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padmeonpaper2009-05-02 02:47 pm
padme_kenobi) wrote in padmeonpaper2009-05-02 02:47 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: "To Ignite the Stars" (Star Wars, Obi-Wan/Padmé, 1/?)
Title: The Idea of Home
Author:padme_kenobi
Previous Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan, Anakin, Padmé
Word Count: 1,359
Rating: G
Summary: To regard being reunited with Padmé as “coming home” seemed almost laughable. And yet …
Author’s Notes: And here it is, the first chapter of the fic that's been eating away at my brain for the past number of months. This chapter, together with Chapter 2, took me a week to write because I went really perfectionist on it. My process went write write delete delete delete write delete delete write write obsess delete delete delete, or something similar. Oh, and the fact that my hockey team was in the Stanley Cup Final really didn't help matters. *cough* Anyway, here we go.
PERSONAL RECORD: OBI-WAN KENOBI
Returning to Coruscant after what we have been through might seem almost anticlimactic to some, but I don’t consider it so. I was glad, and I believe Anakin was too, to receive the news reports indicating that Senator Amidala, Padmé, had in fact survived the assassination attempt which took place earlier today. Anakin in particular has always had a certain amount of affection for her since the Battle of Naboo. I would have thought such an affection might have subsided by this time, as he immerses himself in his training, but the evidence indicates that it hasn’t. His face split into the widest smile possible when the Jedi Council informed us that Padmé is alive and well and addressed the Senate this very afternoon.
I must admit that no small amount of relief passed through me as well at this news. Padmé is a very dear friend of mine and although we haven’t spoken for several years now, we have maintained a steady correspondence and we keep one another well up to date with what is going on in our lives. Anakin used to joke that Padmé and I were really secretly in love, and were writing love letters to one another rather than simple accounts of what managed to occupy us on a daily basis. Such a remark inevitably prompted another lecture from me on the Jedi Code and all that it does and does not permit, but he stubbornly refused to give up. I note that he doesn’t say such things much anymore; perhaps this is a signal that those hard years of training are finally sinking in. At least, this is my hope.
We have now been assigned by the Council to guard Padmé in the wake of this latest assassination attempt. Though they made it clear that this assignment is only one of protection, and not of investigation, I have been unable to convince Anakin of this simple fact. He insists that we must also find those responsible for the attacks, only to be reminded that our mandate precludes this. I do hope he listens, though experience tells me otherwise.
I must now end, as meditation is required.
“Master? Master!” Anakin bounded through the quarters he shared with Obi-Wan, feeling like an excitable child. Such behaviour was immature, he supposed, and he knew he ought to take a moment and sit down and meditate away the emotion lest he receive a lecture from Obi-Wan, but he couldn’t. Not when things were happening, not when his life was just beginning, not when he was about to be reunited with the woman he had loved since he was young.
“Master, I –” He was about to go on when he realized Obi-Wan was facing away from him, sitting cross-legged on a woven mat. “Oops,” he muttered, and turned to leave.
“Padawan? Have you completed the meditation ritual I set for you today?” Obi-Wan didn’t even turn around.
Anakin blushed and shuffled his feet a bit. “Well … it depends on how you define completion,” he finally admitted.
“No need to dance around the issue; I know you haven’t done it,” sighed Obi-Wan. “Please complete the task I set you now, then we may leave.”
“Oh.” Anakin’s shoulders sank. “Can’t I just meditate at Padmé’s place?”
“No. Your mind must be perfectly centred on the task ahead of you if you are to perform it well. Remember, your focus determines your reality.”
Anakin sighed and shuffled over to his mat. “Okay, okay. For how long?”
“However long it takes until you are focused.”
Obi-Wan kept one eye on his Padawan as he got to his feet and began making preparations for the task ahead. He did not feel nervous, not to the extent of the feelings he could sense emanating from Anakin as clearly as a non-Jedi might read anger or happiness on another’s face. Rather, he felt a sense of familiarity: almost as though he was returning home after a long period of absence.
Of course, this was an absurd notion – the Jedi Temple was the only home Obi-Wan had ever had. He was raised there from infancy, with the comforting surroundings and soothing Force presences of his fellow Jedi. To regard being reunited with Padmé as “coming home” seemed almost laughable. And yet …
And yet a part of him, a part he had tried to suppress through the meditation and self-discipline he had been taught, still whispered to him that Padmé did represent a kind of home, that of the emotional type. A long time ago, when he had still been a Padawan himself, he’d had a different sort of home. A strong, stable, fatherly home, a home that contained advice and comfort and something close to love. That home had been Qui-Gon, but it was now no more.
Obi-Wan had tried to forget, had tried to be the stable, stoic role model that he knew Qui-Gon would have expected him to be. He had not broken down in front of Anakin, who was still young and impressionable and needed to learn to control his emotions as a Jedi should. He had saved his tears through the cremation ceremony, even as Anakin cried next to him, even as he searched for words to comfort his new Padawan that he so desperately needed to hear himself. But there was no one left to deliver them to him.
Except …
After the crowd had dispersed, after everyone had left to attend a welcoming dinner for the new Chancellor Palpatine, Obi-Wan had remained standing next to the plinth on which his Master’s body had burned. Even Anakin, after giving him a questioning glance, had retreated. Only one person had not. He felt a small, slim hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Padmé said softly. She was dressed as the Queen, but for now, she was just Padme. Just the girl – woman – he had befriended and come to respect.
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan automatically replied. He had accepted so many condolences that day, what was one more?
“He was a great credit to the Jedi,” she continued. “Qui-Gon did so much for Naboo … I’ll always be thankful for that. He saved us, Obi-Wan. He died a hero.”
“I just –” Obi-Wan felt his stoic façade slipping, and had to fight for control. He stared at his feet rather than Padmé as he went on. “I just wish he didn’t have to leave us behind. Me behind. It’s so selfish of me to think that, but I can’t – can’t help it.”
She came to him then, wrapped her arms around him and simply held him against her chest. “It’s not selfish,” she whispered. “It’s human. He was the closest person you had to a father. It’s natural that you should miss him.”
Pressed against her warmth, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume and hearing her gentle voice, he could finally let go. The emotional control that had sustained him through the battle, through the Knighting ceremony, through his discussion with Yoda about Anakin’s training, finally failed him.
He wept in her arms, and Padmé did not pull away. Nor did she speak the platitudes so many others had plied him with. Instead, she held him, and grieved with him, and was the comforting presence he so needed. Obi-Wan had not been able to forget that kindness, nor would he have wanted to. It was the catalyst for their friendship, a friendship that would last through the decade to come.
Sighing, Obi-Wan shook himself from his daydreams. It was all well and good to remember what had happened on that day, but much had changed since then. He had changed, and Padmé was bound to have done so as well. They hadn’t written each other in two years. She would remember, certainly, but would she care as much as she had in those days?
Perhaps it doesn’t matter how much she cares, Obi-Wan thought as he watched Anakin try, try once more and then finally give up on his meditations. I care just as much as I once did. If not more.
Author:
padme_kenobiPrevious Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan, Anakin, Padmé
Word Count: 1,359
Rating: G
Summary: To regard being reunited with Padmé as “coming home” seemed almost laughable. And yet …
Author’s Notes: And here it is, the first chapter of the fic that's been eating away at my brain for the past number of months. This chapter, together with Chapter 2, took me a week to write because I went really perfectionist on it. My process went write write delete delete delete write delete delete write write obsess delete delete delete, or something similar. Oh, and the fact that my hockey team was in the Stanley Cup Final really didn't help matters. *cough* Anyway, here we go.
PERSONAL RECORD: OBI-WAN KENOBI
Returning to Coruscant after what we have been through might seem almost anticlimactic to some, but I don’t consider it so. I was glad, and I believe Anakin was too, to receive the news reports indicating that Senator Amidala, Padmé, had in fact survived the assassination attempt which took place earlier today. Anakin in particular has always had a certain amount of affection for her since the Battle of Naboo. I would have thought such an affection might have subsided by this time, as he immerses himself in his training, but the evidence indicates that it hasn’t. His face split into the widest smile possible when the Jedi Council informed us that Padmé is alive and well and addressed the Senate this very afternoon.
I must admit that no small amount of relief passed through me as well at this news. Padmé is a very dear friend of mine and although we haven’t spoken for several years now, we have maintained a steady correspondence and we keep one another well up to date with what is going on in our lives. Anakin used to joke that Padmé and I were really secretly in love, and were writing love letters to one another rather than simple accounts of what managed to occupy us on a daily basis. Such a remark inevitably prompted another lecture from me on the Jedi Code and all that it does and does not permit, but he stubbornly refused to give up. I note that he doesn’t say such things much anymore; perhaps this is a signal that those hard years of training are finally sinking in. At least, this is my hope.
We have now been assigned by the Council to guard Padmé in the wake of this latest assassination attempt. Though they made it clear that this assignment is only one of protection, and not of investigation, I have been unable to convince Anakin of this simple fact. He insists that we must also find those responsible for the attacks, only to be reminded that our mandate precludes this. I do hope he listens, though experience tells me otherwise.
I must now end, as meditation is required.
“Master? Master!” Anakin bounded through the quarters he shared with Obi-Wan, feeling like an excitable child. Such behaviour was immature, he supposed, and he knew he ought to take a moment and sit down and meditate away the emotion lest he receive a lecture from Obi-Wan, but he couldn’t. Not when things were happening, not when his life was just beginning, not when he was about to be reunited with the woman he had loved since he was young.
“Master, I –” He was about to go on when he realized Obi-Wan was facing away from him, sitting cross-legged on a woven mat. “Oops,” he muttered, and turned to leave.
“Padawan? Have you completed the meditation ritual I set for you today?” Obi-Wan didn’t even turn around.
Anakin blushed and shuffled his feet a bit. “Well … it depends on how you define completion,” he finally admitted.
“No need to dance around the issue; I know you haven’t done it,” sighed Obi-Wan. “Please complete the task I set you now, then we may leave.”
“Oh.” Anakin’s shoulders sank. “Can’t I just meditate at Padmé’s place?”
“No. Your mind must be perfectly centred on the task ahead of you if you are to perform it well. Remember, your focus determines your reality.”
Anakin sighed and shuffled over to his mat. “Okay, okay. For how long?”
“However long it takes until you are focused.”
Obi-Wan kept one eye on his Padawan as he got to his feet and began making preparations for the task ahead. He did not feel nervous, not to the extent of the feelings he could sense emanating from Anakin as clearly as a non-Jedi might read anger or happiness on another’s face. Rather, he felt a sense of familiarity: almost as though he was returning home after a long period of absence.
Of course, this was an absurd notion – the Jedi Temple was the only home Obi-Wan had ever had. He was raised there from infancy, with the comforting surroundings and soothing Force presences of his fellow Jedi. To regard being reunited with Padmé as “coming home” seemed almost laughable. And yet …
And yet a part of him, a part he had tried to suppress through the meditation and self-discipline he had been taught, still whispered to him that Padmé did represent a kind of home, that of the emotional type. A long time ago, when he had still been a Padawan himself, he’d had a different sort of home. A strong, stable, fatherly home, a home that contained advice and comfort and something close to love. That home had been Qui-Gon, but it was now no more.
Obi-Wan had tried to forget, had tried to be the stable, stoic role model that he knew Qui-Gon would have expected him to be. He had not broken down in front of Anakin, who was still young and impressionable and needed to learn to control his emotions as a Jedi should. He had saved his tears through the cremation ceremony, even as Anakin cried next to him, even as he searched for words to comfort his new Padawan that he so desperately needed to hear himself. But there was no one left to deliver them to him.
Except …
After the crowd had dispersed, after everyone had left to attend a welcoming dinner for the new Chancellor Palpatine, Obi-Wan had remained standing next to the plinth on which his Master’s body had burned. Even Anakin, after giving him a questioning glance, had retreated. Only one person had not. He felt a small, slim hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Padmé said softly. She was dressed as the Queen, but for now, she was just Padme. Just the girl – woman – he had befriended and come to respect.
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan automatically replied. He had accepted so many condolences that day, what was one more?
“He was a great credit to the Jedi,” she continued. “Qui-Gon did so much for Naboo … I’ll always be thankful for that. He saved us, Obi-Wan. He died a hero.”
“I just –” Obi-Wan felt his stoic façade slipping, and had to fight for control. He stared at his feet rather than Padmé as he went on. “I just wish he didn’t have to leave us behind. Me behind. It’s so selfish of me to think that, but I can’t – can’t help it.”
She came to him then, wrapped her arms around him and simply held him against her chest. “It’s not selfish,” she whispered. “It’s human. He was the closest person you had to a father. It’s natural that you should miss him.”
Pressed against her warmth, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume and hearing her gentle voice, he could finally let go. The emotional control that had sustained him through the battle, through the Knighting ceremony, through his discussion with Yoda about Anakin’s training, finally failed him.
He wept in her arms, and Padmé did not pull away. Nor did she speak the platitudes so many others had plied him with. Instead, she held him, and grieved with him, and was the comforting presence he so needed. Obi-Wan had not been able to forget that kindness, nor would he have wanted to. It was the catalyst for their friendship, a friendship that would last through the decade to come.
Sighing, Obi-Wan shook himself from his daydreams. It was all well and good to remember what had happened on that day, but much had changed since then. He had changed, and Padmé was bound to have done so as well. They hadn’t written each other in two years. She would remember, certainly, but would she care as much as she had in those days?
Perhaps it doesn’t matter how much she cares, Obi-Wan thought as he watched Anakin try, try once more and then finally give up on his meditations. I care just as much as I once did. If not more.