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.
It was the most violent sandstorm Tatooine had seen in a hundred seasons. Outside it seemed as if a thousand dragons filled the skies, screaming in reptilian rage, beating their mighty wings to stir up the mountain- scouring sand.
The third night into the storm saw Obi-Wan in much the same position he'd been in two weeks before-sitting by the window, considering his place in the universe. But the window was sealed, and there would be no visitors tomorrow.
Three days, now, of being cooped up in his small dwelling, was taking its toll on his patience. Meditation didn't help--much-- so he'd tried to keep busy.
He'd had to prepare for the storm, for one thing. He'd sensed it coming through the Force. Equipment had to be torn down and stored, the walls shored up and sealed, and food and water stockpiled.
His vow, however, the desire for diplomacy and understanding, was difficult to fulfill. The Tusken Raiders hadn't come back for revenge. In fact, they appeared to have decided to avoid him altogether.
Obi-Wan had actually searched for them. He'd had taken several long trips through the desert, sometimes on foot, sometimes on the bike-sometimes even camping out overnight-without seeing hide, hair or gaderffii stick of the Sand People.
He'd sensed them, through the Force. But as he traveled, they stayed always far ahead or behind him. Never where he was, and they never stayed still. He finally gave up his search as useless.
They'd come to him once, and what had he, a Jedi, patron of galaxywide peace and justice, done? He'd frightened them off, perhaps even angered them irreparably.
Granted, they'd been trying to steal his moisture equipment. But in retrospect, Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel he could have solved the situation in a more diplomatic manner. If he'd never ignited his lightsaber, maybe they never would have attacked. Perhaps he could have used the living Force, and not simple brute force, to reason with them.
But there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. If they truly wanted to see him, they'd drop in when they wanted and no sooner.
Perhaps the Force was trying to tell him something-that it wasn't his place or destiny to make contact with these people. But the thought made him feel useless. The galaxy would need him in the future-he knew that. But it didn't seem to need him now.
Obi-Wan's dark thoughts were interrupted by...a feeling. Something outside. Obi-Wan stretched out with his senses. The storm was lessening. Perhaps that was what he'd felt. After three days of ceaseless violence, it was no wonder that a break would make him sit up and take notice.
But no, there was something else...someone...alive. Barely. A glimmer of disgust, exhaustion tinged with despair. Then it was gone.
Obi-Wan didn't hesitate. Friend or foe, neither deserved to be caught injured in such a maelstrom.
Outside, Obi-Wan was glad he'd dressed sturdily. He was also glad he'd picked up sand-goggles in Anchorhead. The storm had lessened but its power needed yet to be respected.
He trudged through sand-swirled night air in the direction of the spark of life. It was still there, but quiet, with none of the emotion he'd sensed earlier. Whoever it was, they were probably unconscious.
A quarter mile or so from his house, a narrow canyon mouth loomed a vertical black in the already-dark sky. Obi-Wan made his way into the crack and almost tripped over the still form curled on the rocky floor. He bent down to examine it. It was a Tusken Raider.
A few minutes later, Obi-Wan dropped his load onto the long couch inside his front room, whooshing with relief. The being was not large-smaller and lighter than himself, in fact-but it was a dead weight and made the trek to the house difficult.
He kneeled and slipped off his goggles, a move that sent even more sand raining down on the already-encrusted figure. Could there be a person under all this grime, he wondered as he chipped caked dirt from the mouthpiece of the raider's mask. The fellow had probably been asphyxiated by his own breather.
He lifted the head, searching for some kind of helmet release. Finding none, he began to unwrap strips of ragged, dusty cloth from around the raider's neck. Finally he found the edge of the helmet. He hesitated only a moment before slipping fingers underneath to lift it off.
It was a girl.
Obi-Wan was shocked into immobility for a moment. What ever he'd expected, it hadn't been this.
He buried his surprise and placed a hand over her mouth, to see if she was breathing. She was.
As he pulled on her arms and legs, checking for broken bones, he scrutinized her face. She appeared human, with olive-toned skin bearing darker circles around the eyes where goggle openings had tanned her. She had short, dark bristly hair on her crown, and small, regular features.
After further examination he corrected himself. She didn't look completely human. There was something about her eyes, about the bones and shape that gave her an aura of exotic alienness. He couldn't quite decide what it was. She wasn't exactly pretty, just...different.
She did appear to be young. Of course he had no idea how her people aged. She could be twelve, she could be twenty- two. He had no way of knowing.
She seemed to be in one piece. He fetched fresh water that they both needed. He lifted her head and dribbled some over her parched lips. She swallowed some reflexively.
After he decided she'd drank enough to keep her alive for a few more minutes at least, he set about cleaning her up. Her rough outer robe and lacings had been blasted so thin by the sand he had to peel them from her in pieces.
When he reached her light, sleeveless undertunic and pants, he checked her for any wounds or bleeding. Divested of outer coverings, her form was slight, with slender arms and legs, and small breasts pressed against the thin material. He decided not to undress her further. He had no idea what the Tusken Raiders' beliefs were concerning modesty, but he didn't want to find out the hard way. And she appeared intact enough. He used the Force to heal her worn-out body as best he could. She'd have to sleep off the rest.
She never woke once during his ministrations. A few mumbles which might have been words escaped her lips as he ran a cold, wet cloth over her face, but she said nothing intelligible.
When he'd done all he could for her, he plopped down in a chair and leaned his head back with a heavy sigh. Now what to do? He'd wished for a meeting with the Tusken Raiders, but this wasn't quite what he'd had in mind. This situation was almost out of his control.
He had no idea how she'd react once she woke. Would she be grateful? Or angry?
Would others come for her, and what would they do to him? Obi-Wan was admittedly ignorant about her people's culture, but the fact that she was a young girl, alone in his house, worried him. Would they trust him to take care of her?
Well, it was too late to worry about it now. He could only heal her until she had strength to leave on her own. He had to trust in his own ability to smooth things over and avoid repercussions later.
Obi-Wan felt her wake. It had been over eleven hours since he'd brought her home, and she'd barely stirred in that time. But now he could sense her consciousness returning. He was glad. It seemed she was to be all right.
He stepped away from his bed, where he'd moved her last night, and regarded her carefully from across the room.
Her eyes opened. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, looking neither right nor left.
Obi-Wan watched as she became aware of her surroundings. Her eyes, he saw, were a curious yellowish-tan, as if they'd been brown once but had faded in the harsh suns. The beautiful eyes of a desert-dweller.
She brought a slow, shaking hand to her face. She touched tentative fingertips to her forehead, then slid them down the curve of her nose and over her lips. Her eyes widened suddenly in shock.
Obi-Wan wondered what was wrong. It was as if her own face surprised her. "I Won't Hurt You. Please understand me," he murmured, slowly, soothingly. "I Won't Hurt You--"
A hoarse, furious scream erupted from her dry throat, drowning him out. She vaulted from the bed, arms outstretched, hands curled into claws, coming straight at Obi-Wan, for him, shrieking incoherently.
He couldn't understand her words, but the intent in her frenzied eyes was clear. He threw up a hand to stop her, soothe her with the Force.
But she'd barely come three steps before she cried out and seemed to crumple. She fell sprawled on the floor, unconscious once more.
He rushed forward and knelt beside her, touching her face gingerly, cautious should she suddenly wake again. She didn't. She was out cold. Her wild start had overtaxed her still-exhausted body.
He carried her back to the bed and laid her down, then stood gazing at her for a moment. She looked so fragile, so helpless. But barely a few instants before, she'd been ready to tear his throat out. He sighed and went to find some restraints.
Obi-Wan was on guard the next time she awoke, six hours later. He sat next to the bed, tense.
But it appeared she'd exhausted her fury with her earlier outburst. She opened her pale brown eyes and turned to face him, as if she'd known he'd be waiting. The look she wore was resigned. She didn't even struggle against the ropes he'd used to tie her down.
"I'm Not Going To Hurt You," Obi-Wan said again, enunciating each word clearly, wondering if she understood Basic.
"My face is gone."
"What?" The accent was heavy but the words were clear, if confusing. Obi-Wan wondered if she was delirious. "No, It Isn't. You're Going To Be Fine," he replied, carefully.
She narrowed her eyes. "You took my face."
What in the galaxy was she talking about? There wasn't a scratch on her. "No, Your Face Is Still There. You're Safe."
He could swear she rolled those eyes at him. "I Know Your Words. I am Not Stupid," she rasped, mocking Obi-Wan's slow, methodic tone. "My mask. You took."
"Oh." So she was a smartass. "I'm sorry. I had to take it off, to give you water."
She turned her gaze back up to the ceiling. "I know." The tone was acceding, but she still didn't look very happy.
Obi-Wan wondered what the significance of the helmet was. "Why do you say your face is gone? Is there a taboo against removing your helmet?"
She didn't seem to want to answer, but perhaps felt she owed him at least that much. "Yes."
"Do you want it back?"
She appeared to consider it for a moment, then shook her head once, briskly. "No use. Too late."
"Very well. Do you want water?"
"Yes."
He reached for a cup from the bedside table, then hesitated. She would not be able to sit up and drink it unless he untied her.
She smirked, sensing his dilemma. "Free me."
Obi-Wan ran a hand through his shaggy hair, considering. He shook his head. "Not just yet, I don't think."
Her smirk became a glare. "Please," she grated out.
"No. I'm sorry. Here," he said, holding the cup near her lips and placing a gentle hand behind her head. When she didn't resist, he lifted her slowly and tilted a few drops of water onto her lips. She was very thirsty. He repeated the motion until she leaned back into his hand. Her eyes drooped with exhaustion.
Obi-Wan broke the silence that had fallen. "I don't want you to try and leave before you get your strength back. You understand, don't you?"
"No," she mumbled.
"It's obvious I'm trying to help you, not hurt you." He was getting exasperated. "Look. If I untie you, will you try to kill me again?"
"No."
"Will you try to escape?"
"Yes."
"How far is your home?"
"Far."
"Will someone come for you?"
"No."
He sighed. "Then we are at an impasse, because I won't have your death on my hands. You'll just have to stay until you are rested," he reasoned. "I only want to help. I'm Ben, by the way. Will you tell me your name?"
But she was already asleep.
Obi-Wan slept. He dreamed.
He was on Coruscant. But it wasn't Coruscant, at the same time. Dry winds howled through the city. Sand-brick skyscrapers towered above his head. He stood on the street, waiting. In the violet sunset sky, great leathery lizards flew in slow motion, single-file-- a primeval imitation of starship traffic.
A giant krayt dragon erupted from around a nearby corner, its scales heaving and folding with effort. Obi-Wan didn't move. A figure sat astride its back. It was Qui-Gon.
His Master pulled up the reptilian mount. He stretched a large hand in Obi-Wan's direction, and held up three fingers. He spoke.
"The negotiations are going well, young Padawan."
"That's good, Master."
"Water," Qui-Gon said in a woman's voice.
Obi-Wan came awake instantly. His patient lay in the bed near his chair, regarding him with sandy-colored eyes lit in amusement.
"All right," he answered her. He glanced out the window. It was dark already. Somewhat disoriented, he checked the chrono on his table as he stood to fetch the water. It was eight o'clock, seven hours since she'd last woken. He returned with a filled cup, and looked a question at her. "See how exhausted you were? And most likely still are."
She nodded.
"Well, I'm responsible for you whether you like it or not. So if I untie you now, and you leave and fall victim to dehydration, I'll have to come after you again. Do you understand this?"
"Yes."
"Just so we are clear." He reached under the edge of the bed and undid the knot there, pulling the rope away after a few moments.
She sat up abruptly. An instant later, she fell back against the pillow. The next time she arose, she did it slowly.
Now it was Obi-Wan's turn to smirk. "Can you hold it yourself?"
"Yes." She reached a wavering hand and took the metal cup from him. She raised it to her lips and drank greedily.
He watched her for a moment. Rivulets of water ran down her chin, spilling in crystal drops to wet the thin fabric at her chest. It rose and fell softly with every gulp she took.
He tore his eyes away. She was ill and he shouldn't be gaping at her in any case. Had it been that long since...? Nah. "Do you want food?" he asked, to cover his distraction.
She shook her head. They sat in silence a while longer while she drank.
Obi-Wan finally asked her in a quiet voice, "Why did you say no one would come after you?" The thought made him sad, somehow. That such a young woman was all alone in the world, that no one might care for her. Would leave her to die in the desert.
She regarded him silently for a moment, then answered. "Widow. I have no bantha. I watch myself."
"I see," he replied. "I'm sorry. It must be difficult to be a widow so young."
"Ha!" She laughed out loud, obviously quite amused. "Not young. Older than you, I think."
The smile lit up her unusual face, Obi-Wan thought. It softened the harsh lines of her brows and cheeks. "Impossible. No one could be that old." He grinned at his weak joke, then turned serious. "I don't know how your people age, but you certainly don't appear to be more than a girl."
"I have a face. You do not."
"A face?" Suddenly, he understood. Her mask. If she rarely removed her helmet, then her skin was seldom exposed to the aging effects of dry wind and sand. "Do you ever take it off?" he asked, abruptly, somewhat surprised that he'd voiced the question out loud.
She stiffened. But her tawny eyes still smiled at him.. "Not often. Only with husband."
"Ah. Well." He decided not to pursue it. "May I ask your name? I'm Ben. Ben Kenobi."
"I know. You said."
"Well, I thought you might have been asleep," he retorted in exasperation. Somehow he couldn't stay in control of the conversation. Inquisition. Whatever it was. "So you know my name. What is yours?"
"Mer'el'eelorel."
"Hello, Mer'el'eelorel," he repeated perfectly.
Her eyes widened, as if she were impressed despite herself. "Merel. You call me."
"Oh. Merel." He was somewhat relieved to shorten it. "Well, can you also tell me why you were wandering through the desert in a sandstorm? Surely your people know better than that."
She snorted. "Storm was surprise."
"Where were you going?"
She regarded him consideringly for a few moments, then shrugged and looked away. "Here."
"Here? " He was surprised. "Why?"
"To get something." She sighed. "Take something."
Now he was truly shocked. And a bit angry. Especially that she would admit it. "You're not the first of your people to do so. I had a confrontation with five others, two weeks ago. They wanted my water condenser."
"I know."
"Were you among them?"
"No. Heard." She turned back. "Is that why you look for us?"
She'd turned the conversation again. "No. Well, not really. I wanted to see if I could talk to you. Your people," Obi-Wan said, feeling strangely stupid. He didn't like the feeling. "Trade, perhaps."
"Foolish."
"Why do you say that?"
She didn't answer.
"What were you coming to steal?"
"Tired," was all she would say.
In an instant, he went from indignation to guilt. He'd been grilling her, when he was supposed to be caring for her. He forced the questions away for later. A Jedi was nothing if not patient. "Very well. Sleep. If you leave, don't take anything with you," he couldn't resist adding.
There was no reply.