Post by obiamidala on Jun 5, 2010 3:53:39 GMT -4
The twin suns had long since set by the time Obi-Wan had reached his small hovel on the dry plains, far from the city and beyond the Dune Sea. He had purchased his supplies, placed his next order, and was out of the shop quickly; Soran none-the-wiser about the message, the box, or his use of the back room. Good thing too. The last thing Obi-Wan needed was for anyone to find out about what Bail had told him.
The truth was he really couldn’t get back to his dwelling fast enough. An urgency he did not wish to acknowledge drove his every movement. The small box that had remained concealed within his robes seemed so heavy on the journey back from town. It had bumped and slid against his body, weighing down the secure pocket in his robe with each step he took. The heft of it, its solidity, served only to increase the necessity in his mind. He had to get back. Padmé had something to tell him.
In the darkness (and welcome cool) of the space beyond his front door, Obi-Wan headed for the holo-vid terminal at the back of the single room. It was hidden in a removable, false wall; barely used and only intended for emergencies. Signals could always be traced, after all.
‘Was this an emergency,’ Obi-Wan wondered. Perhaps not in the traditional sense, but it certainly seemed important to Bail. And, according to the senator, it had been of the utmost importance to Padmé . . . which made it important to him as well.
With a shaky breath, his supplies and outer robes long forgotten on the floor behind him, the Jedi pulled out the small painted box. It really was quite lovely, now that he had a better chance to look at it. It was black, glossy and smooth to the touch. The intricately painted Alderaanian designs shone silver, almost iridescent in what little light existed in his hovel.
On the inside, the box held the comm. device he had used to speak with Senator Organa earlier that day. It lay there on a bed of royal blue velvet, just as it had before. Only this time Obi-Wan removed it, gently placing it aside and turning his focus on the velvet lining itself. It was incredibly soft, fine quality indeed though he didn’t hesitate now to take his small belt knife to it.
What he found, hidden within the folds of layered fabric under the lining, was a small data-chip. ‘Organa must have copied Padmé’s letter onto it,’ Obi-Wan thought. It was clever really. The chip itself was easy enough to obtain and it was quite small and thin. Easily hidden in the box. Only someone really looking for it would have discovered it.
The chip seemed such a simple thing to Obi-Wan as he turned it over in his palm and examined it. Simple at first glance, he had to remember. But Padmé was on it. Her voice and her face and her haunting chocolate eyes. And her words . . . the last words he would ever hear her speak to him.
With some hesitation, Obi-Wan turned on the holo-vid terminal and inserted the small chip. Before he even managed to take a seat in front of it, however, a familiar voice rang in his ears. “Please state your name,” Organa’s deep, melodic voice sounded from the speakers. ‘Clever,’ the Jedi mused, ‘seems the senator added extra security.’
He sat down slowly in front of the screen and spoke his name, loudly and clearly.
“Access granted. Please stand by.”
The Jedi’s heart began to beat more quickly inside his already tight ribcage. He had suddenly grown quite nervous. Was he sweating? And, as the screen flickered to life, his breath caught, unsolicited tears stinging at his eyes.
. . . It was her.
It was Padmé.
~~
She stared back at him with her deep brown eyes. And she seemed to be in her nightgown. It was a soft blue color, made from light fabric with sheer coverings on her arms which hung delicately just below her shoulders. Padmé’s angelic chocolate culrs were held back from her face by a flexible silver band inlaid with circular alien gems of matching blue.
She made a stunning impression, as always. And as Obi-Wan gazed at her, he had to forcibly remind himself to draw a breath. The air frequently seemed much thinner to him when in her presence. The impact of her beauty almost like a slap in the face . . . never more so than at this moment. Confronted as he was by the first image of her he had seen in more than a year.
It was as eerie as it was heartbreaking. There she was, sitting in front of him. As if she had never left. She just looked so . . . alive.
But those eyes of hers. She had always used them to say much more than her words ever could. They had been one of her most powerful political tools, the Jedi surmised. Able to convey hidden meanings to allies or enemies as she wished. And as he looked into them now, transfixed by the sight of her on the viewscreen, he was utterly chilled. There was sadness there, a sadness he had come to recognize within himself over the last year. There was also fear there, he noticed.
Her eyes were red as well. And a bit puffy. It seemed she had been crying . . .
Just as the Jedi’s heart began to ache at that realization, he saw her take a deep breath. Her small movement stilled him as he anticipated her next.
And then . . . she spoke. Padmé’s voice, as strong and clear as he ever remembered it, filled the small space he occupied. Just as it filled his heart to hear it after so long.
“Should this message be discovered by anyone but Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she began in her most diplomatic voice and posture, “I ask that you please make sure that he gets it. It is very important . . . Thank you.”
As quickly as her political façade emerged, it departed. Padmé’s eyes darted upward and around seemingly searching for where to begin, as if the right words would by some miracle fall into her lap. Obi-Wan wanted to urge her on, assure her that it was safe to say whatever she wished, even though he knew it would be futile to do so. And so he waited.
She closed her eyes and took another long, deep breath. When she opened them again she seemed calm, and ready.
“Hello Master Kenobi . . . Obi-Wan,” she said and adding with a small smile, “You know? You and I really should stop being so formal with one another. After everything we’ve been through it’s starting to feel disingenuous.”
But her smile didn’t last long. Continuing, it quickly vanished, replaced by a sad assuredness, “We’ve failed, Obi-Wan . . . I failed. Despite my best efforts, I could not hold what was left of the Republic and the Senate together. And based on the lack of word from Utapau, you were unable to stop the war . . . Now? All seems lost. I just pray that you are safe, my friend.”
‘She hadn’t yet heard that I had killed Grevious,’ Obi-Wan reasoned with growing interest . . .
I spent the better part of the evening watching the destruction of the Jedi Temple. I could see the smoke from my apartment . . . And I wept, Obi-Wan. Because I knew what losing the Temple meant to the Republic. To see the troopers in the sky heading there. Our Republic is truly lost. All this time we feared the Separatists when we should have been worried about the corruption and evil inside our own government.
Obi-Wan? If you are seeing this message, it is entirely possible that I am . . . no longer with you. As it stands I am now in grave danger. Without the Jedi Order I fear the dissolution of our entire Democracy.
But I have, in recent days, taken steps to ensure that my friends in the Senate will have the support of local and provincial leaders on outlying systems. Should they ever need it to oppose Palpatine.
‘The database,’ he thought, ‘She must mean the holoron that Organa found . . . attached to this message.’
If this fact ever becomes public knowledge. Should my work ever be discovered by the wrong individuals . . . Well it wouldn’t be hard to imagine what would happen to me.
And Anakin’s been having dreams as well. Visions. Like those he used to have about his mother. He says that I die in them. And I know he’s trying so hard to prevent that but . . . I don’t think he can. We both know that Anakin is capable of so many things but I- I feel that I won’t be around to see all of this through. I can’t explain it.
And that’s why I . . .
She stopped. Seemingly unable to continue. And that’s when Obi-Wan noticed the moisture that had collected within her eyes, making them glossy and reflective. Padmé looked away from him. She didn’t want him to see her cry.
I have so much to tell you, Ben. Much that I had been too afraid to tell you. But I need you to know. Even if it’s after I’m gone . . .
Obi-Wan didn’t understand. What could be so vital now? The Republic had already fallen. What message could she still have for his ears alone that would make Senator Organa act as he had? It must be of a personal nature. But what exactly the word “personal” meant in this context, he could only guess.
You came to see me a few days ago, do you remember? To talk about Anakin? I didn’t want to talk about my relationship with him, especially to you. But it didn’t matter, you already knew anyway.
I married him, Obi-Wan. When he took me back to Naboo, after what happened on Geonosis. I became Anakin’s wife. And in that instant my life became a lie. Something to keep hidden from anyone and everyone. Even the baby I now carry. A pregnancy should be a joyous occasion! Something to celebrate and share with the galaxy! . . . But all I do is worry about what would happen if someone found out.
Obi-Wan, the last time we spoke you impressed upon me how vital it was that Ani stay in The Order. Because he was so “undisciplined.” I realized then. At that very moment. That that was exactly why Anakin was the only Jedi I could ever get close to. The only one who could ever . . . love me back.
Padmé’s eyes fell from his again, down to what Obi-Wan imagined to be her hands resting in her lap. Oh how he wished she hadn’t! He needed to see her eyes, to read her. Without them, he began to search. Examining the two dimensional image of her face for any sign. Any indication at all about what she had meant by that. Anakin being the only Jedi that could love her. Where should the emphasis be placed in that sentiment? Upon the name “Anakin” or upon the word “Jedi”?
The difference between the two sent his mind reeling. ‘Padmé please,’ he begged inwardly, ‘just tell me!’
Until that moment I had never really understood why I fell for Anakin the way I did and as quickly as I did. It was because I was searching for something. Something that had eluded me and made my heart feel empty. Something I once possessed but . . . was forced to give up.
We were close once, Ben. Closer than anyone knew. Those few days you spent with me on Naboo, right after the liberation of my people were . . . special to me. I know how you struggled then. With the death of Master Qui-Gon. I think we both did. And I tried so hard to help you. Be there if you needed someone.
In the process I . . . was able to know you. Truly know you. As few did.
Even after we parted I continued to carry you within me. I thought of you often, Obi-Wan. Eventually, though, I forced my feelings away and pushed them deep down. You always seemed so much . . . more than I ever was. You were so far away from me and . . . unattainable. So I tried to explain away what I felt for you as nothing more than the fantasies of a naive young girl about her first crush.
He couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. It was all but impossible to believe that she . . . Obi-Wan shook his head and sighed. He should really wait and hear the entire message before jumping to any conclusions. Just because she had had a crush on him as a young woman didn’t have to mean any more than that.
Yet even as he attempted to talk himself down from his own confused thoughts, her eyes began to twinkle with mischief as she looked at him. And a small, shy (and all too alluring) grin spread across her face. Was she blushing?
You were, you know. The first man I ever daydreamed about. How could I not? A handsome, honorable knight arrives just in time to heroically rescue the queen of a people held hostage by ruthless invaders . . . The old romance tales read to me as a child often related such situations.
The whole thing really was quite sad though. I was in disguise as a handmaiden most of the time. And whenever you would walk by me and smile, even to be polite, my face would get so hot I thought my head would explode!
Did she just giggle? Obi-Wan couldn’t be sure. Her expression quickly changed. Her face became sad.
I wonder if you ever noticed me then? Probably not. I wouldn’t have blamed you.
. . . I-I didn’t dare tell you any of this before, Ben. I knew early on how the Jedi view attachment. Love. I also knew that you couldn’t give it up . . . not for anything. And that was okay because you wouldn’t be you if you could. Being a Jedi is who you are.
I don’t think you ever really felt the same way anyway. Which I understood.
And I thought that was the end. I really did. I married someone else and you became a Jedi Master . . . But then? Then you came to see me the other day. You told me to tread carefully. That some decisions couldn’t be reversed . . . And I had agreed.
I know that fact better than most.
. . . I should not have married him, Obi-Wan. It was a mistake. I mean I do love him but . . . it was wholly unfair of me to substitute him for what I truly wanted. But now that I’m in it I – I must be true to him. I must help him. Just as you asked me to. And I will. For both of you.
Obi-Wan sat stunned, his mouth open and eyebrows raised in continued confusion. Any tears he shed, long-since forgotten as he attempted to take in all that was being told to him. No, not told, he realized. Confessed. Padmé was confessing to him. But he still could not quite wrap his mind around what she was trying to say . . . or perhaps he did not want to. Fully realizing the truth behind her words would only bring more pain.
She was crying now on the screen. Her battle against her emotions finally lost. And even that seemed extraordinary to Obi-Wan. How could someone so sad, crying the way she did, still look so damned beautiful? Even when she wept she could take his breath away. Each tear slid down the soft skin of her cheeks one at a time. Wetting her dark lashes as she kept her eyes open wide to him. She would not hide from him any longer. There was no need now . . .
Obi-Wan? If something should happen to me, as I fear, then you need to know that my heart was always yours. It still is. And that I lo-
The very floor that the Jedi’s chair stood upon seem to fall out from under him as her voice was silenced. Padmé had stopped talking. And, as he watched, she turned from him quickly, rotating in her chair to looking behind her into the next room.
Obi-Wan also noticed that her breathing had become more rapid. Was she afraid? What was going on?
Damn! Ben? There’s a speeder outside. I have to go.
Um . . . I’ll find a way to get this to you. I promise.
. . . Goodbye.
~~
Obi-Wan sat motionless in his small chair, in his small dwelling, amid one of Tatooine’s numerous harsh deserts. The room itself, it seemed, had grown terribly heavy, pressing in upon him from all directions. It was hard to breath and his tired mind reeled, replaying the things she had just said to him over and over to himself.
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how long he sat there, nor how many times he watched her tearful confession. Seeing her, even in so much pain felt like truly coming home in a way he had not since before the rise of the Empire. Perhaps even before the Clone Wars. Though her image could not ease his pain.
With any desire to control his emotions long-since forgotten during the course of her message, he let go. The Jedi did not weep, but allowed whatever tears that wished to come forth to do so freely. Tracks of warm tears slid down his now worn face, overlapping any that had fallen earlier. It didn’t matter now. There was no one here to see him break. No one to be strong for. There was only him. Obi-Wan Kenobi. And he was alone. There was nothing to distract him from dealing with the torrent of emotions and thoughts now swirling inside of him.
He was sad.
As was always the case when he thought about her for too long. He was sad for the loss of his friend and all that she had meant to not only him but to the entire galaxy. Padmé was hope. She had represented youth and vibrancy in the Senate; a new direction and character for the aging political system which she had decided to serve.
He felt guilty
.
The emotion was cold and brought a dull ache to his chest. ‘Why didn’t she come to me,’ he questioned himself in vain, ‘I would have done anything to help her . . . if only I hadn’t been so blind.’ Perhaps he could have gotten her away from Anakin in time had he seen what was truly going on.
But the largest emotion now settling upon his heart, the one that completely outweighed the others, was regret.
It was familiar to him now. It was pure. More than any other feeling he had struggled to overcome in the last year, regret was hardest to conquer. It constricted his chest and sapped what strength he had left. His hindsight was completely clear. He could see perfectly all that he had done wrong. How the Jedi had failed so utterly in refusing to adapt and grow as the rest of the galaxy had. Qui-Gon had known. He was free thinking, driven by emotion and constantly squabbling with the Council because of it.
Perhaps if Obi-Wan had followed his feelings, if he had listened to his heart, as his Master so often did, things may have been different. Padmé would not have had to seek comfort from Anakin. And, in turn, Anakin would not have been able to use her as an excuse to seek even greater power and indulge in the Dark Side.
Perhaps she would not have died. Perhaps his truth, that which he was only now coming to fully understand, could have saved an entire galaxy from tyranny and death.
‘You are beginning to sound like a Sith, Master Kenobi. Like Vader,’ Obi-Wan chastised himself harshly, ‘One man cannot control a moving future any more than he can single-handedly tame a raging river.’ And while the Jedi knew this to be true, the man inside him remained uncomforted and empty. ‘Is this how Anakin used to feel,’ he wondered sadly, ‘when I tried to explain away his dreams and feelings with lectures about the Force and the Jedi Code?’ He had made many mistakes with the boy. That much was strikingly clear. For all the good it did him now. Anakin, at least the Anakin he had known and raised, no longer existed.
Everything was the will of the Force. A much stronger will than Obi-Wan had ever imagined. Was Palpatine’s Empire a punishment of some sort? A galactic reminder that all things, even millennia-old Republics and the vaunted Jedi Order, eventually end? It was a harsh price to pay for the self-imposed illusion of their own infallibility.
And it was true, anything he ever could have said to Padmé would most likely not have changed the fate of an entire galaxy. But at least she would not have been left wondering. At least she would have known. And not from some posthumous holo-vid recording, but from his own lips and his own heart.
But, it seemed, she had been operating under a colossal misunderstanding. For her to think that she was somehow beneath him. Perhaps not good enough for him? That he saw her as nothing more than a naive child? Nothing could have been further from the truth. In fact, Obi-Wan had felt much the same as she apparently had. Padmé Amidala had always been a woman of great grace and refinement, as well as fierce beauty and intelligence.
And while he never technically saw her as being too good for him, he certainly felt unworthy of her affection. What could he have ever offered her? Not even his love really.
Unfortunately, for the both of them, he had refused to acknowledge that anything ever existed between them. She was beautiful, he could never deny that, and the older she grew the harder it was for him to overlook how attracted he was to her. She had grown into a most exquisite creature indeed.
But it wasn’t just that she was beautiful. She was also smart, tactful, warm and quite funny . . . in a light and flirty sort of way. Though not a lot of people knew that about her. Only those who had the privilege of knowing her outside of the political (or royal) arena would have been treated to her giddy smile and coy laughter.
Obi-Wan knew . . . And Padmé had remembered too.
Those few blessed days on Naboo after Qui-Gon’s death, Obi-Wan and Anakin had spent much of their time seeing the various sights in the capital city of Theed. Often the Queen had escorted them herself, when she wasn’t too busy with more important matters. And in the evenings, with little Ani safely tucked into bed, the newly knighted Jedi and the young queen would dine together and talk. They spoke of a great many things. Often about politics, though they frequently disagreed. Sometimes about Anakin; his Jedi training and how the boy would most likely perform.
On rare nights, though, their conversation would drift deeper. Obi-Wan would speak about Qui-Gon. About all the man had meant to him and about his initial guilt over having been trapped by that single energy barrier. Forced to watch as the menacing Sith Warrior cut down his mentor.
And Padmé had been of great comfort to him. More than he realized at the time. She had listened. Simply listened, without judgment or indifference. Nor did she try to offer some useless platitudes about the meaning of life and the inevitability of death.
One time he had actually begun to cry in front of her. His voice cracking as he relayed to her a story about his youth with his Master. She didn’t fuss over him, only placed a small hand over his and allowed him to continue as he wished. Obi-Wan didn’t remember what else he said to her that night. But he could recall, rather vividly, the warmth of her hand on his. It was soothing. Like a warm balm. And it had made him feel whole again.
Even then, though, he had refused to truly see her. She was a child after all, even though she governed an entire planet. It had been easy to push the memory of her aside. If truth be told, however, she was actually more brave and more mature than many people his own age at the time. But seeing her as anything more would have been unthinkable for him.
So instead he had forgotten those few days. And not until her life energy was waning; until he stood over her while she slept and gently touched her face did he begin to see. This was not some simple dignitary that he was duty-sworn to protect. Nor was she simply his best friend’s wife.
The woman who had been lying there was Padmé. His friend. The one thing he desired for himself but, with all his vast power, could never reach.
And then she was gone. She had proven her instincts true. Not only was the information she collected going to be of great use to Bail Organa and the others but, most painfully, she had not survived. She had not lived to deliver her message to him personally.
Apart from being eerily prophetic, however, Padmé’s message was incredibly personal. Almost to the point of being uncomfortable. No wonder Senator Organa had seemed embarrassed when Obi-Wan spoke to him earlier. Most Senators and Jedi knew of Senator Amidala’s close relationship with the Order. And the tabloids would often speculate about the prominent Senator’s private life. But Padmé and Anakin had been careful. ‘No doubt Bail was quite shocked to learn the details of her marriage,’ Obi-Wan thought, ‘as well to learn of her feelings for . . .’
. . . him. Her feelings for Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Padmé knew she may die and one of her last acts was to make sure that Obi-Wan knew how much she cared for him.
He didn’t quite know what to make of that. Part of him wanted to smile, a long-dormant part of his heart growing warm again. But she was still gone. And she would never know the truth.
. . . that he had cared for her too.
~~
to be continued...
LoL! You two are just too evil! And the worst part of all is that you are enjoying torturing us like this...BAH!! 
