Circle of healing

XIV.

I know I can be afraid,

but I’m alive

And I hope that you trust this heart

Behind my tired eyes

(Dido Armstrong)

***

Beads of water trickled out of his hair and down his face. Even wiping the water out of his eyes would have been too much of a task right now. His utter bafflement made him forget every single thing he could have said or done to regain some of his lost dignity. So he simply stared at her, flabbergasted, with eyes big as saucers.

When she saw the look on his face, Padme momentarily was taken aback, but then she stretched contentedly in the water and started to laugh. A low, silvery laugh at first, but it grew louder, trickled from her lips and was so infectious that Obi-Wan couldn’t help allowing himself a small grin. Padme put back her head in the water and kept on laughing - casting all the self-control of a queen to the wind.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Obi-Wan asked, hard pressed to keep a straight face.

Her head came up from the water and before he could do so much as blink, another wave of water hit him in the face.

"Is this a sufficient explanation?"

This time he wiped the water out of his eyes with a deliberately stern look on his face.

"Your majesty is not acting quite royally."

He tried to make it sound as stern as possible. She still was the queen and this game seemed highly improper to him. On the other hand her carefree laughter raised his spirits to new and incredible heights and for the first time in a seemingly endless period of time, he started feeling like himself again. Furthermore . . . For how long would he be able to keep a straight face when she stood there in front of him and threw her head back from laughter?

Suddenly the world around him became small, seemed to consist only of this spring and no painful memories surfaced.

"And you, dear knight, are not doing a whole lot to defend yourself," she quipped with a raised eyebrow. With a delicate gesture she dipped the tip of her index finger into the water and splashed one drop directly onto his nose. "Do you take the challenge, great knight?"

One eyebrow shot up - but he still kept his typical Jedi calm. "I don’t think that this is a good . . ."

"Aha!"

The wave of water hitting him this time was definitely the biggest of all three.

"So you know from the beginning that you cannot win and you are giving up already? How pathetic."

Obi-Wan didn’t answer right away. With a single, fluid movement he was in the warm water of the basin, standing there, facing her, arms lowered in a seemingly defenceless manner.

"Are you sure you know what you are asking for? Sure that you can take this?" The eyebrow was accompanied by a second one and slowly travelled up to his forehead.

For a split second she wondered what his question was aiming at.

The twinkling in his eyes gave her the answer she needed. A pleased smile flickered over her face. So he *did* remember.

"Rules?"

He shook his head, theatrically earnest. "No rules."

Before she could agree, her legs had vanished from under her body and the last thing she saw before she involuntarily dove under, was the thing she had never expected to be allowed to see again.

Obi-Wan Kenobi grinned like an impish little boy.

With unexpected ease Padme dove away from him, swimming under water for a few metres, causing the thick clouds of steam to hide her from him. Agile as a Gungan, she swam silently up to the seemingly innocent Jedi. They collided with an audible thud - she had hit him right in his diaphragm and thus forced all air out of his lungs.

For a few painful moments he gasped for breath, and immediately she was at his side, placing a slim hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?"

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t see the glittering in his eyes. His hands shot at her shoulders and pressed her under water, then let go instantaneously - only to splash a huge wave of the warm water into her face while she was coming up for air.

He actually had the nerve to grin.

If he had expected her to give up now, he had miscalculated her. In the meantime Padme was completely involved in the game, and she, too, had some tricks up her sleeve - the long years of her training hadn’t gone by without having effects on her.

Padme and Obi-Wan circled each other like two fighters, neither of them willing to give up, both more than sure of themselves. Padme’s laughter rose into the starless night sky again when Obi-Wan lost his connection to the slippery ground of the basin during an overly careful attack and hit the surface of the water full length, inelegantly splashing a huge wave as he submerged.

When he resurfaced again, he found himself at her mercy. Her legs pressed his together, and while one of her hands tried to get a hold of his short-cropped hair, the other one was hidden in the water, ready for battle, ready to splash the final wave of water into his face.

"Do you give up, great knight?" she taunted with a laugh.

He feigned thinking about her proposal, but then burst the iron grip of her legs, tossed her slim body aside with great ease and then made a racing dive to stop her from retreating. Standing in front of her, he caught her hands behind her back and immobilised her legs exactly like she had held his just moments ago.

"Do you give up, your majesty?"

"Never!" she cried, laughing.

She tried to break free, causing Obi-Wan to lose his footing once again. But she was not going to get away from the Jedi that easily. One of his hands increased the solid grip on Padme’s hands while the other one was slung around her waist to stop her continuous fidgeting.

"Your majesty is worse than a Dagobah-eel!" he scolded, amused.

For a few seconds she stopped fighting back and - stretching her arms in an attempt to level with his height - she lifted herself off the basin’s floor.

"Dagobah-eel, huh?" she asked breathlessly.

Not a single muscle in her arms twitched, even though the strain was hard. Only there and then she moved her feet to not lose her balance and fall against him. For the blink of an eye time simply stopped. She breathed deeply, letting her gaze travel unconsciously between his eyes and his lips.

Her chest rose and fell quickly when their faces inched closer. Obi-Wan drowned in the nearly angelic face in front of him, prettily flushed by their game. Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her, fitting her warm body perfectly against him.

Only a few breaths parted them, when Padme suddenly started to lose her balance. A small tremor of strain ran through her body, and where the fine material of her suit touched his bare torso, it transferred to Obi-Wan, who - surprised by the bodily vicinity he hadn’t actually realised before - made the mistake of loosening his grip.

The Jedi should regret this deeply, because the next thing he felt were Padme’s small, delicate hands dancing over his ribcage and the tender skin below it. Honestly worried, he asked himself if the strange sound he heard next had truly come from his mouth.

"Did I find a weak spot there?" she asked innocently.

He looked at her, desperate pleading in his eyes. "Anything. Please, anything but not . . ."

"No rules!"

No matter how much he tried to keep her away, he didn’t manage. He swallowed way too much water during those dodgings and his movements slowed noticeably.

Finally, when his body already twitched before she even came close to his skin, he gave up. "Mercy!" he panted, out of breath and raised both hands in a defensive gesture.

With an overly grim look on her face she came from the deeper water, stalking him like prey. The small part of his brain that wasn’t drowned by all the water noticed the similarity to Sabé’s movements.

'The same teacher ...’

He would never finish the thought.

"This scared look on your face is definitely not appropriate for a Jedi", she stated dryly. "I cannot watch you suffer, though. I give you mercy."

The attempt to look royally dignified worked . . . for about one second. Then her legs had vanished from under her body once more.

"No rules, right?" With those words on his lips, Obi-Wan fled from the basin.

Sometimes retreat was honourable as well. And one look into Padme’s flaming eyes confirmed that this was one of those moments.

***

The hall with the huge pillars was so quiet that she could hear her own breathing. She walked as silently as possible, and as she had done so many times before, she memorised every detail. One never knew when that could be useful. Not that it would have been necessary. Sabé knew the blueprints of the palace by heart, but it reassured her to have certain routines.

She walked up the broad flight of stairs with measured treads, slowly and endeavoured to look royal. She knew that the royal household would watch every single one of the queen’s steps and even the smallest of mistakes would reveal that she wasn’t the queen after all.

In the middle of the stairs she looked around intently and then sank onto one of the steps. Chin propped up in her hands, she gazed out of the gigantic windows into the night. From here a magnificent view revealed itself: over the illuminated procession street with her huge statues and the dome-shaped palace buildings with the curved arches and the lush green of the small gardens.

For a while she reminisced. The battle droids of the federation had desecrated this place and taken away a lot of its safety. When she closed her eyes, she could hear the metallic clicking of the droids in the stairs and halls of the palace again.

Shaking her head against the upcoming flood of pictures, Sabé rose and resumed her way, walking up more stairs, along long, cool, silent halls until she reached the throne room. For a moment she stood and hesitated, then she activated the control panel with a steady hand, causing the door to glide open without a sound.

She knew this room, could have described every single stone and every engraving of the high soaring pillars in her sleep. The throne was empty, and for the first time since Sabé knew what was awaiting her in the next days, she was frightened. Amidala placed so much trust in her . . . Was she, Sabé, worth it?

Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, she walked up to the throne and measured with the height of the room and its expansion, she felt infinitesimal.

Small rays of lamplight fell through the huge, upwardly rounded window and the night’s shadows crept out of all the corners of the room.

Sabé walked one last step and reached the throne. It was strange, seeing it empty, even though it wasn’t actually a peculiarity. It was only occupied during the audiences and outside of those times it was empty. But this time it was different. Amidala was not at the palace, and Sabé couldn’t rely on an her affirmative nod, when she played the queen’s role.

Unconsciously her hand skidded over the cool marble and the soft fabric of the throne. Amidala relied on her. Her smile in the temple had meant so much to Sabé, since she only saw it so very seldom. The throne-room slowly started losing its menacing aura. It was as if touching the place from which Amidalas quiet strength radiated from would transfer some of this calm and confidence to her.

She walked through the cool air of the high hall, musing, and stopped at one of the windows. She had watched Amidala at this very spot, as she did so very often, had been a silent witness of the queen watching the city below her, had seen her worried, but also amused.

She wondered how the queen was doing at this very moment. Casting a quick glance over the darkness which lay over the dome-shaped roofs of the city, Sabé realised just how late it actually was. The queen would most likely be asleep and not be wasting her time on thinking anything right now.

On her way from the window back to the door, she allowed her hand to skid over the marble table in front of the throne, then she hurried back to her quarters.

***

The dry garments felt good against her skin.

The way from the springs back to the part of the temple where they had made their quarters had been longer than she had thought and she was miserably cold. Padme didn’t even dare think about how Obi-Wan, whose clothes had been completely soaked during their little battle, had to feel. He had assured her multiple times that he was fine, but somehow she couldn't make herself believe that.

It was still in the deep, dark hours of the night when Padme and Obi-Wan reached the temple-complex, shivering from the chills that ran through their bodies. Obi-Wan vanished in one of the smaller adjacent buildings and came back immediately, handing her a dry, warm garment. Gingerly but determined he pushed her into the Atrium and retreated to the terrace to give the young woman the chance to change clothes.

During the time they had spent here, the Atrium had become one of her favourite spots, since it combined two distinct advantages. It gave her enough privacy and allowed pastel-soft dreams of a world which was long lost.

Everything inside the column-framed building, light flooded by day, had something enchanted about it, seemed old and mysterious. Creepers with broad, lush green leaves had started to recapture this part of the temple and entered the air well in between the columns, crept slowly and steadily over the soft sandstone floor as if nothing could stop them. Thereagainst the basin in the middle of the Atrium remained untouched, it was as though the plants respected the azure coloured eye, which caught the indirect lights of the temple and cast it back at the surrounding stones in iridescent, flittering speckles.

Before her thoughts could succumb into another dream, Padme quickly changed her clothes. She enjoyed the sliding of the snuggly garment on her skin when she stepped out from between the plants’ tendrils and joined Obi-Wan.

It surprised him how fast she followed him onto the Veranda, which was framed by high, slim columns. The soft light which came from the Atrium was reflected by the bright sandstone of the columns and faded away in the night darkened yard.

"What?" she asked, confused by the silence with which he was scrutinising her.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Nothing."

While she had taken off her wet garments and had changed into dry ones, he had taken up the task of lighting a pile of logs in the open fireplace of the Veranda. Tiny sparks sizzled. The licking flames exuded a pleasant warmth and a soft light. Obi-Wan stretched out his hands and absorbed the heat until an impatient plucking on his wet tunic startled him.

"Why is it that I always have to keep telling you that wet tunics aren’t good for you?" Padme asked with a mixture of amusement and anger. "Is it your training or do you simply have a masochistic streak?"

For a moment confusion clouded his clear eyes, then he smirked. "Oh, that . . ."

"Oh, that?" she echoed, outraged.

Shaking her head, she pulled him to his feet and pushed him into the Atrium with earnestness.

"This really isn’t . . ."

"Necessary?" she finished the sentence. "I’d like to differ. If you don’t voluntarily put on dry clothes immediately, I will make that an order."

Obi-Wan’s eyes twinkled amused. "I thought you said you didn’t want to be queen here?"

The smile on her face grew wistful. "I’m always queen, Obi-Wan. Just as much as you are always a Jedi."

Their eyes met, and for a few moments a cool hue of absoluteness and melancholy touched them.

Then she pointed the slim index finger of her left hand towards the door. "Now."

Obi-Wan knew better than to disagree with her.

***

When he stepped onto the veranda again, Padme was gone.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed in and out calmly for a few times. When had it become his fate to always be searching for her?

He could hear the jungle breathing around him, peacefully. The wind played in the tops of the high trees and moved the leaves, giving the impression of rain. Obi-Wan’s ears detected more and more sounds, reaching from the most delicate whisper of bursting buds up to . . . the dampened sound of naked feet padding on the soft floor of the jungle.

He opened his eyes. The soft flicker of the flames revealed Padme to him, balancing up the narrow stairs with an arm full of small packages and a basket full of fruit. The light caused her dark hair to shimmer like rich silk.

She lowered her load onto a blanket that had previous been spread out and looked up expectantly.

"Good, you are dry," she exclaimed, satisfied.

He didn’t answer but sank onto his knees to help her sort out the things she had placed on the blanket.

May I dare ask what this is supposed to be?"

Padme only raised her eyes, put her index finger over her lips and motioned for Obi-Wan to keep quiet. For a few moments nothing happened and Obi-Wan was tempted to ask what she meant, when he heard it. The sound would have brought honour to a Bantha, fuelled by anger. But there were no Banthas on . . . 'Oh.’

A broad and honestly amused smile spread over his face and made him look years younger. He reached for one of the food packages Reaja had deposited in a small storage room for them, opened it with skilled hands and gave it to Padme.

"Feed the beast," he smirked.

While he watched her devour her late dinner, he had distinct difficulties in trying not to lose face and start to laugh. He couldn’t remember when he had last seen someone eat this much in such a short period of time. He wondered if this was how his Master had felt when he had watched him, Obi-Wan, during dinners. Nevertheless Padme never lost her natural grace, no matter how fast she ate it still looked elegant and refined.

For a few moments longer he smiled at her, then his stomach started rumbling in protest as well and quickly joined her at her nightly dinner.

***

Sabé did not find any more sleep that night.

In the beginning she had hoped that studying the datapads would tire her, but she had given up *that* hope very soon. The information had not lost any of its impact on her and even repeated meditation attempts had failed calming her racing heart.

This was worse than the night before she had been appointed handmaiden. Back then she had been able to share her agitation, had been there for the other girls and had been able to distract herself. But here she was alone in the high room, which soaked up the sound of her breathing with ghastly speed. Just as if she weren't really here, as if the room felt that she didn’t belong here . . .

The cool sheets of the royal bed were wrapped around her body and her contours were visible in the soft light of the restlessly flickering candle. Slowly her eyes trailed over her own curves and she asked herself how she appeared to the other handmaidens.

She had been the one elected to pose as queen. Was it only because of her features, because of her incredible resemblance to the queen?

Her hand slowly went into her long hair and she wound a strand around her finger.

When she looked into the mirror, she saw the resemblance, too. What she felt then, was frightening. She avoided looking into the mirror too often. Because everytime she did, she had the feeling that a part of her identity was being taken away from her and replaced by the strong image of the queen. Sometimes Sabé asked herself if this was normal. Was she losing her identity in her duty for the queen?

The soft strand of hair touched her face while she kept twirling it between middle and index finger.

On the other hand - this was what she had been trained to do, wasn’t it? Then why couldn’t she get rid of the gnawing feeling of envy which found its way into her heart from time to time?

With and indignant sigh Sabé threw back the smooth, silky sheets and moved her long, slim legs over the edge of the bed. Her delicate figure was clad in a soft white night gown whose skirt went well over her feet. One of the slim straps slithered off her tanned shoulder without her noticing it. Her naked feet produced soft sounds on the smooth marble.

The silence of the palace surrounding her was palpable and calming - like a sleeping giant, dreaming peacefully.

With a slight ache under her heart Sabé asked herself if Amidala knew what she encumbered her handmaiden with.

Immediately she scolded herself for that thought. She ought to be glad about the amount of trust Amidala placed in her. And she was, was incredibly proud and grateful for this proof of the queen’s trust. Nevertheless she longed to be herself again once in a while.

Sabé shook her head and took the stance of one of her meditative exercises. She mustn’t succumb to those thoughts if she didn’t want to fail in the following days, and especially tomorrow.

If nothing else worked she could at least try and use the night for something more worthwhile than this useless brooding.

While her movements slowly became more fluent, she felt the disquieting thoughts returning to the well locked place in her soul.

This door had to remain closed from now on. Even the smallest gap, only a hairline crack could cause her failure.

It was a place of oblivion.

The thoughts were forgotten in order to fulfil her duty.

The thoughts were forgotten in order to save herself.

Truly forgotten?

***

The fire sizzled quietly as the flames licked at the dry logs. Fine clouds of smoke rose, mingled with the moist air and left behind the aromatic smell of burning wood. The night was cool and overcast, not a single star twinkled through the tight layers of clouds in the sky. The wind whispered in the treetops and deep tranquillity lay over the temple.

Obi-Wan’s eyes moved away from his surroundings and wandered back to the fire.

It was a picture which would have looked nearly sirupy sweet had it been a painting. Here it simply was the perfection of the mood. The warm light of the fire danced on Padme’s long, dark hair which poured over her shoulders and the propped up arm like an ebony waterfall. She had laid down close to the fire to allow her heavy hair to dry better. The light enchanted her face, made if softer and more feminine. Her long, dark lashes cast mysterious shadows on the fair, velvet-like skin of her cheeks.

When she opened her eyes again and shook up the heavy curls, her gaze met his and something passed between them as though it were a small, undefinable spark. Lazily and agile as a cat she sat up and reached for the hairbrush, playing seemingly subconsciously with the silvery object. Her eyes looked at him steadfastly. Thoughtful, warm, shining. She smiled unfathomably.

The fire sizzled. The hairbrush produced quiet, clicking noises whenever it connected with the ornaments of her tunic-belt. No words were spoken, only her smile remained.

For a while he managed to ignore that gaze. He thought of it as training - patience had never been his strong suit, so he might as well train it now. Yet it was harder for him than any one of his exercises in a long line of trials of patience.

The quiet clicking of the brush became deafeningly loud in his ears. The longer this look rested upon him, accompanied by that unreadable smile, the more a warm glowing coloured his cheeks. Her gaze travelled with deliberate slowness over his face, then to his shoulders and back to his eyes. He couldn’t help noticing the amused twinkling in that gaze.

"What, WHAT?!" he finally blurted out.

'Great, Obi-Wan. Your patience really is remarkable,’ he thought sarcastically.

A quick, satisfied smile flickered over Padme's face and she lowered her head to look at the twinkling brush in her hands. "Nothing," she answered.

She winked at him though the circle of her lashes and allowed her eyes to wander deliberately over his features.

Obi-Wan sat up abruptly and shook his head in confusion. "You are staring," he stated, and realised with horror that his voice didn’t obey him quite the way it usually did.

"I am?"

The amused undertone of her voice was lost on him.

"Yes, you are!" he reaffirmed.

Again the few words sounded indignant and in a very amusing way profoundly shocked. And just as if his body wanted to intensify his unpleasant situation, his voice broke and ended in a very undignified squeak. His face glowed dark red and he cleared his throat uneasily. This was unbelievable. He was acting worse than during the time at the Temple when his voice had been breaking. The urgent need to run into the temple and pull the covers over his head because of the awkwardness of the situation awoke inside of him.

"I’m sorry," Padme said, troubled by his reaction towards her joke. "I didn’t intend to . . ."

Since the situation was awkward anyway, he might as well jump into the depth. "You were staring," he repeated. "Why?"

Her fingertips moved over the soft bristles. She raised the sparkling eyes again. "I was thinking . . ."

The tone of her voice did not make clear whether she would continue or not. Just why was he expecting a confession he would most probably not be able to handle?

"About what?" he asked, alarmed.

Padme pointed the brush in the direction of his hair. "Your haircut."

The sentence was like a splash of icy cold water on Obi-Wan's racing thoughts and brought him back into reality.

She smiled about the confusion she saw on his face. "Not actually fashionable, but undoubtedly very handy." Her gaze travelled back to the brush in her hands. "At least you don’t have to brush it all the time."

For a few moments Obi-Wan considered if she had just insulted him with well-placed words. He cast her a levelling glance and saw the hopeful glitter in her eyes for the first time . The hope which had been hidden behind her smile before. Slowly, very slowly things started to fall into place and he felt his relief painting a broad smile on his features. He laughed softly when he took the small silvery brush out of her hands.

"Is it at all possible that you’re very subtly trying to make me . . ." He was stopped by a playful swat to his shoulder.

"Subtly?" she asked in mock consternation. "I’m trying to make you understand for a small eternity now. I was about to give up hope."

Over her shoulder, she gave him a mischievous smile, while he sank to his knees behind her.

"For someone as intelligent and well trained as you are, you’re surprisingly naive sometimes, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

***

 

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