Crimes Between Us

Chapter Eleven

Rating: PG 13

I did not heal as quickly as I had hoped. By the time we got back to Coruscant, I'd

still not left the bed in the medi wing. My pain medication had been reduced by the

day, and my cuts and bruises were healing nicely. I'd tried to change the dressings

myself, then tried to let Furry do it. His hands were too big and clumsy, his claws

too sharp. I yelped in pain so much while he futily growled at me to keep still,

finally Obi-Wan was forced to intervene. After the second day in flight, I'd heeded

to the Jedi and allowed them to administer fresh bandages twice a day.

Sometimes Qui-Gon sat with me, sometimes Obi-Wan, but not much talking went on.

They would read to me from a data pad until I fell asleep, or just sit there while I

pretended to sleep. The only person I talked to was Furry. He and I would converse

about the silliest things, taking up old conversations we'd started on flights from long

ago. We knew how to pass the time; we'd had a lot of it to pass when I made money

smuggling goods from planet to planet.

I was disappointed to have to be carried off the ship when we finally docked at the

Jedi Temple. I still was not strong enough to walk, and there was a particularly

deep gash across my thigh that prevented any real strength from coming back into

my muscles. Qui-Gon surmised that I would have to endure some physical therapy

before I was really back to my old physical condition. I grumbled about it, of course,

as I did about everything.

Furry simply grunted at me to put a sock in it.

When we were settled back in Obi-Wan's room, I was surprised that both the Jedi

came to me at once after they'd met with the Council. Qui-Gon spoke as Obi-Wan

stayed huddled near the door, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but in his room

at that moment.

"The Council has bid us several weeks rest time," Qui-Gon announced.

I simply nodded.

"My Padawan and I plan to use the time for meditation and training."

I laughed. "You should relax too, Qui-Gon. That's why the Council calls it 'rest

time'."

The older Jedi fought a smile that crept onto his face, masking himself with calm

once again. He nodded. "Miss Solo, I know a woman who can help you with your

leg--" he gestured toward my injured leg, "with physical therapy," he clarified, "if

you'd like to meet her."

Part of me wanted to say no, just because I'd gotten so used to being disagreeable.

But I didn't know who else was going to help me. The Wookiee certainly couldn't do

it. He was just too big and too rough. Qui-Gon was looking at me with an

expression that challenged me to say no. It was almost as though he was expecting it.

Little did I know that he was going to use my disagreement as a catalyst for his next

announcement.

I may have surprised him by saying, "Sure, that would be great. Thanks."

He seemed taken aback, but quickly recovered, smiling and nodding politely. "She'll

come by your room sometime next week. I think you require rest for a few more

days, you understand."

The Jedi Master didn't wait for my reply, simply glanced back at his Padawan.

Kenobi was sufficiently sulking.

"Now then," Qui-Gon said sternly, drawing his Padawan's head up, ice blue eyes

clashing with deep blue ones. "I've only one more comment to make. Your behavior

--both of you--on the flight here was atrocious. I much rather liked it when you

acted alive, even if you were fighting good-naturedly with each other. Now, you

both choose to sulk, bemoaning your fate at every chance you get."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it again when Qui-Gon

continued. "Yes, Padawan. You think as loudly as your female counterpart here

does. Your anger and frustration radiated though the ship. It was all I could do to

throw myself out of the top hatch in desperation."

I chuckled. I couldn't help it. The mere thought of Qui-Gon behaving in

desperation was comical. The Jedi Master failed to see the amusement.

"I suggest that whatever happened between the two of you--on Endor or any other

time--be talked about or dropped. It cannot continue in limbo like this. Kalla, until

you are well, you are stuck here. And as long as you're here, you're under my

supervision. You might not like it, but think about where you're staying and who's

caring for you before you decide to rebuke."

The Jedi watched me as if a challenge. He knew it would be my instinct to argue.

He was practically daring me to. I merely gripped the bed sheet around me with my

fists and stared back. I said nothing.

"Good," Qui-Gon finally said, smiling at me. "Now, Furry and I are going to retire

to my quarters. I shall expect you two will use this time to your behalf."

My heart jumped into my throat. I glanced at Furry who simply shrugged and made

his way to the door where the Jedi Master was waiting. Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan

further inside the room and exited, Furry following quickly behind. Then, the door

shut and we were alone.

I frowned. It wasn't fair, me being bed ridden. Obi-Wan got to stand there, in his

full Jedi regalia--tunic, light saber and cloak, looking all important and self-assured.

I had bandages and bruises abound, could barely sit up without assistance, and a

still-healing wound across my face. A pretty picture it was not.

*No, I'd say beautiful is more like it.*

I had to think for a few seconds to be sure I heard the words in my mind. But they

were there, and from the look on Obi-Wan's face, I knew he'd sent them. I tried to

frown, but couldn't--the sentiment was sweet. Instead, I gave a lopsided grin and

tilted my head at him.

"Sometimes you can be so sweet and other times--"

The young Jedi shook his head and strode quickly to the bed. He sat on the edge of

it, pushing me slightly more toward the middle and bracing his hand on the other

side of my legs. This way, he was leaning over me and able to look directly into my

eyes.

Those eyes---

He looked young at that moment, younger than usual anyway. It was hard to believe

he was 22 since he barely looked a day over 18. At least when he was being just Obi-

Wan Kenobi. When he was being Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, he could convince

anyone he was a grown man, a fighter, a diplomat, a warrior.

I was often amazed at the two faces of Obi-Wan I seemed to see.

"Kalla, I don't know how to tell you I'm sorry," he breathed, holding up a hand

when I opened my mouth to speak immediately after him. "No, I have to say this.

I'm ashamed of how I acted, of what I said. I don't want to give you excuses, but

please, you have to know how angry I was at myself--"

There it was. He regretted our night. It hurt my heart to realize that. And it

shamed me to realize how much that hurt. I was angry at myself for allowing myself

to fall so hard. But as he stared at me, right there in that moment, I realized it was

too late. I loved him. The only way I was going to get over that was to leave. And

from the looks of things, I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Suddenly I felt trapped. My eyes drifted to either side of me, raking over his

personal artifacts strewn across the dresser and desk. Books, mountains of them,

and various scholastic journals and papers littered the desk. Several models of ships

were placed on the dresser, as well as a holovid projector, numerous framed holos,

and a deck of playing cards.

Oh god, I had to get out of there.

Instinctively, I lurched forward. His strong hands caught my shoulders and forced

me back down to the bed.

"You're panicking," he observed, his voice low and soft, like his Master's. "Please,

Kalla."

I shook my head. Thoughts swirled in my mind and not one of them made sense. I

couldn't put two words together to form a complete thought. I couldn't even form an

*incomplete* thought. I could only look at him, those eyes, those cheeks, that jaw,

those lips; and remember how they felt against mine. How it had felt for him to look

down at me with complete adoration. How it had felt to stroke that strong jaw with

my fingertips, trace every line, every curve of his face and memorize each contour

for later recollection.

Tears formed in my eyes and I stubbornly blinked them back. I would not cry in

front of him, no way. I struggled harder against his grip and he loosened slightly,

perhaps in surprise, and allowed me to slip from under him. I stumbled onto the

floor but managed not to fall, breathing heavily and suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

Even though pain shot through my rib cage, I made it to the large double doors on

the opposite end of the room and flung them open, berthing in deeply at the open air

now before me, the lighted Courscant sky above the room's balcony.

Air speeders whizzed by, much too many for this time of night, I surmised. It had to

be well after 2100 hours, but there was still enough traffic in the sky to pass off as

rush hour traffic; and perhaps it was.

I was wondering about air speeders and the time of night only to keep myself from

thinking about Obi-Wan Kenobi. But it was just a matter of time before the

stubborn Jedi appeared on the balcony as well. My torso seared in pain and I

wished there was somewhere for me to sit. I looked around desperately, but there

was no bench or chair, so I simply slid down the cool stone wall until my rear

connected with the hard ground beneath me.

And in pure Jedi fashion, Obi-Wan was at my assistance in a flash.

"Kalla, are you alright?"

I nearly laughed at his gallantry. "Yes, I'm alright," I replied, feeling infinitely

more in control without the suffocating walls of his bedroom around me. God, that

was where he lived, where he slept, where he'd done god knows what. I didn't need

to be there. Not now.

But it was cold on the balcony, and as though his thoughts were in tune with mine,

Obi-Wan slipped off his cloak and covered me with it, it's hood falling neatly below

my chin. I took it gratefully and curled my small fists around the soft material,

keeping it close to my shoulders and allowing it to cover my entire body.

"Thanks," I whispered smiling slightly at him.

He was silent. His eyes simply bore into mine, and I wondered if he was trying to

read into my mind. I didn't feel the usual touch of invasion that I'd learned to pick

up on, but sometimes they could do it without my noticing, so I never could tell for

sure. Perhaps he was just looking, simply looking at me. I suddenly felt self-

conscious of the wound across my cheek and I reached a hand up to touch it

tentatively.

I didn't even see his hand raise, but suddenly his fingers were on mine, pulling my

hand away from my cut. He replaced my fingers with his, soft, gentle, feathery

touches across my face. He closed his eyes and kept his hand on the wound, and I

felt the skin tighten slightly, and the throbbing recede just a bit.

The changes probably would have gone unnoticed had I not been so focused on my

face, that wound, that moment. He was healing it. Just a little, with the Force.

As quickly as his hand had appeared there, he pulled it away, but kept his gaze

focused on me.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, so softly I wasn't sure of what he'd said at first.

When the words hit my conscious, they warmed me. I felt a slight heat creep up my

face, and a smile followed. I couldn't help it. I wanted so badly to stay in control, to

stay on top of the game--but I couldn't. Because it wasn't a game to me. It was real

feelings that I barely had any grip on, much less any control over. Suddenly,

fighting with him, which I'd taken as sport before, seemed like the worst thing in the

world.

I wanted to burst into tears.

Finally, I found some words and spoke them, not even really knowing what they

were until they surfaced and were in the two inches of air between us.

"Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry."

The Jedi smiled, confusion rippling across his face for a fleeting instant. "Sorry?

What do you have to apologize for?"

I shook my head. I didn't know, but there was something. Again, I spoke without

thinking. It was the best way to do it, I surmised. If I thought too much, I got shy,

angry, confused, or all three, and wanted to run away.

"Running away, from you, from your Master--getting myself into trouble on

Correlia and putting all of you in danger when you had to rescue me--picking on you

every chance I got--fighting with you, goading you, instigating you--getting you in

trouble with Qui-Gon--getting lost in the forest and you having to come find me--

seducing you in the cave--distracting you when your Master was in trouble--"

Obi-Wan was shaking his head, and as I paused, I heard a slight chuckle escape his

lips. I frowned deeply. These were all things he should be mad at me about. But

here he was, laughing and shaking his head, looking at me in disbelief. I snapped my

mouth shut and resisted the urge to cross my arms over my chest.

*Don't close yourself off, Solo,* I warned myself. *You'll be left with no destination and

a big, hairy Wookiee with a bad temper.*

"First of all," Obi-Wan began, "I don't blame you for leaving Endor. What I said

to you was terrible and I wouldn't blame you if you never forgave me. And the

trouble on Correlia? That wasn't your fault. Yes, you would have been safer if Qui-

Gon and I were with you, but I admire that you tried to get that seratin to the

Macedonians way sooner than we would have if we'd waited for my Master to heal.

I'm only sorry we didn't come sooner, and I'm angry that you were harmed so

severely."

Obi-Wan bowed his head and paused, his voice lowering significantly when he

finally spoke again. "Master Qui-Gon says I must control my anger, not let it

control me. But I wanted to kill each and every one of those guards. I felt their dark

thoughts, I know what they wanted to do to you."

A shiver went up my spine, despite the warm cloak around me. Obi-Wan slipped his

hands on either side of me and rubbed softly, thoughtfully, and I wondered if he was

even fully aware he was doing it.

"As far as the fighting we did when we first met," he continued, shaking his head as

if to force the dark thoughts from his mind, "I am as much at fault as you are. But I

truly don't think you meant anything maliciously. I felt an underlying playfulness

there, a respect even. I never would have let it go on as long as it did if there wasn't

one. You must believe that."

I nodded slightly, numbly. He'd closed the distance between us considerably, and all

I could concentrate on was the warmth of his breath as it hit my face.

He smiled as he spoke again. "Last but not least, kiddo, *I* seduced *you*, not the other

way around."

I raised my eyebrows, then allowed a smile to break across my face as well. It hurt a

little, but I forced myself to ignore it. "You sure about that, Kenobi?" I challenged.

I couldn't help it. A warmth had spread through my body like a wild fire. I felt the

desire radiating from him, in his gaze, his touch, his proximity, and I wondered how

I could have doubted it before. Perhaps he felt the same way about me as I did about

him. Perhaps what happened in the cave wasn't just a momentary fling.

"Kalla, as a Jedi I have been trained my whole life to avoid what you call

*momentary flings*," Obi-Wan reprimanded, revealing he'd been partaking in my

thoughts.

I thought about this, then scrunched up my face. "Yeah right," I countered,

laughing softly. "I find it hard to believe that you, Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi,

*never* partook in one of your lovely admirers here on Coruscant for just one night?"

The Jedi considered, scrunching up his own face, a gesture I found utterly

endearing. What I'd spoken was true. It seemed, the times I'd been out in

Coruscant with one or both Jedi, that they were revered, almost as royalty here on

the planet of cities. Young women especially, seemed to make it their life's mission

to snag a Jedi, even if only for a short time. At the time it had made me laugh, but

now I could see their fascination.

*Now I could see their fascination.*

I barely believed that thought flitted through my head. *Kalla Solo, you are definitely

losing it.*

Finally, the Jedi conceded. "Perhaps once, I may have given in to an admirer or

two," he mused.

I frowned. "Two," I repeated, then caught his amused smile.

"But," he continued, holding up a finger. "I was *never* the aggressor. Never. My

restraint in such matters is aberrant." He paused, the hand coming up to my face,

this time caressing my well cheek softly. I shivered.

"Until you," he said softly. "I found myself thinking things and wanting things I'd

never allowed myself to think of or want before. And I fought it," he shook his head.

"I tried at least. But I couldn't. *You* had control and I hated that. So I fought with

you. Kind of as a way to regain control."

I nodded. Now I understood perfectly. I understood my penchant for ragging on the

young Jedi. I needed any way to regain control of what *I* was rapidly losing: my

heart. I nearly laughed at the irony. The Jedi noticed.

"What?"

His voice was soft, the breath whispering across my face. God, I wanted to kiss him.

It occurred to me to just do so, but I fought it, desperately, averting my eyes from his

lips and focusing on some point above his shoulder.

I had something to say, but I'd suddenly lost it, my mind swirling in a haze of desire.

Before I knew what was happening, my hands had floated up to his face, palms

pressing against his cheeks so lightly, I was barely aware of the warm skin beneath

my cold hands.

He obviously was, because his eyes widened at the gesture and I felt him jerk slightly

back, probably in surprise. It only spurred me forward, leaning my body into his,

completely unaware of the pain my ribs forced up my spine, and brushed his lips.

I pulled away quickly, gauging his reaction, which seemed to be complete shock, but

he wasn't pulling away, he wasn't angry, he wasn't disappointed, so I leaned in

again, this time connecting my lips with his with purpose, my hands drifting back

into his hair, pulling him closer to me regardless of the pain coursing through my

body. He responded eagerly, the kiss deepening quickly, growing more and more

passionate until I couldn't bear the pain any longer and I had to end it.

"My ribs--" I breathed, staring into Obi-Wan's eyes apologetically.

He shook his head, his hands flying to my midsection, resting them over his cloak in

the general area of my injured torso. "I'm sorry," he whispered, closing his eyes

and sending a healing tendril of the Force to me. I was grateful, releasing a breath

as I felt the serenity sink into me, easing the pain considerably.

"Thanks."

He asked if I was okay. I said yes but I'm not sure if I really meant it.

It was nice...me kissing him, him kissing me back, but something felt--off. At the

time I wasn't sure if I could forget that awful thing he said to me--screamed at me--

and I was certainly convinced that I wouldn't be able to sleep with him again.

Silly me.