Miss Chris : Obi-Wan has a request for an old friend.
“Hello there old friend.”
The voice reverberated slightly in narrow passageways of the Millennium Falcon, bringing Artoo’s attention to the figure before him.The droid regarded the old Jedi Master, detecting signs of ageing and deterioration. It had been almost 20 years since he had seen him. Vocal recognition was the same, albeit a gruffer lower timbre.
“How have you been? I see Bail has looked after you well.” A hand gave an affectionate pat on top of the gleaming domed head of the droid.
Artoo whistled in reply, amused that Obi-Wan Kenobi was actually having a conversation with him, much like his old master in an bygone age. He hadn’t recalled Obi-Wan to be so casually chatty - ever. In the past, if the Jedi Master did speak to him it was for a focused purpose, usually in a close shave situation on a mission.
There was silence for a time. Usually the void would have been filled with his counterpart’s chatter but Threepio had decided to shut down to conserve power. Master Luke had gone to rest, physically and emotionally overcome by the events of the past few days. The pilot and the Wookie were up in the cockpit, leaving Artoo alone with the old Jedi.
In a low whisper, barely audible, came a request. “Please...Show her to me. Show me Padmé.”
Obi-Wan waited with baited breath - this was the moment of truth. Had Bail wiped the little astromech’s memory too like he had done with C3PO?
The droid responded with a series of beeps as he searched his memory banks. Upon finding the requested files, a blue glowing light was emitted to show a young Padmé Amidala, all those years ago. The quality is grainy, yet he could still feel her apprehension of the unwieldy Gungan approaching her.
Some scenes brought fresh pain to him, old wounds wrenched open. The ones he had never witnessed, being private between secret husband and wife. And the ones with the boy he had trained, as he was. Sometimes he himself featured in them as well. Had he been that sarcastic? It was strange seeing events that he had experienced from another’s certain point of view.
The last one appeared, the most bittersweet. The birth of the lives she had mothered in her womb, the diminishing to death of her own. The boy he cradled in his arms - her boy, Luke, the one he saved a few hours ago from the hive of villainy and scum. The girl who’s message was addressed to him in this very R2 unit - her girl.
Oh Padmé, you never even got to hold your children.
Artoo’s projecting light fades away and he detects an unusual response from the old Jedi - weeping. He mournfully joins in bleeps as best he can, for he too remembered his first mistress well.
Perhaps it is best to leave the old man to his grief. Artoo rolls away, determined to find his golden friend.
“Thank you R2. You were a good friend to her. To them both. You served them faithfully.”
Artoo acknowledges the Jedi Master’s praise with his own musical voice. Perhaps time in the desert had mellowed the old man’s sarcastic quips.
The next time Artoo sees Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, it is to bring a shield helmet, a remote training droid and an elongated silver weapon to Padmé’s son, his new Master. Artoo, familiar with the snap-hiss of a lightsaber keeps one sensor on them whilst projecting the game of Dejarik. He may even record the training for future reference and posterity.
Because that’s who R2-D2 is - the recorder of history, the keeper of secrets, the faithful friend to the family of his Queen, Padmé Amidala.