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14 February 2012 @ 10:25 pm
Fic: ‘turn around’  
Title: turn around
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Between Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith.
Summary: She grieves.

Author's Note: This story has been in mind since before the recent poll; the imagery involving Padmé and the balcony, as seen below, has haunted the back of my mind for a while. Imagine my joy when I realised I could work in the imagery thanks to the poll.


Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Lucas; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by him.


_______________________


Standing by a window, she folds her arms, holding them close against her chest. Rain presses the darkness closer; a storm outside that mirrors the storm within.

Pressing a button would relieve her solitude, however briefly; servants would come, see to her needs. Her fingers remain curled, fingernails biting into her palms; she’d chosen this room for its lack of such a button. Her own company was all she needed – wanted – at such a time.

“It would not work. I cannot.”
“Why not?”
“It would need to be a secret. Could you live with such secrecy?”


She closes her eyes, bows her head. Brown hair falls, hiding silently falling tears.

“I cannot and you know that you cannot. It will tear us apart, sooner than the later you think.”
“We’ll know what to watch for, to safeguard against.”
“I cannot.”


Her eyes rise, the rain now hard pellets. That had been the last time they had spoken and now, this news.

Her arms tighten.

Rain batters the window. Wind lashes the thick glass. Turning from the restrained fury, she walks quickly until she reaches the balcony, the wind lashing bare skin. She raises her face to meet the cold air. Only a fragile thread of will keeps her on the balcony.

In further news, battlefield reports confirm no survivors from the Xantalore front. Fierce fighting raged throughout the week and only after the grim battles did the Xantalore government concede defeat to Republic cruisers orbiting the planet. Among the dead is said to be the Negotiator, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi –-

Closing her eyes briefly, she dismisses the news report; its memory lingers.

Among the dead is said to be the Negotiator --

“Obi-Wan,” she whispers, looking into the darkness, the rain, the speeding wind. Unknowingly, she steps forward, closer to the lake, nearer to the rain slanting into the balcony. Her tears fall more freely, mingling with the rain.

She bows her head, arms wrapping around her, eyes screwed tightly shut. “Obi-Wan.” A broken murmur the wind whips away.

Rain mingles with, then washes, her tears; the wind howls louder with each thundering crash. Light streaks the black clouds, outlining the increasingly wet, small figure on the balcony. Her sobs are lost to the night; her knees weaken. She falls, her skirt cushioning the fall.

She doesn’t hear the quiet footfalls behind her; the wind and rain hide them.

“Padmé.”

Her shoulders hunch, her chin sits on her chest; a small ball lost in the dark.

He approaches, hands on her shoulders, drawing her upward until she stands. “Padmé.”

She shakes her head, still facing the lake, her eyes closed. “No.”

“Turn around,” he gently asks.

“No.” A breathless denial the wind steals; he almost doesn’t hear it.

He turns her around; a curved finger lifts her chin. “Padmé.” His breath warm on her chilled skin.

Slowly, her eyes open, see him standing before her. “A ghost. A memory.”

His arms slip around her, warmth shared from his robe. Chilled fingers clutch his tunic. His lips descend. Hers part. Wrapped in his arms, she greedily, hungrily, devours. His taste. His feel. Under her hands, she feels his heart beat strongly; a physical reaction to her nearness.

His arms tighten.

“Obi-Wan,” she breathes when their lips finally part. “You – the news reports –”

He guides her from the dark, the rain, toward the warmth, the light, of the villa. “The news,” he says, “of my death was greatly exaggerated.”

She smiles, faintly, and leans her head against his shoulder.
 
 
Armchair DM: Igor: Joy! Joy! Joy! Joy!armchairdm on February 14th, 2012 12:23 pm (UTC)
I like this. It's touching... and love the touch of the rain as well. Increases the romance of the piece.
F. J.: Lantern & Candles: Warmmorethanacandle on February 14th, 2012 03:16 pm (UTC)
Thank you!
emiv: stock | aspensemiv on February 14th, 2012 05:32 pm (UTC)
Oh man, there is such emotion, such pure tension in this, I was on edge the whole time! Very nicely done. And that last line of Obi-Wan's? Perfect. It lightens the tone up in just the right place. :D
F. J.: Lanterns: Warmmorethanacandle on February 15th, 2012 11:09 am (UTC)
Very nicely done.
THANK YOU. I wasn't sure if this would work for other people amd it's such a relief to know it ha.

that last line of Obi-Wan's? Perfect. It lightens the tone up in just the right place. :D
It's a quote I quite like and this seemed to be the place it would perfectly fit; I'm glad you felt it fit well.
noobianrose: O/P Kissnoobianrose on February 16th, 2012 05:33 am (UTC)
Lovely piece. Her pain, her heartbreak, at the beginning of the story is palpable the way you write it. And I could feel her relief at seeing him alive . . . as it mirrored my own. ;)

Wonderful job!
F. J.: Golden Candlesmorethanacandle on February 16th, 2012 11:35 am (UTC)
Thank you!
(Deleted comment)
F. J.: Three candlesmorethanacandle on February 19th, 2012 01:47 pm (UTC)
Alas the HoloNet in this instance!

it's so Obi-Wan, that gentle humour ^^
Thank you! As mentioned above, it's a quote I quite like but wasn't certain it'd fit the story. I'm quite glad I kept it now!