be. It was...easier this time, as Palpatine had said it would be. She had already taken that first step, and now...well, Anakin didn't need to know. When the war was over, when they could be together always...maybe then she would have no need for a lover.

"I don't know..." Obi-Wan mumbled, his eyes averted and stroking his beard as he thought. "It could be..." He shook his head. "I want to try something else. Let's see if we can't force this manipulation out into the open. We seem to think that the cause of it is your...affair with me, yes?" She nodded, and once again, he slid his fingers into her hair, and her breath caught as she felt his burning presence poised and ready to slip inside her once again. "Think of it," he softly commanded. "What we did, bring it to the front of your mind, relive it, if you can. If there's something dark pulling at you, I will be able to see it then?"

"You're sure?" she asked softly, and his gentle smile instantly reassured her.

"Positive. It's when I thought I felt something before, and I wasn't really looking all that hard. Trust me, and let yourself go."

The memories came to her on their own, before she even had a chance to call on them, hitting her like a wave of passion and lust, and it was only amplified by the fiery, penetrating touch of Obi-Wan in her mind. Her body hitched, shivering under his touch, and she felt the old, familiar, maddening heat of lust rush through her as her mind raced with moans of pleasure drawn by the passionate embrace of her lover deep inside her. She felt her sense fly from her as dark passion gripped her, but she didn't care. She had taken this man to bed before, and it had been perfect, intense and rough and expressly forbidden and she knew then that she could never go back, could never keep Obi-Wan at arm's length again.

There it was. He felt it, just barely, but it was there. Sidious. His touch was unmistakable. Obi-Wan focused deep, grabbed at the darkness that ran inside her, pulled it to the front of her mind. She fell against him, moaning loud and wanton, moving against him with clear, deliberate purpose, but Kenobi noticed none of it. He had it now, this...string of influence, the tie that bound Padmé Amidala to the will of the Sith Lord, and he wasn't letting go. She kissed him, hard and deep and sudden, and for a moment, he almost lost that nearly imperceptible thread, almost dropped the firm grasp he had on his Master's ambitions. He couldn't lose it, not now, not when the Jedi had seen this, not when it was possible they could trace this thread back to his Master. Kenobi needed to know what was there, what could be seen, and he needed to warn Sidious if it was something that could reveal the Sith Master before the time was right. If this was a misstep...

If the Master had made a mistake, if there was something there that Kenobi didn't like...well, mistakes were weaknesses, and if Sidious showed weakness, it was the job of the Apprentice to become the Master.

Flames licked at his mind, maddening and intense as Padmé kissed him, as her small, deft hands ran over him, slipped under his clothing, stroked him to arousal, and he found himself fumbling for his grasp on his Master's presence. With a sigh of surrender, he turned his body over to the Dark Side, the small flames and glowing embers erupting into an inferno that ran wild and consuming through his feverish mind, insanity taking its hold as Kenobi retreated into the stillness of the Force, that faint string of darkness clutched firmly in his hand. There was no harm in allowing the Dark Side control of his passions, not now when there was work to be done, and the faint, pleasured moans and cries of Padmé Amidala as his body thrust inside her ensured that he'd have the time and focus necessary to understand.

The thin, dark tendril ran along his fingers like a serpent, hissing in warning as it moved, thrashing and lashing out as he wrapped his fingers around it, but he commanded it to obey, and it slowly did. He couldn't see Sidious, to his relief. At the very least, his Master was still careful, still safe, the ever-cautious puppet master pulling strings and staying hidden in the shadows. What he did feel from this darkness was lust and desire, deep and intense, so easy to take hold, so easily preying on even the slightest weakness. Within it, he saw old memories, faint and distant, but as he focused, as he pulled upon the darkness in his hand, the image sharpened, became brighter, and he saw himself. Or, what once was him, the Jedi Padawan, young and blue-eyed and desperate for the approval of his Master. A young man made jealous by a small boy because of his potential, because of the focus he commanded, because he stole his Master's attention. But above it all, he could feel Padmé, a young queen frightened for her people and hopelessly drawn to her young Jedi protector, just as Satine had been so long ago. The connection was not lost on him, the similarities between the two women had always been what attracted Obi-Wan to her. Passion was...infectious, and Padmé Amidala had an abundance of it.

Kenobi sighed, twisting his hand as he observed the thread of darkness weave between his fingers. It came from Sidious, yes, but it was subtle, passive, influence, yes, but a clever and conniving one, and he couldn't help but feel impressed that Qui-Gon had been able to detect it at all. It was a thread of lust planted deep inside her, maddening and overwhelming and designed to draw her deepest desires to the forefront, whatever that may be. He was certain that Anakin Skywalker had benefitted from this manipulation as well, as she did desire her young Jedi husband, as much as her infidelity seemed to suggest otherwise. However, this darkness, this influence would have had no hold on her were there not cracks to begin with, and there wasn't just a crack inside her, there was a rift. It was a clever manipulation, of course, one that stood to benefit the Sith Master regardless of the outcome. Be it from her attraction to Kenobi or her love for Skywalker or both, as it was playing out, Sidious stood to benefit, not just by having a weapon to discredit Amidala if the situation called for it, but by creating a rift in the Jedi, be it through Kenobi's seduction, or the reveal of Skywalker's blatant disregard for the Code.

There was nothing here for him. No dark plan he was unaware of, no danger to his Master, no cause to doubt his Master's intentions. It was time to return and see how fast he could wrestle control back from the Dark Side, his quickly he could ease the insanity that took him with a fierce, clutching grasp. Just as he let go of the thread of darkness, the thin beast lashed out at him, wrapped tightly around his wrist, and before Kenobi could tear it off, it opened up, a sharp row of jagged fangs within it's serpentine mouth, and bit him, searing agony through him as he felt himself tremble, his awareness fading into the visions he so often had. The flashed by him, too fast to see, and suddenly stopped, the image vibrant and still. Kenobi squinted as he looked at it, the still image suddenly moving in real time, over and over in an infinite loop, no longer than ten seconds before it began again.

It wasn't a vision. It was a memory, clear and vivid and drawn out by the thread of influence his Master commanded. He approached slowly, cautiously, a feeling of dread settling inside him as he drew closer, and Obi-Wan couldn't shake the feeling of danger. The Force was warning him to leave, but he couldn't. There sat Padmé, her expressive eyes wide and fearful, and standing over her, with his hands wrapped around her slender neck, was Anakin Skywalker, hate and fury and rage on the Jedi's face, the Dark Side pouring off of him like a torrent, and Obi-Wan felt unable to breathe. It was one thing if Anakin fell to the Dark Side because of Kenobi's meddling. He didn't intend for it to happen, but he knew it was a possibility, but it ultimately didn't matter. He was going to kill him anyway.

It was another matter entirely if Sidious had orchestrated it, and since this memory was shown to him by the string of influence that his Master placed within the girl, it seemed very likely that this was his intention. Darth Sidious only orchestrated the fall of a Jedi for one reason.

He was looking for a new apprentice.

With a screaming rush within his ears and the thin thread tearing apart in his grasp as he ripped it from his arm, Obi-Wan was thrown out of the Force and back into his body to be met with wave after wave of pleasure as he moaned his climax within the lustful girl beneath him. He closed his eyes and felt the Dark Side roar in rage, the flames licking at his mind and demanding to be released, and he bit down on his lip so hard it began to bleed as he tried to regain control and push the madness away. His body tensed when slow, gentle hands ran along his back, and in a moment, clarity took over, the flames vanishing and the raging of the Force subsiding into calm, cool peace. His eyes closed, his breathing fast and ragged, he lay his head in the crook of Padmé's neck, the girl's hand's running through his hair and over his neck and shoulders in soft, soothing touches, and for the briefest of moments, he felt he held Satine in his arms once again. Padmé...needed to be protected. Not just from his Master, but from her husband. He hadn't felt anything so clearly since Satine had died.

He propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at the beautiful girl underneath him, and he ran his fingers over her throat, imagining the firm grasp that Anakin had gripped her with, and before he could stop himself, he said, "I saw what Anakin did."

The girl tensed, every muscle clenching defensively, her clever eyes searching him with a mix of suspicion, disbelief, and fear. "How-"

"I saw it," Obi-Wan said swiftly. "In your memory, I didn't mean to it just...happened." He stroked her cheek when the girl began to tremble. "He shouldn't have done that."

"I was unfaithful to him, Obi-Wan," she said firmly, blushing furiously when she looked up at the man that still lay deep inside her. "I...am unfaithful to him, I-"

"No, you don't," he whispered, stroking her cheek and kissing her gently, the girl trembling and shaking in remembered fear and the furious mess of her emotions. "You don't deserve to be abused, Padmé, not by him. Not by anyone."

"But here I am doing this again," she hissed, her hands on his chest as if she meant to push him away, but she found she didn't have the strength to.

"As you should," Obi-Wan drawled, running a hand down the length of her body, affecting his touch with the Force and smirking in delight when she shivered. "After what he did to you, anyone would turn to a lover for comfort. And I'll protect you, Padme," he whispered, a possessive hand resting on her hip as he shifted, moving inside her slightly and making her moan softly in renewed arousal. It was enough, and with a groan of satisfaction, he held her close, bit at her ear, and allowed his desires to carry him. "I'll protect you from everything."