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.
“OK, let’s put the lights on, and then we can hang all the tags on the tree,” you say as you open a box of Christmas lights.
“Right-o,” Kim says, grabbing another box.
“I think we’re gonna need a stool or something,” you say as you look at Kim and then at the top of the tree.
“I dunno. It’s only seven feet tall,” she says.
“But neither of us is seven feet tall,” you say.
“True, but….” Kim takes the end of her string of lights and flings it over the top of the tree. “Right…so now we have lights hanging over the top of the tree. Can you grab the end and kinda whip it around so it twirls around the top?”
“Ummm….hold on,” you say, scooting around the other side of the tree and finding the end. You swing your arm out and then attempt to toss the string with a curve, only to have it drop halfway around.
“I’ll get a stool,” Kim says with a laugh, taking off into the kitchen.
You stand in the hallway and eye the tree. “You will not outwit us, O Tannenbaum.” Just then the doorbell rings, so you drop your string of lights on the floor and walk over to answer it. Before you open the door, you look up to make sure you are not standing under the strategically placed mistletoe because one never knows what funny joke God may want to play.
You open the door and find Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan standing there. “Oh geez! We need you!” You quickly motion them to come in and scamper down the hall.
“What is it?” Qui-Gon’s voice is filled with concern as he swaggers in.
“Lights,” you say pointing up to the dangling strand. “On tree. Pretty-like.”
His face forms into a smile, “Ah. Well, it is a good thing we arrived when we did.”
Kim finally reappears with the stool and yells, “Master! Perfect timing.” She plunks the stool down where she stands and hurries over.
Qui-Gon proceeds to expertly wind the lights around the tree, with Obi-Wan assisting on the other side as they make their way towards the base.
“OK,” Kim says. “You’ve got a bare spot there. Pull that one up a bit.” The Jedi’s happily obey her expert instructions.
“This is the part we were missing, Kim,” you say. “Never, ever decorate a tree without men around. At least for the lights.”
She nods in agreement as she keeps a hawk’s watch on their progress. Finally, the tree is fully covered with the lights. “And you even got the plug on the back side,” Kim says. “What good boys you are.”
“We try,” Obi-Wan says looking around for an outlet. Finding one, he plugs the lights in, and the tree comes alive, except….
“This string isn’t blinking,” you whine. You rummage through the package. “Gotta find the flasher…actually, I kinda like them better when they don’t blink.”
“Alright, chica, here’s the deal,” Kim says. “Either we find the one flasher that isn’t blinking and replace it, or we find all the flashers that are blinking and remove them. Now is not the time to determine blinkage. That needs to be done in the pre-application stage.”
“Here it is,” Obi-Wan says reaching for the non-functioning bulb and removing it.
“Note to self,” you say. “Always have a Jedi around when hanging Christmas lights.”
“Agreed,” Kim says.
“Dang, you guys coulda saved us lots of family strife when I was a kid,” you say.
“So why do you participate in activities that annually cause strife?” Obi-Wan looks to you and Kim with a wrinkled brow.
“Cuz it’s fun, silly,” Kim says.
Qui-Gon chuckles. “And explain these…plants….” He looks up at the ceiling.
“That’s the mistletoe!” Kim says.
“And it’s purpose?” Qui-Gon looks around, noticing the mistletoe in the entryway, several of them in the hallway, over every doorway….
You begin to explain, “If you find yourself under the mistletoe with a member of the opposite sex—“
“Or the same sex, whichever way your door swings….or with family….or if you’re a drunk man and want to show your buds how much you care….” Kim interjects.
You laugh, “Anyway…if caught under the mistletoe, you have to kiss whoever you find yourself standing next to.”
“I see,” Qui-Gon says with a smile. “It sounds like a good tradition.”
“Yeah, well…. Take it as a warning,” you say. “And be careful who you invite to Christmas parties.”
“Especially if you’re serving spiked egg nog,” Kim says.
“Eewwww…egg nog. Blech,” you say.
“What’s wrong with egg nog?” Kim says.
You respond, “Something about that whole egg business…and drinking something called a ‘nog.’ I mean, what the hell is a nog?”
“What is it?” Obi-Wan asks.
You make a shuddering noise. “I don’t wanna go there,” you say.
“Scrooge,” Kim says.
“Am not,” you say.
“Are, too,” Kim says.
“Scrooge didn’t drink egg nog. He drank cider….or more appropriately, wassail,” you say with conviction.
“And you know this because….”
“Because I got smarts,” you say.
“Who is Scrooge?” Obi-Wan asks.
“Long story,” you say. “We should probably get the tags put on the tree.” You pick up a large envelope.
“Wait, I think it’s time for lunch,” Kim says.
You look at the clock. “You have an excellent point. Let’s eat first.”
“Hey,” Kim says. “You boys want to grab some lunch with us? Our treat for helping with the tree.”
Qui-Gon nods, “We’d be happy to—“
“Master,” Obi-Wan says. “I thought we were—“
“Obi-Wan, that can wait for an hour or two,” Qui-Gon says. “First we will eat.”
“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan says quietly.
The four of you walk to a small deli on the corner. The only way to describe the air is awkward. Obi-Wan is obviously not comfortable with this much one-on-one with you. He is polite, conversational, even laughing at a couple of your comments…but you have to resolve yourself to the fact that things are the way they are now. At least he doesn’t avoid you completely.
The week after Thanksgiving you receive a call from the volunteer coordinator at the multi-service center checking on the status of your tree and looking for volunteers to tackle the massive job of sorting the piles of gifts that are beginning to come in. It’s Christmas. How can you refuse? You agree to go down the following afternoon and figure it will be a good activity to boost your mood.
Of course, because this is your life, sometime during the following day the weather dorks decide that it needs to rain…hard. You sigh as you look out your bedroom window as pedestrians try to maintain their grips on their umbrellas as the sky downpours on them. “Oh well,” you say. The walk to the transport station isn’t very far, but you don’t like the idea of riding a shuttle in weather like this, not that you ever like the idea of riding a shuttle in the first place. However, the multi-service center is quite a distance away, and not in the best part of town, so there is only one way to get there.
You survive the dash to the transport station without becoming too drenched. You fight with your umbrella to get it closed the split second before the elevator doors open. Thankfully, your shuttle is on a relatively low platform so you don’t experience so much disorientation when the elevator doors open again. You huddle with the masses as you wait for the shuttle to arrive, trying to be careful not to hit anybody else with your umbrella.
The rain subsides slightly to make your walk from the shuttle to the multi-service center a little easier. You finally arrive and are happily greeted from the mess outside by other volunteers who look as soggy as you do.
The task of sorting gifts is loftier than you had anticipated, and before you know it, three hours have passed. You consider making an exit, given the JH party that you promised to attend, but there is so much more yet to be done. So you settle in and continue to work, knowing there will be plenty more parties to attend some other time.
After about an hour, Serenna, the volunteer coordinator approaches you. “You have a phone call.”
“I do?” She nods and points you toward the phone. You walk over and pick up the receiver. “Hello?”
“I knew you’d still be there,” Kayla says.
“Well, there’s a lot to do,” you say.
“Aren’t you coming back for the party?”
“Not for a while,” you say.
“But Obi has been asking for you,” she says.
“Liar,” you say.
“Well…I bet he’s wondering where you are,” she says.
“I bet he isn’t,” you say. “He’s probably much more relaxed since I’m not there.”
Kayla doesn’t respond.
“Isn’t he?”
“Well…yeah, he is,” she says. “But we want you here.”
“Thanks, that’s nice,” you say. “I’ll be back in a while.”
“OK,” Kayla says. “I just wanted to check on you…make sure the rain hadn’t washed you away or anything.”
“Thanks, Mom,” you say. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye. Be careful coming home,” she says.
“I will. Bye,” You hang up the phone and go back to your work.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Serenna says two hours later. “I think we need to go home.” The last of other volunteers wandered out well over an hour ago.
“Sounds like a plan,” you say. You stack your gift lists into a relatively organized pile and get up to grab your jacket and umbrella.
“Will you be OK to the station?” Serenna asks. “You remember where you’re going?”
“Yeah,” you say. “Down the street, turn right, then cross, go left, walk two blocks, station.”
She smiles, “That’s right. C’mon, I’ll walk you out.” You follow behind her as she leads you down a short hallway. “The front door locks automatically at six o’clock,” she says. “We always use this door after hours. Thanks for much for all your help.”
“Anytime,” you say. You chat with her for a few minutes before exiting the building. You look at your watch and note that there’s still plenty of time for you to make an appearance at the party, although all you really feel like doing is going to sleep. You walk down the street, turn right at the corner, cross the street, hang a left, walk two more blocks…no station. A sinking feeling seeps under your skin. “Wait a minute,” you say. You look around, but it’s dark and nothing in this neighborhood is familiar to you.
You decide your best bet is just to backtrack and start over. You must have gotten your wires crossed by exiting from a different door at the other end of the building. It is so unlike you, but you’re tired and you were thinking of other things. So you reverse all the directions in your brain and begin walking the two blocks back to the corner where you had turned left…so you will turn right this time. “Alright,” you say, rubbing your hands together. “No problem.” You continue to talk yourself out of agitation as the unfamiliar feel of these streets unnerves you. There isn’t a soul to be seen, quite uncommon where you live.
And to top it all off, the weather dorks suddenly shoot a torrential downpour on your head. You curse and put up your umbrella. You turn right at the corner and then cross the street. And then something stirs in your gut, and you have the distinct impression that you are being followed.