One Path Chapter 23--A Little Help
Title: A Little Help
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: A lifetime of Jedi training had done nothing to prepare him...
Rating: PG
Length: Around 2300 words
Category:Fluff
Pairings/Charaters: Obidala
A/N: One Path Chapter 23. Post AotC, begins directly after the preceeding chapter, ends about a month later.
A Little Help
The interior of the house was as warm and rich with family life as the outside had seemed to Obi Wan. It was as unlike the Temple or anywhere on Coruscant as he had ever been. The furniture was comfortable and slightly worn, made to be lived in and abused by growing children. The stone floors were covered in thick carpeting or left bare, but scrupulously clean. Jobal Naberrie took pride in her home.
That indomitable personage appeared to greet them next, and she bestowed on Obi Wan a smile so like Padme's that he felt the last of his discomfort begin to dissipate. Then Padme presented him to her father, and the nervousness returned twofold. Ruwee Naberrie had a kind face, and his short brown hair was slightly out of place, but this did nothing to set Obi Wan at ease while the two men shook hands. Padme's completely ecstatic smile did, though, and after some small talk, Jobal ushered the entire party into the kitchen.
She disappeared into the next room with Sola, leaving Obi Wan, Padme, and Ruwee at the table. Amid the clatter of dishes as they prepared to bring in the meal, Sola could be heard every few moments saying, "Too much, Mom." The three at the table shared knowing smiles, Obi Wan having heard long ago about Jobal's tendency to overstuff her guests.
Pooja and Ryoo were called in from the yard and told to wash their hands. When that was accomplished, they clambered onto empty chairs at the table and proceeded to ply Obi Wan with questions about Coruscant and the Jedi Temple until their mother came in carrying a large bowl of food from the kitchen.
"Enough to feed the town?" Padme asked her sister as the older woman set the food on the table.
"You know Mom," Sola said automatically. Obi Wan could tell that the two had had this conversation many times and hid an amused smile.
"I hear that no one ever leaves this house hungry," he remarked.
"Well, one person did," Padme replied.
"I know," he continued the joke, "But your mother chased him down again."
They all laughed, and Jobal chose that moment to come in with another, bigger bowl, which only made them laugh harder. She drew herself up and stared imposingly until they quieted. Then she calmly walked over and set the bowl down.
"They arrived just in time for dinner. I know what that means," she said as she set a plate down in front of Obi Wan and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you're hungry, Obi Wan."
"Starving," he grinned up at her.
She beamed back and cast a superior look at her family, remarking as she took her seat, "I always knew I'd like him, Padme."
***
"…so, I look back at her and say, 'or you could just take the hat thing off and let me talk to her'…"
The group around the table exploded with laughter again, and Obi Wan broke off the story to wait for them to compose themselves. Padme, red-faced with embarrassment beside him, laid a hand on his arm. "All right, are you done?" she asked with a mock glare.
"No," he shook his head. "I haven't gotten to the part about your hair sticking up."
"Her hair?" Pooja asked, wide-eyed at the thought of her elegant aunt with her hair standing on end.
"Yes," nodded Obi Wan, reaching casually to hold up a lock of Padme's hair. "She took off the headdress, and it was sticking straight up like this…"
Padme swatted his hand playfully away, and Ryoo suddenly narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the couple. "You are going to be our new uncle, aren't you?"
"I think he is," Pooja nodded in agreement.
"Girls!" Padme scolded.
Obi Wan turned a conspiratorial look on the two children and leaned closer. "Well. I haven't actually convinced your aunt yet. But maybe you could help me."
"Obi Wan!" Padme gasped, swatting him again as her parents and sister roared with laughter, and the girls looked at her with huge, pleading eyes.
"Please, Aunt Padme!" they chorused. "Please marry Obi Wan!"
"I--" she broke off, her mouth working soundlessly for several long seconds.
He grinned back at her, but she caught a hint of real apprehension in his gaze and felt her face become even hotter. Raising her hands to her cheeks, she shot a look of entreaty toward her father, who took the cue and quietly cleared his throat.
"I think it's time we all went inside," he said, pushing back his chair.
"Oh, but--" began Jobal.
"Dear," Ruwee laid a hand on her arm.
She nodded in resignation and rose from the table. Sola got up as well, marshalling her daughters out of the room. Ruwee followed, not quite dragging Jobal but not releasing her arm until they were both safely out of earshot.
"I'm--sorry about Mom," Padme smiled, suddenly having trouble meeting Obi Wan's gaze.
"Your mother is wonderful," he shook his head. Then he pushed back his own chair and took her hand.
He stood up, gently guiding her to her feet with him. Padme wondered for a moment whether her legs would hold her. She found that they did, though, despite feeling as if her knees were made of water. He took a few steps away from the table and turned to face her. After a moment of charged silence, he looked down, gathering his thoughts, and when he met her eyes again, her heart was hammering so loudly that she almost didn't register the meaning of the words he spoke.
"I don't have a ring to give you," he murmured.
"I don't need one," she shook her head.
"I don't have anything," he continued. "Anything but me."
"That's all I want," she promised, caressing his cheek with the tips of her fingers.
He nodded, smiling with sudden, uncharacteristic shyness. Holding her gaze for a while more, he stood silently, and then sank down onto one knee. Padme's vision wavered as he did so, and tears began to spill softly down her cheeks before he spoke a word. Countless things he might have said began to crowd his mind--things he had wanted to say for years, about how profoundly she had changed his life; how much he valued her, respected her, relied on her, how deeply grateful he would always be that she reciprocated those feelings; how much it meant to know that there was someone who both loved and understood him, who shared his ideals and his commitment to service. The words he spoke, though were simple and direct, because he knew intrinsically that none of those other things needed to be said.
"I love you, Padme. I want to give my life to you. Will you marry me?"
"Yes," she whispered.
***
"I think I'm going to like being 'Uncle Obi Wan'," he remarked later that night. He dropped wearily into a chair and watched her shut the bedroom door behind them.
She turned, smiling, and walked over to slide onto his lap. "They wore you out, didn't they?"
"Mmm," he nodded, giving her lips an absent kiss.
"You know, I thought the fact that I still lived at home might be awkward for you, at least at first," she said, nestling her head against his shoulder. "I've never had reason to want to live somewhere else."
"I know," he nodded. "And you move around far too much."
"But I guess we'll have to. I love my parents, but I don't won't want to start a family until we're…" she broke off, feeling him tense. Looking quickly up at him, she asked, "What? You don't want kids?"
"I do," he assured her. "I suppose I'm still getting used to the idea of not being a Jedi Knight--living in a world where I could be someone's father is…a bit daunting."
"I'm sorry. I guess we are moving kind of fast," she murmured. "I just feel like I've wasted so much time."
"There will be time, darling," he promised, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Right now, I think I just want to be Obi Wan."
"You mean Uncle Obi Wan," she giggled.
"Uncle Obi Wan is good too," he laughed, guiding her head back down onto his shoulder.
"Have you given any thought to what you're going to do?" she asked quietly.
"I'm not sure," he shook his head. "The Republic is at war; I know I have to find a way to help, but I don't know how yet. The Force will show me when the time comes."
"Will it?" she asked hesitantly. Padme understood the existence of the Force; she had seen Anakin and Obi Wan manipulate it before, but the faith that the Jedi had in its ability to guide them was more than a little intimidating to the practical young woman.
He turned with a reassuring smile and kissed her forehead again. "The Force guided me to you."
***
"Why am I so nervous?" Padme asked, getting up again to peer out the window, despite the fact that the guests were gathered by the lake and she could see neither them nor Obi Wan from where she and Sola were getting ready. "Were you this nervous?"
"Yes," Sola laughed, walking over to lay her hands on her sister's shoulders. She turned the younger woman around and began to carefully straighten the dress. "It's a universal law. All brides must be nervous."
Padme laughed weakly, and Sola touched her cheek for a moment before leading her over to the mirror. She stared at herself with both disbelief and dissatisfaction. Part of her could not believe that any of this was happening. Another part was acutely conscious of Obi Wan outside with Sola's husband, Darred and the holyman. She was determined to look perfect for him, yet she continued to find things that weren't quite right. Sola assured her that he would see perfection no matter what she looked like, but Padme didn't care.
"Everything's ready outside," their father's voice came from the doorway. "The crowd is getting restless."
"So is the bride," commented Sola.
Ruwee Naberrie laughed and came inside, but as he neared his daughters, his expression grew somber. "You've been a Queen and a Senator, but you've never been more beautiful than you are today, honey. And your mother and I have never been more proud of you," he said to Padme.
She felt her throat tighten, and she stepped forward to wrap her arms around her father in a tight hug. "I love you, Dad."
Outside, the groom had no such balm for his apprehension. The only family that he had any memory of was the Jedi Order, and most of them were already engaged in the campaigns of the Clone Wars. Anakin and Master Windu had been called away at the last minute, and although Obi Wan's former Padawan had sent Threepio to Naboo, the droid was a poor stand in for his friend. He would have liked to have Anakin stand up for him today, but Sola's husband Darred had stepped in. As grateful as Obi Wan felt that Padme's family had so readily accepted him, he keenly felt the absence of those closest to him.
The only member of the Jedi Council in attendance was Master Yoda. That commanding presence amid the crowd of Senators and other dignitaries held a measure of comfort to the unsettled groom, but he wished that he could maintain even a semblance of peace and calm. A lifetime of Jedi training had done nothing to prepare him for this moment.
He had shaved and cut his hair for the ceremony, which took years off of his appearance. As a Padawan, his deceptively boyish looks had often worked to his and Qui-Gon's advantage, but now he simply felt as young as he looked--and about as awkward as he had been on Tatooine, when his attempt at a joke had earned him a puzzled, "Huh?" from Padme instead of a laugh. His cheeks reddened at the memory, and beside him, Sola's husband grinned.
"Relax," Darred Janren advised.
"Were you this nervous?" Obi Wan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," the other chuckled. "It's inherent to being a bridegroom. But it helps if you breathe once in a while."
"Oh. Right," smirked Obi Wan.
"Look, here they come," Darred told him.
"So much for breathing…"
Padme's hands were shaking as her father escorted her outside. He paused beside Obi Wan and bent down to kiss her cheek, then stepped away. Obi Wan silently took her hands and winked, but Padme could easily see that he was as nervous as she was.
The holyman began some typical oration on the union of marriage and the responsibilities of husband and wife, of which Obi Wan heard very little. He had finally found his focus. As only a Jedi could, he took in every shimmering detail of her gown, every nuance of scent and sensation--her perfume, the shape of her fingers laced through his, the sound of her voice as she recited her vows, the glisten of tears in her eyes and the tender smile as he managed to repeat his own, and then a sudden soft hiss…
Hiss? He frowned, looking back at her in confusion. She cleared her throat, giving her head a slight twist to indicate the holyman. He flicked his gaze toward the cleric, who looked back expectantly. He'd missed something…
"Kiss me," she whispered pointedly.
"Oh," he nodded quickly, releasing her fingers to cup her face in his hands. Then he grinned. "Thanks for the rescue."
"Always," she whispered as their lips met, and for that day at least, the shadow of the Clone Wars dissipated.
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: A lifetime of Jedi training had done nothing to prepare him...
Rating: PG
Length: Around 2300 words
Category:Fluff
Pairings/Charaters: Obidala
A/N: One Path Chapter 23. Post AotC, begins directly after the preceeding chapter, ends about a month later.
A Little Help
The interior of the house was as warm and rich with family life as the outside had seemed to Obi Wan. It was as unlike the Temple or anywhere on Coruscant as he had ever been. The furniture was comfortable and slightly worn, made to be lived in and abused by growing children. The stone floors were covered in thick carpeting or left bare, but scrupulously clean. Jobal Naberrie took pride in her home.
That indomitable personage appeared to greet them next, and she bestowed on Obi Wan a smile so like Padme's that he felt the last of his discomfort begin to dissipate. Then Padme presented him to her father, and the nervousness returned twofold. Ruwee Naberrie had a kind face, and his short brown hair was slightly out of place, but this did nothing to set Obi Wan at ease while the two men shook hands. Padme's completely ecstatic smile did, though, and after some small talk, Jobal ushered the entire party into the kitchen.
She disappeared into the next room with Sola, leaving Obi Wan, Padme, and Ruwee at the table. Amid the clatter of dishes as they prepared to bring in the meal, Sola could be heard every few moments saying, "Too much, Mom." The three at the table shared knowing smiles, Obi Wan having heard long ago about Jobal's tendency to overstuff her guests.
Pooja and Ryoo were called in from the yard and told to wash their hands. When that was accomplished, they clambered onto empty chairs at the table and proceeded to ply Obi Wan with questions about Coruscant and the Jedi Temple until their mother came in carrying a large bowl of food from the kitchen.
"Enough to feed the town?" Padme asked her sister as the older woman set the food on the table.
"You know Mom," Sola said automatically. Obi Wan could tell that the two had had this conversation many times and hid an amused smile.
"I hear that no one ever leaves this house hungry," he remarked.
"Well, one person did," Padme replied.
"I know," he continued the joke, "But your mother chased him down again."
They all laughed, and Jobal chose that moment to come in with another, bigger bowl, which only made them laugh harder. She drew herself up and stared imposingly until they quieted. Then she calmly walked over and set the bowl down.
"They arrived just in time for dinner. I know what that means," she said as she set a plate down in front of Obi Wan and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you're hungry, Obi Wan."
"Starving," he grinned up at her.
She beamed back and cast a superior look at her family, remarking as she took her seat, "I always knew I'd like him, Padme."
***
"…so, I look back at her and say, 'or you could just take the hat thing off and let me talk to her'…"
The group around the table exploded with laughter again, and Obi Wan broke off the story to wait for them to compose themselves. Padme, red-faced with embarrassment beside him, laid a hand on his arm. "All right, are you done?" she asked with a mock glare.
"No," he shook his head. "I haven't gotten to the part about your hair sticking up."
"Her hair?" Pooja asked, wide-eyed at the thought of her elegant aunt with her hair standing on end.
"Yes," nodded Obi Wan, reaching casually to hold up a lock of Padme's hair. "She took off the headdress, and it was sticking straight up like this…"
Padme swatted his hand playfully away, and Ryoo suddenly narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the couple. "You are going to be our new uncle, aren't you?"
"I think he is," Pooja nodded in agreement.
"Girls!" Padme scolded.
Obi Wan turned a conspiratorial look on the two children and leaned closer. "Well. I haven't actually convinced your aunt yet. But maybe you could help me."
"Obi Wan!" Padme gasped, swatting him again as her parents and sister roared with laughter, and the girls looked at her with huge, pleading eyes.
"Please, Aunt Padme!" they chorused. "Please marry Obi Wan!"
"I--" she broke off, her mouth working soundlessly for several long seconds.
He grinned back at her, but she caught a hint of real apprehension in his gaze and felt her face become even hotter. Raising her hands to her cheeks, she shot a look of entreaty toward her father, who took the cue and quietly cleared his throat.
"I think it's time we all went inside," he said, pushing back his chair.
"Oh, but--" began Jobal.
"Dear," Ruwee laid a hand on her arm.
She nodded in resignation and rose from the table. Sola got up as well, marshalling her daughters out of the room. Ruwee followed, not quite dragging Jobal but not releasing her arm until they were both safely out of earshot.
"I'm--sorry about Mom," Padme smiled, suddenly having trouble meeting Obi Wan's gaze.
"Your mother is wonderful," he shook his head. Then he pushed back his own chair and took her hand.
He stood up, gently guiding her to her feet with him. Padme wondered for a moment whether her legs would hold her. She found that they did, though, despite feeling as if her knees were made of water. He took a few steps away from the table and turned to face her. After a moment of charged silence, he looked down, gathering his thoughts, and when he met her eyes again, her heart was hammering so loudly that she almost didn't register the meaning of the words he spoke.
"I don't have a ring to give you," he murmured.
"I don't need one," she shook her head.
"I don't have anything," he continued. "Anything but me."
"That's all I want," she promised, caressing his cheek with the tips of her fingers.
He nodded, smiling with sudden, uncharacteristic shyness. Holding her gaze for a while more, he stood silently, and then sank down onto one knee. Padme's vision wavered as he did so, and tears began to spill softly down her cheeks before he spoke a word. Countless things he might have said began to crowd his mind--things he had wanted to say for years, about how profoundly she had changed his life; how much he valued her, respected her, relied on her, how deeply grateful he would always be that she reciprocated those feelings; how much it meant to know that there was someone who both loved and understood him, who shared his ideals and his commitment to service. The words he spoke, though were simple and direct, because he knew intrinsically that none of those other things needed to be said.
"I love you, Padme. I want to give my life to you. Will you marry me?"
"Yes," she whispered.
***
"I think I'm going to like being 'Uncle Obi Wan'," he remarked later that night. He dropped wearily into a chair and watched her shut the bedroom door behind them.
She turned, smiling, and walked over to slide onto his lap. "They wore you out, didn't they?"
"Mmm," he nodded, giving her lips an absent kiss.
"You know, I thought the fact that I still lived at home might be awkward for you, at least at first," she said, nestling her head against his shoulder. "I've never had reason to want to live somewhere else."
"I know," he nodded. "And you move around far too much."
"But I guess we'll have to. I love my parents, but I don't won't want to start a family until we're…" she broke off, feeling him tense. Looking quickly up at him, she asked, "What? You don't want kids?"
"I do," he assured her. "I suppose I'm still getting used to the idea of not being a Jedi Knight--living in a world where I could be someone's father is…a bit daunting."
"I'm sorry. I guess we are moving kind of fast," she murmured. "I just feel like I've wasted so much time."
"There will be time, darling," he promised, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Right now, I think I just want to be Obi Wan."
"You mean Uncle Obi Wan," she giggled.
"Uncle Obi Wan is good too," he laughed, guiding her head back down onto his shoulder.
"Have you given any thought to what you're going to do?" she asked quietly.
"I'm not sure," he shook his head. "The Republic is at war; I know I have to find a way to help, but I don't know how yet. The Force will show me when the time comes."
"Will it?" she asked hesitantly. Padme understood the existence of the Force; she had seen Anakin and Obi Wan manipulate it before, but the faith that the Jedi had in its ability to guide them was more than a little intimidating to the practical young woman.
He turned with a reassuring smile and kissed her forehead again. "The Force guided me to you."
***
"Why am I so nervous?" Padme asked, getting up again to peer out the window, despite the fact that the guests were gathered by the lake and she could see neither them nor Obi Wan from where she and Sola were getting ready. "Were you this nervous?"
"Yes," Sola laughed, walking over to lay her hands on her sister's shoulders. She turned the younger woman around and began to carefully straighten the dress. "It's a universal law. All brides must be nervous."
Padme laughed weakly, and Sola touched her cheek for a moment before leading her over to the mirror. She stared at herself with both disbelief and dissatisfaction. Part of her could not believe that any of this was happening. Another part was acutely conscious of Obi Wan outside with Sola's husband, Darred and the holyman. She was determined to look perfect for him, yet she continued to find things that weren't quite right. Sola assured her that he would see perfection no matter what she looked like, but Padme didn't care.
"Everything's ready outside," their father's voice came from the doorway. "The crowd is getting restless."
"So is the bride," commented Sola.
Ruwee Naberrie laughed and came inside, but as he neared his daughters, his expression grew somber. "You've been a Queen and a Senator, but you've never been more beautiful than you are today, honey. And your mother and I have never been more proud of you," he said to Padme.
She felt her throat tighten, and she stepped forward to wrap her arms around her father in a tight hug. "I love you, Dad."
Outside, the groom had no such balm for his apprehension. The only family that he had any memory of was the Jedi Order, and most of them were already engaged in the campaigns of the Clone Wars. Anakin and Master Windu had been called away at the last minute, and although Obi Wan's former Padawan had sent Threepio to Naboo, the droid was a poor stand in for his friend. He would have liked to have Anakin stand up for him today, but Sola's husband Darred had stepped in. As grateful as Obi Wan felt that Padme's family had so readily accepted him, he keenly felt the absence of those closest to him.
The only member of the Jedi Council in attendance was Master Yoda. That commanding presence amid the crowd of Senators and other dignitaries held a measure of comfort to the unsettled groom, but he wished that he could maintain even a semblance of peace and calm. A lifetime of Jedi training had done nothing to prepare him for this moment.
He had shaved and cut his hair for the ceremony, which took years off of his appearance. As a Padawan, his deceptively boyish looks had often worked to his and Qui-Gon's advantage, but now he simply felt as young as he looked--and about as awkward as he had been on Tatooine, when his attempt at a joke had earned him a puzzled, "Huh?" from Padme instead of a laugh. His cheeks reddened at the memory, and beside him, Sola's husband grinned.
"Relax," Darred Janren advised.
"Were you this nervous?" Obi Wan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," the other chuckled. "It's inherent to being a bridegroom. But it helps if you breathe once in a while."
"Oh. Right," smirked Obi Wan.
"Look, here they come," Darred told him.
"So much for breathing…"
Padme's hands were shaking as her father escorted her outside. He paused beside Obi Wan and bent down to kiss her cheek, then stepped away. Obi Wan silently took her hands and winked, but Padme could easily see that he was as nervous as she was.
The holyman began some typical oration on the union of marriage and the responsibilities of husband and wife, of which Obi Wan heard very little. He had finally found his focus. As only a Jedi could, he took in every shimmering detail of her gown, every nuance of scent and sensation--her perfume, the shape of her fingers laced through his, the sound of her voice as she recited her vows, the glisten of tears in her eyes and the tender smile as he managed to repeat his own, and then a sudden soft hiss…
Hiss? He frowned, looking back at her in confusion. She cleared her throat, giving her head a slight twist to indicate the holyman. He flicked his gaze toward the cleric, who looked back expectantly. He'd missed something…
"Kiss me," she whispered pointedly.
"Oh," he nodded quickly, releasing her fingers to cup her face in his hands. Then he grinned. "Thanks for the rescue."
"Always," she whispered as their lips met, and for that day at least, the shadow of the Clone Wars dissipated.