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Padmé Amidala was a spirited and outspoken young Senator from the planet Naboo. Unafraid to speak out when she felt injustice was occurring, she naturally garnered enemies among the separatists, and some of them would occasionally levy threats against the Senator’s life. Her current fatal admirer was a member of Mandalore’s terrorist group Death Watch, angered by Padme’s recent active support of Duchess Satine’s pacifist ideology. The Jedi Council assigned Obi-Wan and Anakin as her protectors until the Mandalorian as caught. Shane tagged along.
“Shane!” Padmé exclaimed with delighted surprise after greeting her Jedi protectors. She stepped forward to hug her friend. “Did the Council send you as well?”
“No,” Obi-Wan answered for her, “I gave her the evening off, yet she still followed me here.”
“Because I decided to use my shore leave to spend time with a dear friend.” Shane replied with a cheeky smile. She stepped further into the apartment, holding up a bag, “I brought brandy!”
“Ooh, brandy.” Padmé took the bag from her and whisked away to the kitchen.
When she was gone Shane turned to see Obi-Wan and Anakin eyeing her suspiciously.
“What?” she asked, tone innocent, “Padmé and I seriously don’t get to spend any friend time together. It’s always work.”
“Just don’t make our jobs harder,” Obi-Wan teased.
Shane stuck her tongue out at them and then led the way to the sitting area. The two Jedi gave the room a thorough sweep for anything suspicious before Padmé returned, carrying a tray with the bottle of brandy and four glasses on it. She set it on the coffee table and looked sheepishly at Anakin and Obi-Wan. “I know you’re technically on duty, but would you accept a small glass? It’s Corellian.”
“A glass would be fine,” answered Anakin, smiling at her.
“A very small one,” amended Obi-Wan, cutting his eyes at this partner. “We mustn’t needlessly dull our senses.”
“Well, I do,” Shane announced, taking the nearly full glass the Senator offered to her. She poured a thimble’s worth for the two Jedi and beckoned for them to join them on the couch.
Shane and Obi-Wan sat across form Padmé and Anakin. The four lifted their glasses in a toast to friendship and health, and while the Jedi sipped chastely at their cups, Shane and Padmé took hearty gulps.
“Oh, it’s so good to just have a drink with friends,” Padmé remarked, leaning back on the couch but still holding her glass. “I honestly can’t remember the last time. I have plenty of drinks at political events and dignitaries’ dinners.”
“Who has the best hooch for their parties?” Shane asked with an amused smile. “I’m sure someone has the good stuff.”
Padmé laughed. “That would have to be Senator Nix Card from the Banking Clan. He imports his liquors directly from their vendors. But Bail Organa serves the best food.”
“Get those two together and we can throw on Helluva party,” Shane joked and even the Jedi laughed along.
When Obi-Wan and Anakin finished their meager drinks they excused themselves to their duty. Obi-Wan left to do a scan of the whole apartment and outside perimeter while Anakin remained with the ladies, pacing the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the spacious balcony over the Coruscant nightlife. Padmé seemed quite comfortable with Anakin around. After all, he was often the one assigned to protect her.
“So Shane, how are you enjoying being back with the Jedi?”
Shane smiled somewhat, her mind instantly picturing Obi-Wan. She could feel his presence through the Force in the room beyond. He was scanning for anything suspicious they may have missed in the earlier sweep conducted by Coruscant Security.
“My connection with the Force is growing stronger being with them again,” she explained. “It’s…invigorating, but a little scary sometimes.”
“How so?” asked Padmé, her brown eyes regarding her with kindness.
Shane was aware of Anakin listening, though he pretended to pay their conversation no mind. She tried to do the same with his presence.
“I feel like a Padawan again, having visions that are half-truths, feeling people through the Force when they’re distressed or in great joy. We’re trained to filter all of that out, but I guess I’m rusty.”
“We?” Padmé raised an eyebrow. “Are you considering rejoining the Order officially?”
Shane shook her head, smiling sadly. “No. I doubt I would be taken back now. I serve them better in my current capacity.” She finished her first glass and sat forward to refill it. “Besides, I like where I’m at with them.”
Padmé held her nearly empty glass out to be refilled as well. “I hear of you and Obi-Wan’s successes on the battlefield in the Senate. Many say the two of your make an effective duo, a few even think you’re a little dangerous. But they’ve said the same of Anakin and Ahsoka.” The look she shot the young Jedi was one of amused fondness. “In my experience, if you’re kicking up a little dust, then you’re getting somewhere.”
Shane laughed. “You have the heart of a warrior under that soft exterior, Senator. I really pity those who underestimate you.”
The night continued in the same vein for the next couple of hours. Anakin and Obi-Wan switched off and on the jobs of watching the ladies and patrolling the apartment while they talked and reminisced. All the while Shane kept their glasses topped off until she was pouring the last drops into Padmé’s flute.
“I’m sorry to say that’s all of the brandy,” Shane informed her, setting the empty bottle down on the tray. “Good things never last long enough.”
Padmé frowned, swirling the small amount of liquid around in her glass. Then a light appeared in her eyes, “But sometimes they can be prolonged.” She glanced at Obi-Wan, who was standing by the window watching the nightlife of Coruscant, and moved around the table to sit beside Shane. She placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered conspiratorially in her ears, “I have a bottle of Alderaan Ruge Liqueur in my office at the Senate building. You can protect me while we slip out to get it, yes?”
Shane glanced over her shoulder at Obi-Wan and then looked back at Padmé, a mischievous grin on her face. “Let’s go. Quickly.”
With a clumsiness only two inebriated women could find stealthy, Shane and Padmé rushed from the apartment, hastily throwing on cloaks and failing to stifle their giggles.
A moment after their shuttle pulled away from the apartment, Anakin rushed into the living room. “Obi-Wan—!”
“Shane and Padmé just took a shuttle to the Senate building, I know.” He turned to smile at his fellow Jedi. “Get our speeder, we’ll tail them.” He shook his head, feeling amused by the antics of his lieutenant general and the young senator.
Getting into the Senate building, even late at night, was simple. The evening guard greeted Senator Amidala with polite curiosity, to which the Senator replied she forgot some important work in her office and Shane was there to protect her. They then giggled as they ran through the empty corridors to the offices.
Shane sat on Padmé’s desk while she dug in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. “It was a gift from Bail, celebrating the renewed trade between our worlds,” she explained, her voice muffled from her bent position. She produced the bottle, glanced around the room, and gave her companion a sheepish look. “I forgot I don’t have any glasses here.”
“No need.” Shane beckoned her over and the young woman obeyed, handing the bottle off before sitting in her desk chair. Shane unwrapped the neck and popped the cork with practiced ease. “It was a gift to you, so you should take the first drink.”
Padmé took the bottle in both hands and tipped it up to her mouth. A warm smile spread across her face. “This goes down much easier than the brandy. It might be dangerous.” She giggled.
Shane discovered she was right. The liqueur was sweet and smooth, filling her with warmth as it passed through her. She felt suddenly giddy with happiness.
“I’m so glad we did this,” she said to Padmé. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”
Padmé smiled at her with unabashed fondness. “I am so glad we’ve become closer friends, even though it was war that brought you back to us.”
Shane reached out a hand and Padmé grasped it. “You are a dear friend to me, Padmé. I feel as if I can trust you with anything, especially my life.” She paused, chewing on whether to say what else she felt, and deciding not to hold back, “I hoped you considered me close, as well.” She spoke shyly, which was uncharacteristic of her and caused her heart to pound.
“Of course, Shane!” Padmé exclaimed, and then her brow knit together questioningly. “Is there something you want to ask me?”
“Are you and Anakin seeing each other?” she blurted out and then blushed at her lack of control.
Padmé flushed but laughed as well, Shane swore she heard relief in the sound. “You could say that…We’re married.”
Shane’s lower jaw dropped open. “The Council actually approved it? Wait…no…it isn’t known, is it?”
Padmé shook her head. “Only Anakin, me, the priest who wed us on Naboo, Threepio, R2, and now you. Though I believe Obi-Wan has his suspicions.”
Shane’s heart skipped a bit at the mention of his name and then continued to flutter faster. She was content to blame it on the alcohol, but Padmé noticed her expression and read it like a page in a book. Her mind was still sharp despite the intoxication.
“I’ve heard rumors that you left because you developed feelings for a Jedi,” she said carefully. “Is it true? Was it Obi-Wan?”
Shane sighed and nodded. Padmé deserved to know, and she found she wanted to confide in her. “It is Obi-Wan,” she corrected the tense, and began to explain from the beginning.
The pain in his eyes was palpable. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him pain, but through her admission she had thrown his warm, gentle soul into conflict. She could feel it through the Force in waves that threatened to break her.
“Shane, I truly care for you, but the Code forbids attachments,” he whispered, as though afraid his words would bring calamity upon them. “We could never truly be together and it would open us to the dark side.”
Her heart fluttered as it sank to the pit of her stomach. Had he just admitted feelings for her? She wasn’t sure her heart could withstand the answer, briefly wondered if it ever could handle knowing for sure, so instead she replied, “I would rather die than succumb to the dark side. I cannot help how I feel, Obi-Wan, but I can change my circumstances.” She had walked away from him then, tears springing to her eyes as she realized her mind was made up. She would stay long enough for Master Qui-Gon’s funeral, but then it was time to go.
“Isn’t it difficult to be by his side constantly feeling as you do?” Padmé asked when Shane had finished telling her everything. Her question was a cocktail of concern, interest, and experience.
“Sometimes, mostly we’re too busy for me to dwell on it,” she answered honestly, “but when I do…” She took a drink from the bottle and handed it back to Padmé before walking over to the window. Her office overlooked an enclosed terrarium populated with beautiful exotic plants from around the galaxy. After contemplating the garden quietly, she added, “Most of the time just being with him is enough, but sometimes I wish I could be there for him too, you know what I mean?” She turned around to look at Padmé hopefully.
Her affirmation was sincere. “I understand. I understand too well,” she chuckled. “I was so hesitant with Anakin at first, so afraid of the Code and what might happen to us, but, despite the war, I have never been happier.”
“I wish Obi-Wan would take a lesson from Anakin.” Shane sighed, and held her hand out for the bottle. As Padmé passed it to her, it exploded.
Shane reacted instantly, grabbing Padmé and throwing her to the ground behind the desk on the opposite side from the window. There was a small hole in the glass where a blaster bolt had seared through and hit the liqueur bottle. “Are you hurt?” she whispered to the Senator, and she shook her head. “Good, stay low.” She pulled her blaster from her waistband and crawled around the side of the desk to get a better view out of the window. She tried to follow the trajectory through the hole, but there was no need.
The Mandalorian appeared in her vision, framed by the window like a photograph. She could hear the roar of his thrusters as they kept him afloat, and he pointed his blaster directly at her. She rolled away, avoiding two blaster bolts but a third glanced off her arm. She hissed, ignoring it for now and moving to a better position.
Using the desk for cover, she threw herself on top of it and fired a barrage of blasts at the window. The first shattered the window, giving the following bolts a clear path to the assassin. He attempted to dodge them, but there were too many, and one hit his jet-back. Shane ducked back behind the desk as it exploded, taking the Mandalorian with it in the blast, but scattering broken shards of glass in all directions.
When the smoke had settled Shane stood and looked over the edge into the garden, her boots crunching in the glass and debris. A charred body laid crumpled on the ground, a blackened jet-pack melted into his back. She turned to Padmé. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, thanks to you.” She was standing and straightening her clothing and her hair. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing,” Shane said, barely feeling the sting of the blaster fire on her arm. “We should report this and get back to your apartment.”
Padmé agreed and the two women proceeded from the room, but when the doors to her office slid open, they were face-to-face with an angry Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi.
“Obi-Wan!” exclaimed Shane.
“Anakin!” exclaimed Padmé simultaneously.
“Those are our names, very good,” quipped Obi-Wan. “Do you know the names of the two young women in big trouble?”
Shane and Padmé exchanged sheepish looks.
Once Coruscant security had arrived to detail the scene and the two ladies were allowed to leave, the four of them rode back to the apartment in silence, Shane and Padmé sitting together in the back like petulant children, occasionally exchanging conspiratorial smiles.
“Thank you for you every vigilant protection, Master Obi-Wan,” Padmé said to him upon returning home. There wasn’t a note of irony in her tone. “I apologize for taking advantage of it.”
Obi-Wan smiled. “You are welcome, Senator, and apology unnecessary. You did have a bad influence with you,” he joked, glancing over at Shane.
“It was actually my idea.” Padmé smirked. “Good night, everyone. Anakin, will you still be guarding my door?”
There was a telling smile on the young Skywalker’s face. “Of course, ma’am.” He bowed and followed the Senator from the room.
“I’m going to secure the area, we cannot be sure there was only one assassin,” Obi-Wan announced and left as well.
Shane released a deep breath and turned to walk out onto the balcony. It was very late, but the hum of distant nightlife traveled through the air. She sat down on the top step, placed her elbows on her knees, and hung her head. Each heartbeat pounded loudly in her head and she felt dizzy, her senses were definitely dulled. It was sheer luck that she was able to dispatch the Mandalorian. She couldn’t blame Obi-Wan for being frustrated at her, she could sense him through the Force balancing his emotions. She could sense Padmé and Anakin as well, currently feeling at peace but the latter was also alert.
She felt Obi-Wan’s signature move closer and then heard the door to the balcony slide open and shut behind him quietly. He sat next to her, close enough that his roves brushed against her arm and she could feel his warmth. He held a bacta patch out to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured and ripped it open, pushing up her sleeve and attempting to place it on her blaster burn, but her sleeve kept falling back down.
After watching her struggle for a few seconds, Obi-Wan took the bacta patch from her hand and turned his body toward her more. He pushed up her sleeve and gently pressed the cool gel against her wound. It immediately began to feel better, but she was acutely aware of his warm grip on her arm.
“Thank you,” she murmured again. “Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry. I was reckless and put Padmé in danger,” she said, speaking carefully so as not to slur her words.
“I’m reminded of something Master Qui-Gon said about you: ‘Shane knows right from wrong inexplicitly and punishes herself thoroughly for doing anything she considers wrong.’ You made a reckless decision, yes, but you protected the senator in the end. Do try not to make it a habit, though.”
Shane knew the words, Qui-Gon had said them to her many times. She smiled blearily.
“Everyone has to blow off steam every now and then,” he continued, focusing his attention on the bacta pad as if he wanted to make sure it was placed perfectly. “The Senator has been working tirelessly since before the war began, a romp with a friend could make a significant difference in her moral. Assassin or not.” He chuckled.
“That’s a lot of fancy words to say you need friends,” Shane teased, bumping her elbow against his side playfully.
“And you have been working just as hard,” he added, reaching out and cupping her chin so that she didn’t look away from him. He stared into her eyes for a long minute, quietly thinking. “I find it difficult to remain angry with you,” he said quietly, almost too low for her to hear him, so she leaned toward him. A poignant silence descended between them, their eyes locked in a search of answers…and permissions.
Later Shane would be unable to say who moved to close the distance first. Their lips pressed together gently, the sensation warm and soft. His beard tickled her chin and the edges of her lips. One of Obi-Wan’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Shane’s palms pressed against his chest, able to feel his quickened heartbeat beneath his tunic.
The swirl of emotions that enraptured her was close to overwhelming. Surprise, elation, and love surged through her like an electric charge. Even in her intoxicated state she could feel through the Force that he was feeling much of the same things as she. The kiss deepened.
Reality snapped back to Obi-Wan like the crack of a whip, and he realized what was happening. “No, we can’t,” he said as he pulled away, but the uncertainty in him was unmistakable. “At least, not when you’ve been drinking,” he added more quietly and looked at her with shining, pleading eyes. “Forgive me. I…should go check on Anakin.
When he was gone, she realized she felt cold except in all of the places he had touched her. Trepidatiously, she put fingers to her lips, feeling the light puffiness of being kissed with passion. Her heart fluttered and skipped at the insinuations of what had just happened. As she made a bed for herself on the living room couch and drifted asleep that night, the scene on the balcony played on repeat in her mind.