FicWad

The Sixth Chapter of a SW AU work in progress
Series Title: /Becoming Love: I, In You/
*Story Title: The Rise of the Clone Wars
*Tentative/working title only - subject to change, as I’m not sure I like it!
Pairing: Mainly Dormékin with some background Sobidala (Sabé/Obi-Wan/Padmé Amidala).
*Rating: Uhm, probably a borderline PG-13/R-ish, overall, maybe (?)
*This may be subject to change, in a few very specific later parts.
Disclaimer: I do not own the lovely boys and girls from /Star Wars/, more's the pity! What I do have is an extremely contrary muse that refuses to shut up and leave me alone (or to make up its bloody mind about certain things) . . .

Summary: What if Senator Padmé Amidala had refused to go into hiding on Naboo, during the events of AotC and a scheme were instead hatched that involved sending Dormé Tammesin (the Senator's only surviving handmaiden on Coruscant who’d been trained as a decoy) into hiding as Amidala, with Anakin Skywalker to accompany and protect her, while Obi-Wan Kenobi went searching for the individual(s) responsible for the attempts on the Senator’s life and the first of the Senator's decoys (now one of the primary trainers of her new handmaidens), Sabé Dahn, brought her newest students to Coruscant to help Jedi Knights Siri Tachi and Garen Muln in their new assignment to hide and protect Padmé, while she remained on Coruscant to covertly continue the fight against the passing of the Military Creation Act? What, then, might have followed . . . and how would events have turned out differently than in the film saga? Dormékin AU of AotC!

Author’s Warnings: 1.) Please see the Author’s Warnings for the preface and prologue and first chapter of this story, as they continue to hold true pretty much throughout the rest of the story!
2.) Again, this story does not have a beta - I’ve proof-read and checked the grammar, but I won’t swear that there aren’t any typos! I will be happy to fix any errors that are pointed out to me!

Author’s Notes: 1.) Please see the Author’s Notesfor the preface and prologue and first chapter of this story, as they continue to hold true pretty much throughout the rest of the story!
2.) Please keep in mind that some of the scenes in this work are going to be deliberately modelled after scenes in AotC (specifically the novelization of AotC by R. A. Salvatore), especially near the start of the story!
3.) Erhm, in case it’s not already fairly obvious, "Bendu" is a highly respectful, slightly old-fashioned and/or ceremonial title for a Jedi. Padmé and Sabé tend to think that there aren’t any Jedi aside from Obi-Wan Kenobi worthy of the title, and so they also tend to use it as a term of endearment specifically for him.
4.) Again, I have a journal entry with a running list of costumes/images that work as "illustrations" for much of this story, a more complete/updated version of which can now be found at http://polgarawolf.livejournal.com/136333.html and, when the story is completely done, I will likely go back and either create specific entries with links for each chapter or include the proper information on costumes and such for each chapter in that chapter post.



Star Wars
Becoming Love: I, In You
The Rise of the Clone Wars

Chapter Six: Splitting Up


1,000:05:19-1,000:05:20 After Ruusan Reformations (25,001 After Republic’s Founding), 17-16 days prior to the Battle of Geonosis

I have a really bad feeling about this; you have a very bad feeling about this; Padmé and Sabé and Dormé all have bad feelings about this; fierfek, even Garen and Siri agree that this doesn’t seem like a very good idea, and they don’t ever agree about anything: everybody seems to get that this is a bad idea except for the Council Masters, and of course the ruling of the High Council is law. That means it’s our job to prove them wrong and make whatever it is that feels so wrong about this right. Again. Force forfend anything should ever be easy!
– Anakin Skywalker, Padawan apprentice of Jedi Bendu Sith Killer Obi-Wan Kenobi and presumed Chosen One of prophecies, approximately half a month prior to the outbreak of the Clone Wars, upon learning that they’re going to have to not only split up but leave the person they’ve been assigned to protect behind in the course of their mission



Elseida Navrielle may have a slightly off-putting manner about her, her manners slightly rough and occasionally somewhat erratic around the edges, but she is, herself, nothing if not reliable, when it comes to her calling in life, and she shows the following day quite promptly at noon, to be shown in to Milady’s private quarters by Joané, trailed by dozens upon dozens of boxes filled with over forty brand new or otherwise carefully altered elaborate gowns and their accessories (not to mention capes, gloves, headpieces, cloaks, petticoats, underclothes, shifts, nightgowns, dressing gowns, and other such items). Dormé, who had gotten out of the habit of wearing such (almost ridiculously) elaborate finery, finds that she has trouble catching her breath, at the sight of some of those costumes, but Milady is so pleased that she actually throws her arms around Elseida, hugging her tightly, to reinforce her strong approval of the dressmaker’s work, after which she insists that she will personally help Dormé into the first of her disguises – the layered golden and embroidered vivid yellow and burgundy costume of a young matron from the Thousand Moons system – just as soon as they have gotten all of these gorgeous gowns – including appropriate jewelry – safely packed away, since the majority of Dormé’s luggage will be taken up by what Elseida has just brought them.

A few hours later, dressed in an elaborate, lacy, ruffled, wide-skirted (though the hoops that give those skirts their bell-like shape are collapsible, to easily fit beneath the much narrower overgown and cloak that complete the costume), two-toned golden underdress, she answers the chiming of the main entrance to the apartment complex, where Anakin’s double-take makes her blush almost in spite of herself, though she cannot help but grin at his dumbfounded expression, turning in a little circle and raising an eyebrow at him questioningly as she asks, “I take it I pass muster, then?”

Anakin enthusiastically – if increasingly awkwardly – gushes, “You look great! I mean, you always look great, of course, but now you look like a Queen or a Senator great! Not that you can’t look great without looking like her, just – ”

“Oh, Anakin, do give over! You’ll only dig yourself a deeper hole,” she laughs, genuinely amused by his increasingly flustered, fumbling attempts to compliment her. “As long as you think I can be mistaken for Milady, I’m content enough.”

“Very like. I thought for a moment it was Padmé, answering the door,” he swiftly avows, entering into the room as she steps back away from the door.

“Good. The better the illusion, the safer Milady will be.” She nods firmly and turns to head back into the complex, certain he will follow (which he does, trailing after her like a puppy). “Are you here to double-check the travel arrangements?”

“Obi-Wan’s finalizing things with our replacements here, with Padmé, for when Sabé arrives and he can go after the second bounty hunter. He told me I should make myself useful packing and carrying,” Anakin replies with a bit of a shrug.

She smiles at him gently, appreciatively, to soften her refusal. “Sweetling, don’t take this the wrong way, but you are not someone I would trust to help pack away clothing like this. In any case, most of what I’ll be taking with us has already been seen to, and Milady and the other girls are already seeing to the rest of the packing. You may certainly help with the carrying, if you wish, later on, for what isn’t going to be sent ahead, to the ship, as personal cargo, rather than carried aboard with us, but until then, you may as well come and sit with me. It will be at least another hour, before they’re done in there, and I’ve been banned from helping, now that I’m in the lower layer of my costume.”

Anakin frowns slightly, tilting his head curiously. “The lowest layer?”

“I’m dressing as a prosperous refugee from the Thousand Moons system, during our trip. This is only the underdress for my first costume – there’s quite a bit more to the full traveling garb, including a headdress with a veil and cowl and a cloak,” she explains.

“Oh. So you’ve got other dresses like this one?”

“Three others. I’m to be extra careful with this one, since I’ll have to wear it again, for the day we’re meant to arrive at Naboo, which is why I’m not allowed to help with the rest of the packing, for fear I might become snagged on something and rip a ruffle. I was just about to get myself some tea. Would you like a cup, or perhaps some juice?”

“Have you got bribb juice?” he asks eagerly.

Dormé finds herself grinning. “Of course we do! It’s your favorite, after all. Tall glass?”

“Very, please!”

“Come on, then, /kalal/. We may as well sit in the kitchen. When should we be expecting Master Kenobi?”

Anakin gives another small shrug, following her into the nearest kitchen as he replies, “He said to comm when we look likely to be within half an hour of leaving for the ship. He’s busy lecturing Siri and Garen about how best to keep Milady safe.”

“I’m still surprised the High Council didn’t agree to send another Master-Padawan pair, rather than two full Jedi Knights. Do you think they suspect that those responsible might be angry enough to attempt to bomb these quarters, after ‘Amidala’ appears to flee?” she asks as she bustles around, fetching a glass and the requested juice for Anakin while also preparing herself a pot of her favorite herbal tea.

“No, nothing like that,” Anakin quickly reassures her, patting her hand as he accepts the proffered (and very tall) glass of juice. “Sabé just asked for two Jedi, and Obi-Wan asked Siri and Garen if they’d consider volunteering. They said yes, so the Council agreed to send them.”

Dormé smiles a little in her relief. “Good to know. I’m not sure I’d be able to leave if they thought it might provoke a worse outbreak of violence.”

“Where are we going, on Naboo, anyway? No one’s really said if there’s a particular destination in mind, but I get the feeling Obi-Wan knows something about where we’re going.”

“Theed first – the Palace, to pay our respects and to speak to Queen Jamillia, and then the Naberrie home, to visit for a time, as Padmé would – and then the Lake Country, to hide, unless the Queen tells us we need to go someplace else. Our main training grounds for the handmaidens is on Varykino, as you know, at the old Naberrie Lake House Retreat. It’s one of the safest, most secure places on the planet, in addition to being quite lovely. It’ll be like a vacation, for us, in a way. We get the easy part while Milady stays here and waits, working behind the scenes, until the day of the vote, and Master Kenobi gets to hunt for the other assassin and whoever is responsible for hiring the bounty hunters to kill Milady in the first place.”

Seriously, Anakin asks, “Do you mind being stuck on a forced vacation with me?”

Determinedly squashing down her pang of remorse, at the thought of leaving Milady and the others behind, she quickly flashes Anakin a smile and insists, “Of course not! I imagine it will be a nice change of pace, for you, to be able to rest and relax somewhere like Varykino. And we can talk without having to rely on comms and holos, for a while.”

His solemn expression melts into an oddly shy little smile. “That mans no more trading letters and cards, on our data pads, for a while, either. I’ll have to see if I can remember how to handle real writing instruments, if I want to leave you a note about something.”

“Remember the offer you made, once, to draw me, when we got to actually see each other face to face again?”

“I remember. Do you still want to sit for me?”

Dormé smiles at him, touched by the note of eagerness in his voice. “It doesn’t seem as if we’ll have much else to do, once we’re there. I think I can squeeze in a proper sitting, in between lounging about, pretending to be a lady of leisure.”

“Alright then! Deal. You sit, and I’ll draw. And then we can go on a picnic and loll about in the sun like a couple of spoiled nobles. I’ll even venture to swim, if you’d like. Obi-Wan got me to get past my fear of water enough to relearn how to swim, after that sleemo Ferus nearly drowned me, you know, and I rather like it,” Anakin declares with a broad smile.

The mention of Ferus Olin makes her want to scowl, but she knows that Siri Tachi’s former Padawan learner is a touchy subject, so she just nods and tells him, “I remember – you told me about going into a river, on Ansion, after Barriss Offee fell in.”

Anakin shrugs and ducks his head, noting, “She didn’t really need rescuing, as it turned out, but it was nice to get in the water for awhile.”

“I’ll be sure to either find a bathing suit to take along or else make sure there’s one there I can wear, then. We can cool off in the lake, after lounging about in the sun. And you can draw me again, as a water spirit, later on, if you wish!” Dormé laughs good naturedly.

Anakin grins at her hugely, leaning across the table close to her. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m glad it’s you who’s coming and not Padmé. I don’t think I’d know what to do with myself, stuck there with someone I barely even know and feel like some kind of idiot child every time I try to talk to. I feel bad about making Obi-Wan and the others do all the work – I’m not actually sure it’s such a good idea, for us to be splitting up like this. If they were sending someone else back to Naboo, as Senator Amidala, I’d still be trying to convince the Council that Siri should be going with her while Garen chases after the other bounty hunter and Obi-Wan and I stay here to guard Padmé and Sabé and you and everyone else – but I’ll admit I’m looking forward to seeing Naboo again. It’s a beautiful place.”

“The Lake Country is especially lovely. You may never wish to leave, again.”

“I’m willing to take that risk if you are.”

Her heart jumps strangely, under his unwavering earnest gaze. She makes herself smile before turning aside, rising to fetch them an assortment of cheeses and crackers and such to munch on. “We will risk it together.”

“I would have it no other way,” is his instant and quite fervent response.

“Nor I, Anakin. Nor I.”

They are sitting close together, comfortably laughing and joking and trading little stories, when Joané eventually wanders in, a little over an hour later, to inform Dormé that they think they may have everything packed and that Milady wishes to have her go over everything with her, to make sure they haven’t forgotten anything important, before Dormé changes into the rest of her costume and they get ready to see her off.

***

The industrial sector of Coruscant holds what are quite possibly the greatest freight docks in all of the galaxy, with lines of bulky transports coming and going continually, huge floating cranes ready to meet them as they arrive to unload the millions of tons of supplies and personnel necessary to keep the city-planet (which long ago became far too populous to support itself through its own resources) alive and thriving. Though the efficiency of those docks is nothing short of amazing, the place is still tumultuous and sometimes gridlocked by the sheer number of docking ships and floating cranes Adding to the confusion is the fact that this is also a place for living passengers – especially for the peasantry of Coruscant – seeking to catch cheap rides on outbound freighters, thousands and thousands of people looking to escape the sheer frenzy of the Republic’s capital world.

In the carefully muffling layers of a proper young matron from the Thousand Moons system and with Anakin wearing simple brown and beige tunics and breeches topped by a pale beige poncho (to hide his lightsaber and utility belt without making it difficult for him to reach his weapon, if necessary), Dormé and her intended escort blend with almost surprising efficacy into the loud and chaotic throngs made up of that multifarious commingling of species, just two more refugees disembarking from a speeder bus to head for the dock and walkway that will take them to the shuttle heading up to one of the gigantic transports. With Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and Jedi garb hidden beneath his fairly anonymous brown outer robe, Padmé dressed in a fairly nondescript blue dress wrapped about by a deeply-cowled cloak, and Captain Typho garbed in his dark leathers, no one seems to give their little party a second glance as they make their way towards the exit door, even with an astromech droid trundling faithfully along with them.

If anyone actually had been paying attention, they might have heard Obi-Wan anxiously questioning his apprentice as they drew nearer and nearer to the shuttle.

“ . . . and you’re certain you have the proper comm sequencing numbers and channels, in case you need to contact me or the High Council or Milady’s apartments?”

Anakin’s voice sounds slightly long-suffering, but he’s smiling slightly (gently) as he patiently replies, “Yes, Master, and I double-checked again to be sure our comm is at the top of the programmed list for your comm, after the Temple, Padmé’s private comm, Sabé’s private comm, and the general comm for Padmé’s apartment complex. We’ll all be able to keep in touch, if we need to, as long as you don’t pass out of range . . . and if you go out of range for Coruscant then Dormé or I can always act as a go-between and pass messages along for you, as needed.”

Obi-Wan stops fretting long enough to smile softly at his Padawan learner, noting, “You may need to, at some point. Holocomm transmitters become thinly stretched and uncertain, the further out one gets from the Expansionary Regions. If it becomes necessary, please, be sure to pass along any such messages as promptly as possible – and please do try to refrain from adding anything to any message meant for the High Council, unless something has happened where you are that you feel the Council Masters should know of.”

Anakin’s soft smile unfolds into a far more brash grin as he replies, “Yes, Master. Of course not, Master. Dormé will keep me in line, so you don’t have to worry so much, Master!”

/That /earns him a surprisingly wide smile. “Yes, I’m quite sure she shall. She seems to have you well in line. I may need to take notes, for future reference.”

“/Master/!”

Obi-Wan just smiles at him again before turning towards Dormé and Padmé, who are embracing again, Dormé making a little quip about how Artoo can be a chaperone for her and Anakin, in an effort to make the clearly worried Padmé Amidala smile. He waits a few moments for them to catch up, and then quietly tells Padmé, “I’ve asked Knights Muln and Tachi to meet us when we return to your apartments. They are excellent Knights, Milady, and, when the time comes, I am confident that they will keep you and yours safe until I can get to the bottom of this, just as Anakin will keep Dormé safe while she acts as your decoy. I’ve arranged for Sabé’s ship to use one of the Temple landings, when she arrives, so you need have no fear of an attempt on her ship, as there was on yours. Garen and Siri will have my comm, as well as Anakin’s, and I’m sure Anakin will have programmed your comm, so you can contact him or Dormé at any time.”

“Next from the top, after Obi-Wan’s personal comm and current ship comm, the general comm for the Temple, Sabé’s personal comm, Theed Palace, the Lake House Retreat, and Bail Organa’s residence here on Coruscant, just above the listing for the Alderaanian Royal Palace,” Anakin cheerfully chimes in. “Dormé said it was alright to bump the Naberrie residence down one, since everyone in your household has that comm sequence memorized anyway.”

Padmé inclines her hooded head graciously. “Thank you, Anakin. I suppose Dormé has told you why Varrykino should remain on that list?”

“Yes, Milady Padmé. She indicated as much. And I agree with her reasoning, for making that our eventual destination on Naboo, after Theed,” is Anakin’s scrupulously polite response.

“Good. I shall know you are both safe, there,” she nods briskly, her tense expression relaxing so fully that it’s impossible to hold the (surely unintentional) implied slight against her. “Obi-Wan, are you certain Knights Muln and Tachi cannot be the ones to chase down this new lead? I’m sure they are both excellent Knights, but my household is more accustomed to you. Everyone should feel better if – ”

Obi-Wan shakes his head regretfully. “I am sorry, Padmé. The Council made its will very clear in this matter. Anakin is to go to Naboo, with Dormé, and I am to try to find the mysterious planet that my contact, Dexter Jettster, assures me is the origin for the poisoned saberdart that slew the Clawdite changeling, though the Archives insist that no such world exists.”

“I dislike the thought of you two splitting up like this! Varykino is an extremely safe place, but for you to be going alone to a planet whose existence was somehow wiped from the Temple Archives like this – !” Padmé fretfully beings to protest.

Soothingly, Obi-Wan cuts in, insisting, “It will be alright. I prefer you to have two Knights guarding you, in any case.”

“But – ”

“Anakin and I can always go and rescue him, if he ends up needing any help,” Dormé abruptly volunteers, making Anakin and Obi-Wan both start slightly with surprise, the question, /We will? /forming but not quite passing Anakin’s lips before Padmé can respond, her relief over Dormé’s offer all but tangible, her too tense body relaxing visibly, the frown creasing her face smoothing away, replaced by a small but thoroughly amused upwards quirk of lips.

“And you will not require rescuing yourselves?”

“We shall certainly endeavor to avoid being caught by hostile forces as well!”

“Well. I suppose the first step in avoiding a trap is knowing that it’s there.” Padmé grins and embraces Dormé again, clearly pleased with this agreement.

Anakin rolls his eyes but Obi-Wan, surprisingly, smiles as well, if somewhat bemusedly. “I am constantly endeavoring to impress this very fact on Anakin. If you’ve taught this wisdom to Lady Dormé, then perhaps she can save me the trouble, by passing it along to Anakin in her own unique fashion.”

For once, Dormé doesn’t blush and stutter, but instead manages to return Obi-Wan’s smile, wryly noting, “I can try/, Master Kenobi. But he is /very stubborn, sometimes.”

“Ah. You’ve noticed that, have you?”

“Oh, yes, fairly early on. He reminds me of my youngest brother, in a way – very obstinate about some things, usually none of them all that explicable.”

“Hey!” It feels . . . strange, to Anakin, to have Dormé and his Master laughing and joking together. Anakin is surprised by a sudden surge of jealousy that leaves him shaken and confused, wondering which one he’s actually feeling envious of and why, when he’s so often longed for the two of them to get along better than they do.

Dormé turns towards him with an unabashed grin, distracting him by teasingly protesting, “Oh, come now, Anakin! You must admit you can be stubborn, at times!”

“Self-defense,” Anakin instantly retorts, grinning back at her wheedling tone.

That startles Obi-Wan and Padmé both into laughter, and Padmé even notes, with obvious amusement, “You must admit he has you there, my headstrong handmaiden!”

Dormé’s answering smile is sheepish but genuine. “Self-defense?”

Obi-Wan makes a choking noise, holding up his hands as if in defense when Padmé turns a mock glare on him but wisely refraining from commenting, instead merely noting, “Ah, the time! Shouldn’t the three of you be getting on your way? We wouldn’t want you to miss your shuttle,” and sparking another round of hugs and last minute whispers of instruction and reminder and reassurance between the two young women before Dormé and Anakin board the shuttle that will take them to the ship heading (among other places) for Naboo.

“Be safe, Lady Dormé,” Captain Typho tells the young handmaiden, his voice heavy with genuine concern as he takes one of her hands in his and squeezes it gently. Though it is clear that he is not overly thrilled with this plan, it is equally clear, by the relief lurking behind the worry clouding his one good dark eye, that he would rather allow Dormé than Padmé out of his sight and control. As he hands two pieces of medium-sized luggage over to Anakin, he both shoots the young man a look of clear meaning, silently beseeching and warning him to take good care of Dormé, and gives a nod of confidence to the Jedi Padawan.

“Thank you, Captain,” Dormé replies, nodding formally, smiling with gratitude. “Take good care of Milady. With enemies so willing to kill, there will likely be danger enough to go around, even if they do believe without s doubt that Amidala is returning home to hide.”

Padmé smiles a little, declaring, “I’m sure that between Knights Muln and Tachi, Captain Typho, and Sabé that we shall be safe enough here. You must be sure to take extra care, though. I do not know how long this delay of the vote will last, and I’m certain that those who do not know the truth will believe that I am the one returning to Naboo,” she adds, embracing Dormé once more in an almost painfully tight hug and clinging to her all the tighter as she loses the battle against tears and begins to cry.

“Anakin and I will be fine,” Dormé whispers into Padmé’s ear, returning her desperate embrace with equal fervency. “It’s you I worry about, Milady. What if they realize you haven’t actually left the capital?”

Padmé moves back to arm’s length and manages a watery smile as she looks over towards Obi-Wan. “Then I suppose my new Jedi protectors will also have a chance to prove precisely how good they are, just as my original guardians have already done.”

Dormé gives a slightly nervous chuckle as she smiles and nods, trying to pretend not to notice as Padmé dashes away more tears welling up in her eyes.

Off to the side of them, Anakin holds his smile within, silently thrilling inside to hear both Padmé’s and Dormé’s compliments coming his way and deciding to consciously wear a posture exuding confidence and control. Not even Obi-Wan’s quiet reminder, “Stay on Naboo, Anakin. Don’t attract attention. Do absolutely nothing without checking in with either me or the Council first. This mission is likely meant as a test, for both of us. The Council Masters will be watching closely, to see how we behave,” can put a damper on the warmth glowing within him.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin merely obediently replies, nodding his understanding and smiling a little to let Obi-Wan know that he appreciates the warning.

Obi-Wan grips his shoulder warmly for a few moments (making Anakin’s small smile threaten to split his face in two, at such a blatant sign of his Master’s approval), and then he turns back to Padmé, promising, “I will get to the bottom of this plot as quickly as possible, Milady. Your handmaiden and my apprentice should both be back here in no time at all.”

“I will be most grateful for your speed, Bendu Kenobi,” Padmé avers, her lips trembling slightly as she continues to repress tears.

“As shall we all, Master Kenobi,” Dormé quickly adds, shooting Obi-Wan an almost pleading look.

Though he feels awkward about interrupting and cutting the goodbyes short, Anakin makes himself step forward, touching Dormé gently on the arm and quietly noting, “It really will be alright. But it’s time for us to go, now.”

“I know,” Dormé sighs, before catching Padmé’s hands in hers and giving them one more tight, reassuring squeeze.

Padmé accepts the gesture, but then throws her arms around Dormé for one last hug when Dormé starts to pull away, and, too embarrassed to interrupt, Anakin goes ahead and picks up the luggage, heading off towards the landing where R2-D2 is already waiting.

Obi-Wan grasps his shoulder again, briefly but surprisingly hard, and his voice is quite serious as he tells Anakin, “May the Force be with you.”

“And may the Force be with you, Master,” Anakin fervently replies, hoping that Obi-Wan will safely and swiftly (if perhaps not too terribly quickly) be able to find out who is behind the assassination attempts, to make the galaxy safe once again for Padmé and her household.

“Suddenly I’m not so sure this is a good idea anymore,” Dormé frets as they finally walk away, heading towards the shuttle bus that will take them up to the giant star freighter that will take them to Naboo. Behind them, R2-D2 rolls along, tootling cheerily, reassuringly.

“This is my first real assignment on my own. I’m not entirely sure it’s the best idea to split up like this, either,” Anakin admits, turning to catch Dormé’s worried gaze with his own. When he’s certain she’s looking at him, he grins widely. “Don’t worry, though. We’ve got Artoo with us, and he always manages to keep his charges safe!”

The three left behind in the bustling crowd of the vast spaceport watch, listening to Dormé’s startled laughter, as Anakin, Dormé, and R2-D2 vanish up the ramp to the shuttle.

“I do hope he doesn’t try anything foolish,” Obi-Wan sighs, the mere fact that he should speak so openly concerning his apprentice reassuring the fretful Captain Typho by showing him once again just how much the Jedi Knight has come to trust him.

“I’d be more concerned about her doing something than him,” is Typho’s somewhat wry and somewhat worried response. He shakes his head, his expression serious. “She’s not exactly one to follow orders.”

“Like-minded traveling companions,” Padmé quietly observes.

Obi-Wan and Typho turn to regard her, and Typho shakes his head again, helplessly. Obi-Wan doesn’t try to disagree with or deny Padmé’s assessment, though, however innocently she might mean it. Dormé Tammesin, like the young woman she has devoted her life to protecting, is very much so like both her Lady and her mentor, Sabé Dahn, and that means that she is most definitely a stubborn one indeed, someone of strong and independent thinking, more than willing to trust her own judgment above that of others, whatever their position and experience might be. Of the pair who has just left the speeder bus to enter the shuttle, though, he knows that she is not the most headstrong. It is not precisely a comforting thought. But it does, at the very least, leave him perfectly aware of the danger of something going wrong, should he fail to achieve his part of the mission in sufficiently good time.

Sighing, Obi-Wan offers Padmé his arm, as they turn to depart the station, and silently promises himself yet again to make as much haste in his pursuit of both the mysterious planet Kamino (which his friend Dex pointed him towards yesterday, after a search at the Jedi Archives turned up no matches for the dart used to silence the Clawdite) and the second bounty hunter as is humanly possible for a Jedi Bendu Knight.

***

With gentle hands, Shmi Maakaruna Skywalker Lars lifts the dull bronze chest piece up to the slender, wiry droid, settling it with careful precision into place. She smiles at C-3PO, and, though his face cannot move in a similar fashion, she has come to know him well enough, over the passage of years, that she can tell that he, too, in that curious fretful fashion of his, is pleased. How often he has complained about the sand blowing into his wiring, chipping away at the silicon coverings, even breaking through and giving him jarring jolts on a couple of memorable occasions! And now Shmi is finally taking care of that problem, is finishing what Anakin started when he first began to build the protocol droid, so many years ago, out of spare parts, in his bedroom, in the long, cold, Tatooine evenings.

“Now?” she manages to ask aloud, through lips caked with dried blood. Even as she is speaking, she realizes that, no, it is not now. She covered up the wiring in C-3PO’s chest all those days ago – or was it weeks ago, or even years ago? – when Cliegg first took her to the moisture farm. Yes, there had been spare coverings to fit the protocol droid in the garage area, against the wall, under an old workbench. She remembers that, quite clearly, but for some odd reason she cannot summon up even the faintest notion of when it might have actually been.

And now . . . now she is . . . somewhere else.

She can’t open her eyes to look around; she doesn’t have the strength at that moment, and the blood on them has dried in a thin but hard crust, making any flutter of her eyelids painful.

Idly, she thinks it curious that her eyelids are the only place where she actually feels any real pain at the moment. She thinks that she might be injured. She thinks . . .

Shmi hears something behind her. Shuffling footsteps? Then some mumbling. Yes, but for the one – the strange pale female so fond of her hateful, hissing bragging – they are always mumbling.

Her thoughts go back to C-3PO, poor Threepio, who still needs his battered wiry arms covered. Gently, she lifts the first of the coverings up . . .

She hears a sharp sound – or she understands that it is a sharp sound, though she actually hears it only distantly, as a sort of muffled susurrous sound – then feels a brush across her back.

There are simply no more nerves left in that particular region of her body capable of registering the bite of the whip any more clearly than that.

***

As a long-time trusted handmaiden to Senator Padmé Amidala, formerly Queen Amidala of Naboo, Dormé Tammesin isn’t precisely used to traveling in such a rough manner as this. The oversized freighter has one class, steerage, and, in truth, is really nothing more than a barely modified cargo ship, with several great open holds far more suitable to inanimate cargo than to living beings and individual berths with attached ’freshers so small that she knows, as soon as she sees their quarters (and thank goodness there are two beds, however tiny, or she’s not certain what she would do) it’s going to be an exercise in creativity (with quite a bit of contortion thrown in for flavor) getting in and out of her costumes. The lighting is terrible and the smell is worse, though whether the odor is coming from the ship itself or the hordes of emigrants of many, many species crammed too tightly aboard, Dormé cannot quite tell. Nor does she particularly care. In spite of the rather fragrant, too small accommodations and despite her reasons for being on this ship, Dormé finds that she is truly enjoying the voyage. She knows that she should be back on Coruscant, guarding Milady and helping her come up with ways to fight the efforts to create a standing Republic army; yet, somehow, she feels relaxed here, feels home, feels free. Free of responsibility. Free to just be Dormé for a while, instead of a handmaiden to Senator Amidala. Moments such as these were rare for her, and despite the twinge of guilt that accompanies the enjoyment, she cannot deny that she heartily appreciates and enjoys this one, at least so far.

She looks over at Anakin, who is sleeping somewhat restlessly in the chair across from her. A small crease appearing in her forehead, she turns away from Anakin, scanning the gloomy room for signs of her other companion. She finally spots R2-D2 in a food line, where he sticks out among the throng of living creatures like the proverbial sore thumb. Servers are ladling out bowls of bland-looking mush, and every being in the line who takes one inevitably seems to give out a low groan of disapproval. Despite her concern for Anakin, she cannot help but watch with amusement as one of the servers begin yelling and waving his hand at R2-D2, motioning for the droid to move along. “No droids in the food line!” the server yells irritably. “Get out of here!”

R2-D2 starts past the counter, apparently obeying the shouted order, but stops suddenly partway, a hollow tube coming forth from his utilitarian body, hovering over the bland buffet and sucking up some of the mush and placing it in a storage container for transport back to his human companions.

“Hey, no droids!” the server yells again, throwing his ladle down.

R2-D2 takes another fast gulp of the mush, reaches out with a claw arm to grab a couple pieces of bread, then turns and tootles almost mockingly as he rushes away, the server shaking his fist and shouting angrily behind him but refraining from following.

The droid comes across the wide floor quickly, veering wildly to avoid the many sleeping emigrants but making as straight a line as possible towards the now unabashedly (if quietly) snickering Dormé.

“No, no/!” The explosive denial startles her, quieting her laughter and making her turn back towards Anakin. “Mom, no/!”

Her Jedi Padawan companion is still asleep, but sweating and thrashing about, obviously in the throes of some nightmare. “Anakin?” she calls out, concerned, leaning across the table to give him a little shake.

“No, Mom!” he cries, pulling away from her, and she looks down to see his feet kicking, as if he were running away from something.

“Anakin,” she tries again, calling out more forcefully. She shakes him again, harder.

His blue eyes blink open and he looks about curiously before finally looking up and focusing on Dormé. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

Anakin just continues to stare at her, his expression ranging from curiosity to concern.

Padmé takes a bowl of mush and a piece of bread from R2-D2. “Are you hungry?” she asks, a little awkwardly, unsettled both by his bad dream and his apparent failure to remember the nightmare.

Anakin gives a little shrug and reaches out to take the food as he sits up, quietly rubbing a hand through his hair and rolling his shoulders, to work the stiffness out of them.

“We went to hyperspace a while ago,” she adds when he remains silent.

“How long was I asleep?” he finally asks.

Dormé smiles at him, trying to comfort him. “Only a little while,” she answers.

Anakin smooths the front of his tunic flat and straightens himself up, looking all around, trying to get his bearings. “Well. Less than four more days to go, then. I look forward to seeing Naboo again,” he finally sighs as he shifts about, his gaze flicking about the room, as if trying to reorient himself. His expression sours as he looks down at the bowl of off-white mush, his nose crinkling up as he bends low to sniff at it, poking at it desultorily with a spoon, as if he doesn’t quite trust it to remain inanimate. “You know,” he continues, looking back up at Dormé, “I’ve thought about Naboo every day since I left. It’s by far the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

As he speaks, his eyes bore into her, taking her in deeply, and she finds herself blinking and averting her own gaze, slightly unnerved by the directness of his gaze. “It may not be as you remember it, /kalal/. Time changes perception.”

“Sometimes it does,” he easily agrees; yet, when Dormé looks up, it is to see that he is continuing to scrutinize her, so closely and with such obvious consideration that she has the sudden sinking suspicion that he’s not talking about Naboo any longer. “Sometimes it even does so for the better.”

“And sometimes what you think you remember, what you think you saw, isn’t what was there at all,” she adds, a little sharply.

“And sometimes what you see is more than what you think you remember,” he merely counters, the deeply amused curve of his lips making her heart thunder almost painfully fast and loud in her ears.

“Anakin – ”

“Do you ever regret becoming a handmaiden, /sakiana/?”

Dormé blinks, startled by the abrupt shift in conversation and slightly stung by the implication that she might have ever had such disloyal thoughts. “Do you ever regret joining the Order? It must be difficult having sworn your life to the Jedi,” she notes in reply, more than a little sharply, trying to discomfit him enough to shift his gaze away from her. “I would think that not being able to visit the places you like or do the things you like would grate, after a while.”

“Or be with the people I love?” Anakin merely counters, smiling at her lazily.

“Oh, are you allowed to love, now?” Dormé bluntly counters. “I thought that was forbidden, for a Jedi.”

“Attachment is forbidden,” Anakin notes, his voice dispassionate, as if he were reciting a lesson that’s been repeated far too many times for the words to mean anything to him any longer. “Possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi’s life, so you might say we’re encouraged to love.”

Dormé’s lips quirk slightly, in spite of the uneasiness pooling in the pit of her stomach. “You might try telling Master Kenobi that, sometime.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin replies, with surprising seriousness, “would do better to leave the Order to be with Padmé and Sabé, while the offer is still open and he’s still able to join them. He shouldn’t worry so much about me. If I really am the one prophesied to bring balance to the Force, somehow I don’t think it’s going to matter to the Force all that much whether or not I’m the Jedi Order’s favorite person, when the time comes for me to do this balancing.”

Dormé stares at him, stunned by his apparent (surprisingly mature) calmness, given the painful subject. “You really have changed,” she hears herself saying, as if from a great distance away, and her tone is such that it seems somehow inappropriate to her, seems to invite –

She blinks again as Anakin, with a mysterious little smile, turns her words back on her. “You haven’t changed a bit. I thought you had, at first, but on second thought . . . no. You’re exactly the way I remember you, in my dreams. I doubt if Naboo has changed much either.”

“I . . .” Dormé’s voice is soft, breathy. She want to say that Anakin shouldn’t be dreaming about her and she wants to say that Anakin can’t possibly have been remembering her when they hadn’t ever even properly met, face-to-face, before his assignment to this particular mission, to help protect Milady. But she can’t catch her breath. And they are too close together. She knows that. She knows that she’s in dangerous territory here, both for herself and for Anakin. He’s a Padawan learner, a Jedi, and Jedi are not allowed . . . and Lady Mother, what in the names of all the stars is wrong with her, anyway? Why is she even /thinking /about this? She’s no more allowed than he is, would no more want to be allowed than – than –

Anakin moves as though to cover her left hand, where it’s draped across the table, with his right hand, his eyes full of promises, and she flinches back, trying to pull the hand safely back into her lap, but he’s far too fast for her, capturing it and encircling her slender wrist with his long fingers, holding her gently but firmly, his grip too sure for her to pull away. The look he gives her is a strange mix of oddly calm surety, of darkly smiling promise, and of such naked openness that she feels as if he is gazing straight through her to her heart, her soul. “You shouldn’t be afraid. I would never willingly do anything to hurt you, you know. Dormé – ”

“You were dreaming about your mother, again, earlier,” she blurts out in a rush of words, badly needing to change the subject. She sits back, trying to put some more distance between her and Anakin, to gain a margin of safety between them. “Weren’t you?”

Anakin leans back, lets go of her wrist, and looks away, frowning as he nods slowly. “It’s been so long since I left Tatooine,” he sighs quietly. “My memory of her is starting to fade.” He snaps his intense gaze back over to Dormé, making her freeze in place, in the process of yanking her hand back against her chest. “I don’t want to lose that memory. I don’t want to stop being able to see my mother’s face clearly.”

She starts to say, “I know,” her instinct to lift her hand up and reassuringly stroke his cheek, but she holds back and lets him continue, instead, not trusting herself to touch him.

“I’m still seeing her in my dreams. And they’re getting worse. I worry about her.”

“I’d be disappointed in you if you didn’t worry,” Dormé admits, sighing softly, her voice full of sympathy. “You know, you didn’t exactly leave home under the best of circumstances.” Anakin winces, flinching as if she has struck him instead of trying to soothe him, and she hastens to remind him, “It was right that you left, though,” reaching out to touch his arm. She holds his gaze with her own, not letting herself look away, even though practically everything about this conversation is leaving her deeply unsettled. “Your leaving was what your mother wanted for you – what she needed for you. The opportunity that Qui-Gon Jinn offered you gave her hope. That’s what parents need for their children, to know that they – that /you /– have been given a chance at a better life.”

“But the dreams – ” Anakin fretfully tries to protest, frowning deeply.

“You told Master Kenobi about them, right? You weren’t just telling me that, to stop me from worrying?” she cuts him off, challengingly demanding a reply.

“I told him. And I know he went to see Bail, afterwards.”

“Then he will have taken steps to see to her protection and you needn’t worry so. I . . . suppose you can’t help but feel a little guilty about leaving her behind, still, though,” Dormé allows with a small frown, given that Anakin is shaking his head, as if she’s somehow missing the point. Not believing that she is, she determinedly continues, telling him, “It’s only natural that you’d want your mother off of Tatooine, either out here with you or else tucked away somewhere nice on Coruscant . . . or Naboo, or Alderaan, or someplace else that you feel is safer than the Outer Rim. Trust me, though, Anakin,” she insists, her voice soft but intent, her hand curling more tightly around his forearm. “You did the right thing, in agreeing to go with Master Jinn. For yourself, yes, but more importantly, for your mother.”

“It’s not whether I did the right thing that worries me, Dormé. It’s whether I’m doing the right thing /now/, in dismissing these dreams.”

“Anakin – ”

“Dormé. I promised to take you to Naboo. And I promised to protect you. I’ll keep my word. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not worried about that! Anakin. I’m/ not/,” she insists, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice at his raised eyebrow. “I’m worried about /you/. I don’t understand why – ”

“And you think that I do?” Anakin cuts her off, his voice somehow gently chiding, rich with obvious amusement.

“Well . . . ”

Anakin gives her a little smile, shrugs, and replies with almost somber seriousness, “I’m doing the best that I can,/ sakiana/, but sometimes I feel like I’m not doing anything except reacting. I almost wish you hadn’t told me, about how Obi-Wan’s basically just waiting for a sign to leave the Order. Knowing that makes me feel like we should be out there /doing /something instead of just waiting around and reacting when things happen.”

Firmly, she starts to tell him, “You need to know these things. I know Master Kenobi is trying to protect you from the High Council, but – ”

“ – but some things I should know about, so I can avoid making an idiot of myself or putting myself or others I care about in danger because I don’t understand enough about certain circumstances to really know what I’m doing. I know. I agree with you. I just – I feel like we should be doing more – like I should be doing more – and these dreams aren’t exactly helping to make that feeling go away,” Anakin interrupts, his voice gaining in intensity, revealing more than a little frustration simmering beneath his relatively calm surface.

Frowning, she leans forward, understanding his frustration with their lack of more proactive action, and asks, “Do you think going to Naboo like this is a mistake?”

Anakin, though, just shrugs, his mouth twisting up as if he’s tasted something sour, as he admits, “I think that we’d be safer together – the five of us, I mean. You, me, Obi-Wan, Padmé, and Sabé – but I also realize that it isn’t very likely to happen any time soon, at least not until we figure out who’s trying to kill Padmé.”

“Then why are you fretting yourself about this?”

He shrugs again, apparently not impressed by the fact that she’s literally just thrown her hands up in despair over his insistence on worrying. “It’s safer than the alternative.”

“What, to not worry, for once?” she demands acerbically.

“No.”

She waits for a few moments for him to elaborate, and, when he doesn’t, makes a sort of circular, encouraging gesture with the hand that had been on his arm. “Well . . . ?”

Anakin looks at her quietly for several moments, apparently debating with himself about whether or not he should answer, before finally asking, “How fast do you think we could get from Naboo to Tatooine? For that matter, how fast do you think we could get from Naboo to that mysterious vanished planet, Kamino, if we had to?”

“Using one of Milady’s fastest ships? Less than a day. Why?” she warily asks back.

“Because I’m fairly certain that the alternative to simply worrying is going to involve actively coming up with reasons to explain why we went to one place or the other instead of staying at Varykino like we’re supposed to,” is his rather blunt reply.

Dormé finds herself blinking at him again. “Do you think it will come to that?”

Anakin grins at her crookedly, but his eyes are serious instead of smiling as he notes, “You’re the one who promised we’d go and rescue Obi-Wan, if he ran into any trouble. What do you think?”

She resists the urge to groan, but it’s a narrow thing, and her sigh comes out a lot louder than she would’ve liked. “I think I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut instead of tempting fate. But Milady was so worried . . . ” she trails off, sighing again, rubbing absently at her temples as she frowns.

“Do you think Padmé will worry more or less if we actually have to go after Obi-Wan?”

“Both,” Dormé glumly admits. “She’ll worry less because she’ll know that people she trusts are going after Master Kenobi, but she’ll also worry more because she’ll be quite certain that the three of us will be able to get into far more trouble that Master Kenobi ever could have done so if he were alone.”

“Well, then, consider this my attempt both to avoid tempting fate and to avoid giving you and Padmé both headaches. If we’re lucky, then as long as I keep worrying about all the things that could go wrong instead of just relaxing and trusting that everything will be fine, then nothing too terribly bad will actually happen.”

She does groan this time, though only a little. “That . . . is so incredibly illogical that it almost sounds like good sense. Nisaba bless! I forget sometimes what your luck is like, /kalal/. As bad as our luck’s been of late, maybe I should be worrying, too.”

“Dormé, what happened when the ships landed – ”

“ – it wasn’t my fault. It was the assassin’s fault. I know that, Anakin. Truly, I do. It just – it doesn’t keep me from feeling as if there should have been something else I could have done, something more that should have been done, to keep it from happening.”

“That’s because you’ve got it in your head that you ought to save everybody.”

She can’t quite keep herself from rolling her eyes at him in sheer exasperation. “Anakin, you do realize that you saying that to me is like a Talz calling a Wookiee furry, right?”

Anakin just shrugs again, though. “I never said I don’t do the same thing, sometimes.”

“/Sometimes?/ Anakin, /kalal/, I hate to be the one to have to break this to you, but if they ever actually get around to labelling this whole saving people thing you suffer from, like a proper complex, then your picture is indubitably going to be the one that’ll be in all the minder texts.”

Anakin grins at her unabashedly. “I’ll be in good company, then, since your picture will doubtlessly be in all of those same books, too.”

She just arches an eyebrow at him, firmly pointing out, “Talz. Wookiee. /Furry/.”

“Wookiee. Talz. Pretty darn equally furry, from where I’m sitting.”

Despite herself, Dormé bursts into laughter, his grin too infectious to resist any longer. “There are some who would take offense over a claim like that!”

He shrugs with almost exaggerated casualness. “There are some who aren’t as honest with themselves as you are, too. So?”

“So . . . I think we’re probably going to be just fine, no matter what does or doesn’t happen on this little trip of our or how much you decide to worry.”

The grin he flashes her is surprisingly bright, all things considered. “Good! I’d hate to think we might not enjoy ourselves, at least a little, in between all of the saving of other people you keep referring to.”

“Save the galaxy, but be home in time for tea,” she quips wryly, narrowing resisting the urge to roll her eyes again. “That sounds about right.”

Anakin just keeps on grinning at her. “Sounds like a plan, to me. A familiar plan. In fact, I think Obi-Wan and I may’ve had the exact same plan, a time or two, on some of our missions.”

Dryly, she asks him, “Then why am I drawing a blank on any missions the two of you have been on that have gone so smoothly or so swiftly?”

“Because most plans don’t actually last past the opening moves – especially if there’s an actual battle involved.”

“That’s not precisely comforting, /kalal/.”

“But it’s /true/, Dormé, and that counts for something.”

Grumbling a little, she retorts, “I’m pretty sure it just means that any and all plans we might come up with are all equally probable to prove inadequate, when it comes down to acting.”

“Hence, the original fallback of all planners.”

“Oh?”

“Worry about everything equally until you’ve got some kind of contingency plan in mind for every possibility, no matter how seemingly absurd.”

She laughs, in spite of herself, but there’s little actual amusement in it. “Mother of All! It’s a wonder you and Master Kenobi don’t have grey hair already!”

“Obi-Wan handles most of the worrying, most of the time. I figure I should take over as the worrier and give you a chance to rest some.”

Suddenly irritated by his almost cavalier attitude, she snaps, “I’m not some frail little flower that will wilt at the first sign of trouble, blast it all!”

“I know, sakiana/. Believe me, I know. But I don’t want you to worry. I promised I’d take care of you. And that’s /exactly what I’m going to do.”

He’s so damned earnest as he says that, smiling at her with a mixture of tenderness and amusement and sheer openness, that she can’t seem to remain angry at him, and so she sighs and gives him a sliver of a smile, but then quietly warns him, “I know you will, /kalal/. But if you leave me out of these plans of yours, I’m likely to do something to ruin one at the worst possible moment, and then we might be in serious trouble. It’ll be easier – not to mention safer, and less likely to make me worry about what you’re worrying about – if you keep me in the loop.”

Anakin frowns slightly, gaze sliding a little out of focus, turning inwards, in thought, and, after several considering moments, sighs, squares his shoulders, and admits, “Alright, then. There is a possibility that I’ve been wondering about that I’m not really sure I know the people involved well enough to be able to judge properly. So tell me. How likely do you think it’ll be that it won’t be Obi-Wan but instead Padmé and Sabé who somehow end up getting themselves into so much trouble that we’ll end up having to drop everything to go and rescue them?”

Feeling oddly relieved by this sign of trust, she flashes him a smile, leans a bit closer, and replies, “I’d say it depends on whether or not Knights Muln and Tachi can actually keep them on Coruscant, where they can call for backup from the Temple if necessary.”

“Would anything short of finding out who’s been trying to kill Padmé make them leave Coruscant before the voting is over with?”

“Besides another war or a request from Master Kenobi? Unless your Master is in serious trouble and they believe they can somehow help, I wouldn’t think so.”

“Alright. So we’ll need a plan for at least the most likely possibility. What would it make the most sense for us to do, if we found out those two gave Garen and Siri the slip and went rocketing off to Kamino after Obi-Wan?”

Something about Anakin’s almost conspiratorial tone and the way he’s folded his hands together under his chin and is leaning across the table towards her suddenly makes Dormé want to grin like a madwoman. She is reminded of dozens of other such brainstorming sessions with him, via holocomm, with him using her as a sounding board in the midst of a particularly tricky mission or her doing the same with him when faced with a particularly thorny dilemma involving one of Milady’s potentially more dangerous schemes, and the feeling of warmth that floods her is so strong that it banishes both her lingering discomfort over the direction their conversation had seemed to be taking, earlier, and the unease that his intent focus on her had left churning in the pit of her stomach. Smiling, she mirrors his posture and leans forward, too, until their heads are close enough together that there’s no danger of their voices carrying beyond their table. “Well, Varykino actually has a fairly wide selection of armaments,” she begins to reply, “so depending on whether or not they go by themselves and whether or not Knights Muln and Tachi follow after them closely, I would think that we’d need to get on a fast ship with as many different weapons as possible, and then see if we can’t arrange to get to wherever Milady and Lady Sabé are going at the same time their Jedi watchers would, so we can combine forces. And after that . . . ”

Off to the side of the table, Artoo burbles quietly, happily, in the manner of a droid who is extremely well pleased, observing that two of his favorite humans seem to be getting along increasingly well, and, as they continue to make plans and lean closer and ever closer together, seemingly more and more at ease with each other, Artoo begins to clear away the dishes from the table, cheerfully murmuring encouragement when the two laugh, their heads tumbling so closely together that their foreheads all but touch.

***

Obi-Wan escorts Padmé to the Temple himself, to meet Sabé and the handmaidens and handmaiden trainees she’s brought with her, from their training center at Varykino. He waits until he knows that the ships are inbound before leaving Padmé’s apartments, and the two of them slip away in an enclosed speeder from the Temple driven by his crèchmate and friend, Jedi Knight Garen Muln. Padmé – in a fairly plain (if still quite lovely) white and lavender striped gown, the overbodice white and embroidered with a vining pattern lavender and purple flowers and the fitted velvet overcoat (cut away in the front to show most of that embroidered bodice and her striped skirts) dyed to match the darkest shade of purple in those flowers, her brown hair a loose riot of curls, restrained only by a fanciful ribbon (complete with a rosette bow) tied in such a manner as to both pull her hair back from her face and yet arrange it so that a part of it tumbles forward around her face in an illusion of bangs, with the rest simply falling loosely down her shoulders and back, softening her profile until she might almost be any small young woman of seemingly human norm descent with light skin and dark eyes and hair, with creds enough to afford pretty clothing that is finely made without being flashy – sticks close to Obi-Wan as a shadow, keeping her head tilted down to further obscure her face with her long brown curls, not so much from fear of being recognized by someone who would say something about her still being on Coruscant as simply out of habit, from going about in disguise before, as one of her handmaidens, and perhaps also some slight nervousness over the coming reunion with Sabé.

Padmé relaxes visibly once they’ve reached the Jedi Temple and Obi-Wan has drawn her away from the parked speeder (and Garen, as well as Siri Tachi, who has also accompanied them, just to be on the safe side) towards the proper docking bay, one small white hand (in smart white gloves, embroidered in a pattern of vining flowers identical to the decoration on her overbodice) curling possessively around the crook of Obi-Wan’s proffered left arm as they make their way along corridors that are blessedly empty of all others. Only when the ships (six in total, this time) have all landed and Sabé – in a far more elaborate cream and gold brocade silk gown, heavily embellished with lace (Sabé, evidently, also being determined to play the decoy) – has proven to be the first to make her way down the first of the lowering hatchways does she finally let go of him, slipping away so that she can rush forward, arms automatically opening wide, to meet Sabé, the two hurtling together and clinging to one another with such desperate tightness that more than a few of the young women disembarking from the other ships blush and turn their eyes away, the others in the ship with Sabé not even attempting to come out of the ship until their embrace has loosened enough to let them step away from the ship, back towards Obi-Wan. The two of them – still so very alike, even after all these years, and both of them radiantly beautiful – look up at him with the exact same imploring look, and, with a quiet sigh, Obi-Wan opens his arms, letting them burrow in close to him, holding one of them in each arm, his head bowed down so that their curls will brush softly against his cheeks.

“You aren’t leaving immediately, are you?” Sabé asks, after several long moments in which they silently hold each other as close as they all possibly can, her voice trembling slightly.

“No, /alanna/,” he replies, shifting his hand so that he can thread his fingers through her curls. “I won’t be leaving until tomorrow. I would stay longer, if I could.”

“Just stay with us, as long as you can, until you have to leave, /ma’chara/. Please,” Sabé half pleads and half commands, the arm she has curled across his back tightening fractionally, convulsively, almost painfully.

“Let the other two sort the girls out,” Padmé adds, her words directly half towards Obi-Wan and half towards Sabé. “Knights Muln and Tachi are surely protection for them enough, and they should be less likely to be noticed, if they’re taken on to the apartments a handful at a time.”

Sabé nods agreement, the arm she has linked with Padmé squeezing her tightly. “Please?” she repeats, turning those liquid-dark pleading eyes up towards him in unabashed supplication.

Obi-Wan sighs, but he doesn’t try to fight the both of them. “As you wish, my ladies,” he quietly agrees, giving them one more squeeze before relaxing his hold, so that they’ll understand that they need to all let each other go, at least a little, so that they can leave, now.

Padmé seizes one arm and Sabé the other, and they somehow or another manage to make it back to the speeder without incident, even though Padmé keeps reaching across him to squeeze Sabé’s other hand (as though trying to reassure herself that Sabé really is there and that she’s not just imagining her presence). Garen Muln, wisely, takes one look at Obi-Wan’s face, as they’re approaching, and touches Siri Tachi’s right shoulder before she can do anything more than frown slightly and begin to open her mouth. Obi-Wan trades a speaking look with his old friend – the kind in which many different things can be communicated with no words at all needing to be spoken – and then Garen is guiding Siri away from the speeder, back towards the landing bay, while Padmé and Sabé are piling into the empty speeder, clinging to each other like children who’ve been separated for too long under difficult and dangerous circumstances.

If the Senator’s apartment complex seems to be oddly empty, when they reach it, as if the dozens of handmaidens and guards residing within them have all quite suddenly discovered that they have pressing business elsewhere, requiring them to absent themselves from the most direct pathway between the front doors to Milady’s private chambers, none of them say anything about it, instead passing through that emptiness as quickly as possible, on the way to the rooms Padmé regards as her sanctuary, on Coruscant. And if there are carts filled with food and drink in small portable heated and cooled units waiting by one of the tables, for whenever they become hungry or thirsty enough to be in need of something, then that thorough thoughtfulness is greeted only with silent nods of approval and perhaps a small smile.

Milady’s people, like Obi-Wan Kenobi’s friends, know her well enough to anticipate the need for some things without requiring spoken orders.

***