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 pull the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders and pick up your pen to scrawl a few more lines of your quickie smut fic. Alright, so you lied a little about not actually writing the stuff anymore. But they’re fun to write, and they certainly help you purge all those thoughts you don’t want him to see.
A few minutes later, you hear a quiet knocking. You look up and around and then toward the door. You give a soft chuckle at the sight of Obi-Wan waving to you through the glass door. As the door opens, you quickly shuffle the pages in your notebook to hide the evidence.
“I didn’t startle you this time, correct?” he says, rather proud of himself.
“Correct,” you say with a nod. “Have a seat,” you say as you stretch back in your chair.
“Why do you sit out here in the cold?” he asks as he sits down.
“I like the fresh air,” you say. “It does get a little chilly this time of year…although why they have to make it colder, I’ll never know. Gonna have to call the climate control people about that.”
“They just don’t want you getting soft, that’s all,” he says.
“Too late. I’m already soft, see?” you say as you poke your stomach through your heavy robe. “Too much ice cream. But it’s good to store up some fat for the cold season.”
“You are not fat,” he says.
“Ah, whaddayou know?” you say, flapping your hand at him.
“I’ve seen a Hutt. In person,” he says.
You laugh. “I’m in a good mood, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“But I’ll remember your fat stores when it gets really cold,” he adds with a serious tone and teasing look on his face.
“You brat,” you say between chuckles. You scoot a little lower and put your feet up on the chair opposite you. “So, having fun tonight?”
He just looks at you without answering.
“Tell me something,” you say.
“Now I feel fear,” he says.
“Who is your favorite?”
“Favorite what?”
You give him an exasperated sigh and say sarcastically, “Favorite Beatle.”
Again a look - more perplexed - and no answer.
“Duh! Favorite girl,” you say. “In this place, who is your favorite?”
“Even for you, this is an outrageous question,” he says.
“C’mon,” you say. “You have to have a favorite. I won’t tell, I promise.”
“HA!”
“Really! I swear, I won’t tell. Who is it?” you say, bouncing up and down a little.
“You will tell! You will tell all your friends. Besides, I don’t have a favorite,” he says.
“Bullshit,” you say. “And I promise I won’t tell anyone but my Qui loving friends. And they won’t care because they don’t like you. I mean, they like you, but they’re not all jonesing for you. So you see, no hurt feelings.” You watch as his face reveals nothing to you, and you growl, “Tell me!”
“You are a gossip,” he says.
“Am not!”
He gives you that one-eyebrow-raised look.
“OK, maybe a little. Who is your favorite?” you plead.
“You,” he says.
“Liar,” you say. “I promise, I won’t tell a soul”
“Neither will I,” he says smugly.
“Geez, you take this gentleman thing a little too far.” You sigh, “Fine, don’t tell me.”
“Alright, I won’t,” he says.
You snarl at him a little. “Another question. Can Jedi’s fall in love?”
“Of course.”
“No, wait, I didn’t say that right,” you say. “I know they can. But how would that work….I mean…. You don’t live the kind of life that allows for a committed relationship.”
“You are jumping to conclusions again,” he scolds.
“You misunderstand me,” you say. “Your primary commitment is being a Jedi, right?”
“Yes.”
“So that sort of takes you out of the marriage and kids syndicate. It’s not like you can have the kind of life where you live in a cute house with white picket fence and all that,” you say.
“Well, it is not forbidden, if that’s what you’re asking. But neither is it encouraged,” he says.
“Do you think you will ever marry,” you say.
“I do not know. It is not something that I think about,” he says.
“How can you not? Everyone thinks about it,” you say.
“My life is different from yours and most people’s,” he says.
“True.”
“What about you?” he says.
“Me? Oh, I don’t know. I mean, I just assume that I will get married one day. I can’t imagine it now. Not that many good men around,” you say.
“Well, I would imagine that you have to go out and look a little,” he says.
“Now you sound like my mother,” you say.
He smiles. “Is that a problem? I think you need someone to tell you what to do.”
“Next subject,” you say a little louder.
“You look tired,” he says.
“Oh thanks, Mr. Sandman,” you say. “So do you. It’s the best time to talk, I think. People say the most entertaining things when their brains aren’t censoring them. Kinda like being drunk except without that whole lampshade on your head, worshipping the toilet bit.”
“I would love to take you to a diplomatic reception,” he says.
You stick your tongue out at him. “Well, since you’re going to be all tight-lipped about this crowd, tell me this…. Who was your first love?”
“As long as you tell me yours,” he says.
“Deal,” you say.
“Tell me yours first,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t believe that you’ll tell me,” he says.
“And why should I believe that you’ll tell me?”
“I am a Jedi. Jedi’s don’t lie,” he says.
“You do, too, lie,” you say.
“When?”
“Just a few minutes ago,” you say.
He shifts in his chair and looks you dead in the eye. “I told you, Jedi’s don’t lie.”
“Fine,” you say. “His name was Joe. I was 16 and crazy about him. And he ripped out my heart and stomped all over it ‘til it was nothing but quivering hamburger.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes grows wide. “I’m sorry.”
You shrug your shoulders, “That’s life. Now, your turn.”
“Well, you didn’t elaborate very much,” he says.
“Uh…he had blonde hair, blue eyes, nice smile, played me for a fool, dogged me big time, and left me depressed and pathetic for months. Is that enough elaboration for you?” you say.
“You are rather bitter,” he says.
“Oh wow, big news flash,” you say. “Now, you tell me.”
He takes a deep breath and eyes you somewhat suspiciously.
“All kidding aside, I swear I won’t tell anyone. I’m just curious, that’s all. I wanna hear you say something other than telling me I’m weird or that professional Jedi Man stuff,” you say.
“Her name was Pilara,” he says slowly, drawing out each word as if summoning the memory, her name languidly spilling off his lips.
“I take it you remember her fondly,” you say.
“Yes,” he says with a glimmer in his eye.
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen,” he says.
“Hmmm,” you say. “Jedi girl?”
He shakes his head. “No. She attended a school across the street from the Temple,”
“Oh yeah, that one with the big stone thingies out front,” you say.
“Yes,” he says with amusement. “I would see her come out of the gates every day. She had long, straight hair.”
“What color?”
“Brown. No, not just brown. It was the color of chocolate,” he says.
“Whoa, you had it bad for her,” you say.
He nods and then laughs. “And she had no idea.”
“What?” you ask slightly shocked.
“I approached her once. And she laughed at me,” he said.
“She didn’t!”
“She did.”
“At you? No way!”
“Unfortunately, yes,” he says. “So I would just continue to watch her.”
“Ooohh, stalker Jedi,” you say.
“No, not like that. Just from across the street. She didn’t even notice, or at least I assumed she didn’t”
“Ah, sweet infatuation,” you say.
“Mmm-hmm,” he replies with a smile.
“How did you know her name?”
“I heard her friends,” he says.
“I see. So is that it?”
“Not entirely,” he says with a twitch of his eyebrows.
“Oh goody,” you say as you wriggle forward to hear the good part, resting your elbows on the table.
“One day…. She walked out of the gates with her friends as usual. And then instead of turning at the corner, she crossed the street…while her friends stood there on the corner.”
“She crossed the street? Toward you?” you ask excitedly.
“Yes.”
“Oh my God! What were you thinking?”
“My mind went completely numb. So I just stood there…fidgeted a bit and pretended to be looking at some flowers. Before I knew it, she was there, right in front of me. She stepped forward, and….” He stops and tries to hide a big grin forming on his face.
“And?”
“And…she….kissed me,” he says.
“No! Like a real kiss?”
“Oh yes. And then she simply turned around and walked away without saying a word,” he says.
You make a little squealing sound before saying, “Well, what did you do?”
“I just stood there, dumbfounded. I could see her friends giggling on the corner,” he says.
“A dare, I bet,” you say.
“Most likely,” he says. “But all I could do was watch her walk away. How the braids in her hair danced around on the breeze…how her skirt flipped when she walked.”
“Aaaahh-haaaaaa,” you respond, pointing your finger in sharp jabs toward him.
He pulls his head back sharply, “What?”
“Naughty schoolgirl! I was right after all!”
“Wha-“ Obi-Wan huffs. “That’s outrageous. I’m telling you this nice, private memory, and you’re turning it into something sordid.”
“C’mon…. How her braids danced and her skirt flipped? Naughty schoolgirl,” you say, drawing out the words. “Naw-tay!”
Obi-Wan says nothing, and his face is tight….but his cheeks are slightly, yet noticeably, flushed.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you say.
“Then why are you laughing at me?”
You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Bad me,” you say lightly slapping your cheek. “But really, it’s a perfectly normal – and rather common – male fantasy.”
“Is this the type of thing you would refer to as ‘psycho-babble’?”
“Uh, yeah, I believe this would qualify as psycho-babble.” You pause and then continue, “It’s exactly the type of thing you should add to your list. Naughty schoolgirl. Write it down.”
“I don’t believe I need to,” he says with a sly grin.
You snort and then marvel a bit that you’re actually having this conversation with him. For some reason, guys always open up to you. Must be that little sister in flannel pajamas bit. Or the fact that you can swear as much as they do…if not more.
He makes a quiet, “Hmm,” reminding you that he can easily read you when you’re this tired. “So what about you?” he says.
“What about me?”
“What’s your psycho-babble fixation?”
You laugh at his words, never imagining he would actually sound remarkably similar to you. “It’s too embarrassing,” you say.
“And mine isn’t?”
“No, yours is cute…typical…acceptable….”
“I am feeling fear again,” he says.
“No, it’s not like mine is all twisted or anything—“
“That’s a relief,” he says.
You smirk at him and continue, “It’s just…well…embarrassing for an independent woman like myself.”
“Tell me,” he says softly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands on his chest.
“I…oh, I can’t,” you say, dropping your head into your hands and shaking your head.
“Alright then, don’t tell me,” he says.
Still holding your face in your hands, you blurt out. “I want to be rescued, taken care of, blah, blah…all that stuff that we strong independent women aren’t supposed to want. I mean, not for real all the time. Not some domineering dolt, but….” You pop your head up and see him smiling gently at you. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”
“Neither can I,” he says. “But you shouldn’t be embarrassed.”
“Well, I am,” you say. “And if this ever gets out—“
“I would never betray your confidence,” he says quite seriously. And then his tone turns lighter, “But, you, on the other hand….”
“I am not going to tell!”
“The next time I walk in this place…if I see everyone dressed like little girls, I will come looking for you,” he says pointing his finger sharply at you. “And I will—“ he cuts off his warning as you start laughing.
“You’ll what?” you chuckle.
“I’ll…well….” He sits up straight. “Well, since you are the first woman I’ve ever really wanted to actively threaten, I’m not sure. But I promise I’ll think of something,” he says, playfully wagging his finger at you.
You slap your hands to your cheeks. “Oooohhh, don’t hurt me, big Jedi Man.”
“It’s quite a quandary,” he says. “I’d have to hurt you and then defend you at the same time. You cause me so much difficulty.”
“What would you ever do without me?”
“I can’t imagine,” he says with a lilt to his voice. “Live a peaceful, carefree life, perhaps?”
“Smart ass,” you say.
“Ouch,” he says.
“Waah-waah,” you respond as you stand from your chair. “Well, I’m going to bed, little boy,” you say as you walk past him and pat him on the head, his hair soft but bristly against the palm of your hand.
“Yes, I should be getting back,” he says, rising to walk behind you and following you into the hallway.
You turn from your shared path to ascend the stairs. “Good night,” you say, extending your arm and giving a little wave of your fingers.
“Sleep well,” he says. He raises his hand to graze your downturned fingertips with his, lightly running his thumb along the top of your fingers – a tender gesture before your hand slips away and you both disappear from each other.