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 on your bed with your head buried in the pillows, a notebook open to a blank page clutched in your hand. The Muse has left you forever, you just know it. A knock at the door brings you some relief from your self-pitying angst.
“Come in!”
The door opens and Kayla’s head pops in. “He’s here. I left him downstairs waiting all nervously. I think he really cares about you. Wanted to know what terrible circumstance had befallen you,” she says with a grin.
“Oh, terrific,” you say as you stand up. “The girl who cried wolf, I’ll be. I’m blaming this all on you, Kayla, I just want to warn you.” Kayla shrugs her shoulders and quickly disappears. “I’ll be down in a minute,” you call after her.
You hurry into your small bathroom with the gloriously large bathtub – only the best at the JH Temple – and turn on the tub faucet. You grab a bottle of lavender bubble bath and add it to the steaming water. As the bubbles fill the tub, you slap yourself on the head. “Only girls take bubble baths, you goon. Shit, now what?” You sigh, but realize it’s too late to stop and start over. Besides, what does he know?
You consider lighting candles and turning off the light because that is the best way to take a bath after all. But you think better of it, realizing how that would look to him. To a man, there's a fine line between a relaxing atmosphere and a pre-coital atmosphere. So you leave the light on, and head downstairs as the tub fills.
The instant he sees you walking into the foyer, he hurries toward you. “Are you alright?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m fine,” you say apologetically.
“Qui-Gon said you were in some kind of trouble,” he says, his eyes boring into you.
“Aw geez, I’m sorry. Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. I’m afraid you’ve been duped,” you say.
“What?”
“I asked Kayla to call over there to have you come over,” you look at him a little nervously. “I think she and Qui-Gon are weaving tales, that’s all.”
“But you did request that I come here?”
“Yes,” you say.
“What for?”
“I…” you look up at him and suddenly feel like a complete, frickin’ idiot as you consider the fact that you are running a bath for this man as a friendly gesture while there is a temple full of women ready to jump him as a welcome home present. If there were a Goober Head of the Century Award, it would go to you. “Never mind,” you blurt out and turn around to walk away.
It takes him a few seconds to process your strange reaction before he catches up to you. “What is going on?”
You stop walking and turn to face him. “Remember the last time we spoke?”
“I remember it well,” he says.
“And we were talking about—“ you stop speaking as you see other women gathering in the hallway to listen in. Not one comfortable with speaking telepathically you start walking again. “Follow me,” you say as you head for the stairs.
As you reach your floor and walk quickly toward you door with Obi-Wan following you, you say out loud, “This is so stupid.”
“It is not uncommon for you to make no sense, but I really am not understanding all of this,” he says as politely as he can.
You swing your bedroom door open and march into the bathroom to turn off the water, which has just about reached the top. You walk back out and see him standing in your doorway. “Well, come in,” you order.
He bites his lip and takes a few steps forward and shuts the door.
“Well, there you have it,” you say, extending your arms to the side. “My brilliant plan.”
Obi-Wan scratches his head and says, “Um, you’ll pardon me for still being very foggy regarding this situation. I would do that…ahem…mind whammy, but your countenance suggests that might be inappropriate at this time.”
So that’s what Jedi do when they’re confused. They become exceedingly polite. Suddenly you laugh out loud. “OK, pay attention,” you say.
“I have been,” he says quietly.
“The last time we spoke, we were talking about your needs.”
“Yes.”
You point to the bathroom. “There’s your solitary bath.” You point to the bed. “There’s your uninterrupted night of sleep.” You raise your arm in the air and point down at your head. “There’s the dumbest girl who ever lived.”
A smile like daybreak spreads across his face. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I can imagine,” you say. “This would not be the opportune time for sharing.”
“Why?” He walks toward you with that smile still on his face. You can’t recall ever having seen him look that way. “You did this all for me?”
“Well, yeah. I knew on your own you’d never do what I told you, so I figured I had to make you do what I told you,” you say. “At least, it seemed like a good idea.”
“I think,” he says placing his hands on each of your shoulders, “that this is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”
“Well,” you say, “it’s just a bath and a quiet place to sleep.”
“No, it’s not,” he says. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” you say. “Take it easy and enjoy yourself.” You step away and grab your notebook and pen.
“You’re leaving?” he says.
“Well, it wouldn’t be solitude if I stayed,” you say.
He shakes his head. “I appreciate this, but I will not displace you.”
You laugh. “You are not displacing me. Besides, I never sleep anyway.”
“You need to work on that,” he says.
“Funny, I think there’s an echo in this building,” you say.
“At least stay for a little while so we can chat,” he says.
“Your water is getting cold,” you say.
He walks over to the bathroom door and peeks in. You move to stand behind him. “Only girls take bubble baths,” he says.
You push him into the bathroom and shut the door. “See if I ever do anything nice for you again,” you say through the door. You shake your head as you hear him snickering.
“At least stay until I come out,” he says.
“Why?”
“Well, what if somebody comes in here?”
“Trust me,” you say, “no one would even think to look for you in here. That’s why I’m giving you my room for a night.”
“But what if they stumble in here by accident looking for you?” His voice turns slightly whiny as you hear the sloshing of water.
“Big baby,” you say. “How’d you ever get to be a Jedi?”
“They thought I was cute,” he says.
“Shut up,” you say as you lay on the bed and try to find something to write about.
“Come in here and make me,” he says.
“Give it up, saber boy,” you say.
“Can’t blame me for trying,” he says.
“Yes, I can,” you say. “Now be quiet, you’re supposed to be relaxing,”
“Alright,” he says. “But this experience feels a little too feminine for me.”
You giggle and drop your face to the mattress. So maybe the bubble bath was a little much. You close your eyes and say a silent prayer to the Muse and then grab your pen and stare at the blank page in front of you. And stare. And stare. Many thoughts and interesting ideas run through your head, but none of them make that harrowing journey from your brain, down your arm, and to the paper. So you just continue to stare.
“How long are you going to stare at that paper?”
His first utterance causes you to gasp and your body to jerk. You grit your teeth and say, “I told you not to sneak up on me.”
“I did not sneak up on you. I made plenty of noise. You just weren’t paying attention,” he says.
“What are you doing out here already?” you ask.
“It has been half an hour,” he says.
You look at the clock in disbelief. “Writer’s block sucks,” you say. You turn to see him dressed in his pants and undertunic…at least that’s what you assume it is. You get up from the bed and grab one of his hands and examine his fingers. “Yes, I’d say you are sufficiently pruned. And you smell nice and sweet, too.”
“Thank you so very much,” he says sarcastically.
You glare at him. “No one said you had to repeat this experience. You should just make a habit of trying new things once in a while.”
“So should you,” he says.
You fling your hand in his general direction to sweep away his comment, walk to the bed, and pull the covers back. “Get in.”
“Now? But it’s still early,” he says.
“You want my honest opinion?” Before you give him the opportunity to answer, you continue, “You look like shit.”
“Again, I thank you for your kindness,” he says.
You shrug, “What are friends for?”
“Your abuse makes me wonder that all the time,” he says.
“You need sleep. Get in,” you say.
“Very well,” he says as he walks over and sits on the bed. “I can’t believe I’m actually letting you tuck me in.”
“I’m not,” you say as you walk to the other side of the bed and grab your notebook and pen.
“What are you writing?” he asks.
“I have no idea,” you say.
“Then why are you trying to write?”
“Because I need to,” you say.
“Ah, I understand,” he says.
“No, you don’t,” you say.
“You’re right,” he says as he lies down.
You smile as his eyelids suddenly become droopy the minute his head sinks into the pillow. It is a strangely intimate moment as you watch him pull the covers – your covers – over himself and settle in. “Sleep well,” you say. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Promise me you will sleep tonight so I don’t feel so guilty about taking your bed,” he says with a tired drawl to his voice.
“You’re too tired to feel guilt right now,” you say quietly as you slowly exit the room.
He makes a noise that sounds somewhat like a “yes.” But before you even close the door, you can hear him surrender to slumber.
There you sit, like you always do, unable to sleep…but this night unable to write as well. You stare up at the night sky. You consider a movie, but at this hour it will only give you a headache. You think of Obi-Wan sound asleep in your bed. “Lucky bastard,” you say quietly. But you smile at the thought of a good deed done. “I’m a nice person after all,” you say. “Who knew?”
You get up and stroll around the garden. Walking causes you feel the extent of your exhaustion. You walk over to your favorite lounge chair and stretch out on it, the solid wood frame creaking slightly as you shift positions. You curl up to protect yourself from the slight chill, wishing you had remembered your nightgown and robe. You bring your knees up under the skirt of your dress and thankfully feel sleep overtake you.
Sometime later you are gently summoned from a very bizarre dream involving a dancing Yoda, Scooby Doo, and high tea. It is all you can do to open your heavy eyelids. Through the haze of your eyelashes you see a figure crouched down next to you, but your perception is dull. You groan your disapproval of being awakened.
“I’m sorry. I hate to wake you, but I thought you might like your bed back.” You feel a hand on your arm, “You are freezing. Come along, it is too cold down here.”
Your shoulders are pushed forward, and being suddenly seated brings your mind into focus. “Obi-Wan? What are you doing….supposed to be sleeping….”
“It is nearly dawn. I have to return to the Temple.”
Your feet touch the cold stone as you are raised to standing. “Shoes,” you say in a half-whisper, your brain still clouded from sleep. Obi-Wan bends down to slip them on your feet, and your eyes beginning to shut again. You feel an arm around your back leading you forward.
You have the slightest notion of walking down the hall and stepping into the elevator. At the instant of standing still again, you begin to fade and lean heavily against Obi-Wan, your face planted against his chest. You tell yourself to remember in the morning what he smells like. It takes you a few moments to actually realize that you’re probably drooling on him, but before you can do anything, he’s turning you around and pushing you forward out into another hallway.
Finally you arrive in your room. He walks behind you, his hands on your waist directing you forward. You crawl clumsily onto the bed, your body shivering as your cold skin meets the warm sheets. You crash down onto your side and collapse your head onto the pillow, which smells of bubble bath and padawan.
He tucks you in snugly under the covers and then runs his fingers across your hair. “Sleep now,” he whispers.
“Mm-hmm,” you respond and close your eyes. The last sensation you feel before unconsciousness is the chaste touch of soft lips to your forehead.