DOWNTIME: Part 3

by:  Judy
Feedback to:  willow_bend@hotmail.com

Author's Notes:  Here we finally start to get to know Amandia.



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.


Amandia Samgral could hear the water running in the shower. He was in there. Right now. She tried to envision what he looked like...No! Better not to go there right now. As tempting as it was to dwell on her handsome rescuer, she needed to focus on what had happened to her yesterday.

She’d spent the morning avoiding doing just that. The nightmare from last night had still been too close and with Obi-Wan gone...it had creeped her out too much to think about. So she’d busied herself with exploring her surroundings. First, Obi-Wan’s room. It was pretty spartan. A few personal possessions. She noticed the lack of family holoscans. Although, there was one, in a simple frame: a young, grinning Obi-Wan and a very tall, serious-looking man, another Jedi, judging by his clothing. It must be his Master, she surmised. The one he was late in meeting. No, she thought, I wouldn’t want him mad at me, that’s for sure.

The photo rested on a dresser built into the wall, and there was a small table next to the bed, which was fairly utilitarian itself. It had slept okay. She had put the chronometer back on the bedside table. Obi-Wan had placed it next to his pallet last night with every intention of getting up on time.

She had made the bed, then chanced a quick shower. She had felt so grimy. Unfortunately she had had to put back on her clothes from the day before. Ick. After pulling her hair back in an efficient ponytail, she had ventured out into the apartment at large. Cautiously at first, then when she realized she really was safe here, curiosity had taken over.

The place wasn’t bad, actually. She didn’t really remember much of it from last night, in part from her being unconcious when she was brought in here, and also from the fact that she’d been so terrified, she hadn’t wanted to leave Obi-Wan’s room. Gods, he’d been so kind...she heard a noise, bringing her attention back to the present...only Obi-Wan in the shower. Ugh! Don’t go there, she told herself harshly.

Glancing around the apartment again, she returned to her reverie. The room looked comfortable and actually lived in. Amandia really didn’t know what she had expected. Somehow she thought Jedi Knights wouldn’t have need of creature comforts like furniture. She didn’t really know what she thought they’d use, though. Maybe levitate? Hmm. Well, anyway, now she knew. And how. After Obi-Wan’s less-than-graceful exit this morning, she definitely knew Jedi were living, breathing, messed up sentient beings like the rest of the universe. She chuckled under her breath. The mystery was gone. Well, not all of it...her thoughts and gaze returned to the bathroom door. The shower had stopped. He would be getting dressed now, she supposed. Sighing, she got up off the couch and went over to the window that showed the magnificent Coruscant skyline. An advantage of being a Jedi Master, she supposed -- a great view. She wasn’t exactly sure in which direction she was looking. Which way was home from here? Was anybody looking for her? Or had the same beings who came after her come after her family as well? She wasn’t even sure why she had been chased. And should she try to contact her family? Could she? So many questions...

She looked down at the flowering Keppil plant sitting on the windowsill. She had one like it at home. Would it still be there? It looked like it needed watering. Going to the kitchen, she rummaged in the cupboards for a glass, the filled it at the tap.

Amandia found herself talking softly to it -- ‘Yes, aren’t you a pretty plant?’ -- like she did at home, as she fed it water.

“The plant will appreciate the compliment, I’m sure,” a low voice behind her said. Whirling, she dropped the glass, shattering it on the floor.


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