“You have my heart Padmé - always.” She nodded slightly, swallowing the painful lump in her throat. “But everything else...”
“...Belongs to the Republic,” she finished. She understood.
She fought back the tears pooling behind her eyes, willing herself to be strong in this moment. But an errant one escaped, cascading down her face. Tenderly he wiped it away and drew her into a close embrace. She would remember the way his heart thudded against her chest, the gentle caress as he brought her hand up to his lips and how he bowed to distance himself before their resolve faltered.
“Here, hoist me up,” she said. “I can dislodge the keys off hook.”
She flipped herself upside down, carefully placing her head on his, while he maintained their precarious balance. Had he had full control of his abilities he would just use the Force to retrieve them but with a Force collar plus being shackled to the Senator meant that they were in a tight spot. Quite literally.
From his peripheral vision, he could descry her deftly dislodge the keys whilst also discreetly admiring her lithe skilled body. This is an escape, he told himself severely. No time for hanky-panky.
“The bonnie lass will want feeding,” clucked the female Lurmen next to them. “You can tell by the way she’s rooting around. She’ll be wanting her mama’s milk.”
As if on cue, Leia let out a loud wail, turning heads and drawing attention to their part of the refugee transporter.
“Here,” whispered Obi-Wan, giving her his voluminous cloak to give her a covering.
Thankfully Leia settled down, guzzling happily while Luke stayed asleep curled in Obi-Wan's arms.
"I bet he's a wonderful father. So devoted. You've got a good one," winked the Lurmen to Padmé, causing her to blush profusely.
Padmé gratefully savoured the warmth of the fire, feeling her frozen limbs thaw. Orto Plutonia wasn't somewhere she would choose to live, yet the Outer Rim territory would give them a respite from the Empire’s agents. Alderaan has been a close call.
“Here. It’s from the locals,” said Obi-Wan, handing her a curd-like substance. When he saw her hesitate, he pressed, “You need to keep up your strength. The children need you.”
“Only if you will too.” He nodded and in silence they shared the delicacy.
This was their life - perhaps one day he would share his heart too.
He stared up at her, confusion chief among his expressions.
“Who are you?”
She stroked his cheek to give him reassurance. “Obi-Wan, it’s me - Padmé.”
Leaning into her touch, he whispered, “Are you…my wife?”
Shocked, it took her a moment to recover. With the severity of his head injury, his memory must have been temporarily affected. She hoped temporarily.
“You feel- familiar. I can’t remember who you are. Just my feelings…tell me…that I know you. And trust you. And I think...I love you."
She was starting to feel dizzy. His earnestness was genuine, unknowingly confessing a deeply repressed secret.
He would sing the babies snatches of songs - learnt in his toddler days to help calm down and practise meditation fundamentals. She also found it soothing to listen to timbre of his voice.
One day he surprised her with a serenade as she lay her head upon his lap. It was a Nubian folk tune, a favourite of her parents’.
“Where did you learn that?”
“Rabé said it was your favourite.”
“But you only met her during the Trade Federation blockade.”
“Correct,” he said sheepishly. It amazed her that he had carried it in his memory all this time.
“Obi-Wan, there’s still good in him…I know…”
His mind reeled by her words, not realising she was about depart.
Good? How can there be still good left after all the heinous crimes committed?
He pondered on her last words for nearly two decades, knowing that one day, her children will come to ask him for the truth.
“What was my father like?” queried the sandy haired boy.
Padmé, I’m so sorry. I don’t have your faith. I don’t believe there’s any good left. I’m sorry.
He could only tell of his friend Anakin, "good" from a certain point of view.
He watched her eye the weapon warily, wondering again whether this was a good idea. She'd asked for basic lightsaber combat. He'd agreed, in the hopes that it would distract them both from the gaping hole of grief that threatened to overwhelm them. But the enormity suddenly hit him - this was Anakin’s lightsaber.
“This weapon-“
“...is your life,” she finished. How many times had he told Anakin that?
“Actually, I was going to say has a training setting over here.” Thumbing the switch, the brilliant blue beam of light burst into life.
“Now, all students start with Form I…”
“Don’t mind Master Obi-Wan. He’s just grumpy that his back is sore.”
Obi-Wan glared at his apprentice. “Maybe grumpy is an exaggeration since you decided to take one of your shortcuts, exit hyperspace to arrive in the middle of a battle, spin the ship - which by the way, is not flying, and crash land us on a Force forsaken planet with savage inhabitants."
Padmé chuckled at the pair’s squabbling. “This should help then,” she said, moving her hands in concentric circles over his spinal region. The features of the Jedi Master eased somewhat, though he stifled a contented sigh.
Amongst the verdant splendour of the forest, battle plans were being drawn up, bustle to ready troops for the oncoming battle.
He spied his apprentice walking past the wall of handmaidens, over to the young queen, who was perched on a rock a discreet distance away. With keen interest, he observed his concerned Padawan bestowing light meditation techniques, no doubt to quell her fears.
She smiled as her hand moved across his, breaking protocol.
Qui-Gon shook his head. He should have a word with Obi-Wan after the battle, knowing his innocent penchant for strong-willed maidens in life threatening situations.
Obi-Wan laughed as his friend flopped down dramatically on the bed.
“It can’t be that bad Garen.”
“It is! It’s the end of the world for a Jedi to fall in love!” Garen glared at his friend’s mocking sympathy.
“Mark my words Kenobi, you’ll find your devotion to the Order tested one day, and when that day comes, you’ll feel wretched.”
Almost twenty years later those prophetic words came back to haunt Obi-Wan, as he watched romance blossom between the woman he secretly loved and the apprentice he had raised. Their not-so-subtle liaisons made him feel indeed, wretched.
Obi-Wan involuntarily grunted with pain, yet held steadfast and did not yield the answer to his inquisitor. She growled in frustration, then started cackling.
“If you won’t break, maybe your girlfriend will.”
“Sorry Ventress, you’re not my type,” quipped the Jedi.
Ventress rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself Kenobi. Look who just entered the fortress.”
He followed her gaze to the viewscreen, dread suddenly filling his heart as a bad feeling chilled his bones.
Blast it Padmé, why do you feel compelled to keep rescuing me? For what reason would you keep putting yourself in harm’s way for my sake?
A/N: This is the Drabble that I thought might make a good starter for a Round Robin if anyone’s interested.
“...after the bomb went off, Senator Amidala and I have been put in isolated quarantine together. An antidote is estimated to be about 4-6 weeks away.”
Mace Windu’s face looked even graver than usual as he took in the news.
“Your mandate is still to protect the Senator at all costs. Keep us updated on any progress. May the Force be with you.”
After his customary bow, he turned and smiled to his companion.
“If I have to be couped up with someone, I’m glad it’s you.” she said.
He responded by gently squeezing her shoulder and affirming the same.
“....I don’t care what you say, you’re not my real father anyway.”
Crestfallen, Obi-Wan took half a step back, as if Luke had given him a punch to the gut than just a tongue lashing. Luke’s reaction wasn’t without just cause - he’d only recently learnt about his true parentage and had been incredulous since.
Padmé put a soothing hand on his shoulder, before growling at her cub.
“He’s the man that raised you, making him more of a father than the monster that is your actual one. You should be grateful. No joining the rebellion today - that’s final.”
Padmé joined Leia staring out at the vast expanse of the sky as the twin suns set. It was their favourite time of day - for once, all was gloriously beautiful.
Padmé tucked a stray braid back, admiring her daughter’s grace, as Leia slowly looked at her with those expressive brown eyes.
“Y’know mum, we’re all very fond of Uncle Obi-Wan. And we can see that you two love each other deeply. Luke and I want you to be happy - you have our blessing.”
Taken aback by Leia’s forthrightness, she continued to ponder on this well into the night.
Padmé’s eyes flew open. Reaching out to rouse her husband from slumber, she excitedly placed his hands on her burgeoning stomach.
“Do you feel the baby kicking?”
A pause, before groggily replying, “The force is indeed strong with this one.” Obi-Wan received a playful kick in return.
They both marvelled at the miracle they had created.
“So now that we’re both up, do you want to...”
“Padmé, it’s the sixth time this week!” yawned Obi-Wan.
“Perks of married life,” she said provocatively as he begun to acquiesce her request.
“I shall do what I must,” he stated with equal passion.