The Long Road Back

Chapter 22: A Little Booze Goes a Long Way

~~~~~~~~~~

Try as he might, Anakin couldn't seem to remember to call Obi-Wan 'Ben'. To him, Obi-Wan was always Obi-Wan and would never be 'Ben'. Doc had a long explanation for that, but Anakin hadn't listened to it. As long as it was okay with Obi-Wan, he'd just call him that.

Speaking of Obi-Wan.... Where was he? He was supposed to be there at Padmé's and wasn't. Dormé and Don-Al were there. He hadn't been able to miss them, not with Dormé breastfeeding out in the open like that. Talk about uncomfortable. Padmé had behaved as though it was nothing and there Dormé had been, breast hanging out and baby suckling happily, his little feet kicking. It had thrown him more than a little to walk in to that scene. He'd known she was there, just not like that.

Of course, Dormé had drawn a light blanket over Don-Al and herself after a moment of surprise, but still.... She'd been hanging out, the curve of her breast.... Thinking back to when he'd first met her, he couldn't remember what her shape had been like. He'd known she was female and faintly resembled Padmé. Other than that, she was a blur. He'd been so set upon Padmé that he'd not really seen anyone else.

Anakin stared at the Coruscant skyline without seeing it. I should probably go back inside, he thought without moving. Then again, if Dormé was still feeding Don-Al.... Maybe he'd better stay there on the verandah. He didn't want Padmé to think he was ogling Dormé's bare breast, even though he had been.

He sensed her behind him, felt her hand on his shoulder and heard her amused voice say, "It's safe to come back in now."

"I was being courteous by leaving," he insisted.

Her breath was warm against his ear. "Liar. You were looking and you were embarrassed."

Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to her lips before she could move. "Maybe I was a little embarrassed. It's not every day I see a naked breast that doesn't belong to my wife while she's sitting right there."

Padmé sat beside him, taking one of his hands in hers. "The feeding really made you uncomfortable?"

He felt a hot flush warming his cheeks. "The fact that she was feeding him didn't bother me, Padmé, it was the entire naked breast bit that did it." He motioned towards the room with one hand. "Is she okay?"

"Your entrance startled her, but she'll live." Her shrug was unconcerned and Anakin realized he didn't know much about Dormé except that she'd been Padmé's handmaiden at one time and was now Obi-Wan's wife. "Actually, she wants to know if you'd go find Ben. He left to take a walk hours ago and hasn't come back yet. They had a fight and he left fairly upset."

Minutes later, he was on the street and trying to figure out.... Inspiration hit him and he headed for the nearest bar he could find that was a complete dive. Obi-Wan had always favored little places tucked in out of the way areas. He knew he was in the right place long before he actually got to the establishment. It was perfect according to Obi-Wan's standards. Bright, neon lights outside along with people who looked as though they'd just escaped from Imperial prisons. Which they might have, now that he thought about it. He'd heard there'd been an increasing number of such instances in recent weeks. He didn't stop to ask, however, going inside the establishment.

The inside was everything the outside promised: dark, dingy and smelling of the body odors of several different species and fried foods. In short, it must be Obi-Wan's favorite bar in the neighborhood.

He found Obi-Wan at the bar, drinking two-handed. When he saw Anakin, he set down his drinks, attempted to stand from the stool and stumbled heavily against him. Somehow, he managed to turn that into an exuberant hug. "Anakin! Come and have a drink!"

"I've been looking for you. Dormé's worried." He deposited his friend back on the barstool and took the one beside him, ordering a whiskey.

"She's always worried about one thing or other." Obi-Wan's words slurred together. "Like today."

"What happened?" He glanced at the bartender, laid credits on the counter. "Leave the bottle."

Obi-Wan finished his drinks, stared blankly at Anakin's bottle of whiskey, and began to talk. "She drove me nuts, you know? I was annoyed at her showing up with all that stuff. My house was small and there she was, prancing around....She kissed like a....." He waved a hand about in circles. "You know?"

"Yeah, I know." He thought he could get what Obi-Wan was trying to say.

"Hot and cold and sweating and shaking all at once. She did that. Me. Head over heels and gone. You remember those times I'd leave for a few hours while you were in classes?"

How could he forget them? He'd always wondered what Obi-Wan had been doing. "Sure."

"I was seeing Sabé. She was adult by then and we'd kept running into each other in various places. She wasn't always on Naboo. The Queen trusted her to perform off-world tasks and we began to meet. Drinks here, dinner there. I broke it off when things became too serious. I was a Jedi and Jedi don't marry."

There was a point to this history lesson and Anakin had an awful feeling where it was headed. He swallowed his disbelief that Obi-Wan had had a girlfriend back then and sipped his liquor. There was much to Obi-Wan that Anakin had never known and was only now beginning to know.

"We were out today and Dormé left a minute. Sabé came over to say hello. Dormé saw her and thought...." He took the whiskey bottle, poured out a shot and drank it. "My wife thinks that I think that she's fat because she saw Sabé at our table. It's absurd, Anakin. She was talking nonsense. Have you looked at my wife lately?" At that, he paused and gave Anakin a hard stare.

"Um...." He tried desperately to keep those images of her breast feeding from his mind. "Well...."

"She's beautiful!" Obi-Wan clinked their glasses together. "Let's drink to my beautiful wife. My ravishing wife who puts all other women to shame." He drank, then paused. "You're not drinking."

Anakin hurried to drink.

"I told her she was beautiful and she said I was lying. Why would I lie about that?"

"You wouldn't."

"Exactly. She's being completely unreasonable."

He resigned himself to a long evening, as Obi-Wan was apparently feeling loquacious. As soon as he could, he slipped away to let the women know where they were.

It was in fact very late when he half carried a mumbling and mostly incoherent Obi-Wan through Padmé's apartment to the guest suit. Dormé walked ahead of him, hurrying to turn down the bed.

"I haven't seen him this tanked in years," Anakin commented, using the Force to keep them walking a semi-straight line.

"I have," she replied, beginning to undress Obi-Wan the second he was on the bed.

Obi-Wan roused himself enough to grin goofily at her and mumble, "My beautiful bride," before finally fully passing out. The soft rumble of snores escaped his lips.

Dormé sat on the bedside, gathering her robe to her. She was covered neck to floor in a garment that looked as though it could fit five of her with room to spare. She left her task barely begun, watching Anakin remove Obi-Wan's boots. "Not long after we arrived on Tatooine, I woke up in the middle of the night. Ben was at the dining table, working his way through a bottle of whiskey and talking to himself. At least at the time I thought he was talking to himself. I think now that he was pouring out his thoughts to Qui-Gon."

He set the boots down. She knew about Qui-Gon?

"I remember some of the things he said. It's always the same things he says when he's drunk. He worried that he pushed you too hard, Anakin. He worried that taking you from your mother is what started you down the road to the dark side and he worried that he'd loved you too much. He should have seen, should have gotten you the help you needed." Her gaze was solemn and very tired. "He feels guilty and responsible for much that was not under his control."

"I know." Anakin nodded. "We're working through--"

"No, I don't think you do know." She sniffled and he noticed the sheen of tears in her eyes. "He blames himself for your turning. He agonizes and wonders if he'd done anything differently...would the outcome have changed?"

She thought he didn't know when he truly did. Obi-Wan was hurting emotionally just as much as Anakin was. "Believe me, Dormé, I have tried to assuage his guilt over matters to no avail. It will take time." He shrugged helplessly. What could he even say to her? "If it is any consolation, all he could talk about was you tonight and how your irrational accusations bewildered him. He loves you, Dormé and you would do well to realize how much. Do you have any real idea what marriage means to a Jedi? Do you know how much he must love you to go against that Code?"

Her manner softened. "I do. Padmé pointed that out earlier."

"You should be more secure in your marriage than most women, knowing what you do."

Slowly, she nodded. When she spoke, her voice was nearly a whisper. "Thank you for finding him tonight and bringing him back."

He inclined his head in a nod. "And about earlier.... I'm sorry. If I'd known, I wouldn't have --"

"No, it's okay. Don't worry about it. I should have known better."

She was uncomfortable, so Anakin let the matter drop. "Good night, Dormé."

He found Padmé on the verandah, the lights off as she waited. She came to him, slipped her arms around him, and they stood there for a long while in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~

Light surrounded him as a cocoon, blinding, intense. Something cold and hard was pressed to Obi-Wan's cheek. Shifting, he patted around him, searching for the blanket. He couldn't find it and frowned, keeping his eyes closed, forestalling opening them as long as possible. As he rose to consciousness in slow degrees, he became aware of little things: the cool, hard surface that extended beneath his body, the sound of voices...Anakin?

Where am I?

He braved the brightness and opened his eyes. A bedroom came into view, tastefully decorated, yet skewered by the fact that he had apparently been sleeping on the floor. He winced. He hadn't even begun to move and already his head was pounding.

Who the blazes left the curtains open?

Things moved outside the window and after blinking a few times, Coruscant traffic lanes came into focus. Watching them made him dizzy.

A pair of feet came to him, attached to slim ankles of his wife. Her nightgown swirled about her ankles when she stopped and she knelt, one hand touching his cheek. "I brought you a hangover remedy, Ben."

"Must you shout," he managed to croak.

"I'm whispering."

"My head hurts." Not to mention his tongue and teeth all seemed to be wearing individual fuzzy outfits.

"I imagine it does after all Anakin told us you were drinking." She proffered the cup.

He grunted, pushing himself to a sitting position and taking the cup. "Thank you."

Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Breakfast in an hour."

She was being optimistic wasn't she? He rather thought it'd take hours to feel semi-human enough to eat something.

Obi-Wan downed the liquid, swallowing hard when it tried to crawl back up his throat. Dormé had tried to make it taste good, but nothing could make this remedy palatable. He'd tried over the years with no success. It took nearly half an hour to drag himself off the floor and in to take a shower. When he emerged he felt human again and decided he might be able to stomach some food after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

The table was beautifully set. Candles, flowers...the works. Padmé had learned a lot in that class in the art of table setting. How long until she lost interest in it though?

Anakin sat, crossing his arms. She couldn't seem to settle on anything to do with her time, flitting from one thing to the next, and when she wasn't doing that, she was putting all of her attention on him. It was too much at times, as though she was afraid he'd leave her if she didn't, that he'd disappear.

Maybe she really believed it. After all, before she'd had a career, put her energies into it and he had disappeared. He'd become Vader.

He wasn't sure how to talk to her about it.

Raising his gaze, he watched Obi-Wan stumble across the room to join him. "Morning."

"Was I drinking speeder fuel last night?"

"Possibly," Anakin replied with the same amount of cheer Obi-Wan had always used when he was hung-over. Payback, and all that. "I'm not sure what was in some of those concoctions."

"Are you hungry," Padmé called from the kitchen.

"Definitely," Anakin answered. He was very hungry, stomach growling. He usually ate long before this hour.

Obi-Wan rested his chin in one hand. "How are her cooking lessons going, by the way?"

He snorted. "She's had two private instructors quit and the third just never showed up again after the first lesson. Her sister offered to come and teach her, as did her mother, but she declined. Something about doing things her way."

"Hasn't she hired--" Obi-Wan broke off as Padmé came through the doorway with a tray and began setting plates down.

What the heck? Anakin stared down at the plates. Padmé gave him a big smile. He thought his breakfast was supposed to an omelet with toast and sausage.

"I had a little trouble with it," she said and hurried back into the kitchen.

Trouble?

Obi-Wan peered at the plates with an amused cast to his expression. His lips twitched. "Looks to me like she cremated it."

Poking it with a fork, Anakin was mildly dismayed to see liquid ooze out. He wasn't a big fan of raw food. "It can't be any worse than Imperial cafeterias." He put forth a valiant effort to be optimistic. Padmé had to be getting better at cooking. She was trying hard enough and trying was three-fourths of eventual success.

Or was the just something Master Yoda had said to make the slower learning kids feel better?

"Are you certain of that?" Obi-Wan quirked a brow.

Anakin forked a bite and held it up, then shoved it in his mouth before he could have second thoughts. He chewed, tasting ash and egg and something. Yuck. He hadn't known it was possible to completely burn the outside of an omelet and still have uncooked egg in the middle.

There was an increasingly amused glint in Obi-Wan's eyes.

Forcing himself to swallow, Anakin smiled. "It's good."

"Uh-huh. Of course it is."

Dormé emerged from the kitchen with a single bowl. Her glance paused on Anakin's plate, lingering. She pursed her lips. "Do you have enough to eat, Anakin? I made extra if you're still hungry."

"I'm fine." She left and he geared himself up to take another bite. It would be easier to eat Imperial food service meals, or that gruel the Temple cafeteria had served. Wait a minute. He stared at Obi-Wan's breakfast. Wasn't that exactly what Obi-Wan was eating? It looked like it, but smelled...good, redolent of sugar and fresh berries. Anakin's mouth watered.

"My wife is an excellent cook. Are you sure you don't want any?"

"She's trying, Obi-Wan, okay? She's trying." Padmé tried very hard to cook for him. Her best meals were those she ordered in and tried to pass off as her own cooking.

Obi-Wan tasted his cereal, making pleased noises. "She knows what I like. Berries and nuts and spices. You know, Anakin, I'd never perfected that recipe the Temple cafeteria used, but she took and ran with it. You should try it."

Anakin leaned over and whispered, "And how do you suggest I explain to my wife that I hate her cooking?"

For a moment, Obi-Wan looked like he was going to give him a smart-ass answer. Instead, he shrugged. "Tell her. I'm sure she'll understand."

"Tell her."

"Yes, Anakin. Tell her. Break it to her gently."

Shoving the food around his plate, Anakin thought about that. Tell her. That was a novel concept. Maybe he'd broach it in their couples session this afternoon. With a last longing stare at Obi-Wan's bowl, he excused himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

By morning's light, and in the well-stocked kitchen, Padmé was awash in insecurities. She'd burned three omelets before making one somewhat edible and the rest of Anakin's breakfast was just as much a mess as the omelet. She waited for him to ask for something different. Raising a hand, she chewed on one thumbnail and leaned against the counter.

"He hates it, Dormé, I know he does."

Beside her, Dormé put her own breakfast on a tray, along with two steaming mugs. "Haven't you hired a chef yet?"

"No. I had a difference of opinion with the last candidate. She thought my husband was up for grabs and I disagreed." Reaching out, she took a handful of berries from the bowl on the counter and began to eat them. "You wouldn't believe the nuts that keep applying. If it's not me they're interested in, it's Anakin." She finished the berries and sighed. "I'm going to contact the service we used to use. They should still have me on file; they keep everything."

"Why not let me take Anakin some cereal?"

She shook her head. "Why can't I cook, Dormé? I used to do just fine when I had to, but --"

"When did you have to do anything but heat up your food before? First there were your mother and sister, then school meals and you never had a chance to devote time to learning how to cook. However...." Dormé grasped her arms, gave her a tiny shake. "You have no interest in cooking. It bores you and always had. Don't try fooling yourself or Anakin. You need to work within what you're interested in." Her grin was wry. "Besides, I hardly think Anakin expects you to cook for him. Did he ever before?"

"Well, no...."

"Exactly. Contact the service and quit worrying about feeding him."

Good advice, Padmé decided. Still, maybe she'd better talk with Anakin about it before doing it. Maybe they could discuss it that afternoon in their counseling session.