Title: The Morning After
Author: NoobianRose
Pairing: Obidala (for the 2014 OVOC)
Rating: PG (for mild descriptions of previous sexy good times)

Morning breaks. Light streams in through shaded window slats, gradually signaling the rise of another day – a new day. Same planet, same rich, upscale neighborhood, same galaxy even, but new – now and forever changed.

Worried eyes gaze down at the figure – still sleeping soundly – curled into his torso. Her light, even breath tickled the hair of his chest, her smooth silken skin lovingly warming his wherever they touched underneath the sheets. He reached, fingertips silently moving to test the chestnut ringlets of her hair . . . but stopped short.

His brow furrowed. What have I done?

One night. One night of beautiful, blissful passion and he’d changed everything – possibly destroyed everything he cared about. It had felt like a dream then, a shrouded fantasy taken from the darkest corner of his heart and set free to play at long last. Her voice, her kiss, her touch, all seemed too good, too perfect, to be reality.

Force but he wish he’d been dreaming. Dreams don’t have consequences. Visions, even ones so lovely as she, couldn’t destroy lives. ‘Some visions do,’ a small, serious voice reminded him, ‘this one destroyed you long ago.’

But this wasn’t a dream. It was reality – warm, luscious, breathless reality. How could he have done this to her? To them?

Time was short. The day was breaking and he would, no doubt, be expected back at the temple. No excuse for his tardiness would be good enough. It was not easy to lie to a group of the most powerful force-users in the galaxy, after all. Better to not even have to try.

With great care he untangled himself from her, separating their bodies, surprised at how cold and empty he suddenly felt without her near. She sighed a bit in her sleep but went willingly, allowing him the freedom to move completely on his own once again.

Speeders began to whizz by the window at an increasing rate, the sky-way filling with morning commuters. The sound seemed to grow in intensity as well as frequency, making him feel rushed and anxious. No time. No time to even quiet his mind and release his turbulent thoughts.

Clothes lined the floor of her spacious bedroom, a monument – carelessly discarded and perfectly preserved – to the night they’d shared. He soundlessly separated his from hers – simple linen from fine silk and lace – just as he had their intimately intertwined limbs just moments ago. Gathering them up, he replaced each layer he wore, granting him a renewed sense of security, in who he was and what he stood for.

Spine straightening with his familiar ease and confidence, he was nearly ready. There was but one thing missing. Trained eyes skimmed the room, following the trail of the lovers, from the door to the luxurious bed. And he saw it. Just there. A glint of silver and black upon the nightstand next to where she still slept. His weapon, removed from him the night before and placed gently down, given all due respect by loving hands.

Quietly he strode toward the small table, bending forward to retrieve the symbol of his life’s duty. His hand hovered a moment. ‘Don’t look at her,’ his mind warned. And he didn’t. The Jedi scooped up his lightsaber and turned for the exit. It would have hurt too much to look.

But his feet felt heavier than recollection served, each step a mile to the door ahead. Perhaps it was because he was weary, of body or spirit, or maybe because he simply didn’t wish to go.

“Just leave your credits on the dresser, then,” a cold voice froze him to the spot, mid-step, “Since you’re in such a hurry to go.”

Damn. He could hear the hurt in her voice – the disappointment – and he felt ashamed. How could he make her understand without making things worse? How could he make her understand when he didn’t fully understand himself? “Padmé, I . . . I never wanted this,” he said at last.

A harsh sigh at his back cracked the chilly silence. “You’re making that fact abundantly clear. I guess I’ll see you later then, maybe the next time you’re here in the capital.”

He didn’t want a confrontation, never wished it to end this way. And he certainly never ever wanted to hurt her. “You misunderstand me.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” she remarked, in a disconnected kind of way that felt as if she were speaking more to herself than to him.

His shoulders dropped, pressed down by the weight of the invisible gaze he felt on his back. She was staring at him now – daring him to face her. And he should, after everything they’d been through. Padmé Amidala: his friend, his comrade, now his lover. She definitely deserved better. Then why couldn’t he look at her?

Frankly? It was because, “I’m ashamed, Padmé.”

And the weight was suddenly gone. Her energy retreated away from him, devastated by his admission. He could sense it surrounding her petite body tightly, trying to protect and comfort her. The sheets were rustling; he could hear her legs being drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees securely. She was now closed to him, as completely as she could manage.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears quietly threatening to stream down her words.

It tugged at him, that invisible pull that had always existed between them, forever drawing him closer and closer to her – even as he’d tried to ignore it. With all his power, he’d always been powerless against the tide. It carried him to her, as it always had done, the current leading him to her apartment the previous night, to her bed. And to her bedside now, where he knelt before her, almost in reverence.

He reached for her again, this time allowing himself the privilege of touching. Her hands were soft under his, delicate and graceful, just like her. “I didn’t come to you last night for this. I never wanted to complicate what we have – what we’ve always had.”

Her eyes fell from his. She knew his words to be true. “Being with you, sharing last night with you, did not shame me Padmé. I was ashamed that I allowed it to happen, after so long struggling to keep my distance.”

Following her gaze, he caught sight of their hands, lovingly intertwined. Images of night clouded his vision – sweat-slicked skin glowing gloriously in rays of full moonlight, a long-desired journey of intimate exploration. No longer a secret desire kept securely in his mind and heart under lock and key. She was heated flesh and pumping blood, beating heart and singing soul, wide-eyed and breathless and . . . everything. Everything he’d ever imagined and more.

Padmé didn’t reply. She merely nodded slowly her understanding and turned into the sun, face catching the rays. He wondered what she saw out there, amidst the shining skyscrapers and speeding transports. Or perhaps it was more about what she didn’t want to see – looking at him. “There were two of us here last night, you know. You didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t already want,” she said, her face unreadable, “But I want you to know, Obi-Wan, I’m not looking for anything from you. I’m not expecting anything.”

“I know where we stand,” she continued, “and . . . things can’t change between us. We both know that. I just don’t want to lose you. Lose your friendship because of this. It means a lot to me.”

Having said what she felt she needed to, her gaze returned, hesitance in her milk chocolate eyes. “Things are different now,” he affirmed, “And I can’t be with you – I can’t make love to you – and not have it mean something. It does. But it could never change our friendship or how I care for you.”

Her aura sighed; he could feel the relief cresting gently through her and onto him from where they still touched. The sensation was quickly followed, however, by a chaser of curiosity. “Why were you going to leave then? Without . . . saying goodbye?”

Because you’re married. Because I’m not him. Because I care for you far more than I should. And because if I don’t leave your side now, I may not be able to later.

But he couldn’t tell her all that. No need to complicate things further. That’s what he’d been trying to avoid in the first place. “Forgive me. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel this morning,” he said instead – a truth of less than full disclosure, “I didn’t want you to feel obligated to me or to last evening’s reality. If I were already gone you wouldn’t be forced to face it if you didn’t wish to. Or face me for the same reason.”

Her full lips turned up at that. The smile was a small but lovely gesture that made him do the same. “I rather like your face, Obi-Wan,” she said sweetly, and with complete sincerity. “And you needn’t run off. Won’t you stay for breakfast at least? I’d be happy to have something brought up.” He hated to see the hopeful gleam in her eyes.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” he shook his head, “I’ve been summoned by the Council. They’re expecting me.”

She nodded and lessened the already light hold she kept on his hands. He was free to go whenever he wished, with no ties or guilt to tether him to her. Obi-Wan hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to share such impassioned intimacy with her. Hadn’t expected to find himself this content now, in the aftermath of their night together. And he certainly hadn’t expected to feel such reservation at the idea of leaving her.

The Jedi rose from her bedside to sit next to her on the plush mattress. Her face looked beautiful, as always, radiant in the morning light. He knew her face so well after all these years and yet still, somehow, found himself quite taken by the sight of her. His lips reached for hers, aching to once again silence reality and consequences, wanting nothing more than her. And when at last he kissed her, it felt like indulgence, rich and savory. It told her he cared, told her that she mattered, despite the time and distance that always seemed to part them.

And when she responded, turning her head and pressing into him, her kiss echoed his love back to him.