Sand | Obidala

9.

As usual, orgasm brings sharp clarity to my mind.
It's like waking up from a dream; what made perfect sense a minute ago doesn't anymore. The pain I tried to suppress is still here, as real as the woman in my arms, crying in silence.

"Hey," I whisper, my chest clenching.

There is no passion.

Yet, the Force found a way, amid drought and desolation, unheeding of who we wished to be. Free will is an illusion, and I feel tricked.

Padme laces her arms behind my shoulders and hides her face into the crook of my neck.
I carry her to her room and let her down on the sheets. She doesn't let me go, so I lie by her side.

"I'm..." I start.

"Don't. Please. It's not anything you did. It just... It felt like we were leaving something behind." She wipes her eyes with a finger and closes my lips with a light touch of hers.

My seed shines on her thighs, and I have not even kissed her.

I hold her tighter and murmur soothing words into her hair until her breathing steadies. Somehow, this feels more intimate than what we'd just shared.

I stare at the ceiling, idly caressing her and pondering my overall inability to get anything right. I ask myself if it was anguish, vengeance, or lust that moved me, and painfully admit it was all of them.

As the sky turns grey, it's the quiet hum of the Force that cradles me to sleep.

I dream of an infinite labyrinth, whose centre I must find before night falls. When the Suns set, I sit down and hang my head in defeat.

Padme comes out of nowhere, wearing purple brocade, her thick braids twisted on top of her head.

"It never ends," I tell her. "There's no centre."

She caresses my hair, the way she does with the children. "Each point is the centre. You're already there, Ben."

I wake up, and Padme's curled up against me, looking serene. She trusts me, and it hurts because she shouldn't.
Despite her delicate frame, the lines of the muscles on her shoulders and arms are neat, functional. She looks defenceless in a way that makes my gut wrench, though strength emanates from her all the same.
I fantasise about waking her up with a kiss and giving all that I denied her before.

She caught me unguarded, and it's not something I'm used to.
I've had women before, but I've always been careful enough not to have to worry about consequences; I've always felt I knew exactly where we were heading.
This time, it's not me that traces the path. I end up wondering who Yoda had in mind to take care of whom, sending us here. If he'd ever envisioned this very moment.

Last time I was in this room, I told her I'd killed Anakin. Little I knew my lies were even worse than I supposed then; I've never liked deceptions, but I'm surely growing used to them.

There's a notebook on her nightstand, its leather cover worn and wrinkled, a pencil between its creased pages. Besides a small chest, the only other piece of furniture is a wooden chair in a corner. The few faded clothes strewn on it mark the distance between Coruscant and Tatooine in a way that is so absolute, I physically feel it.

What happened last night would've been impossible between Master Kenobi and Senator Amidala; it's normal between Ben and Chordè.

This is a nice tale to tell myself.

We've become different; we've even dreamt of being someone else, but if I've been foolish and rough, I only have myself to blame.

I slide away and sit up on the bed, unable to look at her anymore. I keep a hand on her shoulder, though, fearing I won't be able to touch her again if we break contact.

Padme yawns and strokes my back, maybe sharing my fear.

"You and the kids let me sleep in..."

"I've been disrespectful and irresponsible. Forgive me," I blurt out.

I feel her eyes on my back. She supports herself on an elbow to assess my reaction.

"I'm the terrible person if someone has to be one. I needed... closure and I used you to get one." She surprises me with a chuckle. "I've never been asked for forgiveness, the morning after. Shiraya's word, I practically jumped on you. I can't see how you were irresponsible, and I assure you, I do not feel 'disrespected'."

I don't dare ask how she felt, then.
I must look completely lost, because she straightens up, feigning calmness.

"It's all right, Ben. Let's stick to the plan - stay here until the smokes clear, then find a place to live. We're grown-ups, I'm sure we both had our reasons. Nobody's hurt, and nothing's changed."

"Jedi do not produce offspring," I sigh, barely audible.

"You're not going to produce anything with me." The bitterness in her snicker makes me turn toward her. "The twins messed that up once and for all."

Before I reply, she adds with a disarming smile there's no need to pretend I'm not relieved.

I frown and tell her that I had no idea, so my guilt remains.

"Force forbid that Obi-Wan Kenobi absolves himself for once..."

Padme is lightheartedly mocking me, and her attitude definitely isn't what I was expecting. As she gets dressed, I'm too confused to conceal my staring.

"Don't you want to know what was on the holonews?" I ask when she's standing in the doorway. I hope I'm not tricking her into deciding on my behalf.

"No, thanks. I would have to sleep with a dear friend to get over it. So uncivilised."

Padme hushes my laughter with a gesture of her hand as someone's calling my name.
We've never had guests before, the foreign voice sounds misplaced.

"...Rani?" I stammer.

"She must've sensed that I was stealing her man," Padme jokes, running upstairs.

Editing: truthisfreedom
Dream inspiration: my philosophical kid