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 lay in bed that night with no intention of sleeping. You just let the shame sink into you. It has to run its course because tomorrow you’re going to stop this and you’re going to grow up. For the past hour you’ve told yourself what a terrible person you are….unforgivable…unlovable. Then you stop. This is just what he was talking about. Self freakin’ pity.
How and why this all happened, you cannot fathom. You need to figure it out. Therein lies the lesson. You KNEW that he wasn’t the jerk you made him out to be. You knew it! He told you that night at the carnival that he would never hurt you. And, as Qui-Gon tried to tell you, he would never lie. Never. But you were too hard headed to see the truth, too wrapped up in the belief that you can’t ever trust a man. Too bound by the sorority of men-are-pigs. More interested in maintaining that tie to other self-pitying sisters in order to keep your membership to the Poor Me Club than you were in standing up for the truth of this man. When your brain screamed, “No, he wouldn’t do that,” your mouth should have followed suit. You should have stood for something. But you didn’t. Your addiction to your fear of not being good enough for him made sure that you weren’t.
You think back to the day after the party. The day that you told him you only wanted to be friends. The cold shoulder. The brush off. Hell, you behaved like every man in your past and tossed away the best man you’ve ever known. Only now do you think about how he must have felt. Before that you were gregarious, affectionate, supportive…even loving on occasion. And then, nothing. All you are left with is the look on his face when you told him that you deserved more than to wait around for him, callous as you were about it.
That’s it, you’ve really done it. You’ve gone beyond the point of forgiveness. Now it’s time for a new plan. But what does it matter? If only you could disappear. Maybe you should give up your fledgling writing career and get a “real” job. Maybe you should get your own place and live alone. Someplace far from here so he won’t have to be bothered with you. Maybe you’ll get lucky and take a ride on a shuttle that will crash for real.
“Stop,” you say out loud. “Brain, I order you to stop this instant.”
Damn, self-pity is a tricky monster. It sneaks into your head from all sorts of angles. Now that you’ve decided it cannot fester from your past, it’s going to try and take the form of self-flagellation. Self-pity will gladly take all the blame so you can create a penance that will eventually allow it to re-enter your life. Once you have worked yourself away at a job you hate, once you have moved away from everyone you care about, once you are tragically injured…self-pity can stage a triumphant encore.
You sigh and rub your head. Alright, now it’s time for action. How can you make amends for the terrible things you have done? Wait. You grab your big mental broom and sweep self-pity back out your ear. All you can do is try to do better…to be better. Step one: You are going to wake up in the morning – not mid-morning, not noon – and go downstairs and type up your interview with Adi Galla. Step two: Eat lunch.
You sigh. “Alright, I have two things. And depending on how the morning work goes, we’ll see about the afternoon.” Agreement made, deal closed. You shut your eyes and fall asleep.
You awake at the first light of day. Hey, nobody said you had to get up before dawn. Instead of pulling the pillow over your head and going back to sleep, you get up slowly. “Nothing wrong with slow,” you say. “Smell the roses and all that.” You shuffle into the bathroom and turn on the shower. You languish under the water’s heat for as long as you can and prepare to move quickly when you turn it off in order to keep warm.
Successfully dried and dressed, you grab that now infamous notebook and head downstairs to work on the interview. And you greet your first challenge of the day.
“Good morning, Terri,” you say. Low voice, neutral tone. So far so good.
“Listen,” she says, her voice already agitated. “I don’t appreciate you spreading rumors about me. Just because Obi-Wan got tired of you and you don’t like it because he spends time with me now—“
“Spent,” you say.
“Huh?”
“Spent. He spent time with you. You said ‘spends’, as in present tense, when the verb should actually have been ‘spent’, as in past tense,” you say. You’re just trying for improvement, not sainthood. Can’t give up your entire personality, now can you?
Her perky face scrunches up into something more akin to pesky. “You are so jealous of me. He wants me, and he doesn’t want you. You need to get over it,” she says.
“And you need to slow your roll,” you say, hearing her gasp of indignation as you turn away and walk to the basement door. As you shut the door behind you and walk down the stairs, you hear laughter. Sithly, maniacal laughter. “Kim, what’s so funny?” You ask the question before you even get down the stairs.
“You shut her up good,” she says.
You walk toward your desk and ask, “Is Mace teaching you the mind whammy thing?”
“Air vent,” she says, pointing above your desks.
“Ah,” you say.
“Breeding ground of jelly creatures and juicy gossip. Part of the benefits package for all Hot Jedi staff members,” she says.
“I knew there was a reason why I worked here,” you say as you sit in your creaky chair.
“That and free doughnuts,” Kim says.
“Where?” You jump up and look around.
“Conference room,” Kim says.
“Yesssah!” Eating well is probably part of your plan, too, but no need to tackle too many issues at once.
You sit back down at your desk with a lovely apple fritter – fruit is part of a nutritious breakfast – and find your notes from the interview. “Hey, where’s my tape?”
“Here,” Kim says, handing you a disk. “I ran it through the computer last night. All transcribed and ready to go.”
“Thanks, dollface,” you say.
“Excuse me,” Kim says. “By ‘dollface’, are you implying that I have a face and that it resembles that of a doll?”
“Mmm-hmm,” you respond, popping the disk into your computer.
“Well, that’s it,” Kim says with a huff. “I stay up half the night getting that disk ready for you, and you go and insinuate that I have perfect skin, rosy cheeks, a cute nose, pouty lips, and pretty eyes with lids that close when I lie down.”
“Sorry,” you say. “Thanks, muttface.”
“Much better,” she says. “Get it right next time.”
“I’ll do my best,” you say with a smirk as the text comes up on your screen. “So, what’s your next big scoop?”
“Uh…looks like the Christmas issue,” Kim says.
“You mean, Jedi’s in Santa hats holding mistletoe?”
“That’s the general idea,” she says.
“I’m likin’ that already,” you say.
“Think we can get the paddlewan to participate? We could make it an exclusive photo assignment for you,” she says enticingly.
You shrug. “I don’t think he’ll be wanting to participate if I’m involved.”
“You talk to him yet?”
“Yeah. Last night. I screwed up, Kim. Big time,” you say.
“Ah, don’t worry,” she says. “
“I’m not worried,” you say. “I just think that things won’t be like they were before.”
“Well, nothing can stay the same,” she says. “That’s why Ho-Ho’s got smaller and M&M’s got blue.”
You laugh and say, “How’d you get so smart?”
“I surround myself with only the greatest minds,” she says.
“Oh, so THAT’S the real reason why I’m here,” you say.
“It is the will of the Force,” she says in a slow, measured voice.
“And of estrogen,” you say.
She snorts, “Yeah, that too.”
You eat your soup and bagel at your desk. And then you choke on it. “We’re having what??”
“A family dinner,” Kayla says matter-of-factly.
“And whose family are we inviting?”
“Next Sunday we’re all going to have dinner together,” Kayla says.
“It’s kind of a big crowd,” Kim says.
“It’s a big party room,” Kayla says. “Thanksgiving is coming up. A lot of people are going to spend it with their families. So I thought we should have our own dinner with all us girls together...and the boys, of course,”
“So what are we having for dinner?” Kim asks. “Roasted Terri?”
You snicker and Kayla sighs, “Oh, I just don’t know what to do about that.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom,” you say.
“Maybe if we ignore her, she’ll just go away,” Kim says.
“Or continue to get really loud and squealy and then spontaneously combust,” you say.
“There is that,” Kim says.
“So,” Kayla says. “Dinner. Next Sunday. Mark your calendars. I’ve told the boys. Dress nice. The whole deal.”
“Sounds good to me,” you say.
“You sure?” Kayla says.
“Yeah,” you say.
“Good,” she says cheerfully. “Well, I’m off to meet a possessive Jedi Master for lunch.”
“Save room for dessert,” Kim calls after her.
You chuckle and resume your lunch. “No dessert for us,” you say in a mopey whine.
“Ice cream,” Kim says.
“Ah, the next best thing to a nekkid Jedi,” you say.
“Sort of,” Kim says.
“If you squint your eyes almost shut and pretend a nekkid Jedi is feeding it to you,” you say.
“Hmmm…. I’ll have to give that a try,” she says. “But I was thinking more along the lines of closing my eyes and imagining writing the Jedi Code in chocolate sauce all over a nekkid Jedi.”
“You are always one step ahead of me,” you say with a smile as you print out your final, nearly perfect version of your Adi Galla feature.
“Alright, who put their bread on top of my dressing?” you say as you shut the oven door.
Everyone looks in the other direction and busies themselves with something else in the kitchen. “Fine. Just fine,” you say.
“Family dinner,” Kayla says. “Happy time.”
Now you know how your mother feels getting up before dawn on a holiday just to make sure the dinner will be ready twelve hours later. In your own holiday ambition, you offered to make the dressing. What you didn’t consider at the time was that you’d be making ten pans of it. But then you look over at Kim standing over the largest stock pot you have ever seen trying to mash potatoes with the largest potato masher you have ever seen.
“Maybe you should try the hand mixer,” you say to Kim. “Gets rid of the lumps that way.” But you quickly turn away when she gives you that evil you-wanna-try-this-miss-smarty-pants look.
In a surprisingly orderly fashion, food is delivered out of the kitchen and into the party room. You survey the kitchen one more time. “Looks like we’re all set,” you say. “No spare food sitting around.”
“Great,” Kayla says. “Let’s go eat.”
“Wait, where’s Kim?”
“I already dragged her out there and sat her down. She looked like she was about to pass out,” Kayla says. “I put her next to Mace for a little rejuvenation.”
“Good plan,” you say. “I’m excited to see this, I didn’t have a chance to check out your decorations.”
“Well, we don’t actually get to light the tree until after dessert,” Kayla says as you both toss off your aprons and walk toward the party room. “I know it’s early for a tree, but—“
“No, it’s a great idea,” you say. “I love Christmas.”
“Yeah, me too,” she says.
You walk into the party room and look around for an available seat. “Over here,” Kayla says. “Sit with us.” You follow her until you see where she is leading you. She takes her seat next to Qui-Gon who sits at the head of the table. Obi-Wan sits at the other end of the table, which is where the only other available chair is. You cast Kayla a slightly accusatory glance because you know damn well that there wouldn’t be an empty chair next to him unless someone specifically planned it that way.
You stand there for a moment until Kayla waves you forward. “C’mon, sit down. We’re hungry.”
You sigh and slowly walk toward the chair, not looking at him as he watches you approach. You walk around him and quietly pull the chair out as if he won’t notice.
“Hello,” he says.
“Hi,” you say, giving him a quick glance before sitting down. You look up and have the misfortune of discovering that Terri sits across the table from you, one chair over. You sit silently while the platters are passed around and everyone waits for the signal to start. Silence just doesn’t become you. “You know, they say that once the third person is served, then you can start eating.”
“But how do we know when each person has been fully served?” Kim asks.
“Turkey?” you ask.
“Check,” she says.
“Dressing?”
“Check.”
“Mashed potatoes?”
“Check.”
“Gravy?”
“Check.”
“All other items are ancillary,” you say. “Consider yourself served.”
“Woo-hoo!”
“Wait,” Kayla says. “We have to say grace.”
“Grace!” everyone but the Jedi’s say in unison.
“Alright, now you can eat,” Kayla says.
You chuckle and then settle into eating yourself silly. Then, for some ungodly reason, Terri is struck again by stupidity. “You know, I just LOVE your dress,” she says to you.
You take a hesitant look down at your burgundy velour dress and then raise your head again to give her a why-are-you-bothering-me look.
Dande, who sits to your left, leans over and whispers. “I could hog tie her and toss her out if you like.”
You snort, “So much for Miss Nice Girl,” you whisper back.
“I swear, I’ll do it,” Dande says. “Just say the word.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” you say. “But thanks for the offer.” You glance quickly over at Obi-Wan and find him looking at you, obviously catching that bit of conversation, so you quickly shift your gaze up the table.
“So,” Kayla says. “Anyone have any great Christmas ideas? I was thinking we could do those gift baskets again for the food bank.”
“Yeah,” Kim says. “Presents are just too much with this many people….unless, of course, somebody WANTED to buy me something.”
You raise your hand. “I want to buy you something, Kim,” you say.
“Aw, thanks,” she says.
“Anytime, dollface…uh, I mean muttface,” you say. You hear a snort and turn to see Obi-Wan giving you a wide-eyed look. “Inside joke,” you say. You turn back toward Kayla, “Actually, I do have an idea.”
“You do?” Terri says. “Please, do share. We’re very interested in your ideas.”
You look down at your lap and grind your teeth.
Dande leans over, “Now? Can I do it now?”
“I am not going to participate. I’m not,” you whisper. You take a deep breath and look up to see Kayla giving Terri the look of death. “Anyway, I saw an ad in the paper for those Giving Trees. You know the ones they have at stores and public offices. They put tags on them as ornaments with gift requests for kids and seniors. The ad had a number to call if you wanted to host a tree, so to speak. There’s enough of us here, so I was thinking we should get one and collect presents.”
“That’s a great idea,” Kayla says.
“So you don’t mind if I call and get the information?”
“No, not at all,” she says.
“Ah, the girl who saved Christmas,” Terri says sarcastically.
Kayla clears her throat and stands up. “Looks like we need more….bread. Terri, could you help me in the kitchen?”
“No, love, we have some right here,” Qui-Gon says, holding up a basket.
Kayla purses her lips and gives him a look. “I think we need more.”
“There’s plenty here,” he says and then catches her eye. “But…it would probably be a good idea to have more…because…Obi-Wan really likes bread,” he stutters.
You try to hide your sniggering. Qui-Gon was right. Jedi’s don’t lie. They really suck at it.
“Terri,” Kayla says.
“Sure, I’ll help,” Terri says, completely oblivious as she pops up her perky self and follows Kayla out of the room.
“Master,” Obi-Wan says.
“Yes?”
“Please pass the bread. I’m getting low,” he says with a grin.
“Certainly,” Qui-Gon says with a smirk, and the basket makes its way down the table.
You finally hand the basket to Obi-Wan, catching his eye for another moment. He doesn’t seem angry with you, which is certainly a relief. Beyond that, his manner is polite but relatively distant.
“What did you make?” he asks you.
“The dressing,” you say.
“Oh. It is good,” he says.
“Thanks.”
And there ends your conversation.
You can barely move. You and everyone else. But the time has come. The room falls suddenly dark and an instant later, the tree lights up. You can’t help but smile in that moment as everyone applauds Kayla’s handiwork.
“This is traditional?” Obi-Wan asks as the lights come up again.
You turn back around. “The tree? Yes. Christmas tradition.”
“Hmm,” he says.
You turn your head to see Qui-Gon wrap his arm around Kayla’s waist. “I’m beginning to like your customs.”
“Wait til she introduces you to mistletoe,” Kim says. “We’re gonna have it ALL over the building.”
You laugh at Kim’s enthusiasm and at Qui-Gon’s confused expression. You stand up to reposition your very fully tummy and say to Kim, “Knowing you, you’ll be wearing a mistletoe hat for the next month and a half.”
Kim stands up. “Hey, just for that – and for your unsolicited mashed potato advice – you get…uh….” Then suddenly her arm swoops in to catch an innocent whipped cream can. “Pie face!”
You shriek and grab for another can as whipped cream assails your cheek. You spray frantically at her, and then suddenly every whipped cream can disappears from the tables into playful hands. Every woman is on her feet – except for Terri who never returned from the bread run – while the Jedi’s sit and watch in amusement as whipped cream flies over their heads.
“Yes,” Qui-Gon says. “I like their customs very much.”
“I’m beginning to agree with you, friend,” Mace says with a fetching grin. “This beats the Corellian dance troupe anytime.”
“Yes, I agree” Qui-Gon says with a chuckle. “But, Mace, as you know, a Jedi must always be ready to assimilate into another culture without hesitation.”
Mace eyes Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon eyes Mace. A split second later, they jump to their feet, Qui-Gon retrieving a can from Kayla and Mace retrieving one from Kim. And two Jedi Masters giggle like children as they cover each other in dessert topping.
“Hello, cleanup,” Kim says with a grin.
“Oh yeah,” Kayla purrs.