Title: Ten Years Later
Author: NoobianRose
Pairing: Obidala (for the OFF 10th Anniversary Celebration!)
Rating: PG – for one tiny little curse word
AN: Our 10th anniversary got me thinking about the 10 year gap between TPM and AotC, and what their reunion after ten years might have meant to our heroes.

The lift rocketed upward, the ground shrinking beneath their feet and the whole of Coruscant coming into view at their backs. He looked at his teenage apprentice. “You’re sweating. Relax. Take a deep breath.”

“I haven’t seen her in ten years, Master,” Anakin explained, in a tone that said, ‘Dad, you have no idea what I’m going through here!’

Obi-Wan faced forward, shaking his head with a smile. Teenagers. What could be done, though? Anakin had had a crush on Padmé Amidala since the moment he saw her. He’d called her an “angel.” And as the young man grew, his thoughts had become increasingly clouded by his memories of the regal queen – thoughts that teetered dangerously on the edge of infatuation.

And yet, his master had indulged him. He’d ignored the comments, ignored the dreams, and ignored the child-like aspirations that Anakin tried to keep hidden. At least he tried . . . for the most part. Such attractions were only natural, after all; especially for a young man in his late teens. But Obi-Wan shouldn’t have let it go on for so long. Despite how he’d grown to love Anakin, the truth was that such attachment could become dangerous for a Jedi with more important responsibilities.

Are you speaking of the boy? Or of yourself, Master Kenobi?

The unwanted thought sent a chill down the Jedi’s spine. He quickly tried to quiet the suggestion, but its implication remained. Of course it would have been hypocrisy to admonish Anakin for such a thing.

~*~*~

Senator Amidala stood with Captain Typho on the balcony of her spacious apartment. Her thoughts were chaotic, all tumbling over themselves, battling for focus. She felt grief at the loss of her friend, Cordé – and guilt for the part she played. Her handmaidens knew well the dangers involved in being Padmé Amidala’s decoys, of course. But that didn’t make Padmé feel any less responsible when one of them lost their lives in her service.

Strangely, the senator also felt excited. It was a giddy, slightly nervous excitement that she tried very hard to suppress. In light of what had just happened, in light of the fact that her very life was in danger, it seemed wrong. Unfair even. But she couldn’t help it. The butterflies fluttered about unfazed, gently flapping their soft wings against the inside of her belly.

It had been ten years since she’s last seen them . . . since she’d seen him.

~*~*~

Jar Jar announced the arrival. She turned expectantly and he stands before her at last, bathed in light like some kind of Force-beacon. He bowed respectfully, casually reaching for her hand.

“It is a great pleasure to see you again, My Lady.”

His voice chased the chills down her spine.

“It has been far too long, Master Kenobi.”

The smile was not only evident on her lovely mouth, but also in her voice. He could sense the small tremor of excitement as she took his hand, the warmth of her skin also warming him.

~*~*~

The senator stood in her quarters starting out the large window overlooking the capital’s political district. The sun was setting, shrouding the room in the shadows of skyscrapers, her thoughts increasingly troubled. Anakin’s attention had been unwelcome. It was strange after so long to see the little boy she’d cared for look at her the way he had, following her movements with heated eyes. It had been awkward watching the apprentice test his master’s patience in an attempt to impress her.

And Obi-Wan . . .

~*~*~

The Jedi reviewed the checklist in his mind, ticking the cerebral boxes. He’d made note of all entrances, exits, and access points. He’d swept all the rooms for bugs or surveillance devices. He’d reviewed the Senator’s daily schedule and upcoming appointments with Captain Typho. And he’d sent Anakin downstairs with the captain to speak with building security and tap into the security feeds.

All seemed quiet . . . for now.

Obi-Wan made his way from the back of the apartment. He passed the senator’s private chambers and was surprised to find the door open. Looking inside he found the lady in question standing before the window. Her slim frame was silhouetted by the warm light of Coruscant’s setting sun. When they’d arrived earlier, he’d half expected to see a child – the young lady, the queen he once knew.

Or perhaps that’s what he’d wanted to see. Better to see a girl instead of the stunning beauty she had become.

“You really shouldn’t stand so close to the window, Senator – especially without the tint-screen.”

Padmé jumped and spun around, startled by the calm but concerned voice at her back. She’d no idea someone had been standing there watching her. Discovering the source of the disturbance, she suddenly felt slightly exposed in her white silk robe.

Obi-Wan entered her room, stopping just past the threshold. He crossed his arms over his chest nonchalantly. “Apologies, Milady, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said gently, “But considering the threat to your life that isn’t the safest place for you.”

“It’s alright,” she sighed, relaxing somewhat, “I thought that you were . . . someone else.”

She thought I was Anakin; was worried I was Anakin.

It seemed his apprentice had made quite the impression on the young woman. He would definitely have to speak to him later (again) about the propriety expected of him as a Jedi. His being overly familiar with Padmé had not seemed to endear her to him in the slightest.

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow, watching the lady watching him and saying nothing. “Senator?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“The window.”

She gracefully stepped up to a small, square panel on the wall. With a delicate touch of her hand, the glass darkened, the tint-screen sliding into place – but she did not move away from the glass. “Compromise?” she said with a charming smile.

He returned the smile with a grateful bow of his head. She’d always had such an easy grace, one that inspired loyalty from friends and respect from enemies.

Satisfied that she’d placated her protector, at least for the time being, Padmé resumed her vigil at the window. The vista she overlooked, an artificial landscape dominated by towering metal and glass, looked even darker now, shaded as it was by the light-blocking tint-screen.

Obi-Wan watched for a moment, quietly wondering what it was she seemed so interested by.

“How long has it been, Senator,” he asked, taking a place at her side.

“Ten years,” she answered somewhat absently.

Force. That was startling to think on. So much had happened in that decade. “A lifetime,” he said, almost to himself.

“Almost,” she returned.

Obi-Wan cast a peripheral glance in her direction. “In ten years you have gone from the youngest elected queen on your planet to the youngest and, arguably, most influential . . . senator in this republic. Quite the meteoric rise.” He saw her head turn to meet his gaze and so diverted his eyes back to the window.

Padmé noted with interest the annoyance he placed upon the word “senator.” She raised her eyebrow. Is he baiting me?

“You don’t like politicians,” she stated.

He scoffed lightly. “I find them to be pompous, self-serving, inherently corrupt, and severely disingenuous.”

Senator Amidala laughed. How like him to be so rigid and self-assured. “I see,” she said, a smirk still audible on her lips, “And how do you find me?”

The Jedi quietly regarded her, as though he’d never really seen her before. And perhaps he never really had. The sea-blue color of his eyes, almost green in the dwindling light, shone with a thoughtful inquisitiveness that made her flush. He was all she’d remembered – all calm and polite gentility – and yet nothing she’d remembered at all, with his light auburn hair and beard – no longer the student, but a confident and commanding master. “In truth, I sense none of those things in you, Padmé.”

She felt the flush spread down her neck, surprised by the frankness of his reply. “Then . . . how do you rectify your feelings, Obi-Wan?”

The Jedi’s eyes began to sparkle, an amused grin almost completely hidden beneath his beard. But there was no mistaking the light chuckle she heard. “Perhaps you’re simply an exception to the rule.”

She’d hoped it would be like this, that being near him again would feel like this – natural and easy. From the safety of her handmaiden disguise she’d seen this side of him before. But all too brief were their personal interactions. And once she’d revealed herself as queen . . . he’d always been the model of respectful propriety. The perfect Jedi. That couldn’t be true, of course. No one’s perfect.

Though, by her estimation, Obi-Wan Kenobi was pretty damned close.

He was no longer a teenage fancy.

And she was no longer a teenage girl.

Perhaps, ten years later, they were both something altogether different.

“You’ve not changed, Padmé . . . and yet you have,” he wondered aloud.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not sure how to take that, Master Kenobi,” she teased, “Is that a good thing?”

Be mindful of your feelings, Jedi . . . and cautious with them.

He looked back to the window, away from the sweet chocolate brown of her eyes, concentrating as best he could on the world outside. The room he now shared with Naboo’s senator suddenly seemed rather small. “You have long been a capable woman, Senator – even as a young lady,” he said with great politeness, “I find that the years since have made you even more formidable.”

She didn’t have to be a Jedi to see – to feel – the sudden change in him. She’d watched his eyes go blank, the smile they’d shared fading from his lips. Then he’d turned, effectively closing himself off to her. His actions weren’t cold, really, and certainly held no malice so far as she could tell. And yet, she still felt pained by the small rejection. “Are you alright, Obi-Wan,” she risked, trying her best to keep the hurt out of her voice, “Have I said something wrong?”

He gave no indication that he’d heard her but for a small sigh. “No, My Lady. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“And yet you suddenly can’t look at me.”

The words stung, but not because they carried any anger. They stung because they were true. Padmé wasn’t challenging him by saying it, simply giving voice to the truth he’d tried to shield her from. She was more insightful than he’d given her credit for. He should have known better.

Obi-Wan uncrossed his arms and walked up to her. Resting a reassuring hand upon her small shoulder, he turned her to him. She was surprisingly adept at hiding her feelings but, looking at her now, so close that he could smell the light floral-scented oil on her skin, he could see the small wound he’d inflicted. “I’ve come to protect you, Padmé. I can’t become . . . distracted. Your safety – your life – hangs in the balance.”

I never intended to hurt you.

“I thought I was simply catching up with an old friend,” she replied quietly, “And I’m not a child. I know what’s at stake.”

He can’t see me. Not as I am.

The Jedi removed his hand from her, arm dropping to his side. The wall he’d built moments ago remained, though it seemed less guarded than before. “Were you ever a child, I wonder,” he asked with a polite smile.

She returned it easily. “I often wonder that, myself.”

Padmé looked down, away from the sad sincerity of his gaze. Being that close to him, alone, she felt fourteen again. Which was strange because Padmé Amidala had never really felt like a teenager at all . . . even when she was a teenager. She’d told him that she wasn’t a child – needed him to see it. And it was true. But why then were her palms sweating and her heart racing?

And how much of that could the Jedi sense in her if he so wished to see it?

Indeed, he had watched with interest the delicate flush now tinting her cheeks and the way it had spread down her neck. He’d registered the way her pupils had suddenly dilated when he drew close. It seems the young woman was attracted to him. Had that always been the case? Is that why she’d been hurt by his pulling away? All those years ago he’d certainly noticed her. Easily seeing through her handmaiden’s disguise, the then-padawan could sense there was something special about Padmé – beyond the fact that she was a queen. But that was as far as it went for him – he had a mission and she was still a child.

He was almost tempted to use his power to probe her feelings, actively breach her well-crafted defenses and seek answers to the questions now annoyingly tickling at his mind. But, ultimately, her feelings were her own – even if they were in regard to him. And besides . . . Best not to open that particular door. He’d hate to send a message he wasn’t prepared to deliver personally.

Suddenly, he felt a familiar presence behind them. And that is one reason why.

Padmé felt eyes upon her, a gaze timidly tracing the imagined path of her skin beneath her flowing silk robe. She saw Obi-Wan glance over his shoulder, apparently sensing the same presence she had.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan acknowledged warmly.

She turned to see the young man centered in the doorway, and looking rather pale. “Hello, Ani,” she greeted.

He bowed awkwardly, a blush tinting his cheeks, smiling at her small acknowledgement. “Pad- I mean, uh, ‘Senator,’” he returned, “Master? I’ve talked with building management and Captain Typho. We’re in the system; so we can access any and all security feeds remotely.”

Obi-Wan nodded his approval. “Good. Wait for me in the sitting room, Anakin. I’ll join you shortly.” Padmé felt an uneasy tension begin to fill the room. The same kind of tension that she’d felt earlier when the young apprentice had challenged his master upon their arrival.

Anakin stood rooted to the spot for a moment, looking curiously from his mentor to the beautiful senator and then back again. He was clearly reluctant to leave them. Or, perhaps more precisely, he was reluctant to leave them alone . . . together. Obi-Wan faced his charge head-on, raising an eyebrow and setting his jaw. “Was there something else, Padawan?”

The young man looked almost ready to protest but seemed to recognize the authoritative look on his master’s face. Obi-Wan’s face softened, smiling at the boy and sending him waves of calm and reassurance through the Force. Proudly he watched the young man receive the gesture, sensed him quiet his mind, and finally felt him release his apprehension. Anakin bowed humbly, in respect, and left the room. He’d always been passionate – wearing his heart on the sleeves of his robes – even as a youngling. In most cases, it was a gift – affording the boy a level of empathy and compassion that he’d rarely seen, even in some Jedi. But as Obi-Wan also knew, that kind of emotion – that love – could also be a Jedi’s undoing.

Anakin would learn this, of course, but it would take time. He still had much to learn.

The Jedi heard a shallow exhale at his back, the strain slowly evaporating in the space. He looked to the source and saw Padmé staring quietly at the floor where her robe covered her feet. “My Lady?” he asked gently.

She seemed quite startled by the question, or maybe simply surprised at being addressed at all. She looked at him almost expectantly, though just what it was she was expecting of him, Force only knew. “I’m fine, Master Kenobi,” she said at last, “I was just . . . thinking.”

It was not hard to sense the new hint of trepidation now tinting her energy. “You’re worried about Anakin,” he stated.

Her eyes softened, looking almost wistfully at the place Anakin had held in her doorway only moments ago. “It’s strange to have someone I once cared for as a child looking at me the way he has today. I’m not quite sure what to make of it.”

“It makes you feel uncomfortable.”

He shouldn’t be looking at me that way. It feels wrong.

Padmé felt embarrassed by the look of knowing pity he gave her. “It’s disconcerting,” she said, trying to better explain.

He nodded, seeming to understand. “You should tell him so. If he does it again.”

She chewed lightly on her bottom lip.

“It’s for the best,” he stated with calm certainty.

“Alright.”

She glanced briefly out the window then – the blackness of night obscuring the forms and features of the cities beyond. All she could make out now were the millions of light-filled windows, like tiny artificial stars, mutely twinkling in the darkness. She missed the curious look Obi-Wan gave her as he watched her pondering the world outside the safety of her apartment.

“With your permission, Senator,” she heard him say, “I’d like to put a camera in here. We’ll be monitoring it as well as the others while you sleep.”

“We?” she asked quietly.

“Myself, Anakin, and your security staff.”

She suppressed a small, unconscious shudder. “Very well.”

“Try not to worry. No harm will come to you here. You are well protected.”

Padmé smiled, her mirrored reflection now watching his in the window. “Thank you for coming, Obi-Wan,” she said sincerely.

The Jedi bowed and turned to leave, and only her small voice gave him pause. “I know that this is an assignment. That . . . you were ordered to come. But I am glad it was you. And glad that you’re here.”

He raised an eyebrow, humbled by her words and hoping very much to be worthy of such trust in coming days. “My Lady,” he acknowledged, making his exit. He was glad to be there too.

Though, just why, he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit just yet.