Star Wars work in progress You Became to Me

[polgarawolf]

Tenth part of a WIP
Title: You Became to Me (as suggested by avari_maethor)
See previous headers for all other information!


The Jedi Temple is the greatest nexus of Force energy in the Republic. Its ziggurat design focuses the Force the way a lightsaber’s gemstones focuses its energy stream. With the many thousands of Jedi and Padawan learners (not to mention the sensitive crèche younglings) who normally reside within its walls, every day contemplating peace, seeking knowledge, and meditating on justice and surrender to the will of the Force, the Temple is, despite the spreading taint of the Dark Side upon the Force, a fountain of the Light. In spite of the troublesomely disturbed state of relations among the High Council members and his own narrow escape from the increasingly distressfully obviously wrong machinations of the Council’s de facto head, Obi-Wan is basking in that familiar filtered glow as he departs Master’s Yoda’s quarters, contemplating a visit to one of the Temple gardens for an hour or two of relaxing mediation.

Obi-Wan has barely made it half a dozen steps in that direction, though, when the trembling figure of a young Padawan learner - a human or humanoid girl whose face he cannot quite match up to a name, though he recognizes her enough that he is convinced he probably ought to know her name - approaches and intersects his path, her eyes full of awe but her stance surprisingly firm as she blocks his way.

"I beg your pardon, Padawan, but is there something - ?"

"General - Master Kenobi?" the girl asks hesitantly.

"Yes?" he agrees patiently.

"General, sir, there’s a Senator who has been waiting for you to return to the Temple."

"There is?" Obi-Wan blinks mildly, somewhat confused. "Why, whatever for? Did the Senator say who she is?" he asks, able to tell, from the way that the Padawan is so closely regarding him, that the waiting Senator is a woman.

"I’m sorry, Master, sir, but she wouldn’t say. She just asked for you when she came in and she’s refused to leave. Said she would wait in one of the Courts of Dispute until you came back. She looked pretty . . . rattled and worn out. She has to have been caught up in the attack somehow. But she’s insisted that she wasn’t physically hurt, even if she acted like she was still a little bit in shock. She won’t go see a Healer. And she’s refused to speak to anyone else but you. She won’t give anyone her name, but she keeps insisting that she has a message meant only for Jedi Master General Obi-Wan Kenobi. She was refusing food and drink until I finally promised her I would go and find you as soon as I could after you’d gotten back to tell you she’s here. I thought it would be best to promise, since she’s already so frail, even for a human. I would have come earlier, Master, but I was still in class."

"If the woman refuses to give her name, then how do you know she is a Senator?" Obi-Wan obligingly asks the expectantly waiting Padawan.

"When she came to the Temple, the first thing she said was 'I am a Republic Senator and I must see General Kenobi. I have a message that is meant only for the ears of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Please, take me to this man.'" The Padawan recites the words as though she has heard them repeated several times.

"Ah. Well, then. Thank you for your concern, Padawan. If you will lead on?"

As Obi-Wan quietly follows the smiling young Padawan - whose name he still does not konw - through the familiar mazelike corridors of the Temple, one thought largely dominates his mind: What in the name of the Force is Senator Amidala doing here, waiting to speak to me? However, as the young female Padawan learner leads him to a door that opens onto one of the more privately placed Courts of Decision and, smiling and bowing, leaves him in the hallway, Obi-Wan swiftly becomes aware of a few far more puzzling items.

In the first place, it is not Senator Amidala who is waiting for him on the other side of the doorway. Obi-Wan is quite familiar with the presence of the Naboo Senator - he has been able to recognize her within the Force since the days when she was still splitting her time between her true identity as Amidala, Queen of the Naboo, and her disguise as just another one of the young Queen’s equally young handmaidens, Padmé Naberrie - and the sole essence within that room, all but vibrating with suffering, is nothing like the familiar Force-signature of Amidala. Which brings him to his second observation. Whoever is waiting within this particular Court of Decision may not be emitting signs of actual pain from physical trauma, but she’s nevertheless quite obviously badly hurt. The grief and mental anguish throbbing almost continuously behind this door are the aftereffects of recent emotional loss, of psychosomatic injuries so great that Obi-Wan winces, his head aching, and he wishes (not for the first time) that he were more deft with the healing touch. Which is when it occurs to Obi-Wan, belatedly, that if it’s not Senator Amidala, it is entirely possible that this is someone who knows her, since she’s asked so specifically for him. Which is when it occurs to Obi-Wan that Anakin, as he was searching for a certain face among the crowd come to greet the returning Chancellor, did not seem to find whom he was looking for. And if Anakin could not see her, if she did not go to greet him, and if it is not her, waiting here in the Temple, for him, but instead quite likely someone she knows . . . Padmé often worked closely with two other Senators, Bail Organa of Alderaan and Mon Mothma of Chandrila, and Mothma’s a female human . . . Could it possibly be that - ?

Oh, no.

Oh, Force, please, no.

Anakin . . . Padawan-mine . . .

Obi-Wan is rooted to the spot, his right hand halting only half raised to the closed door, automatically stretching out within the Force, searching, casting himself out along the familiar old path of the training bond, desperately pouring himself into the attempt to reach, to find, to touch Anakin -

Indulgent patience occasionally interrupted by slight surges of irritated impatience. Lingering mix of shame-confusion-horror-fear-anger-hatred-pride-want overlaid and almost drowned out by increasingly swelling sense of serenity-understanding-love-acceptance-calm-love-admiration-happiness-love-laughter-joy!

After an indeterminable time of listening in, Obi-Wan snaps back to himself, gasping, reeling from the onslaught of Anakin’s presence, Anakin’s emotions, staggering once, bodily, from the shock of that ever-present growing sense of love. Anakin has always been . . . too much of a muchness. He has always felt too much, too deeply, for the quiet acceptance and serenity of a Jedi. Obi-Wan has never known what to do with all of him, with all of that churning mass of emotion, except to try to teach him how to release such things into the Force. He still doesn’t know what to do with those emotions now, as he continues to stand outside the closed door. But he is, at least, reassured that Anakin is all right - or at least as all right as he normally ever gets, all things considered, although judging from the state Anakin is in now, he should probably invite Anakin to meditate with him again, and soon.

Steeling himself for whatever might be coming, however bad it might be, Obi-Wan resolutely squares his shoulders and sounds the door chime, once, before entering into the room and allowing the door to automatically fall shut behind him. He is aware of the aftermath of battle, of catastrophe - blood, burnt flesh, and singed cloth; overloaded circuits, overheated metal, and acrid, chemical fumes; dust, smoke, and sweat - immediately. The woman, the Senator, is collapsed (as though she has been dropped carelessly down into it from a height) upon a comfortable looking stuffed chair that is facing the door from a position that is not quite in the center of the room, her arms and legs drawn inwards as if in a futile attempt at self comfort or conservation of warmth. It’s difficult to say, from the tattered and stained remains, but Obi-Wan imagines that the woman’s clothing was, at some point, a simple, long-sleeved, ankle-length, full-skirted white gown, made of some fine shining material. There are a few patches left that still glimmer clean, with an almost opalescent purity, in the light. A far too large cape made out of some heavier dark material, blue-black and much less worse for wear than her dress, puddles off one shoulder, dripping carelessly down towards the floor. He quickly takes in the woman’s somewhat short dark red hair, fair clear complexion (although now almost transparent, even waxy, with shock), and apparently slender build and average height (which is still much taller than Padmé). Although Obi-Wan cannot see her eyes where her gaze is cast down to the floor, it looks very like Senator Mon Mothma, from what he remembers of that particular Senator . . .

"Pardon me, Senator, but may I help you? I’m - "

"General Kenobi. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi?" The voice is harsh, as though the woman’s lungs were somehow still clogged with the smoke and dust and acrid reeking fumes of the battlefield. The women does not stir other than to speak, not even to raise her head up to look at him.

"Yes, Senator - ?" Obi-Wan waits quietly, patiently, hoping for a name that does not come, at least not yet. He concentrates on projecting a palpable aura of calm, one strong enough that it will hopefully help to ease some of the woman’s pain, and his senses all flood with the familiar white glow of the Temple-focussed and -filtered Force.

"I was entrusted with a message for you, and I swore that I would deliver it. General Kenobi, can you touch my mind, lift the memory of what happened, what was said, directly out of my memory?"

He stares, distracted from his attempts to exude enough serenity to reach her, to aid her in some way. He cannot help but be startled. "Senator, I trust that you will faithfully repeat whatever message has been left with you."

"Master Kenobi, I would feel better if you would simply read it in my mind."

"Senator, forgive me, but you what you are asking of me," Obi-Wan pauses helplessly, shaking his head, "is not something that I could ever, in good conscience, do. The Order does not encourage the use of mind-touch powers. There are too many misunderstandings about the Jedi as it is without encouraging more. Too many fear that such Force-abilities could be easily abused by those hungry for power. Jedi are allowed to use persuasion tricks in the line of duty, but we are not permitted to actively seek to enter into the minds, the memories, of other beings."

For the first time since he has entered the room, the figure truly moves, her head bowing momentarily, shoulders slumping. Her body continues to slide downwards and, after a startled moment, Obi-Wan takes one abortive step forward, thinking to catch her, but the woman isn’t falling after all. She is allowing herself to slither down from the chair - which is, come to think of it, a wee bit higher than normal for a human frame - into the floor. She stumbles a little as her feet find the floor, but then she is standing, her slim body ramrod straight in the ruined remains of what was once an expensive shimmersilk gown, the overlarge cape slithering entirely away from her body to gather in a pool of darkness at her feet. She simply looks straight at him for several long moments, her piercing blue eyes locked upon his face as though she were trying to penetrate a mask in order to strip away the secrets of his soul. It would be discomforting, were he not so practiced at suppressing, at hiding, his emotions. He stands still, calmly keeping eye contact, allowing her to take as much time as she wants to look at him, to make up her mind as to what she will do, what she will say, next.

"Your eyes are almost lifeless, they are so blank. How do you do it?" she finally asks, her voice too croaking, too hard, to truly be called a whisper. "She loved you so much. It was like a flame, burning through her flesh, when she spoke of you. I don’t know how she managed to hide it for so long. I don’t know how you keep hiding it now. How do you do it, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

All of the half-formed fears fomenting far beneath the surface, where Obi-Wan banishes all of the emotions he has not the strength to simply turn away from - suppressing them firmly from his conscious mind until they can be dealt with properly, purged through meditation - fall rushing out of his mind, flying suddenly away before an overwhelming wave of abject confusion. "I - beg your pardon?"

"Don’t," she whispers, begging, her voice quivering, almost inaudible, her eyes speaking many more words to him than her lips do, their pale colorless emptiness suddenly rushing full of a blazing, needful hope, a look of almost religious zeal. "Please, Obi-Wan." There is just the slightest of shifts in the air as he is gaping at her in soundless shock, and then her torn skirt is flying behind her as she moves, diving across the room towards where he is standing, stunned, running at him so swiftly that she backs him effortlessly into the closed door, so that there is nowhere within the room that he can retreat to, away from her. She clutches his robes as his hands automatically fly defensively at her sides, her lips twisting like the fabric in her hands, and then she is sobbing, the tears pouring down her blood-spattered and soot-smeared face, "I couldn’t help her! She was hurt too badly in the crash. Master Jedi - General Kenobi - Obi-Wan, please! Don’t turn this tranquil mask of ice towards me as if it were your true face! I know! I know what she felt for you." Then those hands are on his face, shockingly cold to the touch, her soft skin sliding over the hollows and planes of his features, mapping his face, her delicate fingers curling up across his cheeks, the bases of her palms fetching up against the hard lines of his jaw, her thumbs gliding out to nestle against his chin, seeking out the shape of the cleft disguised behind the neatly trimmed beard he’d grown after the death of his Master, seeking to at least hide if he could not destroy outright the boyishness of his face. Her eyes are tracing a desperate path over his face all the while, as though searching for something that can save her, and he holds her, supports her, his hands clasped awkwardly about her too thin waist, trying to keep her from falling at his feet in her despair.

Obi-Wan Kenobi has absolutely no idea whatsoever what to say or do. He would consider the thought that the Senator might simply be slightly unhinged by grief, but there is far too much fierce intelligence and understanding in her eyes. A hope, as yet only half formed, that she might merely be mistaken, that there has just been some kind of misunderstanding, distracts him from looking too closely at the implications of what she is saying to him. This woman - Senator Mon Mothma of Chandrila - numbers among the very few close friends of Senator Padmé Amidala Naberrie of Naboo, once Queen of Naboo, and he simply cannot allow himself to consider the implications of her presence here, in the Jedi Temple, in this condition, bearing a message meant only for him. "Senator - " Obi-Wan begins helplessly, but she only shakes her head and moves back away from him so that her hands can close around his wrists. She then tugs on him until, as he releases her waist, she is free to press a minor weight into his hands. He looks down, unable to stop himself, to see the shape of a familiar object: a long, bright, slender braid, once tugged upon many times gently, playfully, lovingly, while it was still attached to the head responsible for growing it. As he recognizes what it is he is seeing, the breath in his chest locks painfully. There is a delicate framework of diamond-strung gold fitted about the silken mass of the amber braid, turning it from a simple keepsake into a stunning, if somewhat unusual, piece of jewelry, a supple necklace that pours itself from her hands into his almost as if it were a living creature. As it comes into contact with his bare flesh, Obi-Wan is washed completely under in the swirling vortex of the overwhelmingly powerful emotional impressions attached to its silken length.

(Terror-pain-sorrow.) Anakin! Oh, my Ani, I am so sorry! I’ve failed you. Forgive me!

(Weakness-anguish-regret.) This was given as a token of love and I wear it as a shackle.

(Longing-love-adoration.) Obi-Wan! My Obi-Wan! You will make all things right again!

Obi-Wan Kenobi comes back to himself stretched full length upon the floor. His face is wet with tears - his own tears, though, not those of Mon Mothma, who is anxiously bending over him and crying quietly, continuously, so softly that the action seems as natural as breathing. His hands clutch the beautified braid of his former Padawan learner to his chest, and he knows that it was a belated marriage present, a devotion-gift, from Anakin to Padmé Amidala Naberrie. He knows that Padmé accepted the newly severed braid and turned it into a rich keepsake, wearing the necklace hidden beneath her clothing every day so that she would always have a piece of her husband near to her and it could lie that much closer to her heart. He knows that Padmé loved Anakin with the pure devotion of a soul consumed by the need to heal, and that the fear of how badly she was failing Anakin had shattered her heart within her as she lay dying. But most of all, he knows that, while she was dying, Padmé’s last thoughts were not of Anakin but rather of Obi-Wan himself, that her spirit passed on into the Force in serenity and with joy because in her last moments her soul had overflown with the unwavering trust and loving devotion of a woman in love. And that love unquestioningly believed in Obi-Wan’s ability to safeguard and save Anakin Skywalker. Though a part of her longed for a love that she would now never completely know, she recognized the unacknowledged bonds and unspoken affection that could so easily blossom into a love vastly stronger than anything she could have ever had the strength to feel. And Padmé accepted that. She saw how perfectly they fit together and she recognized the rightness of their joining, rejoicing for their nascent love. And she trusted them, the both of them, implicitly.

Save him. Love him. Protect him. All of the things that I have so wanted to be able to do and that I have not the strength to accomplish. Obi-Wan, my Obi-Wan, you will complete my beloved Anakin’s soul, you will fill in all of the holes, all of the jagged tears, in his spirit, and he will free you from your self-imposed shackles, he will teach you how to be wholly human again.

Anakin Skywalker had secretly married Padmé Amidala Naberrie almost immediately after the Clone Wars began with the Battle of Geonosis.

Despite the fact that such a relationship is explicitly forbidden to him, as a human Jedi.

Padmé had been fatally injured in the confusion of the Separatist attack on Coruscant during which Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, a close friend of Anakin’s, was abducted.

Despite the fact that the attachments of friendship are expressly forbidden to all Jedi.

Padmé Amidala Naberrie had died with the utmost faith that Obi-Wan Kenobi would be able to save Anakin Skywalker from self-destructing due to the unimaginably painful loss of his secret wife to collateral damage from the frankly suspiciously conveniently timed abduction of Chancellor Palpatine - a man who more and more obviously appears to be, at best, an unwitting dupe of the Sith Lord Sidious - simply by offering Anakin the protection of unconditional love.

Despite the fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi, as a Jedi Master, is utterly forbidden to ever love.

If Obi-Wan were not so thoroughly appalled, he could have almost laughed.

Instead, pain rendering him insensate and insentient, his head ringing with unutterable screams, Obi-Wan Kenobi simultaneously laughs and cries, uncontrollably hysterical in a way that would have shamed even the most untrained of younglings within the Jedi Temple’s crèche.

It takes what seems like a very long time for Obi-Wan to finally manage to pull himself together enough to stop the violently wild paroxysms of his disgraceful display of hiccoughing hysterics. So long that he can feel Anakin, reaching out to him with a concern so great that it is already resolving into the diamond-hard determination that Obi-Wan normally only associates with Anakin while he is in the grips of the focussed clarity that comes in battle, when his former Padawan is open to the Force and prepared to do whatever the Force deems necessary to see to it that the larger mission will succeed. If Obi-Wan doesn’t contact him soon, doesn’t do something to reassure Anakin that he is not in need of immediate rescue from some physical danger, then inevitably Anakin will eventually - probably much sooner than later - storm the Temple itself, charging in with his lightsaber blazing, absolutely convinced that he must save Obi-Wan at once or else his former Master will be lost. Fortunately, Anakin always carries a comlink, in case of an emergency - just as all Jedi have since the beginning of the Clone Wars - so contacting him quickly shouldn’t be a problem. First, though, Obi-Wan needs to do something about Senator Mon Mothma, who is still kneeling on the floor beside him, crying.

Obi-Wan is on his feet and opening himself to the Force almost at once. "Senator, please excuse me for a moment. I feel I owe you an explanation, but there is something that I must do, someone I need to speak to, first. Please, wait here for me, silently, while I do that."

Under any other circumstances, Obi-Wan Kenobi would have felt discomforted, stung by the hypocrisy of placing such a strong Force-compulsion on the Senator so soon after explaining to her the Order’s disapproving stance on the use of mind-tricks, except for when used as a last resort, defensively, in the course of a mission. However, at the moment Anakin’s need for reassurance far outweighs the overwrought Senator of Chandrila’s right to any clarification he might otherwise give her about Padmé Amidala Skywalker, and he would prefer not to be so rude as to simply dismiss the obviously still extremely distraught Senator, which is his only other option. So Obi-Wan uses the mind-persuasion without a second thought, already removing the comlink from his belt as he walks over to the far side of the room, to give himself at least the illusion of privacy. Anakin has installed several special codes in their two comlinks that encrypts their signals and allows the two of them to converse privately, without fear of eavesdroppers. Obi-Wan has never truly expected to need the added protection of encryption, but he flicks the extra switch over gladly now, not wanting to give any of the other Jedi who also have access to the same communication network any possible reason to suspect that something is wrong that involves only the Chosen One. Too many Jedi already look upon Anakin with mistrust and fear, and the absolute last thing Obi-Wan needs to do is to add fuel to that fire now, considering what Anakin has done.

"Anakin?"

"Master, what’s wrong?" Anakin’s voice is tight, his terse response more a demand than a question.

"Anakin, are you still with the Chancellor? I need you to come to the Temple, please."

"I’m already almost halfway there. Master, please just tell me what’s wrong. I could feel you looking for me, checking to make sure that I was okay, earlier. I know you worry, so I didn’t think too much of it. But then later . . . " Anakin stops helplessly, radiating so much powerful confusion and shock that the Force shivers with it and even Obi-Wan behind his shields shudders at its strength. "Master, forgive me, but your shields were all down and I’ve never felt anything so . . . strong from you before. I tried to reach you along our old training bond, but I couldn’t get through to you. I didn’t want to try the comlink if you might be in danger, so I came after you. I’d just finished with the HoloNet people and Palpatine was already giving another speech, so it was easy enough to slip away. No one tried to stop me or ask anything. So what - ?"

"Anakin, I am sorry for that. It was not my intention to worry you. But could you please just listen to me carefully and trust me for a moment? There is a - a private matter that I need to speak to you about, and at the moment I would prefer not to involve anyone else in it, including other Jedi. Could you please come to my rooms in the Temple as quickly as you possibly can without attracting anyone’s attention? If I am not there when you arrive, please, don’t come after me. I am not in harm’s way and I swear to you, on my honour as a Jedi Master, that I am not in need of a rescue. I simply need to talk to you, privately, the sooner the better. I need to deliver a message to someone, but it should only take a few moments, and I will head for my rooms as soon as I am done with that. Can you please meet me there without running over any of the younglings, Padawans, or Jedi - or indeed anyone else between the Senate buildings and the Temple - you might meet along your way?"

Obi-Wan’s carefully worded request is obviously not what Anakin was expecting to hear. When he responds, he doesn’t even bother trying to mask his surprise. "Of course I can, Master! I’m already almost within sight of the outskirts of the Temple district. I won’t bowl anyone over trying to get to you if you’re sure you aren’t in any trouble. But - "

"Anakin, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I would prefer not to say anything more, even on this encrypted channel. And I do have a message that I need to deliver. I do not wish to be rude, but the sooner I am done here - "

" - the sooner you can explain what’s going on to me. ’S alright, Master. I understand. And I am capable of waiting, you know. I’ll meet you in your rooms. You just be careful, okay?"

"Always, Anakin." Obi-Wan bows his head, intensely relieved. Anakin normally isn’t nearly so accepting of mysteries; he must have been truly frightened when Obi-Wan’s shields came down and he couldn’t push past Obi-Wan’s pain to contact him, or else he wouldn’t be nearly so accommodating. Perhaps it’s wrong of him to take advantage of his former Padawan’s concern, but given the current situation, Obi-Wan will take all the help he can get, if it means that he can get to Anakin that much faster. He does not want the Order to know about this. At least not yet. Perhaps this, too, is wrong of him, but Obi-Wan cannot bring himself to betray Padmé’s trust or to destroy Anakin’s future within the Order, and that is precisely what he would be doing if he were to ever speak of this directly to anyone else or even to simply passively allow anyone else within the Temple to hear about it. Any chance he might have of saving Anakin from this disaster is already so slim as to be practically nonexistent. If there is to be even the slightest of hopes of keeping this from the High Council, then Obi-Wan must be the first to tell Anakin about Padmé’s death. Which means that he must deal with Senator Mon Mothma now, doing whatever it takes - however distasteful or unpleasant - to ensure her silence regarding Senator Padmé Amidala Naberrie’s secret, wholly inadvisable, and, in fact, actually forbidden relationship with a certain young Jedi Knight, irregardless of how painful it might be for Obi-Wan to speak of it to anyone, much less a woman who for some as yet unexplained (if, unfortunately, not entirely inexplicable) reason apparently believes that the inappropriate relationship has been between Padmé and Obi-Wan, not Padmé and Anakin Skywalker. Thus, squaring his shoulders determinedly, Obi-Wan turns to go back to Mon Mothma’s side.

Unfortunately, not all the determination in the world can banish the growing sense of inevitable doom - much less silence the voice of reason in the back of his head, which is so very busily screaming about what a very bad feeling he has about all of this - that washes over Obi-Wan and stops him dead in his tracks as he looks back down at the still sobbing Senator.

Obi-Wan has never been very comfortable with what he has been taught to believe is excessive emotionality (especially not the more blatant outpouring of emotions usually involved in crying), and unfortunately the empathetic calming touch that is so common among Healers has never been a particularly strong suit of his. His Master always used to tell him that it was because he held too tightly to his shields and his own control, and perhaps it is true, for Anakin is the only one Obi-Wan has ever been able to bring serenity to (even in the midst of a passionate outpouring of tears) with little more than a single calming touch.

Force help him, but he’d rather be back on that deathtrap of a ship, facing down Count Dooku, than have to deal with a weeping woman!

What in the name of the Light is he supposed to say to her now?

*********

Padmé Amidala is aware of Anakin’s fearful concern, when she fails to show up among the crowd of Senators and dignitaries who’ve come out to greet Palpatine at the Chancellor’s private landing platform at the Senate Offices, much as she is aware of his mounting panic when she is not among the larger crowd on hand in the Great Rotunda when they finally make their way into the building. Padmé is similarly aware of the precise moment when a chance remark made by a member of a waiting HoloNet crew gives Anakin a reason that can logically explain her continued absence without confirming any of his own fears, one that allows him to calm down and forget about the lack of her presence, just as she is painfully aware of Anakin’s fear and anger, when he feels Obi-Wan’s pain (when the Jedi Master learns of Anakin’s marriage to her) blasting out across their bond. His fear and concern trouble her, and she is glad that word has not yet publicly broken of her death. It truly would be unbearably painful - not to mention disastrous - if Anakin were to discover her death where anyone except Obi-Wan could observe him, could see or overhear his reaction. Padmé wishes that there were something more she could do for him, but she knows that Master Qui-Gon’s right. They must trust Obi-Wan and Anakin to work through this pretty much on their own, without a lot of help or interference from anyone else - even her - or else they will never be able to come to terms with either their very real love for one another or their lack of culpability in her death.

Not nearly strong enough in the Force or the Light to become a Force spirit and not truly wishing to linger on as a Force-preserved ghost, Padmé is nonetheless determined to see this one thing through to completion. Until she is convinced that Anakin and Obi-Wan are safely together and are going to remain that way, she will not move on. She is grateful to Master Qui-Gon, for giving her this chance to help see to it that what she’s done, in marrying Anakin, will not cause either those two dear men or the rest of the galaxy irreparable harm. Strange as it may seem, she is even grateful to Master Dooku, not only for giving Master Qui-Gon his smile back, but for showing him another path, one that even the other Force spirits, wise and powerful as they are, don’t seem to have known about. The other Force spirits are already amazed by what Masters Qui-Gon and Dooku have accomplished together, and Padmé has the feeling that they’ve only just scratched the surface. Thankfully, those ancient Force spirits are all so fixated upon Masters Qui-Gon and Dooku that they’ve hardly even seemed to notice her, though she’s fairly sure that Master Qui-Gon broke their noninterference rule when he caught her to keep her from falling back into the Force, when her body died. She’s only had the (mis)fortune to meet one of them, so far, and the tie between her and Anakin’s former Padawan braid is so strong that she’d been able to successfully save herself from falling under the blazingly bright being’s spell by essentially jumping directly into the braid. Of course, it had probably helped that Mon Mothma had, by that time, already carried the braid into the Jedi Temple, though she’d not yet been able to give it to Obi-Wan, at that point . . . which she has, now. Though whether the gift - and the knowledge attached to that gift - will be for the better or for the worst still remains to be seen . . .

Inaudibly, Padmé sighs. She wishes that there were more she could do. She wishes she could offer Obi-Wan a balm to help heal his soul. She wishes she could comfort her shocked and grieving friend, Mon Mothma, and that she could explain to her, truly, how things were with her and Anakin . . . and how she had so desperately wished for them to be with Obi-Wan, once. She wishes that she were strong enough in the Force not only to help heal the terrible injuries Bail Organa suffered in the crash but to cushion him against the many vast changes that are coming. And she also wishes, with an aching wistfulness, that she had been able to live long enough to give birth to her children, her twins, though she understands (at least from the distance offered by abstract logic) that her death - and, by extension, theirs - has actually been for the best. Barring all of that, she wishes that she could see and speak to her babies, though she understands why she cannot do that and why it is best that she not dwell upon it, much. Qui-Gon has assured her that the twins, being souls both strong in the Light of the Force and extremely powerfully and closely tied to both Anakin and Obi-Wan, will most likely remain quite close to the surface of the flows of the Force - balancing between absorption back into the Force, existence in harmony with its power (like Qui-Gon or the other Force spirits), and actual embodiment as a part of it, as physical beings in the material realm - close enough to rise up out of those flows and still be born as Anakin’s children somehow, sometime, and probably sooner rather than later.

Padmé’s not at all sure she understands why or how that could happen - or how it could even be possible, in all honesty - but Master Qui-Gon’s somewhat esoteric attempt to explain to her how the Force had worked its will through midi-chlorians alone to create Anakin and is entirely likely to do much the same thing again, when it comes to his children, had only caused her to feel confusion, and so she has decided to simply take it on faith. Taking things on faith alone has never been a particularly strong suit of hers, but since that failing also happens to be one of the reasons why Padmé has (mostly inadvertently) caused so much trouble for Anakin and Obi-Wan, by marrying Anakin, it’s been surprisingly easy to simply accept that and then turn her attention, focus her energies, elsewhere. Closing the rift between those two beloved men is her only goal, her sole purpose, now. If she can manage to help fix things between them, then Obi-Wan and Anakin will be able to come to terms with their feelings for each other and the Force will embrace them, and then neither one of them will be entirely human anymore - not that she’s entirely certain either one of them ever has been merely human, to tell the honest truth. But that’s beside the point. The point is that Qui-Gon and Dooku have seen this among the most probable paths of the possible futures, and they need her to be here, with the braid, to help guide events and smooth things along so that Obi-Wan will realize how much Anakin means to him and Anakin will realize how much he’s always loved Obi-Wan, neither one of them will be allowed any time to try to logic their way out of how they feel, and the Jedi High Council won’t be given the chance to become involved until it’s far too late for them to do anything about the natural evolution of Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship.

Softly, Padmé sighs again. Anakin’s fear and anger hurt her, but Obi-Wan’s pain burns her like fire. And the pull of the Force is strong. She knows she’s not meant to linger like this, at least not for very much longer. And she wants, very badly, to go home. The Force is home, now. But she cannot let go, not yet, no matter how much she might like to, coward that she is, and so escape from Obi-Wan’s anguish. Obi-Wan and Anakin still need her. Padmé needs to help put things right again before she can move on. It has hurt Anakin, to keep his marriage to her a secret from Obi-Wan; worse, though, is how deeply it has wounded Obi-Wan, to discover the secret that Anakin has been keeping. So she cannot leave just yet. She helped make this mess, and it is her responsibility to help clean it up. It won’t be much longer, not now, though the anguish pouring out from Obi-Wan over the braid assures her that it will seem like much longer before the young Jedi Master’s pain truly ebbs. His touch is still so strongly imprinted upon the braid that, even though Padmé has been constantly wearing it since Anakin first gave it to her, over a year ago, and, therefore, imprinting herself - her experiences and expectations, her thoughts and dreams, the very essence of all that she is - upon it, she’d still been able to feel his approach through the Temple, charting him through the strength of the empathetic echoes along the braid. Now that he is holding onto it, the braid allows her to feel Obi-Wan as if she were a part of him. His shock is ebbing now, though his pain is still very sharp. Soon, he will begin to come to terms with things. She is certain of it. Already, she can feel Anakin’s inevitable drift towards serenity, and healing, because of Obi-Wan’s presence in his life, and already Obi-Wan is moving towards the self-knowledge that can (and, Force willing, will) lead him to healing, in Anakin’s arms.

She should prepare herself. Qui-Gon is off with Dooku, trying to test and at least roughly confirm some of the range of their new powers, so he won’t be here to help her in this. And it is, after all, her fault, no matter what Master Jinn has said to her about there being no blame and no forgiveness either, only the Force . . . She knows better. This is her fault. She did this, by giving in to Anakin and her passion but not having the courage to give in fully. She has compromised herself and compromised her love and weakened them both with her failures to adhere either entirely to her duty - to the choice she made long ago to be Amidala and to fight for the rights and freedom of the people of the galaxy and support the spread and just upholding of democracy in the galaxy with every breath in her body and all of the considerable strength and conviction of her dedicated, steadfast, and generous heart and soul - or to claim her own inalienable right for a life of her own - to have the courage and the conviction to intrust duty into the equally capable and steadfastly determined and loyal hands of others and to win freedom to rush headlong after love and a life of her own - and so she has done nothing but harm, caused nothing but a tangled and increasingly obviously damaging mass of out-and-out lies and misunderstandings, pettiness and possessiveness and increasingly impossible to ignore predatory behavior, to grow between her and Anakin and to come in between Anakin and his life in the Jedi Order, his joy and his reason for existence as the Force-partner of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Padmé had known better than to get involved with a member of the Jedi Order. In spite of all of Anakin’s arguments to the contrary, about how the Jedi were encouraged to love, she had known better. She had done extensive research on both the Order and rules and ideals, after - after Obi-Wan. After her second foolish attempt to win more of Obi-Wan’s affection. She had thought - or at least convinced herself to believe - that her first attempt to gain entry into Obi-Wan’s heart had been doomed due to the particular combination of circumstances and duty that had brought them so close together. She had even, in a way, admired him for refusing to get too close to her - after she had recovered somewhat from the first heartbroken flush of pain from being so kindly but firmly rebuffed - considering the fact that his duty would soon pull him back to the Temple on Coruscant while her duty would keep her firmly ensconced on Naboo. After his second refusal, though, there had been no way for her to avoid the truth. And the truth was that the Jedi are not encouraged to form attachments outside of the Order, are not allowed to enter into any indefinite long-term relationships, and are not (except for in very rare, species-specific cases) ever permitted to marry. Obi-Wan had been very honest with her, as truthful as his sense of propriety and all too genuine kindheartedness could allow, and her research, afterwards, had only confirmed his words.

She had known better. And yet still she had allowed herself to grow closer and closer to Anakin, to let the young man’s peculiarly disarming combination of almost shockingly brash forwardness and almost painfully self-conscious awkwardness around her win over first her affection and admiration and then her loyalty and friendship and then . . . well, by then, it had already been too late. Anakin had won his way into her heart, in spite of all of her attempts to shut him out. By the time Geonosis came and they had been captured and sentenced to death, she had been suffering for so long for causing Anakin so much pain, in rejecting him, that she hadn’t been able to stop herself from trying to make amends before their execution. And she should have known better than to give in to such a rash and selfish impulse. She should have known that as long as they were alive and being led in to where Obi-Wan was being kept, there was still hope that Obi-Wan and Anakin would somehow manage to save them all from the fate that the Separatists had in mind for them. But then, she hadn’t stopped to think, had she? She’d just reacted to the cold fear in the pit of her stomach and the anguish in Anakin’s eyes as they were being led out in that cart out to the execution arena.

If only she had stopped to think, for even a moment, she would have known, would have realized, that the anguish in those eyes was there at least as much for the fact that he had failed Obi-Wan so utterly as it was for the fact that Anakin had failed in his mandate to protect her, to keep his personal promise to keep her safe. She had known how close the two were. When Obi-Wan had leapt through her bedroom window in the apartment complex on Coruscant in pursuit of that assassin droid, the look on Anakin’s face had been one of such complete horror and utter terror that it had haunted her sleep for months, afterwards. Her relief, on learning that Obi-Wan had survived that particular adventure intact, had been so complete that she had fallen utterly to pieces when faced with him again. She’d just been so grateful that he was alive and well that her first thought, when she’d heard of the plan to send her to Naboo with Anakin, had been relief for Obi-Wan’s sake, since he would no longer be in danger because of her presence. It was only when she was on Naboo, with Anakin, that the danger of her situation even occurred to her. She had resisted getting close to Anakin then precisely because of the obviously incredibly strong bond between him and Obi-Wan. She had not wanted to do or to cause anything that might potentially damage that relationship, which obviously meant so much to both men.

And yet, in a moment of unthinking weakness, that is precisely what Padmé had done. Things had happened so swiftly, afterwards, and Anakin had seemed so happy with her, so content just to bask in her affection . . . she hadn’t been strong enough to turn him away again. She hadn’t been strong enough for a lot of things. Anakin had been like a wild creature who had inexplicably decided to come gently to her hand, a vine tiger purring up against her cheek. Every softness of his touch, every kind glance or loving word, was a treasure beyond price, each loving gesture like a tiny miracle, complete in and of itself. How could she not be grateful for such magnificent gifts? How could be so ungrateful as to refuse them, refuse him, when all he wanted was to be able to touch her and to know, to hear it from her lips, that she loved him? She had been married and then left behind while he went back to Obi-Wan - back to his life, back to his duty and to the war that was even then engulfing the galaxy in its madness - so quickly that it had made her head spin with dizziness. And then it was far too late to do anything but sit alone and mourn for the mistake she had made and suffer for it, for having come so close to Anakin, having been allowed so far within his protective shields, she had been trapped by her weakness, caught fast in a trap of her own making. She had been in love with him, but she had not been strong enough to do what she should have done and would have been able to do, if she had truly simply loved him. She could not let go of him, could not find the strength within her to break it off with him, after all that they had shared. She knew it was wrong. She knew it was selfish of her and weak. She knew that she was hurting Anakin, hurting his relationship with Obi-Wan and distancing him from his duty and his life within the Jedi Order. But she could not bring herself to break both his heart and hers by ending it.

So in a way, she is almost glad that Qui-Gon and Dooku are not here, that they cannot help her in whatever comes. This is her responsibility: she caused this and it is only fit that she should be the one who has to witness their agony, the one who will try to alleviate their suffering with the truth that Obi-Wan and Anakin might both be otherwise be too blinded by pain to see.

Unfortunately, this isn’t going to be very pretty . . .

*********

In the end, with infinite care and precision, Obi-Wan Kenobi finally simply voices an inquisitive but otherwise blandly neutral, "Senator?"

"Yes?"

There is a dreamily blank, almost pliable feel to the woman’s voice that makes Obi-Wan flinch. Apparently, either his earlier Force-suggestion had been very much stronger than he’d intended or else the normally strong-willed Senator’s reserves were so far depleted that she no longer possessed the mental fortitude to resist such manipulation. Either way, the feeling of taking a despicably unfair advantage causes Obi-Wan’s face to burn shamefully. "Senator, I’m terribly sorry to have to cut our meeting short, but I’m afraid that I have no other choice. I regret to inform you that have been speaking to me of Senator Padmé Amidala Naberrie’s death while suffering from a misapprehension regarding the Senator’s relationship with me. You see, this," Obi-Wan quietly explains, holding up the braid necklace, "was the Padawan braid of Anakin Skywalker. You know who Anakin Skywalker is, don’t you?"

"Yes. The Hero With No Fear."

As gently as possible, Obi-Wan continues to explain. "Anakin was my Padawan learner. Having touched this, I now know that he violated his oaths to the Jedi Order by secretly marrying Senator Amidala after the Battle of Geonosis. Whatever it is that you think Padmé might have been saying to you as she was dying, I am afraid you must have mistaken a part of her message. There are powerful, unmistakable memories - thoughts and feelings - attached to this, because Padmé wore it so faithfully. I am aware now that Anakin and Padmé kept their true relationship hidden only so that Anakin could remain a Jedi and continue to defend the Republic in this war. If it had been known that they were wed, it would have destroyed Anakin’s future. The Order would have been forced to either disown him and strip him of his ability to feel and to use the Force or else his mind would have been cleansed of every last memory identifying him as the husband of Padmé Amidala and a man who loves her and a new personality would have been implanted in his mind to rehabilitate Anakin so that he would have to be completely obedient to the Jedi Code. Anakin is much too strong in the Force for the Order to ever simply allow him to leave. The threat of the Dark Side is too great. There would have been no other way to safeguard the Republic from the possible threat of Anakin turning to the Dark Side, if his dream of being a Jedi was taken from him." The pain and panic that even the thought of what the Jedi High Council would have done to Anakin - would still do to Anakin, if they were to find out about his marriage to Padmé - is so great that Obi-Wan must concentrate on holding his shields up and keeping them intact with all of his considerable will and strength. If Anakin were to feel any of this, Obi-Wan is afraid that he would have no hope of stopping his former Padawan from racing to him blindly, convinced that he must rescue Obi-Wan from some tangible threat. Forcibly calming himself, centering himself firmly behind his shields, he continues. "I do not ask you to try to understand all this, Senator. I am simply telling you the truth so that you will know how serious the Jedi Order considers the threat of fallen Jedi. Jedi who fall away from the teachings of the Order are given the chance to choose to learn and grow from their mistakes. But if they are obdurate, if they willfully refuse to follow the Code, if they embrace the Dark Side of the Force and they will not repent of their wrongdoing, then they are hunted down and they are rehabilitated or else they are destroyed. There is no other safe option for dealing with Dark Jedi. Anakin is so strong in the Force that even the evil of Count Dooku pales in comparison to what he might become, if he were ever to turn to the Dark Side. Do you understand me?" The thought of Anakin, his Anakin, turning to the Dark Side is so agonizing that Obi-Wan’s legs will no longer support him. They buckle and he twists gracelessly down to the floor, landing in a huddled heap before Mon Mothma.

The gentle weight of Mon Mothma’s hand on Obi-Wan’s head feels like a benediction. "I understand enough, General Kenobi. I understand that you love Anakin Skywalker and that you would keep him safe, that you would protect him from these things."

Obi-Wan is in agony. "Senator, Jedi aren’t allowed - "

"You love him. Padmé knew it. And he loves you. I think everyone knows that Anakin Skywalker loves Obi-Wan Kenobi. It simply never occurred to me before to wonder what that truly meant. Jedi are servants of the Republic; they are not normally thought of as beings who love particular persons. Now, though, I can see that this is what Padmé meant when I thought she was trying to tell me to protect you. She wanted me to tell you that she knew you would protect Anakin. I simply misunderstood her. That’s why she wanted you to have the token. She said that you deserved to have it. It’s because Padmé knew that you loved Anakin, who also loves you, and that you would be the one who could take care of him when she was gone."

"Senator, I - "

"Enough, Master Jedi. I understand. I will never speak of what I learned while Padmé lay dying or of what I have heard here, today, to anyone other than you, Obi-Wan. Padmé was a very good friend. She trusted you and thought a great deal of you. And she obviously loved Anakin. I trust her instincts. I would rather die than cause either one of you pain or harm." Mon Mothma’s voice is so calmly firm that Obi-Wan almost flinches at the bald declaration. "If anyone should ask why I came to the Temple to speak to you today, tell them I came on the behalf of those who are unable and who can no longer speak. Tell them about Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan, who nearly died in the Separatist attack on Coruscant, and Padmé Amidala Naberrie of Naboo, who was murdered outright; tell them that one who has been their friend is determined that their sacrifices - and those of far too many others like them - shall not have been in vain. Tell them that there are those among the Senate who have feared, for quite some time, that the Supreme Chancellor is deliberately hindering the Jedi from ending this war, protracting a constant state of fear and confusion that allows him to undermine the authority of the Senate and divert more and more power into his own hands. Tell them that even as they were fleeing for their lives from the Senate, Bail and Padmé spoke to me, convincing me that Palpatine would profit from the attack on Coruscant while the Senate would be blamed for voting to escalate the sieges that have committed so many of the Republic’s ships and troopers to the Outer Rim. Tell them how Palpatine will quietly continue to accrue more and more power, while the government is mired in accusations and counteraccusations of accountability, until the day comes when the Senate itself will be powerless, the government unable to legally move against him. Without realizing it, the Separatists have played right into Palpatine’s hands, in launching the attack. They have given Palpatine exactly what he wants, what he needs: a reason to effectively disband the Senate and openly assume the role of dictator. You tell them, Master Jedi, that Palpatine has become an enemy of democracy, but that there are still those in the Senate who would preserve and restore the former glory of our badly abused Constitution, those who still hope to save the Republic, those who desperately hope that the far too few Jedi who continue to survive the horrors of this war - despite the fact that they have being virtually crippled by Palpatine’s edicts - will stand with the Senate against Palpatine." By the time Mon Mothma finishes speaking, there is steel in her again - steel-straight spine, steely edged words, and eyes that have lost their soft aquamarine glow and hardened to an unforgiving steel-blue.

Obi-Wan stiffens at Mon Mothma’s words as though she has slapped him. By training, he is a diplomat and a negotiator, and it is his habit to always seek for a middle path. But the sheer injustice of the veiled accusation in the Senator’s words moves him in ways that Mace Windu’s openly threatening intentions never could. His demeanor suddenly coldly precise and proper, Obi-Wan rises with graceful ease to his feet and then looks steadily down at the Senator, who is still on both knees in the floor. "I understand, Senator. But please understand me when I say that the Jedi are not blind to Palpatine’s power-mongering ways. The Jedi Order is sworn to uphold justice, and so the Jedi cannot, in good conscience, act against the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic on no more than suspicions and accusations of wrongdoing. There are those within the Order who already search for the proof that is needed to expose Palpatine, but our efforts are hampered by the man’s hold over the government. If the Senate would be willing to author a bill limiting Palpatine’s power or a petition for a full-out investigation into the man’s activities, then the Jedi Order would again possess the legal support of the government, and the Jedi would be able to do much more to end this war. You can tell these friends of yours within the Senate that the Council agrees that Palpatine is a danger and he must be stopped. The High Council is aware of the fact that Palpatine is about to introduce a new amendment to the Security Act, one that would place the Jedi High Council under the control of the Office of the Supreme Chancellor. Moreover, we understand that this amendment, if passed, could give Palpatine constitutional authority to disband the Order itself at some point in the future. If the Senate wishes to avoid signing its own death warrant, then its Senators must stop voting for amendments that will prolong this war. The Jedi could have ended this war quite quickly and neatly, had we been allowed to act unhampered by the constraints that the Senate and Palpatine have been placing upon the Order for the better part of the past two decades. The Trade Federation’s attack on Naboo was a warning that few within the Senate seemed to understand. If the Senate does not wish to sit by and watch helplessly as the Galactic Republic is remade as a dictatorship, then they should not vote to pass this newest amendment. It is the priority of the Jedi Order to end this war and to destroy the evil of the Sith, and if Palpatine is not willing to allow the war to end, then legally there is little that can be done against him, unless enough are willing to accept the challenge of opposing him. Do you understand me?" Obi-Wan’s voice is, of course, not precisely angry as he tells the Senator these things, but it is very hard, very cold, and quite obviously pitilessly determined. It is the voice of a man who will not back down.

In answer, Mon Mothma gives him a smile as fiercely bright as a blade, and raises up a hand towards him, clearly inviting a final sign of agreement. "I understand completely, General Kenobi. I will get started on that immediately. That particular amendment will never be passed."

Obi-Wan nods and promptly hands her up, smoothly and easily lifting her up out of the floor. "If a delegation of the Senate would like to speak to the Jedi Council about their concerns, a meeting could easily be arranged. Coruscant will likely be chaotic for the next several days. I understand that Bail Organa has survived this crash. Do you know if Padmé’s protocol droid, C-3PO, has survived the attack?"

"The droid was with us. Jedi Masters Stass Allie and Shaak Ti got us out of the building and told us to take Master Allie’s Flash skimmer while they took Master Ti’s speeder to locate the Chancellor. He wasn’t in the holding office and the Masters were afraid that he might not be following his evacuation protocol. Bail piloted: Padmé and Threepio and I rode. It was a vulture droid. There was nothing Bail could do. Threepio actually survived the crash in better shape than I did, although you’d never know it, from his endless wailing and complaining. He’s actually a hero. I was certain Bail was dead until Threepio got him free of the wreckage and his breathing evened out enough to be noticeable. Threepio helped me get Bail to the hospital. The Senator’s alive because of that prissy protocol droid. The healers told me he would be at least three days in a bacta tank, but Bail will live. I couldn’t just send Threepio off alone after that, no matter how fussy he is. He’d been Padmé’s and he saved Bail’s life. So I took him home on my way over and told him to power off. I’d promised Padmé I would deliver her message and that token to you, and I didn’t know what else to do with him in the meantime," she shrugs. "Why do you ask?"

"I ask," is Obi-Wan’s patient response, "because Bail Organa is considered a friend of the Jedi Order and because that protocol droid was painstakingly assembled one scavenged piece at a time by Anakin Skywalker while he was still a child on Tatooine. The boy built it for his mother, Shmi. After Shmi died, Anakin was given back the droid. I was told that the Senator and Anakin came to an understanding regarding the appropriateness of an astromech droid for a Jedi pilot and the usefulness of a protocol droid for a Republic Senator and traded units - C-3PO for R2-D2. The truth is a bit more complicated than that, but my point is that C-3PO is Anakin’s creation. Anakin would not have trusted him to help watch over Padmé without giving Threepio a way to get in touch with him. I would imagine that Threepio and Artoo share some sort of built in communication device and that Threepio doubtlessly knows several ways of inconspicuously getting in touch with Anakin whenever he is on Coruscant. I would also rather imagine that Threepio would be an inconspicious messenger among your colleagues in the Senate, despite his somewhat annoying tendency to natter. People tend to ignore or even belittle droids, nowadays. I very much doubt if anyone would give him a second glance. So if you wish to organize your colleagues - and I am assuming that Prince Bail has been too badly wounded to aid you in this, or else I would refer you to him in this matter - and if you wish to remain in contact with the Jedi High Council while also avoiding Palpatine’s notice, I imagine that it could all be easily accomplished with Threepio’s help. Just tell him that Masters Obi-Wan and Anakin approve and wish him to obey your wishes in this matter, and that he should contact Artoo tomorrow evening if he hasn’t heard word from Anakin by then."

Mon Mothma’s smile is genuinely happy this time, and she seizes his right hand eagerly, squeezing it to show her appreciation. "Thank you, Master Obi-Wan! I will speak to Threepio when I get home and the two of us will get started immediately. It may take a few days to get everyone organized enough to agree on a time for a formal meeting with the Jedi Council, but I swear to you that the new amendment will not pass. You need not worry. Bail and I have spoken together many times regarding the possibility of rallying the Senate against Palpatine, and I am well aware of much that he has already done, contacts he has already made, in preparation for just such an event. He has been seriously wounded, but I assure you that the healers and med-droids were all confident that he would recover fully. I was told that he should be strong enough to release from the hospital in a few days, after they get him out of the bacta tank and run some precautionary tests. He’ll probably discharge himself and contact me for news as soon as they let him out. Please, forgive my inconsideration: I had forgotten, for a moment, that Bail considers you to be a close personal friend, not just an ally," she apologizes quickly, eyes momentarily boring holes in the floor. "I’ll leave you now. I know Anakin will be here soon and you are anxious to speak to him. Good luck!" she says, patting his hand in what is meant to be a kind and comforting gesture, though Obi-Wan mainly finds it discomforting.

Obi-Wan’s forehead creases painfully but he bows his head politely, his hands folded together in the sleeves of his robes so that she cannot so easily grab hold of one of them again, acknowledging her attempt to help without offering any sign of needing further help. "Thank you, Senator. Please, be careful. If you even suspect that Palpatine or his advisors know of our resolve, please, tell me or another member of the Council immediately."

"I will. Master Jedi?"

"Yes?"

"I’ve made arrangements to keep Bail safe while he heals and made sure that Padmé will receive the proper treatment. Bail’s wife has already said that she is coming from Alderaan to help watch over him, and the most trusted members of his staff will be watching over him, in overlapping shifts, in the meantime. Padmé’s people are very loyal and very competent and I trust that they are keeping things well in hand. I haven’t yet heard back from Queen Jamillia of Naboo, regarding the funeral arrangements, but I imagine there’s been a delay in relaying the news to the Naberrie family, and that is the reason why word of the Senator’s death hasn’t yet broken, publicly. If Anakin wants to see her, before she is returned to Naboo - "

Obi-Wan’s forehead creases painfully but he bows his head politely, his hands folded together in the sleeves of his robes so she cannot so easily grab hold of one of them again, acknowledging her attempt to help. "I will tell him so, Senator, and refer him to you. I am sure her family will ask for us to attend the funeral."

"Yes." Mon Mothma’s face is once again bleak, though now she carries an air of resolve. "Thank you again, Master Kenobi. Good luck with Anakin."

"Senator." Obi-Wan bows again, more deeply this time, and when he straightens up Mon Mothma has gathered up that overlarge cloak (possibly Bail’s?) out of the floor and is already slipping out the door. Obi-Wan’s stomach immediately leaps into the back of his throat.

Oh, Anakin! How will I ever be able to tell you about all of this?

*********