Work Text:
“I’m really sorry to ask this of you, but I quite literally need a place to crash.”
Padmé took in the blue, glowing form of her husband’s master and sighed. “Well, if you’re going to crash anywhere, Master Kenobi, I suppose I would rather it be here.”
“Thank you, Senator Amidala,” Obi-Wan said cordially. “It will be a controlled crash, I assure you. Really more like a bumpy landing than anything. I’ll keep it on the runway. All will be well.”
“Right,” Padmé sighed. “I’ll have firefighter droids on standby.”
“It is good to be cautious I suppose,” Obi-Wan admitted. He turned to the side and coughed into his elbow.
“Are you alright?” Padmé asked, concerned.
“Never better.”
Padmé narrowed her eyes at him, but his face remained impassive as always.
“Well then, I guess I’ll see you sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll see you soon, Senator,” Obi-Wan said before he shut off the line of communication.
Padmé’s lips tightened into a thin line as she worried over the Jedi that was about to fall at her feet.
“See you soon,” Padmé said to an empty room.
He’ll be fine. He’s Obi-Wan. He’s always fine.
And he was fine.
The ship crash-landed, but as far as crash landings go, his went pretty smooth.
Padmé met him at the wreckage of his ship.
“Always a pleasure to see you, Senator,” Obi-Wan greeted cordially as he crawled out of the smoldering remains of his starfighter. Grease was streaked on his forehead just over his eye and his cheeks were flushed.
“Are you quite alright, Master Kenobi?”
“Yes, though losing my only means of transportation is not my ideal situation.”
“You are welcome to borrow any of our—”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid Anakin was quite insistent that he pick me up. Funny how he never volunteers for such things when I’m on other planets isn’t it?”
Padmé gave him a nervous laugh.
“No matter. It is easier than having to bring an extra ship back..”
“Yes, of course,” Padmé said quickly. “I suppose you’ll be needing a place to sleep then?”
“I can make do just about anywhere,” Obi-Wan said. “But if you are offering a room, I will gladly accept one.”
“Of course, Obi-Wan. You are always welcome in our halls. Or in this case, the Lake House. I think you will be more comfortable there.”
Obi-Wan glanced at all the onlookers gathering around the fallen ship and the senator and the Jedi standing beside it.
“This Lake House you speak of… Are there fewer people there?”
“Yes.”
“Then, by all means, take me to it.”
They walked side by side, though Obi-Wan followed her lead. She did not miss the way Obi-Wan kept his gaze away from the numerous onlookers.
Padmé laughed to herself.
“Is something funny, senator?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just, for a people person, you never seem to really enjoy being around them.”
“Who said I was a people person?”
“Oh please, Master Kenobi,” Padme said. “You cannot tell me you are unaware of your own silver tongue? They don’t call you the Negotiator for nothing.”
Obi-Wan rubbed his beard as if pondering the thought.
“I don’t know if that necessarily qualifies me as a people person.”
“I’ve seen you at senatorial dinners. You’re good with people. You know how to talk to them.”
Obi-Wan blushed. “I suppose certain diplomatic skills are necessary when you’re a Jedi.”
“Don’t be so modest. The ability to work a room is one that doesn’t come naturally to most. You would make a fine politician.”
Obi-Wan’s expression turned sour. “You insult me.”
“All I’m saying is you’re good at getting people to give you what you want. And don’t even get me started on all the flirting you do, I mean—”
“Fine, I won’t,” Obi-Wan said quickly. “Your point has been made.”
“Good, as long as we’re on the same page.”
Obi-Wan smirked but stumbled over his feet. Padmé reached out for him and clutched his elbow. He steadied himself and shook his head.
“Obi-Wan,” Padmé said. “You didn’t hit your head when we landed, did you?”
“No, no of course not.”
“Good, I wouldn’t want a concussed Jedi on my hands. Though it would not be the first time,” she smirked.
“No, it would not be,” Obi-Wan smiled back.
The senator and the Jedi reached a speeder with a driver and a guard in the front. Obi-Wan opened the door and Padmé slid into the back seat easily. Obi-Wan followed right behind her.
“It is not a long drive to the Lake House,” Padmé said. “I’m sure you’re eager to get some rest.”
“Quite,” Obi-Wan said, rubbing his eyes.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, Senator. No need to worry over me.”
Padmé did not agree with his sentiments, but she did not argue with them either. Instead, she remained silent the rest of the ride to the Lake House. The cool, evening breeze blew baby hairs out of her tightly pulled-back bun.
Padmé turned back to Obi-Wan, but he was slightly slumped over and fast asleep. She quietly snapped a holo photo of him and sent it to Anakin.
Her message to him read: “ I have your Master. He’s my hostage now. ”
“ Oh, so you’re going to make me pay a ransom? What do I owe you? ” Anakin replied.
“Oh, I’ll think of something, love.”
“Looking forward to it. I’ll be there in the morning. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Padmé snapped her comm shut and smiled to herself. She was glad Obi-Wan was not awake to see the stupid grin on her face.
“Master Obi-Wan. Wake up,” Padmé said quietly, shaking the Jedi’s shoulder. “We’re here.”
Obi-Wan blinked at her groggily. “Where…?”
“We’re at the Lake House.”
“Oh,” Obi-Wan said. He yawned and blinked tired eyes at her.
“Come on. You’re exhausted. Let’s go inside.”
Obi-Wan nodded in agreement and followed Padmé out of the speeder and into the Lake House.
“This is a beautiful home,” Obi-Wan said, casting his gaze across every wall and wooden beam.
“Thank you, I would offer to give you the full tour, but you look dead on your feet.”
Obi-Wan smiled gratefully at her. “Perhaps in the morning, Senator.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “Let me show you to your room.”
Padmé led him up the staircase and guided him to the guest suite. She opened the door and motioned for him to come in.
The room was one of the largest in the whole home. Large tapestries with traditional Nubian art adorned the walls and a large bed with a white duvet was centered against the back wall. Bay windows overlooked the lake and had a bench seat for guests to curl up in a quiet place for reading or meditation. In other words, it was the perfect place for Obi-Wan.
“This is more than generous. Thank you, Padmé,” Obi-Wan said, taking in the opulent room before him.
“Anytime,” Padmé said. “Do you need anything else? Do want something to eat before you go to bed?”
Padmé did not miss the way Obi-Wan’s skin seemed to pale at just the suggestion. “No, thank you. I’m not very hungry.”
“All right,” Padmé said suspiciously. “Have a good night, Obi-Wan. Sleep well.”
“You too, Padmé. Thank you again for your hospitality.”
“There is no need to thank me. Naboo owes you a great debt for your actions here all those years ago. And you are my friend. Only my friends are allowed to stay here,” she grinned.
“It’s good to have friends, Senator,” Obi-Wan said, though his tone was more subdued. “Goodnight, Padmé.”
The door clicked softly behind him and Padmé was left alone in the darkened hallway.
The Jedi were not the only ones who got bad feelings about things.
Padmé fretted around in her kitchen, unable to go to sleep with the feeling that something was wrong with Obi-Wan. She scrubbed at her counter, the marble already spotless and shining, and tried to think of an excuse she could use to check on him.
Her eyes landed on a red tea kettle and she smiled.
Padmé had her plan.
Padmé knocked on the guest suite door and waited for a response. If he didn’t answer, she would simply leave the steaming mug on the nightstand and leave. A simple, innocent plan.
She knocked again and when no response came, she opened the door just a crack.
“Obi-Wan?” Padmé questioned softly as she peeked inside the darkened room “I brought you some tea.”
A quiet murmur is the only response she received. Padmé stepped into the room and turned on a lamp.
“Obi-Wan?”
He shifted, but his eyes remained closed. Discomfort was evident in the set of his jaw, even in sleep.
Setting the mug down, she approached his bed and took note of the sweat dampening his hair and the flush high on his cheekbones. Sighing, she sat down beside him and pushed his sweaty hair off of his forehead. His skin radiated heat.
There was something wrong with him. Her instincts had been right after all.
Obi-Wan tossed his head to the side and let out a soft whimper. A soft, but desperate sound that sent alarm bells ringing in Padmé’s head. “Obi-Wan, wake up.”
His eyes remained firmly shut and the quiet, pained whimpers continued.
“Obi-Wan, please, it’s just a nightmare. Wake up.”
Padmé grabbed hold of his shoulders and shook him until fever-bright eyes stared into her own.
“Your Highness,” Obi-Wan said. “You have to get out of here, it’s not safe. My Master and I…” Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “My Master and I…”
Padmé’s heart sunk. “Obi-Wan, you’re sick. You’re in the Lake House. Everything is alright, we’re both safe.”
“Your Highness?”
“Yes, Obi-Wan. It’s all right. I’ll be right back. I need to get you some medicine. Just wait here.”
“It’s not safe.”
“Yes, it is. Just wait here.”
Padme rushed back down to the kitchen and dug around for some fever reducers. Finding what she was looking for, she raced back up the stairs and returned to the guest suite.
“Here, take these,” Padmé said, handing Obi-Wan the pills and the mug of tea. “You’ll feel better.”
“Padmé?” Obi-Wan asked, confusion still lacing his tired voice.
“Yes, it’s me, Obi-Wan. Just take these.”
Obediently, Obi-Wan swallowed the pills. Padmé took the mug from his hands before he could spill the hot tea on himself and she set it to the side once again.
“There you go,” Padmé said soothingly. “Lay back down. That’s it.”
“Not safe,” Obi-Wan insisted, though his resolve was weakening.
“Just go to sleep. I’ll protect you.”
Her words seemed to soothe Obi-Wan. The fear that left him rigid and tightly coiled seemed to drain from his body as his muscles and jawline relaxed. It was not long before Padmé’s order to sleep was heeded.
True to her word, Padmé watched over him until dawn broke.
The morning brought recovery. Obi-Wan’s skin lacked the pallor of the ill and his eyes were clear of the feverish glaze.
“Goodmorning, Master Kenobi,” Padmé said when his gaze landed on her.
He blinked at her in confusion. “Senator Amidala. Why are you...?”
“You’re sick. Or you were. Your fever broke this morning, but I think you should still take it easy.”
“When did you… I thought I was alone?”
“Forgive me for intruding on your privacy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling you were unwell.”
“Did you stay here the whole night?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Senator. I did not mean for you to…”
“Save your apologies Obi-Wan. I am happy to help. I just wish you had told me you were ill sooner,” she said. Her lips tightened in a thin, disapproving line. “I knew something wasn’t right.”
“You sound like Anakin with all of his unhelpful I told you so’s.”
“Still, you should have told me you were sick,” Padmé protested.
“I did not think it was that bad,” Obi-Wan said. After a pause, he added, “until I woke up with you sitting right there.”
“It never starts bad, does it?”
“No, it never does.”
“Obi-Wan?” Padmé asked, her tone changing from teasing to concerned.
“Yes?” Obi-Wan asked, though apprehension filled his answer.
“In your sleep, you… you were having a nightmare. You called me your Highness. You brought up your Master.” If she did not know him, Padmé might not have seen the way his eyes darkened or the subtle clench of his jaw. “Do you want to talk about it?” she added on.
“Not particularly.” The sheets began to twist in his hand.
“It might be good for you, you know? To talk about it with someone who isn’t… well… Anakin.”
“I do have other friends, I’ll have you know,” Obi-Wan said indignantly.
“And do you talk to them?”
The way he looks down at his hands is answer enough. “It’s just… being on this planet, and what you said about Naboo owing me a debt. I guess it just stirred up some memories that I think were compounded by the haze of fever.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“It is not your fault.”
Silence rests between them and Padmé searches for a way to fill the void.
“I do have a question for you,” Padmé finally said, lightening her tone once more.
“I’ll do my best to answer it.”
“Do you think that there is a possibility the ship malfunctioned due to… I don’t know… user error? ”
“No, not at all.”
“Really? You don’t think that perhaps, maybe, just maybe , you were feeling so under the weather that you failed to notice the hyperdrive overheating? A simple fix if found early?”
“It’s not that simple,” Obi-Wan said defensively. “Anakin just makes it look simple.”
“Uh-huh,” Padme said. “Of course.”
As if the act of speaking his name summoned him, Anakin strode through the door.
“Hello Anakin,” Obi-Wan greeted, sitting up on his elbows.
“Master. Senator,” Anakin said, bowing slightly. “I was looking for you downstairs. I didn’t think you would be here. In the same bedroom. Together.”
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.
“I was sick , Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, sparing Padmé the burden of explanation. “The good senator over here sacrificed her night of rest to ensure my health, though it was unnecessary and I would have been just fine.”
“He was delirious!” Pamdé said in defense.
The rigid line of Anakin’s shoulders softened. “Are you all right, Master?”
“Perfectly fine and quite ready to go home.”
Anakin narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know. You seem a little pale. Maybe we should wait a day before travelling back to Coruscant.”
Obi-Wan scoffed.
“Yes, you are still a little pale,” Padmé said, only looking at Anakin and his conspiratorial grin. “One more day of rest wouldn’t hurt.”
Obi-Wan sighed and flopped back down on the bed. “I’m not winning this one, am I?”
“We care about your health, Master,” Anakin said innocently.
“Mmhmm I’m quite sure that’s what it is. Very well. But we are returning tomorrow. ”
“Of course, Master,” Anakin said. “Now get some more rest.”
Obi-Wan made a face at them both as Padmé practically pushed Anakin into the hallway. The door closed softly behind them, but it sounded louder in the quiet of the hall. Anakin grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs. When they made it into the kitchen they erupted into a fit of giggles.
“Well Senator,” Anakin said, grabbing her hips and swaying her around the kitchen. “It looks like I have a little time to pay my ransom.”
“Good,” Padmé said. “I was concerned you weren’t going to pay up.”
“I’m true to my word, my love,” Anakin said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Padmé smiled. She let Anakin twirl her around the kitchen, knowing full well that it would not, could not , last. She soaked up every fleeting moment with him and refused to think about the inevitable tomorrow where they would once again be parted.
It didn’t matter. This moment was enough.