Obi-Wan stared down at the love of his life. He'd never told her how he'd felt, he'd never touched her, kissed her or done anything that might have let her know just how much he truly cared for her. Now, he never would.

He fought back the tears that were trying, desperately, to burst forth. He gripped Padmé's hand… it was horrifyingly cold. He cursed himself; why hadn't he been brave enough to tell her how he felt?

What if he had? What if their lives had played out differently? What if she'd been his and not Anakin's?

"…train the boy." Qui-Gon's voice was weak, the last effort of a dying man to have his wishes made clear.

Obi-Wan pulled his master close, unable to form a response. He let the old man, his best friend, die without one. After he'd felt his heart-beat stop, he leaned over and whispered into his ear. "No."

He wouldn't train the boy; he couldn't, some overwhelming urge, out of place and time, had forced his hand. He felt as though, for some inexplicable reason, training the boy would be a grave mistake.

Padmé drove her hands through her guardian's golden brown locks. She continued to play with his hair as he explained some plan or other that was of no interest to her. She felt him shiver, just a little, every time one of her hands wandered down his neck or around to his cheek.

He stopped mid-sentence.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No… not at all." He turned to her and they shared a few too many seconds of eye contact, his cheeks went a few shades redder and he turned away, the butterflies dancing around in his stomach making him cough.

She finished playing with his hair and began tugging, gently, at the loose collar of his robe. He snapped a hand up to hers and, despite relishing the contact, drew it away. "We should be going, my lady."

"Okay."

Theed was a beautiful city, even more so than when he'd first been there. He carried his lady's luggage and listened to her talk; what she was saying was of very little value to him but the fact that she was saying it did.

They got to their destination in no time at all. He helped her pack her things away, all the while saying nothing and offering a few simple smiles from time to time; happy just to be in her company.

"What do you want to do now?" He would've accepted any answer; he would've gone anywhere with her, done anything. He was not, however, expecting the answer she gave.

He gazed at her, her brunette hair and golden headdress glimmering in the Naboo sun; she was near indescribably beautiful. Her figure, even when covered in as many layers as it was, appealed to every suppressed desire Obi had ever dared to consider. "You…" Her voice was filled with want and she threw herself on him.

Their mouths were locked, immediately, into a kiss he'd been wanting for as long as he'd known her. Though his rational side might've wanted him to pull back, it gave way to the irrational side of his mind; the part of himself that cried out at night for her and argued, relentlessly, for them to be together.

Though he was content to stay in the kiss for as long as his stamina would allow, Padmé had less patience. She wrestled her headdress out of her hair and dropped it to the floor; her hair, now flowing freely, melted any resistance Obi had maintained.

In between kisses and stroking his beard, Padmé tore at Obi's clothes with an eagerness that he returned in full. They were naked, soon enough, and standing in the midday sunlight.

They each took a few moments to admire each other's body. Obi's eyes darted over her slender, athletic frame, taking in each pert breast and longing to touch her. Padmé's looked over her protector's well-toned torso; his powerful chest and excellent physique.

She gave herself less than half a second to look further down his body before rushing back into an embrace. Feeling her nipples brush against his chest, sent Obi into an assault of kisses, each bolder than the last as he edged her, ever closer, to the bed.

She let out a whimper as he threw her down. He kissed her, first along the neck and second down her chest. He teased her nipple with a, purposefully, light and hesitant kiss before taking himself even further down.

Impatient for him to get where he was going, Padmé spread her legs apart and grabbed at his head; she pushed him down, as forcefully as she could. He let out a soft chuckle, breathing over her groin and drawing a few gasps from her.

Once he could no longer contain his own excitement, Obi kissed her down along her thigh and ended his campaign with his tongue planted firmly inside her. He continued through her endless moans and cries until he felt her legs shudder and her head slam down to the mattress in silence.

She sighed and ushered him closer to her, they shared another kiss before he entered her. She hung onto to him, with her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist.

He placed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes to stop from losing his composure; he felt truly happy and ready to cry because of it. She kissed at his neck and down his shoulder between moans of pleasure.

The tears fell, smacking against her blue-white skin; Obi's vision began to fail and he would've wailed at the top of his lungs, if the pain in his chest hadn't been so harsh as to stop any noise from escaping.

What might've been never was and what he might've done he had failed to do.

"Forgive me… please." He pleaded for a response but received none from his beloved's lifeless form.