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padmeonpaper2009-05-05 09:23 pm
padme_kenobi) wrote in padmeonpaper2009-05-05 09:23 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: "To Ignite the Stars" (Star Wars, Obi-Wan/Padmé, 33/?)
Title: The Bond
Author:padme_kenobi
Previous Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan, Padmé, others
Word Count: 6,004
Rating: PG
Summary: “Perhaps,” Obi-Wan nodded, “but I think it’s because of me.”
Author's Notes: The titular concept of this chapter (you'll find out more about it when you read) actually was in my outline from almost the beginning, but I chose not to introduce it until now for various reasons. To me it explains a lot about Obi-Wan's character, and although the concept doesn't exist in canon to the best of my knowledge, I do think it would be something that fits very well into the SW universe as a whole. Yes, it has probably been done to death, but I hope I've managed to put a different spin on it than you may be accustomed to seeing. If not ... feel free to shoot me. ;)
She woke hours later, abruptly realizing that something had disturbed her (though she could not say what). Padmé was about to begin cursing herself for falling asleep before she’d checked on the twins again, but she was distracted by a soft cry next to her.
Sweat beaded Obi-Wan’s brow and he tossed his head from side to side on the pillow as though trying to shake off some insect. His hand had left hers — in fact, he seemed to have rolled to the other side of the bed — and at first she thought he was awake, reacting to an actual threat.
“Obi-Wan?” Padmé choked out.
Then she saw his eyes were closed, his hands balled into fists. He gasped aloud and exclaimed, “Anakin, I —”
There was a pause, apparently while Anakin replied, and then Obi-Wan exclaimed, “You hurt her! How can you possibly deny that?” Another pause. “She loves democracy, as do I! You know that!”
Padmé had a horrible suspicion that these were words they’d spoken during the Mustafar battle.
“You must be a true Sith if you’re dealing in such absolutes,” Obi-Wan mumbled. “I will do what I must.”
“Obi-Wan.” She shook his shoulder urgently, now wanting to wake him before the dream went any further. Instead he wrenched himself away, as though her hand was on fire. “Darling, wake up,” Padmé urged.
He jolted again, this time jerking to the side of the bed and then, over the edge. She heard a thump, and scrambled to sit up.
Obi-Wan was rubbing his eyes, attempting to disentangle himself from the blankets. “I haven’t fallen out of bed since I was five years old,” he muttered.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Fine,” Obi-Wan replied, tacking a bright smile onto his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay.” She pulled herself back over to her side of the bed, making room for him. “I was … awake before.”
“Oh.” He climbed beside her and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
Padmé reached for his hand under the blankets; it was still sweaty.
“I did wake you, didn’t I,” Obi-Wan said at length.
“Darling, we don’t have to talk about it. You know that.”
He didn’t answer for several minutes. His hand trembled, as though he was struggling to keep control of himself. Finally Padmé moved closer, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek. It seemed to unclench something inside of him, for he shivered slightly.
“This time it was me,” Obi-Wan mumbled.
“What?” She blinked.
“I — I turned, because — because you chose Anakin,” he choked out.
“I chose Anakin?”
“Yes. He loved you, and you — loved him. You were still pregnant, but you said — you said you wanted him now, that you wanted to — rule at his side once he’d killed Palpatine. Then … it evolved into the Mustafar battle as it actually happened.” The last words were forced out in barely a whisper.
“Obi-Wan, you know your dream wouldn’t happen,” Padmé said gently.
“It could. I could … turn.” He wouldn’t look at her.
“No, you couldn’t. You have a family who cares about you. Who is not going to desert you,” she reminded him. “I love you and the twins love you and you saw my mother, even she respects you now. I can’t think of a Jedi who would be less likely to go to the Dark Side.”
“Before the war, I would have agreed with you,” Obi-Wan replied hollowly. “But so many Jedi — Anakin —”
Abruptly he turned away from her and curled in on himself, his shoulders beginning to convulse with grief.
A barrage of emotions assailed her, everything from her own sadness to pity for him that he still felt he needed to hide his pain from her, to anger that he should have to go through this in the first place. Padmé knew, though, that her own feelings were of little import at the moment. Biting her lip, she grasped his arms and carefully turned him towards her, sheltering him against her chest. She said nothing, not wanting to interrupt a rare and necessary release of emotion. It would make him feel better, even if he did not believe that right now, and might serve to purge them both of some of the grief they felt.
Padmé didn’t speak, merely continuing to hold him, occasionally stroking his hair. He didn’t make a sound or even a single motion beyond the slight shaking of his shoulders. She left him to it, feeling both proud of him and horribly inadequate at the same time.
And angry. It would be foolish to deny that. Most of her anger, as before, was directed towards Anakin or more specifically, Vader. How could he do this to us? she thought furiously. To me, and to Obi-Wan … to Obi-Wan! How could he think I would want this? Just to save me and the babies … I’d rather die than see Obi-Wan suffer like this. Ani, how could you?
She knew too, in a way, what Obi-Wan was talking about. Throughout the Clone Wars there had been whispers about Dark Jedi, and fears that anyone could be tempted, that the greatest of them could simply … snap. That one minute they’d be working for the good of the Republic and the next, become an agent of evil.
“This is ridiculous,” Obi-Wan whispered suddenly. “Cowardly.”
“What are you talking about?” Padmé asked.
“I gave in —” his voice was bitter “— to this, this emotion …”
“That’s never wrong,” she assured him, tightening her grip. “Grief, and pain … you’re only human.”
“I’m a Jedi,” he snapped. “We don’t — don’t — do this.”
“Nor do Jedi typically fall in love, yet here we are,” Padmé quipped.
“You and Yoda keep using that excuse. That’s all it is, an excuse. Something to absolve us of the natural responsibility we should have to accept. It is cowardly.” But his voice rose uncertainly on the last syllable, and she knew he was only parroting his training.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are not a coward,” she said firmly. “In fact, you’re one of the bravest people I know.”
“I’m not.” He shook his head.
“You are,” she countered. “Stop putting yourself down. Don’t you remember Geonosis? Dooku burned you so badly that you could hardly stand. But you still managed to throw a lightsaber to Anakin and to rise to meet Yoda. And in the war—I know violence and killing aren’t in your nature, but you did your duty. You did what was expected of you. How can you possibly say that doesn’t require courage?”
Obi-Wan snorted, a wet and ugly sound. “Uncontrolled emotion leads to the Dark Side.”
“But why did you insist that the twins be raised with their family?” Padmé persisted. “It wasn’t just because you knew I would protest. You knew that the old Jedi way was not the only one. You knew that Luke and Leia would need a solid grounding in the ways of family if they were to avoid making the mistakes of the old Order. You told me so. They need to know love, and yes, emotion, if they are to learn to deal with it properly.”
There was a long pause.
Finally he looked up at her, and the desperation in his eyes took her breath away. “Padmé … I can’t turn. I can’t.”
“You won’t.” She smiled. “There are too many people depending on you. And you’ve never been one to shirk your duty, Obi-Wan.”
“But if I do …”
“A very wise Jedi once told me that until the possible becomes actual, it is only a distraction,” Padmé said.
He sighed, pressing his hands to his eyelids and rubbing furiously. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”
“Well, I suppose if that’s the word you want to use —”
“So you agree, in other words.” Obi-Wan chuckled weakly.
“Maybe.” She turned his head gently to hers, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. The wetness of his tears was still clinging slightly to his beard, but he returned the embrace without hesitation. His hand came up to meet her cheek, caressing it with a fervor that surprised her. She suspected he was doing it partly to forget, but she made no protest.
She was about to ask him if he felt better when suddenly he stilled, as though listening to something beyond her power to perceive. A split second later, a piercing infant wail sounded from the nursery.
“Luke,” Padmé whispered, and turned away. “He’s probably hungry. I meant to check on them before I fell asleep, but —”
“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan nodded, “but I think it’s because of me.”
“You?” She looked at him questioningly but didn’t bother to pursue the issue, instead hurrying out of bed and down the hallway.
Luke was still wailing, tears streaming down his cheeks. Miraculously Leia still slept, despite her brother’s cries.
“Oh, Luke,” Padmé murmured, bending to lift the baby from his crib. “Come here.” She kissed his head softly, his warm weight comforting in her arms. “You wanted to see Mom’s face instead of Grandma or Grandpa?”
Luke sniffled and gripped her shoulder; his sobs quieted slightly but he kept whimpering.
“All right, little one, let’s go.” Padmé shifted him carefully so that he was more secure on her shoulder, then proceeded down the hallway back to her bedroom.
Obi-Wan was sitting up now, breathing deeply in what she suspected was some sort of relaxation exercise. He opened his eyes the moment she entered, however, and held out his arms for his son.
“Darling, I don’t know if —” Padmé broke off as Luke squirmed away from her shoulder, seemingly reaching instinctively towards his father. Puzzled now, she handed him over.
As soon as Obi-Wan’s arms closed around Luke, the infant stopped crying. It was as simple as though a switch had been flicked. He cuddled into his father, burying his face deeply in Obi-Wan’s sleep tunic.
She was even more confused now but said little, instead choosing to circle back to her side of the bed and climb in. She pulled the covers over herself and her partner, moving closer to him and gently stroking Luke’s head. The baby blinked, but did not look away from Obi-Wan’s face.
“Obi-Wan?” Padmé said tentatively. “What — what’s going on?”
“He’s not hungry,” Obi-Wan replied softly. “At least, not yet.”
“But he wouldn’t calm down until …” She trailed off. “Until I gave him to you.”
Luke gurgled and reached out a tiny hand, touching his father’s chest. The latter detached the small fingers and grasped them, making soft shushing noises.
“It’s a Force bond,” Obi-Wan explained at length. “The Force is very strong with the twins, as Yoda and I originally suspected. But it is especially so with Luke. There will eventually come a time when he far exceeds me in strength. That’s partially why he is such a threat to Palpatine. And some of his power relates to the ability to form Force bonds.”
“Force bonds?”
“An empathic connection,” he explained. “This is all conjecture, of course. If the Temple were still — I mean, if we could — test him for it — we would likely find this out for certain. This occurs only rarely, but it seems to fit with his behaviour.”
Padmé hadn’t missed the way he’d faltered when mentioning the Temple, and she moved even closer, allowing him to rest his head on her shoulder.
“He can form emotional bonds with people, which goes far beyond the usual types of attachments,” Obi-Wan went on. “It means that he can sense what they are thinking and particularly what they are feeling on a very deep and unconscious level. Such bonds are usually formed with those close to the individual, and … it would appear he’s formed one with me.”
“How?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. Force bonding was not very well understood by the Order, mainly because they were so wary of doing any sort of research about it. They believed that to do so would promote attachment, even though very few beings are actually capable of bonding. Those rare individuals who could were usually discouraged from following the dictates of these bonds. They usually were taught by several Masters so they wouldn’t bond with one, and then sent on solitary missions with little contact, to reduce the chances of the bond being activated.”
“Total isolation.” Padmé shivered. “It sounds lonely.”
“It was meant to encourage them to learn to control the bond. And it worked, most of the time.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I should know.”
“You —” She gazed down at him, comprehension suddenly dawning. “You can bond too.”
He nodded. “That’s right. The same procedures would have been followed for me, except that Master Yoda felt my destiny lay along a different path. He persuaded the Council to let me live as normal a life as possible, within Jedi parameters. Master Windu and the others had been all set to send me off to the AgriCorps when I was thirteen, having convinced other Masters not to take a chance on training me. It was only through Yoda’s efforts and my own desire to get Qui-Gon to notice me that they reversed their decision. Of course I bonded with him, which was one of the reasons it was so — difficult — for me when he was killed.”
“And Anakin …” she whispered. “And — and me …”
“Yes. And … yes. Qui-Gon taught me to manage the bond, for the most part, but even Yoda’s patience did not extend to the belief that I could manage a Padawan. I remember telling him that Qui-Gon had believed in Anakin, but what I was also trying to say was that Qui-Gon had believed in me. In my ability to restrain my gift, to prevent it from affecting my daily life. In the end the perceived need to train Anakin won out, and I was permitted to take him on as my student. Of course, the Council had been right. I bonded with him anyway.” He ran a tired hand across his temple. “And with you.”
“I’m sorry,” Padmé said, stricken. “I had no idea — if I had known —”
“You couldn’t have,” he cut her off. “I didn’t tell anyone. It’s … not exactly something I like to talk about. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you, but — I didn’t want you to see me differently or believe I was trying to coerce you somehow. I believed I could take care of the bond through one encounter, but that turned out not to be the case. I was motivated by the bond, yes, but also by something else. Love.”
“And the bond — caused that?”
“Not directly. The bond itself is not love. It merely signifies a deep connection, an ability to read emotions and to feel them as though they were your own. Love and affection are tied up in this, but they are more than its sum. They occur on their own, and the bond simply reinforces them.”
“So it becomes even more difficult for you to let go.” She kissed the top of his head gently, stroking her fingers along his cheek.
“Exactly. It is — likely one of the reasons for my difficulties in dealing with Ana —” His voice cracked, and he swallowed. “With the past.”
“I’m sorry,” Padmé whispered. “And now Luke is the same.”
“Yes. Evidently Force bonding can be hereditary, just as Force potential is. I shall have to teach him to manage it.”
She bit her lip, worry for him and for her son coursing through her. “Is that — possible?”
“To a certain extent,” Obi-Wan replied, shifting Luke gently so that the infant faced outwards. “It was more difficult and inconvenient for Jedi in the old Order, which prohibited all forms of attachment. The key to learning control over one’s bond is to simply accept it. It can’t be ignored or minimized. When the Council had its way, children were being taught that this part of themselves did not exist, and that it was to be denied at all times. Jedi were sent on solitary missions until they had been judged able to do that in the eyes of the Council.”
“And you —”
“I was lucky.” He chuckled humourlessly. “Once Yoda became aware of my bond, he argued that I ought to be treated differently, that I had the potential to serve as an example of how a Jedi could function even while accepting this part of himself. My early actions did nothing to change the Council’s opinions, especially since I left the Jedi Order for a time.”
She nodded, remembering what he had told her about resigning to lead a rebellion of young people on Melida/Daan. She’d had no idea that he had done so because of his bond, however.
“But when I returned and began making myself into an exemplary Jedi, the idea gained legitimacy. Particularly as I trained Anakin and schooled myself to let go of you. Of course, another test subject hadn’t come along, but everyone seemed to agree that the results were favourable.”
“So why is Qui-Gon doing what he’s doing?” Padmé asked. “Why is he forcing you to face these events when you’re suffering because of your bond? Doesn’t he remember?”
He wouldn’t look at her. “Of course he does. But he believes I’m using it as an excuse not to move on, not to discuss what happened.”
“Ah.” Her mouth quirked upwards in a wise smile. “And are you?”
The only response came from Luke, who cooed again and squirmed in Obi-Wan’s arms, kicking his legs in apparent excitement.
“Obi-Wan, you have to be honest with yourself as well as with me,” Padmé said gently.
“I’m — not,” he squeezed out at last. “I just don’t want to follow the wrong path. His path. The bond could make that easier.”
“You are not going to turn to the Dark Side, bond or no bond,” she firmly replied. “Anakin didn’t have that ability and he still turned. Perhaps the bond will even give you an advantage. If it helps you to form stronger connections and insights into what others are thinking, then taking the wrong path would be much less attractive. Right?”
“Perhaps.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Well, I believe in you. So does Luke. Right, sweetheart?” Padmé kept her tone deliberately light as she stroked Luke’s cheek. The infant turned to her with a bright smile.
“Luke will have to learn, just as I did,” Obi-Wan said with a heavy sigh. Abruptly he yawned, and stretched one arm while keeping the other securely around his son. “But not tonight.”
“Go back to sleep, darling. I’ll take care of him,” Padmé encouraged. “You look exhausted.”
Obi-Wan snorted, but shifted Luke to the centre of the bed, squarely between the two of them. Luke wiggled closer to his father with a soft whimper.
“He knows what he wants,” she laughed. “Or should I say, who he wants.”
“He can sense my emotions, that’s all,” Obi-Wan mumbled.
It’s not that difficult for me, either, Padmé thought, but she knew he’d already fallen asleep, so she said no more.
Instead she draped the covers over both of them and closed her eyes. Luke’s fingers curled tightly around her own.
***
The idea of Force bonds did not give Padmé much pause over the next number of days. Primarily this was because she simply accepted them, as with so many other aspects of the Jedi which were foreign to her. If she actually stopped to think about the concept, she realized that their existence explained a great many things about her relationship with Obi-Wan, and even some of Luke’s more bizarre behaviours. Obi-Wan’s reaction to Qui-Gon’s death, his spiraling grief after she cut off contact with him (and then again after she miscarried) and his strong reaction to Anakin’s fall were now understandable in a completely new light. She knew that the bond was not the same thing as pure love or as brotherhood — that it only enhanced these emotions — but enhanced them to a degree that made Obi-Wan uncomfortably aware of his best friend’s absence and the reasons for it. She felt even worse for him, if that was possible.
At the same time, Padmé wondered what the ramifications of possessing the same ability to bond would be for Luke. She realized she had already witnessed some of the effects of her son’s bond — how close he was with Obi-Wan, how he seemed to be able to sense when his father was in emotional distress, how he calmed as soon as he was put into his father’s arms. He had similar reactions to Leia, being happiest when he was with her and knowing when she was upset. But what would it be like for Luke as he grew older? Could Obi-Wan teach him the proper techniques to manage the bond? How would it affect him as an adult? Would Palpatine more easily manipulate him? Would he be more prone to turning to the Dark Side, as Obi-Wan seemed to believe?
She put these questions aside for the most part, however, because her life overall seemed to have suddenly become so much easier. Her parents and sister had no qualms about taking over the twins’ care when she and Obi-Wan needed a break. The babies preferred it when their parents fed, changed and interacted with them, but they were also growing used to their grandparents and aunt. Padmé continued to enjoy the presence of several confidants to whom she could talk about almost anything, which in turn gave her more patience with Obi-Wan and his moods. Knowing about the bond also helped her to understand him.
The twins themselves were growing and changing every day, and every day a little more of their personalities shone through. They could laugh now, cooing and babbling to each other and to Obi-Wan and Padmé. They loved to lie on the floor next to each other and play with their toys, and would shriek and giggle for hours if tickled.
Although Padmé still missed the Senate and her political life, she often found it difficult to think of those things when she entered the nursery in the morning to find her children smiling brightly at her, or when they laughed as she picked them up, or when Leia became fascinated with her hair and pulled it, grinning. Despite her devotion to duty, Padmé had wanted children for a long time, and the twins were a joy beyond her wildest hopes. There were still difficult moments, of course — Leia was very opinionated already, and there were days when she simply could not be soothed; Luke still exhibited a tendency to whine and fuss even when nothing was perceptibly wrong — but these paled in comparison to the early months. Looking back on those, Padmé wondered how she had survived.
Problems existed that had nothing to do with the babies, however, and unfortunately Obi-Wan remained a source of some of these. He meditated occasionally, with Padmé’s continued assistance, but she noticed that he had never gone into as deep a trance as the first time, and Qui-Gon lurked only on the fringes of these sessions. He had not experienced any more visions.
Therefore, despite the continued meditations, or perhaps because of their sparseness, Obi-Wan resisted intimacy. Padmé’s parents made sure the couple had adequate time together, but he would never initiate anything beyond kissing and touching at these times. And on the rare occasions when Padmé did take their encounters further, he was never able to reach climax as he made love to her. She tried to tell him that she didn’t mind, that she was more than happy to “help” him afterwards, but this didn’t appear to matter, and after awhile she got the sense that he was only agreeing because he wanted to make her happy. Guilt gripped her at this thought, and she stopped trying to initiate their encounters — though she never stopped offering to bring him to satisfaction.
Other, more troubling issues continued. Obi-Wan kept having nightmares, and although he was more open with her both about their occurrence and their contents, the very fact that they continued was alarming to her. So was the knowledge that his reluctance to meditate might be impeding his progress. And yet, she didn’t really have anyone to discuss this with; it seemed too personal for her family and too difficult to speak with Obi-Wan himself about it.
But she couldn’t think of any of this now, not when she was in the kitchen with her mother, feeding Leia while Jobal bustled about making lunch. Padmé could only smile, and relax, and reflect on how comforting this was. Just like how it had been when she was a little girl being helped with her homework and asked about her day at school. Only now, she was a mother herself. The disconnect felt bizarre.
“Now, dear, I don’t mean to pry, of course,” Jobal said as she slid a pan onto the stove. “I’d be lying if I said we weren’t wondering, though, your father and I. Do you and Obi-Wan have plans?”
Padmé blinked. “Plans, Mom?”
“You see, I’ve had my mother of the bride dress picked out for ages …”
“Oh! Wedding plans! Well — sort of,” Padmé said. “He proposed, so I suppose you could say we’re engaged.”
“Oh, Padmé, you’ve been holding out on me!” Jobal exclaimed, hurrying across the room to embrace her daughter. “Oops, I’m squishing Leia. But congratulations!”
“Thank you,” Padmé replied, blushing slightly. “Obi-Wan asked me a long time ago, actually, while I was still pregnant. We had some vague plans to come back here and have a ceremony, but then everything else happened, and we weren’t sure when and whether we’d be able to. We just couldn’t tell anyone where we were or who we were. If you hadn’t shown up, we wouldn’t even have told you.”
“I know, dear.” Jobal put her hand to her mouth, thinking. “You’d need a holy man, of course, but I’m sure Father Proxollo could be trusted.”
Padmé smiled at the mention of Proxollo, the holy man who had served their family ever since she could remember. She was sure, though, that Obi-Wan would raise questions. “Are you sure, Mom? I mean, I know he’s trustworthy, but I wouldn’t want to put him in danger if the Empire ever started looking for us.”
Jobal waved a hand in the air as if it were nothing to worry about. “Oh, don’t concern yourself with that. You know he’s reliable, and he would never give away your location. It would be more than his life was worth to tell anyone.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Padmé sighed.
“Well, don’t,” Jobal smiled. “Now what about your dress? Your veil? Sola could be your lady’s maid, and your father and I could give you away, and — oh, let’s not forget the unity candle!”
Padmé chuckled to herself and gently disengaged Leia, hoisting the baby to her shoulder for a burp. She patted her daughter’s back carefully, returning her attention to her mother.
“… and of course there’s the flowers, and the food, and the décor, and obviously the little details like the cake and the devotion gifts and the wedding rings — did he give you a promise band?”
“No, he didn’t really have anything to give me,” Padmé replied. “Jedi aren’t supposed to have possessions, so all I had was his word. Not that it meant any less to me, really.”
“Oh, no matter,” Jobal said airily. “But we need to make plans, start setting a date — would a sixweek from now be all right?”
Padmé buckled Leia into an infant seat on the table and rocked it gently back and forth. “I don’t know, Mom. I suppose so. To tell the truth, wedding plans haven’t exactly been foremost in my mind. Not to mention I’m still trying to get over the fact that you’re encouraging me to marry Obi-Wan.”
Jobal laughed, then abruptly became very serious. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Two years ago I would never have thought I’d be in this position either. But priorities change, and times change.”
Padmé sighed and tucked her legs underneath her. “They do. People change as well.”
“Yes.” Her mother nodded. “He’s much more withdrawn than I remember him. Obi-Wan, I mean.”
“Well, he’s been through a lot. We both have.”
“How are you all coping with that?” Jobal asked kindly. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if your father had been ordered to fight in the war.”
Padmé considered. “All right. Better than we were before you arrived. It’s one of the reasons we haven’t thought about the wedding. We’ve been too wrapped up in ourselves and the babies.”
“Well, hopefully this will be a nice break for you,” Jobal replied. “Now, you run and get Obi-Wan for lunch, I’ll watch Leia.”
Padmé had a feeling that her mother was only sending her off on this errand so she could check on him. But she didn’t mind so much — perhaps the time had finally come to talk to Obi-Wan about the wedding.
He was sitting on their bedroom balcony when she found him, Luke in his arms and a relatively peaceful expression on his face.
She sat down near him, not speaking at first, and felt his hand slip softly into hers. His fingers kneaded her palm lightly and traced each joint and knuckle, gently massaging. Luke shot her a wide smile.
“I have to warn you when you go downstairs, Mom’s in full wedding mode,” Padmé said.
His face fell a little. “You told her?”
“I didn’t have a choice, Obi-Wan, she wormed it out of me,” explained Padmé. “Besides, she was going to find out sooner or later, regardless.” She paused. “Why, what sort of ceremony did you want?”
“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan tugged his hand momentarily away to reposition Luke on his lap. “To be honest, my knowledge of marriage ceremonies is limited to what I’ve studied. I want whatever you want, I suppose.”
“You just seemed surprised, that’s all.”
“I am,” he admitted. “Wedding planning isn’t foremost in my mind at the moment.”
“That’s what I said,” she chuckled. “But … it would be nice to have Mom and Dad and Sola there. That’s how I always pictured it would be.”
“And what else? You seem to have thought this out in rather a lot of detail.” He winked.
“All little girls do that. Especially on Naboo. Speculating about one’s wedding is a major occupation when you’re ten or eleven.”
“Bizarre.” Obi-Wan shook his head, looking flummoxed. “I can’t imagine Siri or Aayla ever having been preoccupied like that.”
She smacked him good-naturedly. “Well, not if you’re a Jedi! But us commoners have some strange customs, after all. I had my entire ceremony planned out by the time I was thirteen.”
“An odd occupation for a politician,” he retorted.
“Hey, even politicians have outside interests!”
“Sure,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Why not?”
“Oh, come on, you’re trying to tell me that you never thought of how our ceremony might go after you proposed?” Padmé asked.
“Can’t say as I did, no.” He was watching her with one of his typical dryly amused smiles.
“Men!” Padmé huffed, pretending to be annoyed.
“You’re as bad as your mother,” Obi-Wan said. The grin hadn’t left his face. “I believe we’re being slandered, Luke. What do you think?”
“Ga!” Luke exclaimed, having absolutely no idea what his father was talking about.
“Yes, that’s right, I think this does call for intervention. Let me show you a useful little trick.”
Before Padmé could respond, Obi-Wan wiggled his fingers slightly and her chair took flight, coming to land as close to his as possible. He leaned over and draped his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him for a kiss.
She laughed against his lips but responded readily. “I think you’re trying to distract me, Master Kenobi.”
“Well, I’ve got to use all the tools at my disposal, don’t I?” Obi-Wan quipped, moving closer so that her head rested on his shoulder. “And distraction is a very effective tool.”
“Mmm, it is.” Her lips brushed the top of Luke’s head as the baby wiggled against her and pressed his hand into hers. “But I haven’t forgotten, you know.”
“No, of course you haven’t.” He sighed in mock frustration. “All right, when is this grand event supposed to take place?”
“We didn’t decide on a firm date, but we think perhaps six tendays from now.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Obi-Wan said. “And I expect it will be a private ceremony? With your parents and Sola and Luke and Leia, obviously.”
“And the holy man,” Padmé reminded him.
“Wait a moment.” He sat up, suddenly looking nervous. “But we can’t — unless you aren’t planning to tell him who we really are?”
“Well, of course I am!” she exclaimed. “Obi-Wan, he can’t marry us unless he knows who we are!”
“But he could give away our location if he knows our true identities! Besides, won’t it seem strange to him, marrying a couple in which the woman is supposedly dead?”
“Look, I know there are problems,” Padmé said, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder in an attempt to placate him. “We’ll have to figure something out. But for the marriage to be legal and binding, we must use our real names. And I was really hoping that my family’s holy man would officiate. Mom says he’s trustworthy, that he won’t give us away.”
“Things have changed, Padmé, regardless of what your mother thinks,” Obi-Wan replied. “These days, beings may not have a choice as to whether they can withhold information. If the Empire wants to know something, they will find a way. Do you really believe this person can stand up to that? To say nothing of the threat posed to him.”
She felt a clench around her heart; this was the same argument used against her parents being made aware that her death had been faked. Aside from the threat to Obi-Wan and Padmé’s security, she could not picture exposing her parents and her sister’s family to that level of risk. And it seemed as though this had been a prudent idea — her mother had, after all, told them that an Imperial official visited the Naberrie home after the funeral and leveled accusations of harboring Jedi. Would the Empire really pursue their holy man in such a zealous fashion?
“There is still a lot of respect for the clergy on Naboo,” she attempted. “No one has ever tried to target them for interrogation. I imagine they’d face quite an opposition if they did. Palpatine is a native Nubian, he’ll know this.”
“But would it stop him?”
“Perhaps not,” Padmé admitted. “But if it didn’t, there would be a big uprising. His hold on the Empire is tenuous right now; he doesn’t want to risk provoking a rebellion. Especially not from his home planet.”
“Indeed.” Obi-Wan was still shaking his head and looking skeptical. Luke gazed from one parent to the other, nervously sensing the currents of conflict in the Force.
“Please, darling,” she whispered. “You promised me that we would find a way. You said when we arrived here that we would still get married. We have the perfect opportunity right in front of us — how can we waste it?”
He was silent for several moments, apparently mulling the question over. “I just want us to be safe,” Obi-Wan said finally. “I want you to be safe.”
“I know.” She reached out, caressing his face softly. “I want that too. But I don’t want the Empire to rule everything we do. What sort of a life is that?”
“I know,” he echoed, leaning into her touch. “We shouldn’t centre on our fears.”
“Exactly,” Padmé smiled.
Obi-Wan turned to her, a light smile beginning to spread over his face.
“All right. Let’s get married.”
Author:
padme_kenobiPrevious Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan, Padmé, others
Word Count: 6,004
Rating: PG
Summary: “Perhaps,” Obi-Wan nodded, “but I think it’s because of me.”
Author's Notes: The titular concept of this chapter (you'll find out more about it when you read) actually was in my outline from almost the beginning, but I chose not to introduce it until now for various reasons. To me it explains a lot about Obi-Wan's character, and although the concept doesn't exist in canon to the best of my knowledge, I do think it would be something that fits very well into the SW universe as a whole. Yes, it has probably been done to death, but I hope I've managed to put a different spin on it than you may be accustomed to seeing. If not ... feel free to shoot me. ;)
She woke hours later, abruptly realizing that something had disturbed her (though she could not say what). Padmé was about to begin cursing herself for falling asleep before she’d checked on the twins again, but she was distracted by a soft cry next to her.
Sweat beaded Obi-Wan’s brow and he tossed his head from side to side on the pillow as though trying to shake off some insect. His hand had left hers — in fact, he seemed to have rolled to the other side of the bed — and at first she thought he was awake, reacting to an actual threat.
“Obi-Wan?” Padmé choked out.
Then she saw his eyes were closed, his hands balled into fists. He gasped aloud and exclaimed, “Anakin, I —”
There was a pause, apparently while Anakin replied, and then Obi-Wan exclaimed, “You hurt her! How can you possibly deny that?” Another pause. “She loves democracy, as do I! You know that!”
Padmé had a horrible suspicion that these were words they’d spoken during the Mustafar battle.
“You must be a true Sith if you’re dealing in such absolutes,” Obi-Wan mumbled. “I will do what I must.”
“Obi-Wan.” She shook his shoulder urgently, now wanting to wake him before the dream went any further. Instead he wrenched himself away, as though her hand was on fire. “Darling, wake up,” Padmé urged.
He jolted again, this time jerking to the side of the bed and then, over the edge. She heard a thump, and scrambled to sit up.
Obi-Wan was rubbing his eyes, attempting to disentangle himself from the blankets. “I haven’t fallen out of bed since I was five years old,” he muttered.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Fine,” Obi-Wan replied, tacking a bright smile onto his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay.” She pulled herself back over to her side of the bed, making room for him. “I was … awake before.”
“Oh.” He climbed beside her and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
Padmé reached for his hand under the blankets; it was still sweaty.
“I did wake you, didn’t I,” Obi-Wan said at length.
“Darling, we don’t have to talk about it. You know that.”
He didn’t answer for several minutes. His hand trembled, as though he was struggling to keep control of himself. Finally Padmé moved closer, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek. It seemed to unclench something inside of him, for he shivered slightly.
“This time it was me,” Obi-Wan mumbled.
“What?” She blinked.
“I — I turned, because — because you chose Anakin,” he choked out.
“I chose Anakin?”
“Yes. He loved you, and you — loved him. You were still pregnant, but you said — you said you wanted him now, that you wanted to — rule at his side once he’d killed Palpatine. Then … it evolved into the Mustafar battle as it actually happened.” The last words were forced out in barely a whisper.
“Obi-Wan, you know your dream wouldn’t happen,” Padmé said gently.
“It could. I could … turn.” He wouldn’t look at her.
“No, you couldn’t. You have a family who cares about you. Who is not going to desert you,” she reminded him. “I love you and the twins love you and you saw my mother, even she respects you now. I can’t think of a Jedi who would be less likely to go to the Dark Side.”
“Before the war, I would have agreed with you,” Obi-Wan replied hollowly. “But so many Jedi — Anakin —”
Abruptly he turned away from her and curled in on himself, his shoulders beginning to convulse with grief.
A barrage of emotions assailed her, everything from her own sadness to pity for him that he still felt he needed to hide his pain from her, to anger that he should have to go through this in the first place. Padmé knew, though, that her own feelings were of little import at the moment. Biting her lip, she grasped his arms and carefully turned him towards her, sheltering him against her chest. She said nothing, not wanting to interrupt a rare and necessary release of emotion. It would make him feel better, even if he did not believe that right now, and might serve to purge them both of some of the grief they felt.
Padmé didn’t speak, merely continuing to hold him, occasionally stroking his hair. He didn’t make a sound or even a single motion beyond the slight shaking of his shoulders. She left him to it, feeling both proud of him and horribly inadequate at the same time.
And angry. It would be foolish to deny that. Most of her anger, as before, was directed towards Anakin or more specifically, Vader. How could he do this to us? she thought furiously. To me, and to Obi-Wan … to Obi-Wan! How could he think I would want this? Just to save me and the babies … I’d rather die than see Obi-Wan suffer like this. Ani, how could you?
She knew too, in a way, what Obi-Wan was talking about. Throughout the Clone Wars there had been whispers about Dark Jedi, and fears that anyone could be tempted, that the greatest of them could simply … snap. That one minute they’d be working for the good of the Republic and the next, become an agent of evil.
“This is ridiculous,” Obi-Wan whispered suddenly. “Cowardly.”
“What are you talking about?” Padmé asked.
“I gave in —” his voice was bitter “— to this, this emotion …”
“That’s never wrong,” she assured him, tightening her grip. “Grief, and pain … you’re only human.”
“I’m a Jedi,” he snapped. “We don’t — don’t — do this.”
“Nor do Jedi typically fall in love, yet here we are,” Padmé quipped.
“You and Yoda keep using that excuse. That’s all it is, an excuse. Something to absolve us of the natural responsibility we should have to accept. It is cowardly.” But his voice rose uncertainly on the last syllable, and she knew he was only parroting his training.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are not a coward,” she said firmly. “In fact, you’re one of the bravest people I know.”
“I’m not.” He shook his head.
“You are,” she countered. “Stop putting yourself down. Don’t you remember Geonosis? Dooku burned you so badly that you could hardly stand. But you still managed to throw a lightsaber to Anakin and to rise to meet Yoda. And in the war—I know violence and killing aren’t in your nature, but you did your duty. You did what was expected of you. How can you possibly say that doesn’t require courage?”
Obi-Wan snorted, a wet and ugly sound. “Uncontrolled emotion leads to the Dark Side.”
“But why did you insist that the twins be raised with their family?” Padmé persisted. “It wasn’t just because you knew I would protest. You knew that the old Jedi way was not the only one. You knew that Luke and Leia would need a solid grounding in the ways of family if they were to avoid making the mistakes of the old Order. You told me so. They need to know love, and yes, emotion, if they are to learn to deal with it properly.”
There was a long pause.
Finally he looked up at her, and the desperation in his eyes took her breath away. “Padmé … I can’t turn. I can’t.”
“You won’t.” She smiled. “There are too many people depending on you. And you’ve never been one to shirk your duty, Obi-Wan.”
“But if I do …”
“A very wise Jedi once told me that until the possible becomes actual, it is only a distraction,” Padmé said.
He sighed, pressing his hands to his eyelids and rubbing furiously. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”
“Well, I suppose if that’s the word you want to use —”
“So you agree, in other words.” Obi-Wan chuckled weakly.
“Maybe.” She turned his head gently to hers, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. The wetness of his tears was still clinging slightly to his beard, but he returned the embrace without hesitation. His hand came up to meet her cheek, caressing it with a fervor that surprised her. She suspected he was doing it partly to forget, but she made no protest.
She was about to ask him if he felt better when suddenly he stilled, as though listening to something beyond her power to perceive. A split second later, a piercing infant wail sounded from the nursery.
“Luke,” Padmé whispered, and turned away. “He’s probably hungry. I meant to check on them before I fell asleep, but —”
“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan nodded, “but I think it’s because of me.”
“You?” She looked at him questioningly but didn’t bother to pursue the issue, instead hurrying out of bed and down the hallway.
Luke was still wailing, tears streaming down his cheeks. Miraculously Leia still slept, despite her brother’s cries.
“Oh, Luke,” Padmé murmured, bending to lift the baby from his crib. “Come here.” She kissed his head softly, his warm weight comforting in her arms. “You wanted to see Mom’s face instead of Grandma or Grandpa?”
Luke sniffled and gripped her shoulder; his sobs quieted slightly but he kept whimpering.
“All right, little one, let’s go.” Padmé shifted him carefully so that he was more secure on her shoulder, then proceeded down the hallway back to her bedroom.
Obi-Wan was sitting up now, breathing deeply in what she suspected was some sort of relaxation exercise. He opened his eyes the moment she entered, however, and held out his arms for his son.
“Darling, I don’t know if —” Padmé broke off as Luke squirmed away from her shoulder, seemingly reaching instinctively towards his father. Puzzled now, she handed him over.
As soon as Obi-Wan’s arms closed around Luke, the infant stopped crying. It was as simple as though a switch had been flicked. He cuddled into his father, burying his face deeply in Obi-Wan’s sleep tunic.
She was even more confused now but said little, instead choosing to circle back to her side of the bed and climb in. She pulled the covers over herself and her partner, moving closer to him and gently stroking Luke’s head. The baby blinked, but did not look away from Obi-Wan’s face.
“Obi-Wan?” Padmé said tentatively. “What — what’s going on?”
“He’s not hungry,” Obi-Wan replied softly. “At least, not yet.”
“But he wouldn’t calm down until …” She trailed off. “Until I gave him to you.”
Luke gurgled and reached out a tiny hand, touching his father’s chest. The latter detached the small fingers and grasped them, making soft shushing noises.
“It’s a Force bond,” Obi-Wan explained at length. “The Force is very strong with the twins, as Yoda and I originally suspected. But it is especially so with Luke. There will eventually come a time when he far exceeds me in strength. That’s partially why he is such a threat to Palpatine. And some of his power relates to the ability to form Force bonds.”
“Force bonds?”
“An empathic connection,” he explained. “This is all conjecture, of course. If the Temple were still — I mean, if we could — test him for it — we would likely find this out for certain. This occurs only rarely, but it seems to fit with his behaviour.”
Padmé hadn’t missed the way he’d faltered when mentioning the Temple, and she moved even closer, allowing him to rest his head on her shoulder.
“He can form emotional bonds with people, which goes far beyond the usual types of attachments,” Obi-Wan went on. “It means that he can sense what they are thinking and particularly what they are feeling on a very deep and unconscious level. Such bonds are usually formed with those close to the individual, and … it would appear he’s formed one with me.”
“How?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. Force bonding was not very well understood by the Order, mainly because they were so wary of doing any sort of research about it. They believed that to do so would promote attachment, even though very few beings are actually capable of bonding. Those rare individuals who could were usually discouraged from following the dictates of these bonds. They usually were taught by several Masters so they wouldn’t bond with one, and then sent on solitary missions with little contact, to reduce the chances of the bond being activated.”
“Total isolation.” Padmé shivered. “It sounds lonely.”
“It was meant to encourage them to learn to control the bond. And it worked, most of the time.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I should know.”
“You —” She gazed down at him, comprehension suddenly dawning. “You can bond too.”
He nodded. “That’s right. The same procedures would have been followed for me, except that Master Yoda felt my destiny lay along a different path. He persuaded the Council to let me live as normal a life as possible, within Jedi parameters. Master Windu and the others had been all set to send me off to the AgriCorps when I was thirteen, having convinced other Masters not to take a chance on training me. It was only through Yoda’s efforts and my own desire to get Qui-Gon to notice me that they reversed their decision. Of course I bonded with him, which was one of the reasons it was so — difficult — for me when he was killed.”
“And Anakin …” she whispered. “And — and me …”
“Yes. And … yes. Qui-Gon taught me to manage the bond, for the most part, but even Yoda’s patience did not extend to the belief that I could manage a Padawan. I remember telling him that Qui-Gon had believed in Anakin, but what I was also trying to say was that Qui-Gon had believed in me. In my ability to restrain my gift, to prevent it from affecting my daily life. In the end the perceived need to train Anakin won out, and I was permitted to take him on as my student. Of course, the Council had been right. I bonded with him anyway.” He ran a tired hand across his temple. “And with you.”
“I’m sorry,” Padmé said, stricken. “I had no idea — if I had known —”
“You couldn’t have,” he cut her off. “I didn’t tell anyone. It’s … not exactly something I like to talk about. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you, but — I didn’t want you to see me differently or believe I was trying to coerce you somehow. I believed I could take care of the bond through one encounter, but that turned out not to be the case. I was motivated by the bond, yes, but also by something else. Love.”
“And the bond — caused that?”
“Not directly. The bond itself is not love. It merely signifies a deep connection, an ability to read emotions and to feel them as though they were your own. Love and affection are tied up in this, but they are more than its sum. They occur on their own, and the bond simply reinforces them.”
“So it becomes even more difficult for you to let go.” She kissed the top of his head gently, stroking her fingers along his cheek.
“Exactly. It is — likely one of the reasons for my difficulties in dealing with Ana —” His voice cracked, and he swallowed. “With the past.”
“I’m sorry,” Padmé whispered. “And now Luke is the same.”
“Yes. Evidently Force bonding can be hereditary, just as Force potential is. I shall have to teach him to manage it.”
She bit her lip, worry for him and for her son coursing through her. “Is that — possible?”
“To a certain extent,” Obi-Wan replied, shifting Luke gently so that the infant faced outwards. “It was more difficult and inconvenient for Jedi in the old Order, which prohibited all forms of attachment. The key to learning control over one’s bond is to simply accept it. It can’t be ignored or minimized. When the Council had its way, children were being taught that this part of themselves did not exist, and that it was to be denied at all times. Jedi were sent on solitary missions until they had been judged able to do that in the eyes of the Council.”
“And you —”
“I was lucky.” He chuckled humourlessly. “Once Yoda became aware of my bond, he argued that I ought to be treated differently, that I had the potential to serve as an example of how a Jedi could function even while accepting this part of himself. My early actions did nothing to change the Council’s opinions, especially since I left the Jedi Order for a time.”
She nodded, remembering what he had told her about resigning to lead a rebellion of young people on Melida/Daan. She’d had no idea that he had done so because of his bond, however.
“But when I returned and began making myself into an exemplary Jedi, the idea gained legitimacy. Particularly as I trained Anakin and schooled myself to let go of you. Of course, another test subject hadn’t come along, but everyone seemed to agree that the results were favourable.”
“So why is Qui-Gon doing what he’s doing?” Padmé asked. “Why is he forcing you to face these events when you’re suffering because of your bond? Doesn’t he remember?”
He wouldn’t look at her. “Of course he does. But he believes I’m using it as an excuse not to move on, not to discuss what happened.”
“Ah.” Her mouth quirked upwards in a wise smile. “And are you?”
The only response came from Luke, who cooed again and squirmed in Obi-Wan’s arms, kicking his legs in apparent excitement.
“Obi-Wan, you have to be honest with yourself as well as with me,” Padmé said gently.
“I’m — not,” he squeezed out at last. “I just don’t want to follow the wrong path. His path. The bond could make that easier.”
“You are not going to turn to the Dark Side, bond or no bond,” she firmly replied. “Anakin didn’t have that ability and he still turned. Perhaps the bond will even give you an advantage. If it helps you to form stronger connections and insights into what others are thinking, then taking the wrong path would be much less attractive. Right?”
“Perhaps.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Well, I believe in you. So does Luke. Right, sweetheart?” Padmé kept her tone deliberately light as she stroked Luke’s cheek. The infant turned to her with a bright smile.
“Luke will have to learn, just as I did,” Obi-Wan said with a heavy sigh. Abruptly he yawned, and stretched one arm while keeping the other securely around his son. “But not tonight.”
“Go back to sleep, darling. I’ll take care of him,” Padmé encouraged. “You look exhausted.”
Obi-Wan snorted, but shifted Luke to the centre of the bed, squarely between the two of them. Luke wiggled closer to his father with a soft whimper.
“He knows what he wants,” she laughed. “Or should I say, who he wants.”
“He can sense my emotions, that’s all,” Obi-Wan mumbled.
It’s not that difficult for me, either, Padmé thought, but she knew he’d already fallen asleep, so she said no more.
Instead she draped the covers over both of them and closed her eyes. Luke’s fingers curled tightly around her own.
***
The idea of Force bonds did not give Padmé much pause over the next number of days. Primarily this was because she simply accepted them, as with so many other aspects of the Jedi which were foreign to her. If she actually stopped to think about the concept, she realized that their existence explained a great many things about her relationship with Obi-Wan, and even some of Luke’s more bizarre behaviours. Obi-Wan’s reaction to Qui-Gon’s death, his spiraling grief after she cut off contact with him (and then again after she miscarried) and his strong reaction to Anakin’s fall were now understandable in a completely new light. She knew that the bond was not the same thing as pure love or as brotherhood — that it only enhanced these emotions — but enhanced them to a degree that made Obi-Wan uncomfortably aware of his best friend’s absence and the reasons for it. She felt even worse for him, if that was possible.
At the same time, Padmé wondered what the ramifications of possessing the same ability to bond would be for Luke. She realized she had already witnessed some of the effects of her son’s bond — how close he was with Obi-Wan, how he seemed to be able to sense when his father was in emotional distress, how he calmed as soon as he was put into his father’s arms. He had similar reactions to Leia, being happiest when he was with her and knowing when she was upset. But what would it be like for Luke as he grew older? Could Obi-Wan teach him the proper techniques to manage the bond? How would it affect him as an adult? Would Palpatine more easily manipulate him? Would he be more prone to turning to the Dark Side, as Obi-Wan seemed to believe?
She put these questions aside for the most part, however, because her life overall seemed to have suddenly become so much easier. Her parents and sister had no qualms about taking over the twins’ care when she and Obi-Wan needed a break. The babies preferred it when their parents fed, changed and interacted with them, but they were also growing used to their grandparents and aunt. Padmé continued to enjoy the presence of several confidants to whom she could talk about almost anything, which in turn gave her more patience with Obi-Wan and his moods. Knowing about the bond also helped her to understand him.
The twins themselves were growing and changing every day, and every day a little more of their personalities shone through. They could laugh now, cooing and babbling to each other and to Obi-Wan and Padmé. They loved to lie on the floor next to each other and play with their toys, and would shriek and giggle for hours if tickled.
Although Padmé still missed the Senate and her political life, she often found it difficult to think of those things when she entered the nursery in the morning to find her children smiling brightly at her, or when they laughed as she picked them up, or when Leia became fascinated with her hair and pulled it, grinning. Despite her devotion to duty, Padmé had wanted children for a long time, and the twins were a joy beyond her wildest hopes. There were still difficult moments, of course — Leia was very opinionated already, and there were days when she simply could not be soothed; Luke still exhibited a tendency to whine and fuss even when nothing was perceptibly wrong — but these paled in comparison to the early months. Looking back on those, Padmé wondered how she had survived.
Problems existed that had nothing to do with the babies, however, and unfortunately Obi-Wan remained a source of some of these. He meditated occasionally, with Padmé’s continued assistance, but she noticed that he had never gone into as deep a trance as the first time, and Qui-Gon lurked only on the fringes of these sessions. He had not experienced any more visions.
Therefore, despite the continued meditations, or perhaps because of their sparseness, Obi-Wan resisted intimacy. Padmé’s parents made sure the couple had adequate time together, but he would never initiate anything beyond kissing and touching at these times. And on the rare occasions when Padmé did take their encounters further, he was never able to reach climax as he made love to her. She tried to tell him that she didn’t mind, that she was more than happy to “help” him afterwards, but this didn’t appear to matter, and after awhile she got the sense that he was only agreeing because he wanted to make her happy. Guilt gripped her at this thought, and she stopped trying to initiate their encounters — though she never stopped offering to bring him to satisfaction.
Other, more troubling issues continued. Obi-Wan kept having nightmares, and although he was more open with her both about their occurrence and their contents, the very fact that they continued was alarming to her. So was the knowledge that his reluctance to meditate might be impeding his progress. And yet, she didn’t really have anyone to discuss this with; it seemed too personal for her family and too difficult to speak with Obi-Wan himself about it.
But she couldn’t think of any of this now, not when she was in the kitchen with her mother, feeding Leia while Jobal bustled about making lunch. Padmé could only smile, and relax, and reflect on how comforting this was. Just like how it had been when she was a little girl being helped with her homework and asked about her day at school. Only now, she was a mother herself. The disconnect felt bizarre.
“Now, dear, I don’t mean to pry, of course,” Jobal said as she slid a pan onto the stove. “I’d be lying if I said we weren’t wondering, though, your father and I. Do you and Obi-Wan have plans?”
Padmé blinked. “Plans, Mom?”
“You see, I’ve had my mother of the bride dress picked out for ages …”
“Oh! Wedding plans! Well — sort of,” Padmé said. “He proposed, so I suppose you could say we’re engaged.”
“Oh, Padmé, you’ve been holding out on me!” Jobal exclaimed, hurrying across the room to embrace her daughter. “Oops, I’m squishing Leia. But congratulations!”
“Thank you,” Padmé replied, blushing slightly. “Obi-Wan asked me a long time ago, actually, while I was still pregnant. We had some vague plans to come back here and have a ceremony, but then everything else happened, and we weren’t sure when and whether we’d be able to. We just couldn’t tell anyone where we were or who we were. If you hadn’t shown up, we wouldn’t even have told you.”
“I know, dear.” Jobal put her hand to her mouth, thinking. “You’d need a holy man, of course, but I’m sure Father Proxollo could be trusted.”
Padmé smiled at the mention of Proxollo, the holy man who had served their family ever since she could remember. She was sure, though, that Obi-Wan would raise questions. “Are you sure, Mom? I mean, I know he’s trustworthy, but I wouldn’t want to put him in danger if the Empire ever started looking for us.”
Jobal waved a hand in the air as if it were nothing to worry about. “Oh, don’t concern yourself with that. You know he’s reliable, and he would never give away your location. It would be more than his life was worth to tell anyone.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Padmé sighed.
“Well, don’t,” Jobal smiled. “Now what about your dress? Your veil? Sola could be your lady’s maid, and your father and I could give you away, and — oh, let’s not forget the unity candle!”
Padmé chuckled to herself and gently disengaged Leia, hoisting the baby to her shoulder for a burp. She patted her daughter’s back carefully, returning her attention to her mother.
“… and of course there’s the flowers, and the food, and the décor, and obviously the little details like the cake and the devotion gifts and the wedding rings — did he give you a promise band?”
“No, he didn’t really have anything to give me,” Padmé replied. “Jedi aren’t supposed to have possessions, so all I had was his word. Not that it meant any less to me, really.”
“Oh, no matter,” Jobal said airily. “But we need to make plans, start setting a date — would a sixweek from now be all right?”
Padmé buckled Leia into an infant seat on the table and rocked it gently back and forth. “I don’t know, Mom. I suppose so. To tell the truth, wedding plans haven’t exactly been foremost in my mind. Not to mention I’m still trying to get over the fact that you’re encouraging me to marry Obi-Wan.”
Jobal laughed, then abruptly became very serious. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Two years ago I would never have thought I’d be in this position either. But priorities change, and times change.”
Padmé sighed and tucked her legs underneath her. “They do. People change as well.”
“Yes.” Her mother nodded. “He’s much more withdrawn than I remember him. Obi-Wan, I mean.”
“Well, he’s been through a lot. We both have.”
“How are you all coping with that?” Jobal asked kindly. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if your father had been ordered to fight in the war.”
Padmé considered. “All right. Better than we were before you arrived. It’s one of the reasons we haven’t thought about the wedding. We’ve been too wrapped up in ourselves and the babies.”
“Well, hopefully this will be a nice break for you,” Jobal replied. “Now, you run and get Obi-Wan for lunch, I’ll watch Leia.”
Padmé had a feeling that her mother was only sending her off on this errand so she could check on him. But she didn’t mind so much — perhaps the time had finally come to talk to Obi-Wan about the wedding.
He was sitting on their bedroom balcony when she found him, Luke in his arms and a relatively peaceful expression on his face.
She sat down near him, not speaking at first, and felt his hand slip softly into hers. His fingers kneaded her palm lightly and traced each joint and knuckle, gently massaging. Luke shot her a wide smile.
“I have to warn you when you go downstairs, Mom’s in full wedding mode,” Padmé said.
His face fell a little. “You told her?”
“I didn’t have a choice, Obi-Wan, she wormed it out of me,” explained Padmé. “Besides, she was going to find out sooner or later, regardless.” She paused. “Why, what sort of ceremony did you want?”
“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan tugged his hand momentarily away to reposition Luke on his lap. “To be honest, my knowledge of marriage ceremonies is limited to what I’ve studied. I want whatever you want, I suppose.”
“You just seemed surprised, that’s all.”
“I am,” he admitted. “Wedding planning isn’t foremost in my mind at the moment.”
“That’s what I said,” she chuckled. “But … it would be nice to have Mom and Dad and Sola there. That’s how I always pictured it would be.”
“And what else? You seem to have thought this out in rather a lot of detail.” He winked.
“All little girls do that. Especially on Naboo. Speculating about one’s wedding is a major occupation when you’re ten or eleven.”
“Bizarre.” Obi-Wan shook his head, looking flummoxed. “I can’t imagine Siri or Aayla ever having been preoccupied like that.”
She smacked him good-naturedly. “Well, not if you’re a Jedi! But us commoners have some strange customs, after all. I had my entire ceremony planned out by the time I was thirteen.”
“An odd occupation for a politician,” he retorted.
“Hey, even politicians have outside interests!”
“Sure,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Why not?”
“Oh, come on, you’re trying to tell me that you never thought of how our ceremony might go after you proposed?” Padmé asked.
“Can’t say as I did, no.” He was watching her with one of his typical dryly amused smiles.
“Men!” Padmé huffed, pretending to be annoyed.
“You’re as bad as your mother,” Obi-Wan said. The grin hadn’t left his face. “I believe we’re being slandered, Luke. What do you think?”
“Ga!” Luke exclaimed, having absolutely no idea what his father was talking about.
“Yes, that’s right, I think this does call for intervention. Let me show you a useful little trick.”
Before Padmé could respond, Obi-Wan wiggled his fingers slightly and her chair took flight, coming to land as close to his as possible. He leaned over and draped his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him for a kiss.
She laughed against his lips but responded readily. “I think you’re trying to distract me, Master Kenobi.”
“Well, I’ve got to use all the tools at my disposal, don’t I?” Obi-Wan quipped, moving closer so that her head rested on his shoulder. “And distraction is a very effective tool.”
“Mmm, it is.” Her lips brushed the top of Luke’s head as the baby wiggled against her and pressed his hand into hers. “But I haven’t forgotten, you know.”
“No, of course you haven’t.” He sighed in mock frustration. “All right, when is this grand event supposed to take place?”
“We didn’t decide on a firm date, but we think perhaps six tendays from now.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Obi-Wan said. “And I expect it will be a private ceremony? With your parents and Sola and Luke and Leia, obviously.”
“And the holy man,” Padmé reminded him.
“Wait a moment.” He sat up, suddenly looking nervous. “But we can’t — unless you aren’t planning to tell him who we really are?”
“Well, of course I am!” she exclaimed. “Obi-Wan, he can’t marry us unless he knows who we are!”
“But he could give away our location if he knows our true identities! Besides, won’t it seem strange to him, marrying a couple in which the woman is supposedly dead?”
“Look, I know there are problems,” Padmé said, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder in an attempt to placate him. “We’ll have to figure something out. But for the marriage to be legal and binding, we must use our real names. And I was really hoping that my family’s holy man would officiate. Mom says he’s trustworthy, that he won’t give us away.”
“Things have changed, Padmé, regardless of what your mother thinks,” Obi-Wan replied. “These days, beings may not have a choice as to whether they can withhold information. If the Empire wants to know something, they will find a way. Do you really believe this person can stand up to that? To say nothing of the threat posed to him.”
She felt a clench around her heart; this was the same argument used against her parents being made aware that her death had been faked. Aside from the threat to Obi-Wan and Padmé’s security, she could not picture exposing her parents and her sister’s family to that level of risk. And it seemed as though this had been a prudent idea — her mother had, after all, told them that an Imperial official visited the Naberrie home after the funeral and leveled accusations of harboring Jedi. Would the Empire really pursue their holy man in such a zealous fashion?
“There is still a lot of respect for the clergy on Naboo,” she attempted. “No one has ever tried to target them for interrogation. I imagine they’d face quite an opposition if they did. Palpatine is a native Nubian, he’ll know this.”
“But would it stop him?”
“Perhaps not,” Padmé admitted. “But if it didn’t, there would be a big uprising. His hold on the Empire is tenuous right now; he doesn’t want to risk provoking a rebellion. Especially not from his home planet.”
“Indeed.” Obi-Wan was still shaking his head and looking skeptical. Luke gazed from one parent to the other, nervously sensing the currents of conflict in the Force.
“Please, darling,” she whispered. “You promised me that we would find a way. You said when we arrived here that we would still get married. We have the perfect opportunity right in front of us — how can we waste it?”
He was silent for several moments, apparently mulling the question over. “I just want us to be safe,” Obi-Wan said finally. “I want you to be safe.”
“I know.” She reached out, caressing his face softly. “I want that too. But I don’t want the Empire to rule everything we do. What sort of a life is that?”
“I know,” he echoed, leaning into her touch. “We shouldn’t centre on our fears.”
“Exactly,” Padmé smiled.
Obi-Wan turned to her, a light smile beginning to spread over his face.
“All right. Let’s get married.”