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| - With nothing more than a cursory glance at Nalanda in conversation with Danta, Padmé walked towards the window of the spacious apartment. It was very different from that of Palpatine when he was representing Naboo. Where he had chosen to state his power and influence in terms of aesthetics, Nalanda simply chose to reflect the environment of her homeworld. There were vast windows shaded by sky-blue drapes, the carpet was a muted green and the arched ceiling was supported with carved wooden beams. Would Nalanda’s tastes change as her time in the Senate lengthened? Padmé had heard a few reports, some from politicians and some from the Holonet, about Nalanda’s relative youth and inexperience. Yet she personally had believed none of these as so often a being’s actions could easily discount this, despite any preconceptions. It was the will of the Force that she was with Nalanda at all; Padmé had finished a small mission in the Outer Rim and had managed to get transport to Naboo. Nalanda had somehow found out she was there and had asked her to come along. So simple, so harmless, just like ten years ago… She had been but a Padawan learner then, going with her first Master Shakya Devi to mediate between the Naboo and the Trade Federation. From that she had been one of the first witnesses of the emergence of the Sith, and consequently had met Anakin Skywalker. How long since she had seen him? Eight years was it? He would have been about eleven at the time and since then she hadn't seen him, though she had heard a lot about him from other Jedi. Somehow she suspected Obi-Wan had a lot to do with this, and didn’t really blame him. The question was: what would Anakin be like now? Padmé still remembered the way he looked at her from the moment he had seen her on Tatooine, something that had not changed even the last time they had spoken. But Anakin was older now, so perhaps he had put aside such feelings as she had done when she had faced the trials a few months ago. Now she was a fully fledged Jedi Knight and would have to acknowledge him as one Jedi to another at the very least. Perhaps the formalities could keep such distractions at bay, formalities or better judgement. A low chime sounded from the turbolift. Danta excused himself and went to answer it, leaving Nalanda with Typho and Riané. Padmé stepped behind the low couch where they were sitting so she could have a full view of the entryway. How tall is Anakin? was Padmé’s first thought as the two stepped through, exchanging small-talk with Danta. From where she stood it was easy to see that Anakin would now tower over her, something she hadn’t considered. He carried himself with a characteristic swagger, an easy confidence that was emphasised by the lop-sided grin he gave everyone. He had branched out, extended his abilities, and as far as Padmé could tell, he knew it as well. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was somewhat subdued from the brash extrovert she had once known. He greeted Senator Nalanda cordially as if they had merely stopped by for after-dinner drinks, a more centred and reserved manner. Is this due to the loss of Qui-Gon? Padmé wondered, or is it more to do with being Anakin’s master? “Our paths cross again, Padmé,” Obi-Wan said with a wry smile, he nodded to Nalanda, “and once more it surrounds you, m’lady.” “Well the Force does work in mysterious ways,” Padmé laughed, glancing Anakin up and down with surprise. “Annie? My goodness you’ve grown.” “So have you,” Anakin replied with a faint flush, “more be—shorter.” He finished with an embarrassed shrug. “You’ll still be the little boy I knew on Tatooine,” she finished as they took their seats on the couch opposite Nalanda. Padmé wore a sleeveless tan tunic with matching gauntlets that covered most of her arms. Instead of the regular utility belt her belt was narrow with straps that encircled her shoulders. But other than this she looked as much of a Jedi as Obi-Wan did. She doesn’t remember, Anakin thought rather bitterly as Obi-Wan and Nalanda discussed the mission, I’ve thought about her everyday and she doesn’t remember. From the way she carried herself, the barely-perceptible confidence, the visible amount of restraint and detachment he could see that even if she did remember what she had meant to him over these years she chose not to. Just like any other Jedi, he concluded in thought, then realised that all eyes were on him. “Uh…yeah?” Anakin could feel his colour rising as Obi-Wan gave him a hard look. He was supposed to follow what was going on, even if he wasn't contributing to the conversation. “Never mind,” Nalanda said pleasantly, moving to the more prosaic matters of the upcoming meeting with the Separatist leaders. “Ideally I need to attend, but the Chancellor has hinted as much that he would send someone else if there was any chance of a threat.” “The Chancellor is only concerned for your wellbeing, m’lady,” Obi-Wan reassured her. “That is why we are here in the first place.” “Of course,” Nalanda replied, “yet it would be so much simpler if I knew who was trying to kill me.” “We are here to protect you, Senator,” Obi-Wan reminded her, “not to start an investigation.” “Though it would make more sense in the interests of protecting you if we knew what we were up against,” Padmé said in a quiet voice. “Master, Padmé has a point,” Anakin said quickly. “Protection is for local security, not Jedi. Investigation is intended, if not implied in our mandate.” Obi-Wan looked between them with an amused expression, it was unbelievable. They had met a few minutes ago for the first time in eight years and already they were united against him. Padmé’s views were one thing, yet Anakin’s were something else. “Anakin, we are not going to go through this exercise again,” he curtly reminded his Padawan, “you will pay attention to my lead.” “Perhaps your mere presence will uncover the threat,” Nalanda said diplomatically, looking between the Master and Padawan. She got to her feet and the others rose with her. “Now, if you will excuse me, I will retire for the evening.” When Nalanda had left and Padmé had followed to check a few things with Danta, Typho approached Obi-Wan and Anakin with obvious gratitude. “Well, I for one am glad you are here,” he said. “The threat is more serious than the senator will admit. Her impressions are that the Separatist leaders are behind it.” “Yet if they were, why wouldn’t they just refuse to negotiate?” Anakin asked, then noticing his Master’s expression. “It’s a fair question, Master. It just doesn’t make sense.” “I agree,” Typho said, “we are left with no clue. If we only had something to go on to lead us to this attacker…” “Which would mean encouraging them to act again,” Obi-Wan concluded dryly, he turned to Anakin as he noticed Padmé walking towards them. “Go with Typho to check the lower levels and report back here.” “Yes, my Master,” Anakin said, yet he could not hide the disappointment from his voice as he followed Nalanda’s head of security. Coruscant never really sleeps, at all hours air traffic continues its course, sentient beings conducted their business which included some that could be only conducted at night. Such was the case with the Clawdite assassin Zam Wessel, though this time it needn’t have been if it had not been for the meddling Jedi. Zam had been hired to dispose of Senator Nalanda of Naboo, any reasons why the young woman had incurred the wrath of Zam’s employers was immaterial. The fact was that Nalanda was still alive, a slight problem that needed to be instantly remedied. She turned, raising her hand to the holster on her hip, fingers tightening on the barrel of the blaster pistol. A speeder approached the platform she stood on, but she moved her hand back to her side. It was him, not her employer but he had approached her to do the job. A tall humanoid figure with a distinctive helmet. “I hit the ship, but there was a Jedi on board,” Zam said without preamble. He surveyed her, his helmet blocking out any expression. He pulled a long, transparent tube from his speeder. “Our employer is getting impatient,” he said, his voice filtered through his helmet. He handed her the cylinder. Inside, sealed in red liquid, was a blue-scaled Torian fire-snake. “Careful,” he cautioned, “it’s very poisonous.” Zam smiled as she examined the tube. “Zam,” she looked up at him, “there can be no mistakes this time.” And with that he got into his speeder and left her. Anakin knew—or thought he knew—why Obi-Wan had sent him to check the lower levels of the senatorial apartment building and he could not dismiss the thought from his mind as Typho briefed him. He still doesn’t trust me, Anakin thought bitterly, all he needed to do was talk to Padmé but there was little chance of that with Obi-Wan around. Yet perhaps something would happen to change things, then he could really talk with Padmé without Obi-Wan hovering about like a sentry droid. He was too old to be chaperoned about. “Seems fine down here,” Anakin said when Typho had finished, then left at the next available opportunity. “Don’t you think I've noticed it, Obi-Wan?” Padmé gave him the ghost of a smile, after talking about what had happened since they had seen each other, the conversation had somehow found its way to Anakin. Obi-Wan had mentioned—in an indirect way—about what Anakin had said to him before they entered Nalanda’s apartment. “I’m not surprised if Senator Nalanda noticed it as well,” Padmé continued, she stopped in her pacing. “But I would have thought he would have forgotten by now, moved on.” “Anakin? No, that would be against his nature,” Obi-Wan replied methodically. “What about you?” “I never thought it was anything serious in the first place,” Padmé told him, walking towards the window and turning her back on him. “It’s not allowed, and it’s for good reasons as well.” She turned to look at him. “There really wasn't any choice for me to make.” “Try telling Anakin that,” Obi-Wan said bluntly, then he stopped and considered something. “I am being too hard on him, I can see that, but sometimes I feel that I have to.” “I once had the impression that you thought Qui-Gon was rather hard on you,” Padmé replied coolly. “That was different,” he protested. “Is it?” She raised an eyebrow, then smiled when he didn’t answer. “Now who do you sound like?” Obi-Wan had to smile at this, turning the proposition over in his mind. In the silence that followed, Anakin entered the room trying to look nonchalant but he could not hide the confident look in his eyes. “Typho has more than enough men on every floor,” he explained with a smile. “No intruder will try that way, Master.” “It’s not an intruder that we should worry about,” Obi-Wan said severely, taking a small viewscreen from the pouch on his belt to check the security cameras, “there are many ways to kill a senator.” “So they will try again tonight?” Padmé asked, saying what they were all thinking. “Most definitely,” Obi-Wan replied with conviction. “The first attack was with purpose and it failed.” He smiled and nodded to Padmé. “This time it will be even more so.” “That way we can catch them in the act,” Anakin said with a grin, but before he had finished speaking he knew he had said the wrong thing. Again. “We will do exactly as the Council has requested,” Obi-Wan replied curtly. “You still need to learn your place, young one.” There was a considerable amount of emphasis on the word ‘young’ that made Anakin flush with indignation. Why did Obi-Wan always have to dress him down like this? And in front of Padmé, too! Yet as he looked at her he saw the flicker of a reassuring smile. But only a flicker before her face became composed again.
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