DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
You curl up on the couch in your big fleece robe and long underwear and snicker at the television as Kegis goes on and on about a guy he hired to remodel his bathroom.
“Oh, Kege!” you say out loud right along with Rathie Gee. You know them too well. And, damn, your life is glamorous and exciting.
“Who are you talking to?”
You look over your shoulder to see Obi-Wan walking into the room. “Oh, just the TV,” you say. He gives you a silly grin, and you say, “Yeah, my life is pathetic.”
“It is not,” he says, sitting down by your feet. He gives your cocoon clothing the once over and says, “Are you feeling alright?”
“Why?”
“You’re more wrapped up than a Hoth native,” he says.
You switch off the television and growl, “I hate this weather. Why do they have to make it rain?”
“I believe we’ve already had this discussion,” he says.
“Well, I hate it,” you say, leaning your head against the top of the couch. “So how are you?”
“I’m well,” he says.
“Are you sure,” you ask as you notice that his forehead is still slightly bruised. “Not that you’d take this kind of advice from me, but aren’t you supposed to go to a healer or something?”
“I haven’t the energy for it,” he says quietly. “Besides, a few bruises won’t hurt me.”
“I’m sorry,” you say. “I wish—“
“You have done plenty for me,” he says. “More than I’ve deserved.”
“Nonsense,” you say. “If you need to talk or—“
“I will be fine. Thank you,” he interjects. Oh well, you were the one who told him to be tough after all. He looks down at the floor, and then says in a lighter tone, “So are you going to be a layabout all day?”
“Yep,” you say.
“Why?”
“I think I’m depressed,” you sigh and then inwardly kick yourself for whining to him after what he’s been through.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s silly in comparison to-- Forget it,” you say wishing you would learn to think before you speak.
“I will not forget it. Tell me,” he says.
You pull your knees up to your chest and pull your robe tightly over your legs. “It’s…it’s just so damn dark and gloomy and cold. I just want to sleep all day.”
He gives you a half smile. Maybe your pathetic little problems are just what he needs to hear. “Lazy bones,” he says. Alright, so it’s the teasing and torture that he needs. Whatever works.
“Hey! Did you come here just to taunt me?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Well, I’m serious,” you say indignantly, happy to see a smile on his face and willing to be as stupid as necessary in order to keep it there. “I’m tired and lethargic. My writing sucks. I don’t feel like eating. I don’t feel like doing anything. I am depressed.”
He thinks for a moment and says, “You know what you need?”
“Please, if it has anything to do with getting laid, exercise, or eating broccoli, spare me. I’ve heard it all,” you say.
“All valid prescriptions,” he says and then adds with a snort, “especially where you’re concerned.
You playfully kick his leg and say, “Don’t think you’re the first person to call me uptight, fat, and unhealthy. There have been plenty – and I mean plenty – before you. So there!”
He shakes his head, “After you, they threw out the mold.”
“God I hope so,” you say with another sigh, throwing your back against the arm of the couch. “I’d hate to have more than one of me to deal with.”
“You’re not the only one,” he mumbles.
“Alright, Mister Obnoxious Jedi Man, tell me. What do I need,” you ask through a laugh.
“You need fun,” he says. “You need to just get out and do something.”
“And you know just the thing, I suppose,” you say as the light dawns on you. Whatever it is, he has to make it your need instead of his.
“I do,” he says.
“And it would be…”
“Fresh air,” he says.
“Huh?”
“You just need to get out. Go walking someplace. Perhaps….” You try not to smile as he pretends to think of this thing spontaneously. “I know. There’s a carnival. You should go.”
You snort a tiny laugh but make an immediate correction when his face drops at your response. “A carnival, eh? Sounds like fun.”
“It is not far from here if you really wanted to go. And….” He stops.
“And what?”
“Well, if YOU wanted to go…I…I could go with you,” he says.
“Sounds like a great idea,” you say. “I haven’t been to a carnival in years.”
Obi-Wan stands up. “So…do you want to go….today?”
You smile and say, “Sure, why not. Although, I suppose I should probably get dressed first.” You stand up from the couch and shuffle past him.
“Please do,” he says with a tease in his voice.
“I dunno, I think I’m gonna call the Temple and ask that they put you to work today,” you say.
“Sorry,” he says. “They gave me a little time off.” He pauses and says, “For good behavior.”
“Yeah, right,” you say. “Listen, I need a shower—“
“Yes, you do,” he says.
You turn around and grab his arm. “That comment wins you one of these,” you say as you hold his arm out and smack it. “Give me thirty minutes.”
He sighs, “You women….”
“Do you want me to grab the whipped cream can?”
“I might,” he says with a smirk.
“Sit down,” you order with exaggerated exasperation and shove him toward the couch. “Cool your jets, it won’t take me long.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says.
Not surprisingly, when you return downstairs you find Obi-Wan on the couch surrounded by four women. The television is on again, and they’re watching “Alderaan Nights.” You cover your mouth so as not to laugh at a Jedi sitting straight-backed and stoic in front of a soap opera while women explain it all to him. You quietly sneak up behind him and tug on his ponytail. “C’mon, Slacker Jedi, time’s a wastin’.”
He stands up quickly and walks around the couch. “I knew you were sneaking up on me.”
“Bully for you,” you say.
“And that was forty-five minutes, not thirty,” he says.
“Yeah, but I bet you got to find out that the father of Tarva’s baby is really Markus”, you say.
“Actually, Barden is the father,” he says.
“Oh,” you say, trying not to laugh. “Well…we could stay until it’s over if—“
“No, let’s go,” he says, practically pushing you out of the room and waving a polite goodbye to everyone.
“So,” you say as the two of you hit the sidewalk, “do you think she’s in love with Markus or Barden? It could be both, I suppose, but I’m thinking—“ You start laughing as you catch the you-don’t-really-watch-that-shit-do-you look on Obi-Wan’s face. “OK, so where are we going?”
“It is at the convention center,” he says.
You stop. “Wait, we’re gonna walk all the way to the convention center?”
Having stopped in front of you, he turns around and says, “Of course not. We’ll take a shuttle.”
“Oh,” you say, walking toward him.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, no problem,” you say.
“Yes, it is,” he says as you resume your moderate pace. “You don’t like shuttles.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“It is just a short ride,” he says.
“I know. I just don’t like them. Where I come from, buses don’t leave ground level. I like it that way,” you say.
“Oh…well…we could do something else,” he says.
“No, no…I’m….It’ll be fine. I can cope. Just….”
“Just what?”
“Just don’t make me look down, OK?”
“You could just close your eyes,” he says as you approach the transport station on the corner.
“No, can’t do that either,” you say.
“You would never survive space travel,” he says with a chuckle.
“And as you will notice, I don’t partake of space travel,” you say.
“So how did you ever get here,” he says.
“Long story,” you say as you step into the elevator going up to the shuttle platform. The doors shut, and the elevator makes its ascent. You watch the platform numbers light up as it goes higher. “Well….We’re just going up and up and up, aren’t we?”
“We’re almost there,” he says.
The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, revealing a large landing platform. You walk outside and gasp as your body feels the disorientation of viewing the tops of buildings. At least they’re the shorter buildings, you tell yourself. You follow Obi-Wan to the proper waiting area and stand perfectly still, looking straight ahead. You then decide against that plan because you can see other shuttles flying by only slightly higher than the platform…and you know how high those shuttles look when you are standing on the ground. You look down at the surface of the platform and try to calm yourself.
“You alright?”
“Yep, fine…just fine,” you say.
“Look at me and say that,” he says.
“I’d rather not look up, thank you,” you say.
“If this is too stressful for you—“
“No. I’m fine. I’ve ridden on these things DOZENS of times,” you say. You just want to slap yourself for being so stupid, especially since this is something he really wants to do. You feel his hands on your shoulders, and you instantly calm down…a little. After a few moments, your shuttle is heard overhead, but you can’t actually look up to see it come in. The platform vibrates as it makes a firm landing, and you shift your feet trying not to think about how a platform could possibly be that high in the air.
With a gentle nudge, Obi-Wan directs you forward, and you finally look up. Then it occurs to you that you haven’t bought tickets at the booth.
“Jedi perk,” he says.
“What’d you say?”
“Free transport passes,” he says, reaching into a pouch on his belt.
“Ah, good benefits package at the Temple these days, eh?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he says.
“C’mon, you get free transportation, free food—“
“You wouldn’t say that if you actually had to eat there,” he says.
“I can imagine,” you say with a chuckle as you step forward to board the very crowded shuttle. You get mid-way back and discover there are no available seats, so you resolve yourself to standing for the short trip. You attempt to grab the bar above you, but it is just a little too high, so you hang on like a girl playing on a jungle gym.
Obi-Wan, who stands facing you, easily reaches up to the bar and then firmly takes hold of your free arm with his other hand. “Perhaps it is easier this way,” he says.
“Good thinking,” you say, laying your arm on top of his and wrapping your hand around the crook of his elbow. “Gosh…tough, tall, plays well with others…what more could a girl ask for?”
“Money,” he says succinctly, and it makes you laugh out loud.
Until the shuttle lifts off. Your laughter abruptly ceases, and you grab onto his arm with the other hand, too, and clench the loose fabric of his robe. Your eyes dart out the window at the other airborne traffic, and you are now thankful that there were no seats available, or you’d be able to see straight down. You catch a glimpse of the top of a building, and quickly turn your head back to Obi-Wan. “I think…I think I’ll just…admire your robe here,” you say, staring straight ahead at his chest.
“Likely excuse,” he drawls.
He asked for it. You reach for his braid and give it a good tug, causing him to yelp. “Don’t torment me when I’m a bizillion feet in the air,” you say.
“Alright, I’m sorry. But you don’t have to be violent about it,” he says.
“Violent? You aint seen nuthin’ yet,” you say. “Besides, I thought you liked it rough. At least that’s the word around the building these days.” You feel him staring down at you with a mildly displeased eye, but you ignore it and just concentrate on getting to your destination.
Before you can become too neurotic, the shuttle pilot announces the convention center station. With a sigh of relief, you now allow yourself to look out the window again as passengers begin to make their way toward the front, clearing up the aisle way a bit. Obi-Wan guides you around so you are in front of him to disembark. He then allows a few other seated passengers to step in front of him as you proceed a few steps down the aisle. Then suddenly, you hear a loud grinding noise and the sound of crunching metal as the shuttle jerks, and before you can grab hold of something your feet leave the ground as your body is forced forward. You feel a sharp pain as your head makes contact with a solid surface…and all goes black.
You hear the distant sound of someone calling your name. The voice is frantic, but muffled. You feel anxious hands on your face, and the voice becomes a little clearer. Slowly you open your eyes, and blink a few times to focus your vision. You are laying down on the floor of a shuttle, several people looming over you.
“Oh thank the Force. Are you alright?”
Your eyes meet his, and they are stunning…but filled with concern. His face is a mask of worry.
“My head hurts,” you say as you try to sit up.
“No, don’t try to move. Let me help you,” he says.
“Wait,” you say. “Who are you?”
“Very funny,” he says. “This is no time for joking. I need to get you out of here.”
“Excuse me,” you say. “I’m not trying to be funny, I’d just like to know who you are.” You look around again. “And what the hell am I doing on a shuttle? I hate shuttles.”
The color drains from his face, and his mouth drops open. “Y-you don’t…remember why we’re here?”
“No.” You pause as panic rises in you. “And…I suppose that means I’m supposed to remember you.”
The Jedi – you can at least tell that much – is visibly agitated. “It’s me…Obi-Wan.”
You give him a blank stare.
“That’s alright. You hit your head. Everything will be fine,” he says calmly, although is demeanor suggests otherwise. “I’m going to carry you outside. Tell me if anything hurts.”
“What happened?”
“The shuttle was rear-ended,” he says, sliding his arms underneath you and easily picking you up. “Everything alright?”
“Yes, I feel fine…except for my head,” you say.
He carries you outside and into the station where he lays you down on the floor, cradling your shoulders and head in his arms.
“Do we know each other well?”
He blinks nervously as his brow wrinkles, and he lets out a staggered breath. “Yes…very well.”
You take a deep breath as a feeling of abject horror washes over you…not because you are injured, but because of the chance that you may have actually had sex with this beautiful man, and you don’t remember it.
He stares at you with almost the same look of shock, and simply says. “We are very good friends.” He pulls his hand up past your face, and you see red.
“Oh God, is that MY blood?”
“Yes,” he says. “It’s alright. We’ll get you to a healer. They should be here quickly.”
“I don’t like doctors,” you say.
He gives you a weak smile. “I know.” He reaches for something in his belt, and you see more blood on his hand.
“I think I’m gonna throw up….or pass out,” you say.
“I’d suggest the latter,” he says.
“Yeah,” you say quietly as your mind goes fuzzy and you give into unconsciousness.
“That’s it,” says a soothing voice. “Everything is alright.” You slowly open your eyes to see a woman with a kind face standing over you. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” you say.
She helps you to sit up. “Does your head feel better.”
“Yes,” you say, even more surprised.
“Good. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot, but they usually aren’t as bad as they look.”
“So you fixed me up? Just like that?” You feel the back of your head. It’s a little tender, but no sign of injury as far as you can tell.
She smiles. “Yes, just like that.”
“Wow, I feel great, actually. Guess I need a whack on the head more often, eh?”
“I wouldn’t suggest it,” she says.
“Well, you people are good! All without needles, too. I’m impressed,” you say.
“We try,” she says with a smile. “Now, I just have a few questions for you, and then I can probably release you to that handsome Jedi out there if that’s alright.”
“Well….I guess so….”
You walk out into the waiting area of the clinic. Obi-Wan jumps to his feet and hurries over to you. "Is everything alright?”
“Yes, I feel fine,” you say.
“And your memory?”
“Um…let’s see. You are….wait….um….”
He looks at you hopefully.
“Gimme a sec…let’s see…you are….O…uh….”
He nods.
“O-Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan Kenobi, illustrious tough Jedi Man, Jelly Boy, and schoolgirl obsessed braidiac,” you say with a big grin and an exaggerated expression of discovery.
He face tightens up. “I don’t know whether to hug you or hit you,” he growls.
“Uptight, fat, unhealthy, AND incorrigible,” you say with a big grin. “Gotta love me! Got-ta love me,” you say poking at his chest to accentuate each syllable.
Obi-Wan bites his lips and exhales heavily. “That is debatable.”
“I’m sorry,” you say with a little chuckle. “You’re just too fun to tease.”
He puts his hands on his hips. “Do you have any idea what I thought when I saw you laying there unconscious…bleeding all over the floor?”
Your cocky attitude quickly dissipates.
“Do you?!”
You look down at the floor and play with your hands. “I’m sorry, I really am. You’ve been through hell, and I….”
“Let’s go,” he says, turning around and walking ahead of you out the clinic door.
You opt for a taxi, which run a little closer to the ground, back to your local transport station and then walk two steps behind Obi-Wan the rest of way back home, neither of you saying a word. Finally you say, “I’m sorry,” again. Obi-Wan keeps walking ahead of you. You stop walking and watch him continue on ahead of you for several steps.
He finally halts and stands still with his back to you. “Are you coming?”
You sigh and walk forward. “I said I’m sorry. What else do you want me to say?”
He spins around quickly and shoots, “Would it kill you to be nice to me?”
You take a step back in surprise at the burst of anger and say quietly, “No. I can be nice.”
Obi-Wan pulls back and says, “I know.”
“Yeah, well…let’s go,” you say, walking on ahead of him.
“For an instant…for a fraction of an instant…I thought…. I thought I was going to lose you, too,” he blurts out.
You turn, slightly stunned, and walk back to him. “Not a chance,” you say seriously. Not knowing what else to say, you fall back on your routine, grin, and add, “I am your penance. You’re stuck with me. Now let’s go. I’m starving.” You turn back around and head down the sidewalk.
“Well, I must have done something really awful,” he says.
“Huh?”
He joins you at your side. “If you’re my penance, then—“
“Aaahh,” you say wagging your finger at him. “Silly Jedi is back.”
“Well, Qui-Gon says that levity can be good for the soul,” he says.
“A very smart Master, he is,” you say. Then you stop and jump ahead, blocking his path. “AH!” you shout pointing at him.
“Ah?”
“Your birthday! You have a birthday coming! We have to have a party for you,” you say excitedly.
He shakes his head. “No, that is not necessary. Jedi’s don’t really make a fuss about birthdays.”
“Well I do!” You turn around and start walking again. “We definitely need to have a party.”
“But I don’t have birthday parties,” he says.
“Oh, come on. I’m sure Qui-Gon gave you birthday presents,” you say.
“He gave me a stone once,” he says.
“What?! He bought you a rock?”
“He didn’t buy it,” Obi-Wan says. “And it was a stone.”
“Oh well, that makes ALL the difference. Here I thought he bought you a rock. But he found some old, dirty stone and gave it to you. Makes much more sense,” you say. “OK, wait, you’re joking, right?”
“No,” Obi-Wan says.
“You mean to tell me, you’ve never had a real birthday cake?”
“No.”
“Not even cupcakes?”
“What is a cupcake?”
“Oh my God,” you say indignantly. “Qui-Gon gives you a rock and not so much as a cupcake? What kind of mean old Master is he?”
“You just said he was very smart,” Obi-Wan says.
“Well…he may be smart, but his cuddly-wuddly quota is seriously low. That’s it, we’re having a birthday party. And no arguments from you, got it?!” You point right in his face.
“Is this how cuddly-wuddly is defined?”
You laugh. “If there is one thing that can be said about me, it is that I am most definitely NOT cuddly-wuddly.” Sensing his most-likely response, you quickly add, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not well-equipped to judge other people regarding their capacity for warm fuzzies, your Master in particular.”
“He will be most pleased to hear that,” he says.
“Not a word, paddlewan,” you say.
“What did you call me?”
“Nothing,” you say. “Now, we only have a few days to plan this shin-dig.” You walk up the stairs to the JH Temple and open the front door. “So, do you prefer vanilla or chocolate?”
A wicked grin spreads across Obi-Wan’s face.
“Cake, Silly Jedi, cake! Vanilla or chocolate cake?”
He chuckles, “I know. What did you think I meant?”
You shake your head and mutter, “Incorrigible,” as you step inside.
“I thought that was you,” he says, walking in behind you.
“Be a good Jedi and answer the question, please,” you say as you close the door.
“Chocolate. I am a very big fan of chocolate,” he says.
“Woo-hoo!” Kim yells as she sails down the hall past you.