A/N: Welcome to my new Obidala story. A side note: I originally got into Star Wars fanfiction with the need to write Reylo. However, since Reylo is pretty much a foregone conclusion at this point for Ep. IX, I feel like Lucasfilm is going to do Reylo far better than I ever could. Thus I have moved onto the pairing that will NEVER happen in SW: Obidala. I do love Obi-Wan, and with the announcement of his new Disney+ show... well. Here we are.

Please forgive any inconsistencies with canon. I do some research, but am often very amateur. I enjoy playing in the world of Star Wars, however. Have a great day.

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OBLADI-OBIDALA

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Coruscant was a hotbed of filthy junk traders and sleek politicians, of tired police details and haughty vice-pushers, but most of all, it was a place that was necessary to tolerate if one wanted to get anything done in the galaxy.

The planet itself spun neon trails around a distant, silent star, orbiting with a defiant ignorance. It was scarcely aware there was a star there any longer, so enveloped was Coruscant with its own dazzling hubris that had shimmered for a thousand years. A long, long time ago, in a time almost no one remembered anymore, the planet had exhausted its own resources and turned to the import of grand mountains of elements from other parts of the galaxy to sustain its glow. Since then it had hummed with a certain crawling, blazing, orderly-disorder.

If it had noticed, or paused to consider, it would realize that suns are not infinite, and neither would be Coruscant, posing as an artificial sun. Resources, however obtained or borrowed or stolen, always come to an end, and the nuclear fission of every star always, eventually, would burn itself into an empty husk.

The industry of Coruscant would ignore this fact, however, for as long as it possibly could.

In the case of those who inhabit this story, it wouldn't seem to matter. The burning out and eventual decay of Coruscant wouldn't be seen for millennia, and certainly not for almost everyone who was currently alive upon it, but there was a sense of the exhaustible which, for those who listened, seemed to tell of the rampant consumption of things that cannot last.

For Senator Padme Amidala, Coruscant was a necessary place to do business with other Senators and with those in the Trade Federation. She, like nearly all the inhabitants of Coruscant, ignored what might have been the distant niggling from the planet itself, of what was left of its natural state, of the pained scent of artificial air required to be produced due to the absence of forests that once covered swaths of the land. She, like everyone else, allowed herself to be dazzled by the intricate layers of chrome and neon that had been wrought, numbing her from moment to moment for as long as she stood within its gravity.

It wasn't worth thinking about how Coruscant could be different, for there were much worse problems to consider in the galaxy, and if she were to want to spend a day in the country, all she had to do was take a transport to a rural planet. Coruscant's state wasn't her problem to consider.

The windows in her top floor flat were deceptively broad, exposing Padme to a great width of blue sky heavily laced with cirrus clouds. It was bright, and it was early.

"Good morning," her service droid said, turning Padme's attention behind as the vaguely feminine-looking droid rolled near with caf on a tray.

"Hello," she replied without much thought, taking the caf and returning her gaze out of the window.

"Would you like to hear your schedule for today?" inquired the droid, oozing with lugubriosity.

"Fine," replied Padme, taking a sip from her cup. The caf was terrible, today. She briefly wondered if shipments of good caf beans had been interrupted again.

"You've a meeting with the Naboo trade commission at the ninth hour, the delegation from Ladza-440 at the tenth, eleven is for reports from the inner rim, a luncheon with the Chancellor at noon-,"

"Ugh," muttered Padme, perhaps taken to slurping her caf in limp opposition. The Chancellor was always so exhausting.

"Two meetings with consulates from allied planets at one and three… and it appears as if the Jedi temple has just requested your presence at the hour of two past noon," said the droid.

The Jedi temple? How strange.

"The Jedi temple has requested my presence?" she inquired. "But why?"

"I haven't that information, ma'am," replied the droid. "Shall I send your acceptance or regrets?"

She turned to the droid.

"You mean the Jedi temple asked me to show up and didn't give any other information?" asked Padme, then, looking at the droid sideways, "That isn't like them at all, is it?"

"I shouldn't presume to know, ma'am," said the droid.

Padme wanted to roll her eyes at the droid.

"Of course, you wouldn't," she muttered. "Well, who sent the request? Do you know that?"

"Ah, the signature," replied the droid, who seemed to be processing for a moment. "It came from Jedi Kenobi."

She had to still her mind for a moment whenever she heard his name, and it was all the fault of that awful embargo he'd so heroically thwarted. Sometimes she cursed the way he would jump into things like that, wildly protective, but always steady, bringing to her mind one of the great trees of Endor. Steady, strong, valiant… and utterly elusive. A thing that belonged somewhere else, to something else. Of course, she had to go.

"Send my acceptance," she told the droid, trying to stamp down her inner curiosity.

She had other things to think about right now, namely the Naboo trade commission with whom she was to meet within a rapidly shrinking amount of time.

"You will be accepted at the Grand Doors at the second hour past noon," said the droid.

The Grand Doors. Of course, it would be called something like that. The Jedi never half-did anything, did they? She smirked to herself, regretting she had no one upon which to foist her riffing of the Jedi temple.

"Fifteen ticks until your meeting with the Naboo trade commissioners," stated the droid.

"Ah," said Padme, remembering herself and, after a caf fumble, she sprang into action.

-o—o—o—o—o—o—o—

The private speeder had been able to take her most of the way to the temple, but the temple, perhaps by its very nature, or perhaps by its very force of will, required that those who approached it would do a measure of that approaching on foot. She felt it very old-fashioned, but perhaps effective. There was a certain silence which enveloped one when one transported oneself using one's own evolutionarily supplied feet.

She found the approach of the Grand Doors to seem almost interminable, since they loomed, and then loomed more as she drew nearer, and then further loomed upon her arrival. She came at last to the shut, smooth crack of the doors at the top of a welcoming set of splayed stone stairs and wondered how one would "ring the doorbell" of the Jedi temple.

Her wondering was cut short by the arrival of a lanky Jedi, or at least what she assumed was a Jedi, wearing the robes of a Jedi and a holstered lightsaber on his hip. Where he had come from, she couldn't surmise.

"Senator Padme Amidala?" inquired the Jedi.

"That is who I am," she replied.

"Follow me," said the Jedi, who then turned on his heel, walking askance the Grand Doors, and pointedly not through the Grand Doors.

Padme hastened to follow.

"Shan't we go through the Grand Doors?" inquired Padme carefully.

"Oh, no," laughed the Jedi, his stride long and hard to keep up with, "those are too hard to open. We save those for… well… grand entrances."

He arrived at a side door which was very much not grand and held it open for her. It really looked like a service entrance. The hallway within was dark and narrow. She suddenly felt dubious.

"Where is Master Kenobi?" she ventured.

"He's waiting for you within the temple," replied the Jedi.

"Oh," she said, glancing at the dark hallway again, and not moving.

The Jedi shifted a little, and then smiled at her.

"Senator Amidala," he said, "Shall I fetch him for you?"

He must have sensed her unease. She wasn't still alive on accident, after having dealt with death threats and assassination plots for as long as she could remember.

She looked over the Jedi. He was tall. Human. Young. Younger than her, even. With her range of experience, she could almost always tell when someone was deceiving her, and this Jedi looked honest. He felt honest.

"No, I will come," she declared at last, entering the small, old hallway of the Jedi temple.

It smelled of aged wood and polish and a strange spice. There was some kind of incense in the air, just faint, but wafting like a shadow.

"We use this side entrance most of the time," said the Jedi, conversing as they walked. "It's easier, though not very impressive, I'm sure."

"There's something quaint about this place," said Padme, meaning it.

She knew it was an ancient building, though she'd never been in it. It'd been there for thousands of years, housing what seemed like an endless supply of Jedi, yet the old halls were small and intimate, flawed and used, not vast, perfect, nor cavernous like she had supposed they would be. At last, they came to a smallish room that housed a wooden table big enough for ten chairs, and high windows edging the walls through which light filtered as if shimmering through water. The incense was stronger here, but also here was Obi-Wan Kenobi, and she suddenly forgot to notice anything else.

Standing with a hand leaning on the table, he wore earth-toned robes crossing his torso with precision, as if he dressed humbly yet carefully. His lightsaber was at his hip, and he was wearing a rich brown travelling cloak. She wondered if he was preparing to go somewhere. He looked up to see her and smiled.

"Senator Amidala," he said, straightening.

"Master Kenobi," she replied, moving into the room.

He circumvented the table to meet her, and at once she didn't know exactly what to do, so she held out her hand. He took it.

"It was nice to meet you, Senator," came the voice of the lanky Jedi from behind.

"Oh," she said, slightly startled and turning to smile at him. "You as well. Thank you."

As he left, she noticed Obi-Wan still had her hand in his.

"Ah," said Obi-Wan. "Are you well?"

"Yes, who was that?" she asked.

"A new Jedi," he said, glancing behind her at the doorway where the Jedi had disappeared. "His name is Jate."

"Ah, if I see him again, I'll have to…" and she paused, because this conversation suddenly felt very banal.

Obi-Wan released her hand, finally.

"Never mind," she said, refocusing herself. "How are you?"

"Let's not bore ourselves," he replied.

All at once she laughed, as a humorous smile teased out across his lips.

"I'm so glad," she replied, returning his smile genuinely. "And for what purpose have you asked me to come?"

"First I must say, I'm surprised you did come," he said to her. "I am aware you're very busy."

"Yes, I believe I will be missing a scheduled meeting in about twenty ticks," she replied, glancing up at the windows as if to gauge by the sun (which was quite an archaic notion). She returned her gaze to him and said, "But to be honest with you, Master Kenobi-"

"Obi-Wan," he corrected.

"Obi-Wan," she said to him, and there was something faint in his smile, something that smacked of a halting insecurity, almost entirely hidden, yet she paused at it, though for only a beat. "I'll miss a meeting or two to get to see the inside of the Jedi temple. Who wouldn't?"

Obi-Wan laughed and said, "And now you've seen for yourself how dull it is."

"Now tell me what you want of me," she insisted.

"Yes," he said, motioning for her to join him at the table, which was fitted for holos, despite its organic material.

Once she was beside him, he flicked a switch and a small holo flickered into view, revealing two men, one human and one a lizardesque Nikto, who stood engrossed in conversation, yet not moving. They appeared to have been holo-ed from a high angle, as if it had been done without their knowledge.

"What am I looking at, Obi-Wan?" she asked.

"This was found near the lower levels," said Obi-Wan.

"Here," she asked, "on Coruscant?"

"Indeed," he replied.

"An unsavory place," she recounted, though it wasn't something that required recounting, since everyone knew the lower levels of Coruscant could approach the lawlessness of wild space. She'd never seen it, of course. She most certainly never wanted to see it.

"Quite, and so…," he said, flicking the holo to proceed and the men's voices crackled through the ghostly image.

"You're sure the shipment will be at the rendezvous?" asked human male of the other. He looked like a native of the depths.

"Naboo never misses a shipment, and it's always 12 parsecs from Corus on the tenth day of Ninmonth," said the Nikto with a light, otherworldly accent.

"What's my cut?" asked the man.

"Your cut's the same as it's always been," said the Nikto shortly. "If you start looking ungrateful, I'll tell the Huttsman to look somewhere else and to dispense of you."

"Soright," said the man, "There's no need to get all crantsy about it; tell your Huttsman I won't miss it."

"Good; don't," said the Nikto.

The holo stretched, crackled, and then began again. Obi-Wan switched it off.

"So… there are a few robbers wanting to hijack a shipment from Naboo?" she asked Obi-Wan. "This doesn't seem very alarming; this sort of thing happens all the time. Have you alerted Security?"

Obi-Wan looked pensive, and he leaned his arm upon the table and drummed the fingers of his right hand on the wooden surface. The shift made him slightly lower than her, his leaning, and his stance.

"I have not alerted security," he said as his glance shifted up to her face.

She observed him for a moment, knowing he was holding back.

"Why not?" she asked, feeling obligatory.

He still seemed, despite her presence having been requested by himself, as if he were hesitant in telling her the reason she was here. She watched him draw a breath and let it out, and then he began:

"Senator-"

"Padme," she corrected, and he stopped at once.

"Padme," he began again, though more consciously.

She realized she had clenched her fists at the softness with which he said her name, and she released them.

"I am aware of some things that perhaps you are not," he said, his eyes trained upon her, "and I need to know that you can keep a secret… for the greater good."

"Doesn't that depend on whether I believe it is for the greater good to keep it or not?" she asked.

"Sadly, I can't tell you without you knowing it, and I can't tell you unless you promise first to keep it beween us," he replied.

"Why not?" she asked.

"It's really that grave, Padme," he said. "And we have to be careful, because I'm not sure… well…"

He trailed off and straightened, his height resuming its normal state. She looked up at him, waiting.

"It's more than it seems," he said, seeming to finally settle on saying that much.

She let out a puff of air and felt a little exasperated.

"That isn't enough," she said. "Clearly you can see that isn't enough?"

He smiled at her; it was a fond thing.

"This is why I like you, Padme," he said.

She found him befuddling.

"You're so responsible," he said, "and sharp, and dutiful. And careful."

"Thank you, I suppose," she said, glancing down once, not sure what to do with sudden compliments. She gestured and deflected by saying, "Of course you are the same, Obi-Wan. Moreso, I should say."

"If that's the case," he replied, "of course you should trust me, and we should work together on this."

She looked up at him and saw there was some humor in his eyes, as if he had tricked her, or something, which he certainly had not.

"You Jedi are all so opaque and ridiculous," she said, not meaning it, except a little.

He laughed at her. Somehow, it was beguiling.

"Fine!" she let out. "Fine, Obi-Wan, I'll do whatever insanity you have planned for me."

"Well, I haven't planned anything-," he began.

"Of course, you have," she cut him off.

"But I-," he started.

"Don't even pretend to be innocent," she threatened.

"Very well, just a little," he said, pinching his fingers close together.

She groaned at the truth of it.

He took her arm and pulled her near in a spirit of confidence, but she couldn't help but be distracted by the blue of his eyes.

"I have reason to believe someone within the Senate is disrupting trade in order to weaken the Republic," said Obi-Wan, his voice low.

"What in the stars are you going on about now?" she asked.

"How was your caf this morning?" he inquired.

"Terrible," she said, and then she paused, realizing it really was bad caf.

"But that's just one thing," she said, protesting. "It could just be a delayed shipment or-,"

"Or," he said, "no one has paid enough attention to notice it's been happening more and more, lately."

"Perhaps…," she said, still dubious.

"We can just increase security on the trade routes," she suggested.

"I certainly can't," he said to her. "Do you have that power, Padme?"

"Well, no, but-," she began.

"And interestingly enough, the trade security has, recently, had the tendency to be in the wrong places at the wrong times," he told her. "Who tells the trade security detail where to be and when?"

"You know that's not just one person, Obi-Wan," she said.

"No, I suppose not," he said. "But look at this."

He held up a ring. She almost wanted to laugh.

"A ring?" she asked in disbelief. "What is this supposed to prove, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan shifted his weight a little and then glanced askance at her.

"Would you think less of me if I told you I had contacts in the underworld?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said, chortling.

"Then that's too bad," he replied, showing her the ring. "Look at it."

She took it and turned it over in her fingers. It was thick, molten of a golden material but most likely an alloy. The metal was far too hard to be pure gold. Set deeply in the ring was a large crystalline stone that looked plain to her. In fact, it was kind of dowdy. The stone was cloudy and had a very thin fissure running though its center. The ring was lined with many fine scratches that bespoke decades of wear.

"I don't know who would take the time to set a stone like that," she said. "It isn't even pretty."

"Do you know what kind of crystal that is?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Should I?"

"It's a kyber crystal," he replied, retaking the ring and peering at it. "Cracked. I don't know what someone would want with it, not like this."

"A kyber crystal?" she asked. "Like those for use in a lightsaber?"

"Indeed," he said, grave at once.

"I would agree that's odd," she said, "but what does this have to do with everything else?"

"It has been told to me that this belongs to whoever is orchestrating the breakdown of trade within the Republic," he said.

"By whom?" she asked.

"My contact," he replied, aloof.

"Your… contact," she stated, looking him in the eye.

Obi-Wan shifted.

"He works for a lot of people," he said, "but overall, as well as just about everyone who deals in illicit business, he works for the Hutts."

Padme couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes over the Hutts. There wasn't a worse, more irritating bunch of space slugs in the universe. Nothing but a horde of opportunists, with no care for the greater good beyond the greater lining of their own pocketbooks.

"Of course it's the Hutts," she muttered.

"And," continued Obi-Wan, pulling her further into engagement, "this is only one of a myriad of ways someone or someones are trying to undermine and weaken the Republic."

"But why?" she asked.

"Perhaps they mean to destroy it," he suggested.

She heaved a short sigh at Obi-Wan.

"That's ridiculous," she said, shaking her head. "The Republic benefits the galaxy far more than any other sort of government could."

"… and that is what you believe," he said.

"Well, what do you believe?" she asked him incredulously.

"The same, of course!" he rejoined, with half a laugh. She found herself narrowing his eyes at him.

She leaned in and chided him: "How can you show such joviality when someone's plotting to destroy our Republic?"

"I wouldn't if you weren't so ridiculously entertaining," he replied, as if it were her fault!

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," she replied while shluffing his hand off her arm. "If you're going to tell me dire news about the impending destruction of the Republic, then you're going to have to be serious about it."

He seemed affronted at that.

"I am serious," he affirmed.

"Then what am I to do, and why am I the one to which this has been told?" she demanded.

"I want you to come with me," he said. "To the Naboo shipment."

"The one that is to be pirated by goons?" she asked.

"Indeed," he replied.

"Whyever would we do that?" she inquired.

"If we're to untangle this knottage, we've got to start at a loose end," he said.

"You're insane," she informed him.

"And then work our way inwards," he continued.

"That sounds terribly dangerous," she said.

"We've got to find the center of it," he said, fully immersed in his own commitment.

"I'll miss more meetings than a thousand-eyed clendrill has eyes," she mentioned.

"But isn't that what you really want?" he inquired of her.

"Of course, not!" she stated, outraged he might think she'd secretly desire to neglect her duties.

"Send your assistant," he said.

"My droid?" she asked, incredulous.

He shrugged at her.

"Take your silly padawan with you," she said, gesturing to the door, as if his padawan would appear.

"He's not silly," he informed her.

She gave him a flat look.

"He's not very silly," he reformed. "And besides, he's coming, regardless."

"There," she said. "Perfect. You have all you need. Let me know how it goes for you."

"Padme…," he said, and that was all he had to say, because of how his voice inflected, and the fact that, somehow, he made it sound as if he needed her, and that was something she couldn't reject outright.

"Why should you want me there?" she side-stepped. "What can I do to help at all? I'm a liability. You simply aren't allowed to get me killed on a pirate ship, you know."

"Because you care about the Republic, more than any Senator I know," he said, "and you're dutiful, knowledgeable, not terrible with a blaster-,"

"'Not terrible'?" she protested. "Don't you mean 'excellent'?"

"And we will need a witness. A senatorial witness," he said. "For witness purposes."

She looked at him. He had points, she had to give that to him, but what he was proposing was dangerous, terrifying, and haphazard. It was also incredibly inconvenient.

"You know the Jedi can't testify against a Senator," he further argued.

"Yes, you can," she replied.

"And be believed?" he inquired, allowing his question to hang.

That was the crux. The Senate and the Jedi would always have a rift between them, for one was politics, and the other was religion. There was always a distance that couldn't be breached, and if the Jedi accused one of the Senate's own of something, there had better be wildly blatant evidence attached, or the Senate will side with its own. However, if a Senator were to accuse another of the Senate, that was more serious, and more tangible.

She gave Obi-Wan a wry look. He knew he was winning this argument; she could see it on his face, but the truth was the truth and Padme couldn't deny it.

"Those delegates are really going to dislike meeting with my droid," she said, defeated by the truth.

Obi-Wan's face lit up; his adorable smile was almost worth it. Almost. She sighed.

"When shall we go?" she relented.

"In half a-," he began, but was cut off from the outside.

"Master," insisted a voice.

She turned with Obi-Wan to see Anakin Skywalker in darkish Jedi robes, filling half of the doorway. He'd grown tall, dark, and silly and he was staring at his master with an expression that only could be described as horrified. How long had he been there?

"You told her?" he asked, and the betrayal emanated from him like diamonds.

-O-o_o-O-