Chapter 14

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"Has Anakin been to see you?" Obi-Wan asked as he accepted a cup of tea from Senator Amidala, her hair done up in an elaborate Nabooian spiral, the rest coiling around her shoulders in long waves. Her usual soft smile and diplomatic posture however, were missing, her fingers tight over her own cup as she sat on the couch opposite him.

From the tangy smell of a boiling brew wafting from the kitchen, and the way the living space had been meticulously tidied, it was obvious she had been expecting company. Although, from her startled brown eyes and forced pleasantries upon his arrival, she had not been expecting him.

But despite everything, despite their titles and their work together, Obi-Wan still considered Padmé a close friend, one of the few Senators he could actually feel a bit of comfort discussing things with.

He gave a tight smile before sipping at the tea, hoping to ease her worries, and maybe his own as well.

She returned it easily, setting her cup down and pulling her hands together to knead into her lap. "He's come by a few times to say hello, to introduce me to Luke. I was happy to hear that they were accepted onto the Council."

"Yes, it came as quite a surprise, but they have done well thus far..." Obi-Wan trailed off, his mind stuck on his comm call with Ahsoka a few hours back, how concerned she had looked for her former Master, the unspoken: tell him...

I will.

He sighed, setting his cup down as well and stroking at his beard. "Is that hoi broth I smell?"

Padmé blinked, brow furrowing at the sudden shift in topic. "Yes, I had Threepio pull out an old recipe. I have a meeting in a short while with some of the other Senators."

"Ah," Obi-Wan leaned into the cushions. "I'm terribly allergic to it, you know. It's absolutely horrid. Nearly died back when Anakin was a Padawan. A diplomatic mission of all things, of course. He never let me live it down."

With a squint of her eyes, Padmé dropped every last inch of her diplomatic tone, crossing her arms and leaning forward. She studied the older man the same way she would Anakin whenever he was deflecting. It baffled her how similar the two of them were sometimes, in ways that only an outside party could notice. "Obi-Wan, you did not come to my home just for ample conversation about my cooking. Something's wrong."

Obi-Wan chuckled lowly. "Your perception is worthy of a Jedi, Senator."

"Or you're not as good as hiding your emotions as you think, Master Kenobi." Padmé grinned. "You're allowed to be human for a moment, Obi-Wan. I promise I won't hold it against you."

"Now you sound like Satine."

Padmé's smile wavered, the corners of her eyes crinkling sympathetically. Satine was a sensitive point. The fact that he was bringing her up at all spoke volumes to the stress he was under. "Well she always spoke highly of you. Only made me that much more confident that you were a true friend, not just a political ally."

A taut vulnerability came through Obi-Wan's eyes, his lips pursed, but his posture open. He reached across the sofa to take Padmé's hands, holding them firm. She let him, her own hands squeezing back in concern.

"If you truly do consider me a friend, Padmé, then you'll know to be honest with me, yes?"

He saw her bristle, but it could've been easily missed if he hadn't been so close to her. "I guess that depends on the topic." She glanced back over to the kitchen where Threepio had begun arranging a tray of small bowls, each brimming with a blood-red broth. "And I can only keep you for so long."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Then I shall be brief." He squeezed tighter. "It's about Anakin."

"I figured as much."

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