Chapter 8: Second Meeting
Padmé Amidala
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Groaning inwardly, I turn around to face the voice, instantly recognizing to whom the distinctive lilt belongs.
“Fancy indeed,” I say with raised eyebrows, turning back to my work of organizing goods.
It has been two weeks since our last meeting and of all the places possible, I never expected to see him here.
Here is the weekly food drive for the poor of Coruscant, held every Thursday. It is housed in a small building—although much larger than it was before—and always filled to the brim with people desperately seeking enough food to last until next week’s drive.
I do what I can to help, volunteering as often as I can, organizing the food so that as many people get as much as they can with the little that we have. But no matter what I do, it never seems to be enough.
It angers me; the rich frivolously spend hundreds and thousands of credits on trinkets and toys while the people below them beg for food. I can see the shame in some of their faces, but what I see in others is worse; it’s complete apathy, a absolute lack of care about what others think of them for begging food; their pride had been stripped from them long ago.
Looking at the haggard faces of the poor reminds me of all that I fight for. This is important to me, my personal way of giving back, of showing the citizens that I truly care about them and to see him here…
It is too much of a coincidence.
Undeterred at my standoffishness, he moves closer, crossing his arms over an incredibly broad chest as he leans against the peeling, beige wall.
“How are you?”
I glare at him. “Busy,” I bite out, standing back for a moment to examine my workspace, squinting in the poor light of the room. The food goods are in stacks all around the area and thankfully, there is much more this week than last. I must make a point to speak with the unloading crew, though. There are several crushed boxes and we cannot afford that; every item donated is needed.
When I finally look in his direction again, he is gazing at me in exasperation. “Are you always this…” he pauses for a moment, waving his hand as he looks for a word.
“Cautious?” I suggest, moving to arrange the goods on my right.
“Hostile,” he corrects, giving me a knowing look.
“Maybe I’m hostile because there’s so many people to be hostile to, present company included,” I say with acid sweetness.
“You know what? You must be stronger than you look.”
I frown at those words. “And why is that?” I say, and then immediately regret it. I just walked into a trap and his next words confirm it.
“Because having a chip on your shoulder that big must most certainly require a lot of strength,”
Feeling my annoyance build, I put my work down to turn to him. “Did you come in here just to insult me, or was there some purpose to this unwelcome visit?”
“I don’t know,” he says with flourish, stretching tan limbs. “I was just thinking this morning that it’d been a whole two weeks since I was verbally abused and then I saw you and thought ‘what the hell’? I might as well be abused by the best of them.”
“Very funny,” I say sourly, turning away from him so he wouldn’t see my twitching mouth. I don’t appreciate the fact that he’s funny; it would be much easier to ignore him if he was an un-funny asshole.
“So, I looked you up,” he continues casually, rubbing his muscled arm in an up and down motion that takes more willpower than it should to ignore.
“Oh?” I respond trying to sound disinterested, although to be honest, I am curious to know what he discovered, what he thought about it.
“Yes. Apparently, according to Matilda and the reports I read, you are a vicious woman, deemed the ‘Ice Queen’, who’s only purpose in life is to ruin others,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Anything else?” I reply coolly. Although unsurprising, his words sting. In the entire Galaxy, no one had actually taken the time to understand my motives, but why should they? It is so much more entertaining to speculate and perpetuate lies about me. It certainly keeps the media moguls in business.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Some very vocal personalities are quite sure that all you need is a good fuck and your mood will improve exponentially.”
Gritting my teeth, I cross my arms, knowing it’s a defensive move, but uncaring in the least. If there is one area of weakness I possess, it’s sex.
It’s not that I don’t want to have sex, it’s just that I haven’t met one man, not one, that I would allow to touch me in so intimate a manner. My mother taught me that my body is a gift to be given to a very special man; I’m beginning to think this so-called ‘special man’ doesn’t exist.
His words shouldn’t hurt; it isn’t the first time someone has speculated about my sex life or my lack thereof and it probably won’t be the last. But that he had the gall to say it to my face… it took considerable balls.
“You seem to have enjoyed reading all about me,” I respond evenly.
“It was certainly entertaining,” he says with a smirk.
“Why are you here then?” I ask, looking at him pointedly.
He smiles and, not for the first time, I curse the beauty of it. Force, why does this man have to be so handsome? It’s getting harder and harder to ignore.
“I prefer to form my own opinion about people,” he replies, amusement permeating his voice. “I sure as Sith hell am not going to allow a bunch of gossiping reporters to do it for me. Still, I was actually a little surprised at the amount of information available.”
“Really? You’ll probably be even more surprised that there’s no such information on you,” I respond lightly.
“You researched me?” he asks and I can hear the laugh in his voice. It annoys me.
“I research everyone as you should have read. Though, interestingly enough, I found nothing on you, absolutely nothing,” I watch his face closely as I continue. “The only people who have no record of any activities are criminals and that’s because all of their information is carefully guarded or erased.”
“A criminal…” he murmurs, rubbing his chin, a distant look entering his eyes. “I wish that were the case.”
Eyebrows shooting up, I cast him a disbelieving look. “Which implies that you’re not, which is, of course, exactly what you’d say. So, please, enlighten me; tell me why I can’t find any information on you.”
“It’s because, up until three years ago, I was a slave. And let’s just say my owners didn’t find it necessary to keep records such as those about their property,” he replies, voice flat.
I blinked slowly as I feel all the blood drain from my face.
He had been a slave?
For the first time since the invasion of Naboo, I feel something suspiciously like regret materialize in my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t,” he replies evenly, a ghost of a smile drifting across his face. “It’s not something that I broadcast. People who live in the Republic seem to forget that there are many systems that are not a part of its union. Slavery is alive and well in the Outer Rim and as bad as the poor have it here, it’s a million times better than being someone else’s possession.”
Noticing my wide-eyed stare, he shakes his head. “Don’t feel bad about it. It’s hardly your fault.”
I do nothing, only make a small noise under my breath before turning back to my work, my mind racing from what he’d say. Is this man serious? I’ve never heard an ‘I’m a former slave’ story before; it’s certainly novel.
“How did you escape?” I ask suddenly, curious to know. It’s extremely rare for a slave to escape his owners in the Outer Rim; they have the industry of enslaving sentient beings down to a science.
“He died,” he says with a shrug, the very picture of nonchalance and if I hadn’t been watching him closely, I would have missed the satisfaction that quickly flashed across his face. It made me frown. Why the hell would he feel that?
“I’m not going to pretend that his passing saddened me because it didn’t,” he continues. “Actually, I had a small, internal party when he died; he was a very cruel man and the whole galaxy is a better place now that he’s gone. It wasn’t until some time after he died that I found that I was to be sold again. At that point, I was determined to escape or die trying. By an incredible stroke of luck, my slavers mistakenly left the door to my compartment open while I was in transit to a new owner. I saw a chance in a million and took it; I ran.”
“Lucky break,” I say quietly, my disbelief in just how amazing that had been echoing in my voice.
“Very lucky indeed,” he responds, smiling, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But you don’t believe me,” he observes, watching me work.
“Am I really that obvious?” I say with mock coyness. I will not believe him until I find proof of his claims.
“I have no reason to lie.”
That makes me pause. Turning to him, my voice lowers to a whisper and my eyes are intent upon his as I speak. “Everyone has a reason to lie, I just haven’t found yours yet.”
It is then that he smiles, showing teeth, the sight of it sending chills down my spine. It is a predatory grin, similar to one a gundark might display. And there is a look in his eyes… it’s dark and… sinister.
“Some reasons are best left in the dark,” he says softly, that same smile still on his lips, his blue eyes gleaming. “Bringing them to light could be… dangerous.”
And in that moment my suspicions are confirmed: this man is hiding something. For a moment, just a moment, I had seen a glimpse behind the genial mask that he displayed to the world. It… bothered me, excited me. It seems I have finally found a challenge.
“Who are you?” I ask, turning all of my attention on him. He had managed to avoid the question last time, but he wouldn’t this time.
He blinks and then, just like that, his mask is back in place. “A friend,” he replies, fingering his top.
“But I don’t think you are,” I respond icily. “Especially since this friend refuses to tell me his name.”
“I could be, though” he says, slowly closing the distance between us. “You seem to be in need of friends.”
“Perhaps,” I allow, refusing to give him more than that. I will not permit him to control this conversation or me.
We stand across from each other in the small, poorly kept room, watching one another, neither of us willing to concede. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a standoff; it’s a bit exhilarating.
“How about this,” he says finally, folding his arms again. “Why don’t you allow me to take you on a friendly outing?”
“You take me on an outing? Whatever for?” I ask in genuine confusion. Of all the things I expected him to say, this wasn’t it.
“You’re suspicious of me, but you can’t find out the information you want, so why don’t you let me tell you what you want to know?” he explains, smirking at me, obviously enjoying catching me off guard.
“Nice try,” I say, glaring at him, turning to leave. “But no dice.”
“Scared?” he taunts, his smirk widening.
“What the hell of?”
“Of finally being out of your depth.”
His words make me pause and all I can do is stare at him.
Damn.
Him.
Force damn this bastard to hell.
He wants to challenge me? So be it. Let it never be said that Padmé Amidala backed down from a challenge!
“Fine!” I cry. Uncaring that I only came to his chin, I stalk up to him, stepping over the goods in my path to poke him in his very firm chest. “You want to take me out? Very well, but expect hell the whole way!”
“I would expect nothing less,” he says airily, that damnable laugh in his voice again. “I will pick you up from the opera house tomorrow night at seven.”
I only glare at him, furious that I had allowed myself to be manipulated.
“Well,” I say sharply after a moment. “You got what you wanted. Shouldn’t you be going now?”
“You’re right, I did get what I wanted, so, I’ll go,” he confirms with a sly grin that makes my stomach flip. “Besides, I must prepare for tomorrow, wouldn’t want to fall short of your expectations after all.”
Ignoring the funny feeling that is once again building in my stomach, I turn around to stalk past him, which is hard considering how crowded the room is. “You’d better not be late.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, that damnable laugh in his voice again.
With a huff of frustration I leave, making sure to shoot him a parting glare before doing so.
It isn’t until I am out of the building and on my way home that I realize that he still hadn’t told me his name.
#*#*#*#*#
It has been several hours since seeing him and it has taken that long to get him out of my mind.
He is an enigma, a mystery to solve, but I cannot allow him to occupy all of my thoughts no matter how interesting he is. There are others things that require my attention, namely my senatorial responsibilities.
That is why I am now in my office at the Republic Executive Building, working.
Work.
Work.
Work.
Work.
It is the life of a senator.
Papers.
Speeches.
Proposals.
Bills.
Meetings.
They are all a part of a never-ending cycle of monotony and duty. Representatives are always required to do more work than they’re paid for, and if they got into it for the money, they chose the wrong career for to be a representative is to serve, to make the Galaxy a better place. Yet the newest trend is most alarming; more politicians are getting into it for another reason altogether; power, for the ability to tweak the system to benefit them and no one else.
And what does the Galactic Senate have to show for this particular brand of public service? A war with several systems fighting to gain independence, that’s what.
I don’t agree with what the Separatists are doing, but I can’t say I blame them. They despise the Republic for its corruption, wanting nothing more than to scrap the whole system and start from scratch.
It is an idea, just an impractical one.
The whole of the Galactic Republic is not bad; the principles are sound, the statutes, morally praiseworthy; it’s the flawed, or complete lack of execution of these principles that makes the system a failure.
Any philosophy, whether political, social, or economic, is perfect in theory. It’s the practicing that makes it unsound. Democracy, communism, oligarchies; they all look good on paper, but are impossible to implement to its fullest because sentient beings are imperfect, selfish creatures.
Democracy, though… I champion it because it’s the lesser of all the evils, the most utopian in reality. Yet even that system has inherent and crippling flaws when applied to real life…
I am shaken from my thoughts when my assistant walks in.
“Senator Amidala,” she says respectfully. “Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is here to see you.”
Immediately, I feel a genuine smile stretch my face. Obi-Wan Kenobi is the most honorable man I know and the closest thing I have to a best friend. Because he is a Jedi, he is rarely on Coruscant, especially with the war, but he always makes a point to see me when he returns and I am always happy to welcome him.
“Obi-Wan,” I exhale warmly as he enters, taking note of his newly acquired tan. “Looking good,” I tease him, pleased to see crimson crawl up his neck.
“Padmé,” he greets me in turn, hugging me tightly before releasing. “How are you this fine evening?”
“Busy,” I say truthfully, looking at the stack of paperwork sprawled across my desk. “But that’s every day. When did you get back? I didn’t know you had returned. Why didn’t you send word?”
“I didn’t know I would be returning myself,” he admits ruefully, rubbing his bearded chin. “It wasn’t until this last mission that the Jedi decided to bring me back to Coruscant. I can’t tell you why, but I am glad that they did.”
I nod, understanding his inability to tell me more. With the volatility of the war, most of his missions are secret and known only to the Jedi. It’s critical to his safety and the completion of his assignments. I can bear not being privy to every detail if it means that he will be safe.
We move to take a sit next to one another on the comfortable couch near the window and began to chat. As we do, I can’t help but think that it’s too bad that Obi-Wan’s a Jedi. Of all of the men I know, he’s the only one I would consider pursuing a relationship with. I’m not sure how well it would work, though. The type of passion that makes a couple lifelong partners, that I would want in a romantic relationship, is just not there between us. I’m almost glad of it; I’ve heard that sex can ruin relationships and I want Obi-Wan in my life, as my friend, until I die.
As we continue to talk, a thought strikes me. Obi-Wan is a Jedi and able to access the legendary Jedi Archives and other information that I am unable to. What if he…?
Noticing my distraction, Obi-Wan pauses, frowning in concern. “Is everything okay, Padmé,” he asks gently. “You seem a bit preoccupied.”
“I’m contemplating what to do about a little problem that I have,” I admit with a sigh. “I met someone a few weeks ago, a man. It’s hard to tell if he’s a politician or not, but there’s something about him, Obi-Wan…” my voice trails off as he is once again pulled into the forefront of my thoughts. “I tried checking him out, but I found no information. He says it’s because he was a slave up until three years ago, but I have no way to confirm that, so I was wondering…” I trail off giving him a pointed look.
“If I could find some information for you,” he finishes, frowning. Obi-wan has never been vocal about his feelings about my karma-cide activities, but it is clear that he hates it and the subsequent enemies I have made as a result of it. It would be a huge favor for him to do this for me, one that would be going against his feelings.
“What is it about this person that makes you suspicious?” he asks finally, after a long silence.
“I honestly don’t know,” I confess. “I’ve never quite felt this way before, but I know he’s hiding something. I know it.”
Obi-Wan glances at me for a moment longer before sighing, obviously coming to a decision. “Before I agree to this, tell me: do you think this man is dangerous?”
I hesitate. Did I think that he was dangerous? Absolutely. Would I lie to my closest friend to get him to comply? No, not to Obi-Wan, but would I downplay the danger to get what I wanted? Unfortunately, yes.
“I don’t know” I say finally, pushing down the shadows of guilt that hover at mind for misleading him. “I hope not.”
After giving me a look that tells me exactly how insane he thinks I am, he sighs, running tan fingers through chocolate locks. “Very well, you never ask me for anything so I will do this for you. But I do want you to know it’s under protest.”
“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” I reply with a smile, squeezing his hand. “You’re amazing.”
Flushing, he clears his throat. “So, what’s his name?”
Feeling heat rise up my own neck, I confess, “I don’t actually know his name.”
Eyebrows lifting, he simply responds, “Do you have a picture?”
Biting my lip, I shake my head. “Not quite, but I can get one tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“I kind of have this… thing with him tomorrow…” I allow my voice to trail off with a small shrug, hoping to downplay my actions.
“Wait,” Obi-Wan says carefully, slowly turning on the couch so that his whole body is directly facing me. “Are you telling me that you have a ‘thing’—whatever that means—with a man you’re suspicious about, a man who may or may not be dangerous?”
“Yes?” I say with an apologetic grin. Seeing his rising ire, I drop the antics and move closer to him. “Obi-Wan, I promise I’ll be fine. I honestly don’t think he’d hurt me.”
Looking at me, Obi-Wan shakes his head. “What did I do to get stuck with such a reckless friend?”
Smiling, I shrug. “I don’t know, but it must have been awful.”
Rolling his eyes, he rises and I know it is time for him to leave.
A little while later, Obi-Wan is gone and I am thinking about my outing tomorrow with him.
Seeing Obi-Wan always puts me in good spirits, but getting him to agree to help me is the bonus that has made my day. Now, I feel as though I finally have a good chance of finding out some real information about him.
All it takes to accomplish any action is time and if I look hard enough, deep enough I will find out who this man is yet, and I must say, I cannot wait to see what is revealed.
Perris 