Title: Life in Death

Universe: AOTC. Starts the first night Padmé and her handmaidens arrive on Coruscant and after Cordé dies (wahhhh – seriously, not sarcastically. The handmaidens are awesome. They can fight and everything! I want one – although they could substitute a good lookin guy instead…maybe like Obi-Wan?)

Pairing: Obidala

Genre: Romance

Rating: T

Summary: A Senator facing a friend's death. A Jedi set on creating peace where only turmoil remains. Two hearts separated by a barrier of pain and united by a fury of passion. One week that will start in death and end in life.

A/N: Helloooo! At first I was gonna make this a fic obi and Dormé but I realized it would work so much better Obidala – even if I don't like Padmé. I would gladly fill in that position myself but I have a feeling he could be slightly put off by the massive age difference. Humph. (I'm younger, not older, FYI. I would gross myself out if I was like 80 years old and had a crush on Obi-Wan (ewwww. That's nasty) (when he was played by Ewan McGregor, although I wouldn't blame…uh…myself) and not to mention the fact that Ewan McGregor is married with kids, (I envy his wife). On another more humane subject, perty please review! Sorry if I have spelling and grammar mistakes. Right after I posted 'Birthmark' I read it again and I caught like a billion mistakes, I'm kicking myself right now and it's not like I can just go on the internet and fix it cuz we have dial up so I can only go on for so long…think that sentence was long enough? Me too so I'll stop and let you read and review ;) the fic! Enjoy! (Sorry for the uber long A/N)

Disclaimer: Nah, to my great displeasure I must admit that I don't own anyone or anything in this fic or in any other one. (Not even Obi) Bah. Dumb laws. (Wow that was so much shorter than my a/n.)

Life in Death

Day One: Broken Glass and Shattered Hearts

Obi-Wan Kenobi would never admit it but all he wanted at this moment was either a long session of mediation or an extended amount of sleep. Secretly, he favoured the latter. But nevertheless, he had a job to do and stars and moons he would do it. He rested an elbow on the metal fence that stretched from the floor the average waist and dropped his chin in his palm. The balcony sat high above any sort of ground and even though it was night, he could see everything below him clearly due to the bright Coruscanti lights.

After he had sent Anakin to check the security only a mere five standard minutes ago, Obi-Wan already felt as if he would die of boredom. His young Padawan was good for more than just handling a lightsaber beautifully – he was also great entertainment. He breathed a long sigh as the light breeze fluttered his hair, forcing it to fall over his forehead. The Jedi didn't feel the need to push it back in place.

The muffled sound of glass shattering jarred him out of his reverie. He spun around, hand grasping his lightsaber but kept it hooked on his belt when through the glass door he saw Padmé Amidala on her knees attempting to pick up some of the larger pieces. The door slid open as he jogged back into the apartment and closed as he stooped down before the Senator. "M'lady," he said, "are you alright?"

She kept her face lowered and continued to gather the shards of thin glass. "Yes, Master Kenobi. I'm fine." She sucked in a breath as she felt her skin being cut open. Padmé looked at her palm as a thin trail of blood ran escaped.

"You're cut." Obi-Wan gently took her hand in both of his and stood up, taking her with him.

"I'm fine." She repeated unconvincingly as he sat her down on the couch. She stared at his hands while they took the edge of his tunic to wipe the blood away. They moved fluently and without hesitation, she noticed, evidence of strength and tenderness at the same time. Padmé involuntarily swallowed as she snuck glance at his hansom face. His hair had fallen into his scorching blue eyes and she resisted the intense urge to push them away.

"Stay here," he ordered softly and stood. He quietly left the room but came back a few minutes later with a small container of bacta and a bandage. Obi-Wan squatted down in front of her and held her hand again, softly rubbing bacta on the wound in an unintentionally seductive motion. When he was satisfied he wrapped the cloth snugly around her hand and fastened it with a pin. "Good as new."

Padmé absently realized Obi-Wan still had her hand in his… They might as well have been made for each other.

"Senator Amidala…" She made no sign that she heard him as she stared down at her lap. "Padmé." He said more forcefully now.

She glanced at him then promptly looked down again. "Yes, Master Kenobi."

"My name is Obi-Wan and that's what I expect to be called…" he paused. "May I ask what's bothering you?"

"I believe you just did," Padmé responded, retrieving her hand and rising to her feet abruptly. She walked passed him to the floor-to-ceiling windows, her rigid back to him.

Obi-Wan turned, staring at her reflection in the glass. What he saw broke his heart so much that he was sure it must resemble the shattered dish that still lay on the floor. He could see the steady streams of tears run down her cheeks, and over her chin. He walked over to her and leaned a broad shoulder against the windowpane. "Padmé, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. You're obviously in pain, I only wish to help."

Padmé spun to face him, fully prepared with numerous defences and insults lined up and ready to be fired but the onslaught if a vivid blue gaze destroyed everything – including what was left of her false composure. The tears turned into sobs that racked her frame. She held her face in her hands as she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist.

Obi-Wan pulled her tight against him, running a comfortingly hand up and down her back. He felt his tunic dampen from Padmé's tears. Slowly the cries subsided and her frail body stopped shaking as a muffled voice reached his ears, "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I didn't mean to burden you like this." She pulled back and went to sit on the couch. He followed her.

"Just tell me what's wrong."

"I'd rather not discuss it, Obi-Wan."

"Padmé," he stopped her with one word. "Anakin and I are here to make sure that you are safe. Physically and emotionally. Whatever it is, rest assure, you can tell me."

"You always know just what to say, don't you Obi-Wan?" she evaded his obvious nudge.

He let it go – for the time being. "One can only hope… if Qui-Gon were here he would have been able to stop your tears before they even formed."

"Don't say that. You are a wonderful Jedi, Qui-Gon would be proud of you. I'm the one who should be stronger. Senators are supposed to be stronger than this."

Obi-Wan braced his elbow on his knee, setting his chin on the fist and frowned at her. "You see crying as a sign of weakness," he said more than questioned.

Padmé peered at him. "Well…yes. Yes, I suppose I do."

"Hmm," he regarded her thoughtfully. "Some might consider the inability to cry or even show emotion as an even larger handicap."

She stared at the blue-eyed wonder beside her. "And I presume that you have daily 'Cry Myself To Sleep' nights?"

One corner of his mouth rose the slightest bit – rather distractingly so. "No. But after Qui-Gon died I admit I cried. More than once."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to remind you of his, uh, passing," she said softly, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulders, than removed it.

"But isn't that what this is all about? Death?"

"It's about many things." Padmé seemed to find the flooring very interesting. "I'm sure you have work to do. I don't want to keep you from it."

Yes, he did have work to do. And she was right in front of him. Obi-Wan had gotten this far, he was not about to roll over and drop the subject. Especially not now, when Padmé so obviously needed to get it out of her system. "This is about Cordé, isn't it?"

She abruptly stood up, her back once again towards him. "Master Jedi. You have a job to do and I will need my sleep if I am to be useful tomorrow. Good night." She was behind her closed bedroom door before he could blink. Which he did. Twice.

So now she was back to formalities. From Master Kenobi, to Obi-Wan, and all the way down to Master Jedi. Bah. If there was ever one thing that confused him more than anything in the galaxy, it was woman. More specifically the Senator of Naboo.


Padmé sat dumbfounded on the edge of her bed. He jumped out of a window. A window! Of course, she understood why he did it, but…it was a window how many stories high? Dormé returned with a steaming beverage and placed it in Padmé's hands.

"M'lady. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, not surprised in the least that she sounded drugged. "Why would he do that?"

"Master Kenobi, you mean?" Dormé asked. "Well, to find whoever was trying to kill you, of course."

"I realize that. But… A window? He could be killed! If he isn't dead already. Master Kenobi hates flying so instead he commits suicide? It's lunacy."

Dormé's lips formed a small smile. "I for one had thought Anakin would be the first to jump out of a window. Master Obi-Wan must take his job very seriously."

"Indeed." Padmé pushed herself off the bed with one hand and made her way to the balcony where a slight breeze wafted in the air.

"M'lady?" Panaka's voice came from the doorway and soon he was standing beside her. "I do not think it is in your best interest to be outside after what just happened."

"After what just happened I don't think we will be seeing from anyone soon. They'll be too busy running from the Jedi to come back and finish their job."

"Senator Amidala-"

"Captain Panaka. I wish to be alone. If I suspect even the slightest thing is out of place I will come back inside. You have my word."

He obviously wasn't satisfied but Panaka nodded and walked back to the door. He stopped, "Would you like Dormé-"

"Captain." Padmé warned wearily.

"Yes, M'lady." And he left her.

Padmé leaned heavily on the guardrail and finally took a small sip of the drink. She found that it had cooled down immensely. Unlike her frustration. How can a man talk to her about death one moment and the next jump out of a window like he's a blasted bird? Only Obi-Wan, she shook her head to herself and took another gulp.

After what she suspected was only ten minutes she turned around and slid to the cold floor, holding the mug in both hands over her abdomen. She dropped her head back against the metal railing. Padmé felt the exhaustion creeping into her bones, her eyes slid closed as she set the cup on the floor beside her. Before long she was fast asleep and dreaming, what was in her unconscious mind, beautiful things…

She pushed her fingers through his hair and her head dropped back as a trail of kisses was left on her exposed collarbone. She gasped for air that seemed to be nonexistent. A mess of blankets and pillows were under and around her…but above her was another story completely.

Her hands slid around his bare waist and up his back, nails digging into flesh when large, and confidant hands roamed her naked waist, then slowly and tenderly rising, below her rib cage, up her rib cage, past her rib cage… Her back arched off the bed and her head rolled, one cheek pressed against a silky pillow, her mind blurred.

"You're beautiful, Padmé," a low voice rumbled in her ear facing the ceiling. Hot lips curled around the earlobe, short facial hair brushing her skin. His mouth dragged itself until it reached hers and covered it. One hand slid higher to the back of her head while the other traced circles in the dip of her throat. His tongue broke through the weak barrier of lips and she moaned into his mouth.

"Padmé…Padmé…" the voice rang in her ears

"Padmé, wake up."

She woke with a start. "Obi-Wan?" She rubbed her eyes and straightened. She was no longer on the balcony but on the couch covered with a twisted blanket. Bright light shone through the windows and nearly blinded her. Padmé groaned inwardly when she realized whom she had been dreaming about. It was none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. Why was she not surprised? "What are you doing here?" she unintentionally snapped.

He frowned, "Are you alright?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?" Padmé sat up, grateful that she hadn't removed her nightgown in her sleep. That would have been extremely embarrassing to say the least.

"Because you worry me."


"-Fine." He finished. "Yes, seems like you've been 'fine' a lot lately."

"Did you come to jump out of another window? Because believe me I have a lot of those." She paused. "How did I get in here?"

"You fell asleep on the balcony so I carried you inside, but your room wasn't completely cleaned up since I broke your window so I brought you here."

"You carried me?"

"Your welcome, M'lady. The temperature drops rather quickly here. I didn't want you to get sick."

She rolled her eyes. Padmé's voice was dripping with sarcasm when she said, "Your kindness is touching." She winced visibly, regretting using the word 'touch' after the dream she just had.

"Is something the matter? Never mind," he added when he received a wicked glare. "The Chancellor is requesting your presence as soon as possible. I became your messenger boy."

"You should consider a new career. Why didn't Dormé wake me? Or Captain Panaka?"

"Because I ordered them not to. After all, like you said, you needed your sleep." His grin widened at the daggers in her eyes that were aimed directly at him.

A/N: that dream was just an appitizer for what might come if the reviews are plentiful and satisfying -- FYI, that would be your job to make that happen. i would be glad to post the next chapter, if you would be so kind as to do your small part and review! i am writing this for your pleasure, so it would make sense that i stopped if it didn't make u happy, and since i'm not psychic, i'm hoping u'll tell me how i'm doing. hope i wasn't too blunt :)