#but i just went with it

Posting two early chapters of a WIP I’ve been stalled on for a long time. Works decently as a stand alone.

During the extended mission to protect the Duchess of Mandalore, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Satine deal with the aftermath of a violent encounter with a bounty hunter. (~3500 words)

(violence warning, Obi-Wan lightsabers a dude’s arm, because of course he does)

I.

“Satine, close your eyes.”

The bounty hunter tightened his grip on the girl’s neck, keeping the muzzle of his blaster on her temple.

“Obi-Wan…” she gasped.

“I told you, drop your blade, boy, if you want the Duchess to make it through this without a smoking hole in her pretty head.”

“You’re not going to harm the Duchess,” Obi-Wan said evenly. “The last thing her opposition wants is a young, innocent martyr for the New Mandalorians to rally around.”

“You think I give a damn about Mandalorian politics?”

“Perhaps not, but I’m certain you give a damn about getting paid. The bounty notices were very clear that payment would only be delivered if she was apprehended alive.”

“All right.” He shifted the blaster to aim at Obi-Wan. “So I was bluffing about blasting her. But even a spoiled royal like this pretty little girl can live through an awfullot.”

“Satine, close your eyes now.”

She did and heard the chirp of an energy blast, the hum of the lightsaber, and a scream as the hand left her neck. She smelled ozone and charred flesh.

She opened her eyes as she felt a gentle hand brush hers. She watched Obi-Wan lean towards where the bounty hunter had collapsed against the wall, take a knife from his jacket from and toss it out of reach.

“I’ve summoned emergency medical assistance. You’d better wait here for them.”

“Youbastard.”The bounty hunter lunged forward unsteadily, butObi-Wan merely touched the man’s forehead lightly and he slumped back, unconscious. The young Jedi tucked a comlink into the man’s remaining hand and looked up at Satine as her eyes darted around the scene.

“Satine,please, don’t.”

She caught sight of the blaster, in pieces, the arm, and the cauterized stump near the bounty hunter’s shoulder. Her stomach turned violently and she pulled away from Obi-Wan, dashing a few steps towards the opening of the dead end alleyway, away from the grisly scene.

Out on the street she breathed again, leaning against the cold stone of the building and trying to will herself not to retch. She turned to watch Obi-Wan follow her out of the alley with his self-possessed stride that used to strike her as a bit of a swagger. He clipped his lightsaber onto his belt, and she turned away again at the sight of it.

“Satine.”

She’d almost been expecting reproach, but his voice was all gentleness and concern.

“I’m so sorry, Satine. I wish you didn’t have to see that.”

“Sorry? You saved our lives and spared his. You needn’t … “

He lifted a hand, but stopped short of touching her neck. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine.” She tried not to flinch away, but she could see in his eyes he’d noticed her response, and he took a step back.

“Qui-Gon will be here in a moment,” he said quietly.

Just so, the Jedi came running down the darkened street with his long, loping strides.

“Authorities are coming,” he told Obi-Wan.

‘I’ll stay. Make sure they find him.”

“You’ll know where to find us. Try not to get arrested.” He quirked a smile at his apprentice.

“Yes, Master.” In no mood to joke back, he turned back to the alleyway with his handiwork.

“Are you all right, Satine?” Qui-Gon asked, taking her by her shoulders and looking her over.

“I’m not hurt.”

“But are you all right?” he repeated gently.

She shook her head, eyes filling up.

“Come on.” He put his arm around her shoulders and led her quickly through the streets.

The turns were a blur to her, but it hardly mattered, as the last thing she wanted was to find her way back to that alleyway, ever. They stopped at a nondescript doorway, and Qui-Gon opened the door for her, ushering her inside to equally nondescript surroundings. As safe houses went, at least it was clean.

Qui-Gon settled on the floor and then looked up at her expectantly.

“I think I’m too upset to meditate,” she told him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“Which is just why you need to, dear heart,” he said gently, holding out a hand.

She took it, and he pulled her down next to him.

“Tell me what happened,” he urged.

“That isn’t meditating,” she countered.

“Call it a prerequisite.”

“We were coming to meet you. Obi-Wan told me to wait, but I went ahead. I was angry at him… I …” She paused and shook her head. “It was foolish. It was my fault.”

“Foolish, maybe. Your fault, no.” He stroked her hair.

She steeled herself to continue, hands tightening to fists. “The man, the bounty hunter, I suppose, was waiting in one of the alleys. He grabbed me, so quickly I hardly knew what happened. He started to drag me away, and Obi-Wan followed.”

“I think I know what happened from here,” Qui-Gon interjected.

She nodded, biting her lip hard.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. “And breathe, Satine.”

***

Qui-Gon watched as Satine struggled valiantly to calm herself enough to meditate. Her breaths came shallowly at first, but then deep and even. The line of anxiety between her brows smoothed. In a few short minutes, she started to droop, head bobbing forward.

“Come along, dear heart,” Qui-Gon urged softly, helping her to the low couch nearby and covering her with his own robe when she stretched out to sleep.

She opened her pale blue eyes for a moment and reached out her hand, much more the wounded girl in that moment than the iron-willed Duchess. She was both, of course, but sometimes more one than the other.

Kneeling, he put his hand out to take hers, enclosing it in his grasp.

“I love you,” she told him, quietly. “Is that all right?”

His felt an almost physical pang of sorrow that she had to ask. “Of course,” he soothed.

“Jedi aren’t supposed to have families,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you teaching me about the Code, Satine?”

“No,” she protested. “Trying to understand.” She leaned her head towards him, putting her forehead against the back of his hand. “I love you like family. More than I loved my own father, maybe.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be more or less.”

“At least, I admire you more. He could’ve stopped the war and wouldn’t. He believed in debts of honor and vengeance more than justice or compassion. Sometimes I thought I hated him. But he loved me.”

“People don’t have to be perfect for us to love them.”

“What if there’s a Code that says they can’t love you back?”

He sat in silence for a moment, considering the layers of the question. Satine was orphaned, adrift, cut off from her remaining family and her homeworld. Right now, at the center of her universe were the two Jedi who protected her. Bursting with unspent affection, Satine poured it out to them. To Qui-Gon, as surrogate father. And to Obi-Wan, not as brother.

The only answer to give was to the part of it he had any say over.

“I’m not a perfect Jedi,” he confessed. “And you are very dear to me, Satine.”

He stroked her hair, and she smiled a little.

“Rest now. You’re safe, dear heart.”

She closed her eyes, soothed by his particular endearment for her.

He waited a little while, until he was certain she was asleep, then stood to go attend to the other child in his care.

“Child” was perhaps strictly inaccurate. Obi-Wan was a man in years, with wisdom and maturity beyond them. But it was impossible for Qui-Gon not to see the child of such a short time ago in his apprentice’s youthful face, especially in times of distress and vulnerability.

He was outside the door, sitting on the cobblestones, slumped against the wall.

“Is she asleep?” he asked.

Qui-Gon nodded and held out a hand.

“She’s afraid of me,” he said bitterly, taking it.

“No she isn’t.”

“You didn’t see her flinch away from me.”

Qui-Gon pulled him up and put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder to guide him indoors. Obi-Wan paused on his weary path to the fresher to take in the sight of Satine’s slender form in quiet repose on the couch. His shoulders sagged a bit more, but this time in relief.

Qui-Gon explored the kitchen, listening to the distant sound of running water. He had a pot of tea brewing by the time Obi-Wan emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist and his padawan braid hanging sodden over his bare chest.

It was not very good tea, but one was grateful for even small blessings.

Obi-Wan sat on the stool at the counter, hand curled around the chipped teacup, the cold artificial light catching in the droplets of water in his short hair and on the back of his shoulders.

“Hewantedtohurt her,” he said, with difficulty.

They’d been encountering professionals like the one Obi-Wan had disarmed today with some regularity since Satine had been placed in their care. Largely, they were the cold, ruthless sort, with years of practice with looking at a living being and seeing a sum of credits. A few spared a moment to consider, pretty girl, or,young, and conclude, whata shame.

The one today had been in another class entirely, it seemed, and a less than rare specimen, in Qui-Gon’s unfortunate experience. But Obi-Wan, who’d seen battle and desperation, was yet still innocent enough to be hurt deeply by an encounter with deliberate cruelty. Especially that which was directed at the innocent, the gentle … the beloved.

“He didn’t,” Qui-Gon pointed out.

“I did that instead,” he replied dully.

“Satine is made of sterner stuff than you seem to give her credit for,” Qui-Gon replied, pouring himself a cup of tea.

Obi-Wan raised his head indignantly. “I knowshe is. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t hurtby…by…”

… by seeing her gentle friend deal out violence with detached, calm efficiency.

“She’ll be all right,” Qui-Gon reassured him. “And she’ll forgive you,” he added.

II.

At first, the Jedi had been very careful about not offending her delicate sensibilities with regards to personal modesty.

With time, this gradually eroded, as she had been understanding about the necessities that occasioned, for instance, waking up to the sight of a shirtless Qui-Gon scrubbing tunics in a mountain stream, whistling a jaunty tune, while an equally bare-chested Obi-Wan cooked breakfast over a campfire.

Their current accommodations provided much more in the way of creature comforts than many had previously, including a wash unit for their scant luggage of traveling clothes. Washing everything, however, left the problem of what to wear until everything was clean.

Satine had been graciously left the singular bathrobe, which was comically oversized for her willowy frame. She couldn’t help musing on what the Satine of a year ago would’ve thought about finding herself perched on a kitchen counter in a bathrobe while she watched a well-built and beautiful young man, dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist, flip pancakes.

She’d have been thoroughly scandalized and thoroughly pleased, much as her current self was, she decided.

One hand on the frying pan and the other occupied with the spatula, the towel slipped a critical inch or so down his narrow hips. Satine closed her eyes, sipped her tea, and pretended not to notice.

“Laundry’s done,” Qui-Gon, fully and neatly dressed, announced from the doorway, not a moment too soon.

“Don’t burn anything,” Obi-Wan instructed sternly, handing off the spatula, other hand clutching the traitorous towel.

Qui-Gon did, but only slightly. He nobly took the singed pancakes from the top of the stack and handed Satine a small bottle full of amber-colored syrup.

“Local delicacy,” he told her, “made of tree sap.”

“That sounds thoroughly unappetizing,” she countered, opting instead for the fat jar of unidentified berry preserves.

A hot breakfast, clean clothes, and clean hair were things Satine never intended to take for granted again, and she was feeling vastly content as she finished putting the clean dishes back into the kitchen cabinets.

“All packed up?” Qui-Gon asked.

“We’re leaving already?” she asked, dismayed.

“Afraid so. How many assassin droids did you dispatch this morning while I was in the shower, Obi-Wan?”

“Three,” was the terse reply.

“In a towel?” Satine asked.

“The droids didn’t mind,” Obi-Wan retorted.

“The neighbors might’ve,” Qui-Gon pointed out.

Obi-Wan turned red.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to split up again before we move on,” Qui-Gon told them.

“Can I come with you?” Satine asked, maybe too quickly. Obi-Wan looked intently at the curtains.

Qui-Gon shook his head. “You’ll be safe with Obi-Wan. The spaceport will be a hub of trouble, and I’ll not bring you through it until I’ve secured a reliable transport.”

“I could manage that,” Obi-Wan offered.

“You still haggle like a youngling buying cloud candy at his first street bazaar, and we’re short on credits.”

“At least I can make pancakes without scorching them,” Obi-Wan grumbled.

“Well, we all have our skills.”

They finished packing in short order, shouldered their knapsacks, and headed out into the alleyway. Satine cast a regretful look back at the safehouse, wondering when next she’d eat with proper flatware or have access to a wash unit and a clean fresher.

They parted ways in the alley. Satine followed a few steps behind Obi-Wan, but paused when she remembered something.

“Wait.”

Obi-Wan stopped, glancing back at her. She rummaged through her sack and pulled out a slightly squashy bundle wrapped in plastic.

“Here,” she said, taking a few quick steps to meet Qui-Gon and handing it to him. It was four leftover pancakes made into two jam sandwiches.

He laughed and reached out one big hand to pet her hair and draw her close enough for him to kiss the top of her head. “Thank you, dear heart.” His expression turned serious after a moment, though. “Be careful and mind Obi-Wan.”

“I will,” she promised, resolving to actually do it this time.

Obi-Wan lead her through the narrow streets, hand hovering near her elbow, but not quite touching her.

“Where are we going?” she inquired.

“Just keeping busy until Qui-Gon calls,” he replied evasively.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“Someplace nice,” he promised, almost smiling.

They walked out of the residential district, past shops and offices, and Obi-Wan stopped abruptly next to a walled park.

“All right. Close your eyes,” he instructed.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a surprise, naturally.”

She gave him a skeptical look. After being handed a small and very slimy amphibian by Qui-Gon once under similar circumstances, she was understandably wary.

“It’s not alive, is it?” She didn’t really suspect so, but one couldn’t be too careful.

“Yes. But decidedly vegetable, not animal.” The smile was a bit wider this time.

She complied and held out her hand.

Obi-Wan took it in his and pulled her along. She heard the creak and clank of a metal gate and took a deep breath of air heavy with the scent of flowers by the time Obi-Wan let go of her hand.

“You can look now.”

Flowering shrubs lined the perimeter of the garden, and the grass was sprinkled with petals. There were fountains with floating white flowers, shade trees, and beds and beds of colorful blooms.

“It’s wonderful,” she exclaimed, spinning about, unsure what to examine first. “How did you find this place?”

Obi-Wan’s expression went from delight at her response to melancholy in a heartbeat.

“Stumbled on it, literally, last night, trying to elude the constabulary.”

The reminder of last night dampened her spirits too. She spotted a stone bench near one of the fountains and sat down in the sunshine.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked quietly, standing next to her.

“Ofcourse not,” she denied sharply. She shifted across the bench, pointedly making space for him to sit beside her. She heaved a sigh, preparing to have the inevitable unpleasant conversation. “I don’t suppose you could’ve just stopped at disabling the blaster.”

He shook his head. “He was thinking about the knife. And what he was going to do with it.” He kept his eyes down, standing rigid and looking like he might be sick.

Satine reached out for his hand and tugged him down next to her.

“And I don’t suppose you could carry something with a stun setting.”

He hesitated. “There’s body armor on the black market that can absorb stunners. And stun blasts are very inaccurate. I would’ve had a better chance of knocking you out than him. And besides, a blaster has no defensive mechanism. I couldn’t deflect anything.”

“What about when you and Qui-Gon spar, and you turn down the power?”

“Low power for sparring just sort of stings. Not very effective.”

“And there’s no setting between ‘stings’ and ‘dismemberment’ on that thing?” she inquired, gesturing towards his lightsaber.

“If I’d had it on less than full power, it wouldn’t have cut through the blaster. And if I just burnt him, he’d probably have still gone for the knife.”

“All right, all right. You know what you’re doing. I know that.” She let out a short sigh.

“I don’t mind you questioning me,” he told her.

“I know, you’ve been patient.”

“I really don’t,” he protested, leaning forward with his palms on his knees. “I know I’m… more emotional than I should be, where you’re concerned,” he admitted. “When you’re in danger,” he clarified.

“You didn’t seem emotional yesterday,” she told him.

“You didn’t see me afterwards,” he countered.

“How were you afterwards?” she asked, afraid of the answer. She’d never seen him angry. Annoyed, frustrated, and exasperated, frequently, but never reallyangry.

“Heartsick,” he told her, sounding it still.

“I’ve seen worse,” she reminded him.

“I know.”

“He will live, won’t he?”

He nodded. “He doesn’t deserve your concern.”

“That’s not a very Jedi-like thing to say, is it?”

“Not very,” he agreed.

“Sometimes when things are … calm, for a while, I just forget. With both of you, I forget. You’re gentle and peaceful, we talk and laugh. You and Qui-Gon spar, and it’s a game. I forget you’re warriors.” She took a deep breath. “And then something happens and it all comes crashing back, and I feel…”

“Afraid,” he concluded.

“I don’t mean to be!”

“I wasn’t blaming you.”

She leaned towards him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I wish you could trust me.”

“In my heart, I do,” she promised. “It’s just that my mind plays tricks sometimes. I remember things.”

He curled an arm protectively around her shoulders.

She glanced up at him quickly, taking in the line of worry between his brows, the set of his jaw and his stubborn cleft chin, the faint freckles and dark birthmarks on his fair skin, the way the sunlight glinted through his short hair. He looked at her, and she dropped her gaze quickly.

“I want to show you something,” he told her, standing up and holding out a hand.

She let him lead her through the garden, to a raised bed of tall white lilies on graceful stalks. She cupped her hand around one of the big blooms and leaned close to smell it.

“They reminded me of your…” He gestured inarticulately towards her head, and she smiled.

“Much like the ones at home,” she agreed. “Bigger.”

He smiled. “No, I don’t think you could fit quite as many of these in your hair.”

The scent was almost the same though. She closed her eyes and felt the smooth petal brush against her face as she drank in the smell.

There had been a time when she smelled of lilies, instead of sweat and dust and, at best, cheap soap.

…of crushed lilies, when helmeted warriors seized her by the hair and dragged her from the throne.

… of wilted lilies, when she tried to bandage of the wounds of her injured guards with strips torn from her ceremonial gown.

… of dried lilies, when she closed their eyes with her bloodstained fingers.

“Satine, I’m sorry. I just thought you’d like them.” Obi-Wan’s dismayed voice broke through the painful memory. Eyes still closed, she felt him touch her face gently, brushing away a tear.

“I do. I’m sorry.” She put her hand over her eyes, willing herself to stop crying.

He pulled her down onto the grass, and she gave in, curling against his chest and letting her tears soak into the coarse fabric of his tunic. She felt his lips against her forehead, murmuring soft reassurances, his arms around her tightly.

When she lifted her head and opened her eyes, the bright sunlight catching on her wet eyelashes in a prismatic glow, the lilies were nodding around them, their sweet scent on the wind.

Let me remember this instead, when I smell lilies, she wished.