Title: HSU Fic: Imperial Recall
Author: Laure, Mopey Mediator
Rating: HAA (Heavy Angst Alert)
Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Poor, very poor. Own a Greysider, willing to trade for a guy with a Napolean complex.
Timeline: Halloween, after Dor's fic part one (at least)
Author's Note:Everything's right with the world again...by the end. First you have to read all the self-serving, mopey angst. (G)
Thanks To: Darry for the title amongst many other reasons.

Laure stood before her full-length mirror critically examining her reflection. As she turned from side to side, her semi- sheer gown swirled around her ankles, displaying royal blue satin ribbons criss-crossing up her calves from her faux kid dance slippers.

"You look beautiful." Xani slid his arms around her waist from behind her, leaning over her shoulder to place a kiss on her lightly powdered cheek.

Laure frowned deeper as she caught a glimpse of his black Zorro cape and felt the hilt of his sword press into her hip. "We don't match."

"I told you to take your outfit back and get a tavern wench costume."

"I would have lost the deposit on Josephine."

Xani rolled his eyes and stepped away from her. "You're in a mood." He flopped onto the bed in sexy disarray. "How about we skip the party and I lick you out of your fun?" he leered, patting the bed.

Picking up her mask, Laure strode out of the room.

"Or not." Scowling, Xani grabbed his own mask and followed her.

*****

Wearing matching frowns, if nothing else matched, the Mediator and the Fallen Jedi walked arm and arm into the Crypt. As the strains of 'Monster Mash' filled their ears, they looked at each other.

With a heavy sigh, Xani strode over to the bar where Pelham was looking exceedingly delicious as The Phantom, and with an equal sigh Laure retired to the opposite side of the room and plopped down at an empty table next to the apple bobbing tub.

It was empty of water. Maybe that was why there was no sign of the General and Kendra had been seen running from the administration building, soaking wet and grinning inanely.

Ordering a pina ghoulada from a miner cum waiter, Laure took off her elaborate mask and moped.

*****

She was still moping a couple drinks later when Darry, all braids, gingham and ruby shoes, glued at the hip to the dread pirate Cicero, joined her.

"The bartender left with your EA." Darry shoved Cicero into a chair and wriggled onto his lap.

"How come you can make innocent Dorothy Gale look like a sex kitten?"

Grinning, Darry wrapped her arm around her EA's neck and gave him a loud smooch. "Practice."

Laure rolled her eyes, but refrained from commenting.

"Come on, this is a great party, you look fantastic, shake out of your funk."

Great big tears welled up in the Mediator's eyes.

"Oh, sheesh..."

"I don't know why I feel this way," Laure wailed softly.

"You love the goober," the Nurse stressed, frowning. "None of us can see why..." She changed tactics when she correctly read in Laure's eyes the beginning of a 'defense of the Lord of the Flies' which would probably include several comments on the Nurse's love life. "Forgive him."

"I don't even remember why I was so mad at him. The little things just all built up, I guess, and I didn't even realize it until I exploded."

"Yeah, you tend to do that," Darry muttered into Cicero's neck.

Laure shot her a look and continued. "Sometimes I forget that he's an emperor, used to getting everything his own way and stepping on the little people." She flushed slightly at the sight of Cicero's frowning scowl. "Sorry, Cic."

"You are better off without the murdering..." Cicero bit off further comments, his scowl darkening.

"Cic, honey, go get us some more drinks." Darry slipped from his lap and urged him up and away from the table, before sitting back down. "He has issues."

"I understand that, and I know what Commo is, or, more importantly, *was*. He's no longer an emperor, no longer lord of anything he surveys. His servants are gone. He has no power, no control over anything. That must be incredibly hard on him."

Darry rolled her eyes. "Give me a break. He's got you waiting on him hand and foot!"

"I don't do that!"

"Until you booted him out, you made sure he was fed, bathed, dressed, and entertained. You put up with his nightmares and tantrums, his whining about his stupid sister. You dressed up like her, for god's sake!"

Laure flushed even more. "He needed me," she finally replied, her voice small and thin.

"And he still needs you. He's just a man, after all. What the fuck do you expect from him?"

"To acknowledge that I exist," Laure retorted.

Darry snorted.

*****

Laure was sitting alone again, morosely staring into her green tinged drink and trying not to feel nauseous, when Xani strolled over to her, took her hand and yanked her to her feet and onto the dance floor.

As Laure stumbled against him, her hands catching in the black silk folds of his shirt, she smelled the combined scents of lavender and sex, and stiffened.

"Dance."

The flat order made her frown up at him as they moved to the music. "You didn't have to come back."

He cocked one gorgeous eyebrow and replied smoothly, "But you own me for two more weeks. You signed the form, swept me into your life and bed, and didn't even ask. It's tantamount to slavery, isn't it."

Two bright spots of color flared on her cheeks. "That's something you'd know a little about, isn't it."

Leaning down, Xani murmured, "Don't spar with me, little one."

"Don't call me that," Laure hissed back, jerking her head away from him and dropping her hands.

Xani refused to let her go, forcing her to continue to move to the music. Luckily the crypt was dark and most of the revelers were past tipsy, so no one was paying any attention to them.

"You have a rather revisionist view of history, Xani. You were in my bed waiting for me, remember?"

"Because I knew what you wanted from me. I thought it would be one night--it wouldn't have been the first. I never thought you would make it official or that Dor would dump me because of it. And I never realized how much you like to play with lives."

"I don't," Laure protested, shocked by the smoothly spoken words that dripped from his lips.

"Oh, but you do," Xani purred. "You do it in your job, manipulating your clients to conform to your way of thinking. You held that poor, deranged bastard to you with your luscious curves and sweet lies of love, and then, in a fit of pique you cast him to the wolves. If ever a man can't take care of himself, he's one. The gods alone know what you say and do to keep that goody two shoes general sniffing after you. And I know full well all you'd have to do is crawl onto Qui-Gon's lap and let your eyes fill up with tears, and you'd have him in the palm of your hand."

The palm of Laure's hand cracked across his cheek, but all he did was pull her closer and bury his mouth in her neck.

"And you know just how much pain excites me," he whispered huskily into his ear before letting her go.

Laure swallowed hard, horrified that she had hit him in anger. His words had cut her deeply, but she was too frightened to examine them at the moment.

"So, shall I await you in your bed?"

Numbly she shook her head.

Xani smirked. "As you wish." With a mocking bow, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Legs trembling, Laure made it back to her table and sat down hard. As she fought for composure the General slid into the seat next to her. Any other time he would have taken her breath away. Clad in only a green and red kilt, laced up boots and a muslin shirt, his hair hung rakishly over one eye and his lips smiled a greeting.

Sensing her distress, he quickly frowned and reached for a trembling hand. "What's wrong?"

"N--nothing." Laure jerked her hand away and placed them both primly in her lap. "I'm really not good company tonight, Obi-Wan, but thank you for wearing the kilt." She tried to smile, but failed miserably.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, in his most soothing voice. When she didn't answer, he offered his hand. "One dance, please?"

The slight plea in his soft tone of voice sent her heart racing and she nodded, placing her hand in his.

The General led Laure to the dance floor as something soft and romantic began to play. Sliding his free hand around her back, he pinned her other one to his chest and gently tugged her head against his shoulder, as they began to sway together. Laure sank into his comfortable embrace, her fingers unconsciously kneading his arm, as she tried to relax.

He didn't try to coax her to talk to him or share her problems, and when the music ended, he kissed her gently and wished her good night, before leaving the club to change into another costume.

Feeling sick at heart and emotionally exhausted, Laure decided to call it a night, climb into her cold and empty bed, and pop a couple of Commo's sleeping pills. But, as she exited the Crypt, instead of heading for the stairs, she found herself wandering outside.

The air was cool, but not cold, and smelled of Fall. The scent of burning wood from the campfires and cooking smells of spiced meat mingled with damp leaves and pine, reminding her of the heady scent of men.

Making a decision, Laure lifted her skirt above her ankles, threw a 'what the hell' to her dainty shoes, and headed for the camp.

Only a few gladiators and soldiers sat around the campfires, and Laure breezed past them, heading for a lone tent on the edge of the field. There were no other tents near it, and frayed, half-charred imperial flags hung limply from the poles. The whole thing sagged pathetically in the middle, and the fire out front struggled sadly.

Straightening her spine, Laure pulled open one side of the entrance and stepped inside.

Lit by a lone lantern hanging from a hook on the middle pole, the interior of the tent held only a cot with a couple of thin blankets bunched on it, and a stool upon which sat Commodus.

He was wearing the Napoleon outfit, minus the hat which sat on the bed.

At Laure's entrance, he rose to his feet, surprise evident on his smooth shaven face.

"My Lady." He bowed deeply, then looked at her hesitantly. "I have missed you."

His voice sent shivers through her, but she retained her composure and expressed her confusion. "I was told that you weren't bathing or eating..."

He flushed slightly. "I am not very good at taking care of myself, my Lady. Quintus and his Lady provided the bath and shave, the sweet smelling scents, and the new clothes. Lady Kymira called me several things, only half of which I understood, but her meaning was clear." He shuffled forward slowly, as if afraid that she would bolt, and took her hand.

Laure stood perfectly still, waiting, her heart pounding in her chest. Even though she could see her barely contained breasts heaving against the low cut corset, his eyes never left her face.

Slowly Commo lifted her hand to his lips, and pressed a warm, soft kiss on her palm.

"I have been a fool," he murmured. "I have become so used to you caring for me and arranging my life so comfortably, I have taken you for granted." His lips trailed across her wrist and Laure moaned softly at the pleasure that flooded her. "My first reaction on my Guard's return was the wrong one. This is not my world nor my time, and here...I am not Emperor no matter who arrives wishing me to rule." Another kiss fell softly on her pulse point and her breath caught in her throat. "It is hard..."

"I know. I know." She took another step towards him, her eyes misting over with tears. "I let all the little things build up- -leaving the toilet seat up, asking me to taste your meat, calling me Lucilla--and the Guard's arrival was the final straw."

"Don't you know, my Lady, that without you, I would truly be insane? You saved me. The Ladies Shana and Dorotea were good to me, but you..." He cradled her hand between both of his, his eyes glittering into hers, full of sincerity. "I am not an easy man to live with. I am...troubled, I know this." He smiled at the shaking of her head. "I am, you know this, too. I know what others call me, what they think of me. I try not to let it matter. It didn't matter, when you thought so well of me."

"They don't know you..."

He interrupted her with another smile. "My love, they know me very well. I am not a nice man, or, more precisely, I was not a nice man. Megalomaniacal, egotistical, I have looked these words up on the computer dictionary. I am these things, but...you calm me, contain my tendencies towards..." He shrugged. "Evil, perhaps?"

His lips grazed the tips of her fingers making them tingle with heat. "Without you, I fell so easily into old patterns, patterns that I know led to my destruction in the old world. I don't want to repeat those patterns. I need you to help free me from them."

"I need more than that, Commo," Laure choked out, her free hand coming up to grip his arm.

"I know. You need my love and consideration, and you have those, my love. I adore and worship you."

"And respect?"

"Yes, and respect. You are the most marvelous, intelligent, enlightening woman I have met. It is hard for me to show respect to anyone. I am arrogant, I admit that freely, but I do not want that arrogance to destroy our relationship."

Laure tilted her head to look up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes, and she gasped softly at the sight of matching tears streaming down his cheeks. "Oh, Commo..." Standing on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips across his.

"Forgive me, my Lady. Forgive me and take me back into your life and I shall spend every moment loving you," he choked out, his hands tightening on hers.

Laure knew that they were just words, but she also knew that at that moment he meant them.

And, it was enough.

"I forgive you."

Laughing and crying in joy, Commo swept her into his arms and carried her from the tent.

End