Chapter Text
As the battled wound down, the three of them were packed into a transport and flown up to one of the carriers waiting in orbit around Geonosis. They were met in the landing bay by a medical team who quickly loaded Anakin and Obi-Wan onto stretchers and whisked them away before Padmé even realized what was happening. Apparently her own wounds weren’t enough to merit such attentions and she was left to join the line of walking wounded making their way to the med bay at a more sedate pace.
“Senator Amidala,” Master Yoda appeared below her elbow, “talk we must.”
“Of course,” Padmé agreed as he herded her away from the press of troopers to a more secluded section of the corridor. They had a lot to discuss: her conversation with Dooku; what she’d seen at the factory; the events on Tatooine; where Yoda’s army had come from.
As it turned out though, they weren’t here to discuss any of that. “Care for young Skywalker, you do,” Master Yoda said with more than a hint of disapproval.
Jedi, Padmé recalled, were forbidden attachments. “Anakin and Master Kenobi are old friends,” she said carefully. “I was under the impression that was why they had been assigned to protect me.”
“Hmmm.” Master Yoda studied her with knowing eyes. “More than that you feel, I think.”
It must have been the running into Anakin’s arms and kissing him that gave her away. Padmé could feel herself blushing even as she raised her chin in a defiant line. “I don’t see what business that is of yours.”
“A Jedi, Anakin Skywalker is. My business, all Jedi are.”
“Where as I am not, on either account,” Padmé said tartly. She barely tolerated this sort of meddling from Mama and Sola and yet Master Yoda claimed he was like this with all Jedi. How could they stand it? It was a wonder no one had thrown him out of an airlock or something.
Master Yoda pursed his lips in obvious annoyance. “Dangerous, such attachments are, for both of you.”
“Dangerous,” Padmé said slowly. She had known from the first that any serious liaison between them would do no favors either for Anakin’s career or her reputation, but Master Yoda made it sound far more dire than that. From a rival politician, she would have said it was a prelude to attempted blackmail, but surely the head of the Jedi Order would never stoop so low.
“You don’t want Anakin Skywalker,” Master Yoda said, making an odd little hand gesture.
“I don’t want Anakin Skywalker,” Padmé repeated dully. How could she? A senator and a former slave? The idea was preposterous, even if he was gorgeous and sweet and brave and oh so beautifully damaged in ways only she could heal. Padmé blinked as her thoughts re-arranged. “Did you just try to mind trick me?!”
Master Yoda sputtered indignantly. “Preposterous,” he said, banging his staff on the deck. “Confused, your wound has made you. Come. Find you a medic, we shall,” he added, chivying her ahead of the line of troopers awaiting medical attention.
Padmé let herself be lead. Her wound twinged as she walked, leaving her breathless and lightheaded. Maybe Master Yoda was right. Maybe she had just imagined the attempted mind trick and blackmail. Either way, Padmé was sure of two things: Master Yoda wanted her stop loving Anakin and she never would.