Crimes Between Us

Chapter Eight

Rating: PG-13

It was a day that the contemptible guards were there that I began to think about that

fight with Obi-Wan. That last fight, which wasn't even a fight so much as him

screaming horrible things at me in his grief and guilt over his Master. I began to

wonder what would have happened had he caught up with me when he called after

me (did he really?), or if he'd found me when he was looking for me at the hangar

bay. Knowing myself, which I did usually, until I did something to totally shock the

hell out of myself, I would have screamed something horrid back, hurting him just as

deeply as he hurt me, desperate to leave my scar on him just because, and then I'd be

in the exact same place I was right now.

Although maybe I wouldn't feel like quite the victim. Because I did, and that wasn't

in my nature. But the truth was, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan, had hurt me.

Badly. I started to berate myself for allowing myself to care that much, but

promptly stopped. It wasn't fair to do that. One could only keep cool distance to

keep from getting hurt for so long. And that had been the story of my life. Always

the heart-breaker, never the heart-broken.

A true Solo.

I often wondered if that was why my family was called Solo, because we were

destined to be alone. Never able to commit or trust long enough to settle down, for

the very first inkling of that happening we were up and running like someone stuck a

lit match inside our shoe.

It was a wonder some of my relatives stayed around long enough to procreate. It

was a wonder we Solo's kept popping up. Always alone, yet somehow, multiplying.

I almost laughed at the thought. My father and mother had been together long

enough to create me. Not exactly a pride and joy, as great as I had Furry convinced

I was. My mother stuck around until my father got himself so far into gambling

debt she had one of the Hutt's pay a visit to our front door. That didn't go over too

well, and she was off like a bat out of hell.

I followed my father around to this hiding place or that until I was old enough to go

off on my own. I had been fourteen. A year later I rescued Furry, and now here we

were, three years from then, awaiting our death.

Something about life coming full circle...? I wasn't sure.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had been the only boy--man--I'd allowed to penetrate my carefully

built walls. And I--stupidly--gave everything I had with him up for a night of

passion.

I shook my head. Gave everything I had with him up? What exactly *did* I have with

him? We couldn't get along to save our lives. We fought, mercilessly, until Qui-Gon

would literally have to send us to separate rooms. But deep down was an underlying

respect. I could feel it, him for me and I for him, since the first time we met. When

I'd awoken from a night terror and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had sat up with me while

I told them about this mess on Correlia.

Foolishly thinking I could single-handedly fight a Correlian government war.

I should have ignored what I heard in that first meeting.

**

At first I thought I was daydreaming when I heard the hum of light sabers at the far

end of the corridor. Obi-Wan had occupied my thoughts most of the day, and

perhaps I was reliving in my mind one training session I'd watched, as he gracefully

and agilely dodged and defended against the practice floaters while blindfolded.

Furry's startled growl brought me tumbling back into reality.

I wasn't day dreaming. There were Jedi at the end of the hall. And they were

rapidly approaching.

I didn't recognize the first one, a big black man with a bald head. He had that same

arrogant swagger they all carried though, striding into the chamber where Furry

and I were locked up, his light saber blazing a light blue-white. I would have stood, if I

could have, but my legs would not hold me, and I merely slunk into my Wookiee and

waited.

The guards drew their blasters almost immediately, but the Jedi used the Force to

simultaneously pull both of their weapons from their hands and toss them to the

entryway where two more Jedi picked them up and holstered them.

Furry roared as he recognized one of the two: Qui-Gon Jinn.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw him, standing there strong and proud, as

noble as ever. The last time I'd seen him, he'd been unconscious and streaked with

blood. I wondered how, in just a week's time, he could be back on his feet and

fighting in battle.

I tried to say his name but couldn't--somehow no sound came off my tongue when I

opened my mouth to speak. Instead a wave of dizziness washed over me and I slunk

even farther into the Wookiee. As if Qui-Gon knew I was trying to reach out to him,

he glanced into the cell and gave a reassuring nod. Then, I heard a voice in my

mind.

*It's okay, Kalla. I know you're hurt, just hang on.*

My eyes flushed closed, seemingly of their own accord, although I'd meant to keep

them open. I knew this was not the time to be passing out, in the midst of my rescue.

But they remained closed, and so I only heard Obi-Wan's voice, but could not see

him as he apparently entered the room as well. Now there were four light saber

blades humming, but I did not hear the guards struck down. Only ordered into a

corner and forced to relinquish their keys.

Then I heard a voice that did not belong to either of *my* Jedi--I would have laughed

at this thought had I the strength--telling Kenobi and Jinn to get the prisoners (I'm

not sure I realized that was me at the time) safely to a ship.

When the door clanged and the deep voice boomed again, I finally gathered that I

was being rescued at that instant. "The girl may need medical attention. She

doesn't look so good."

Then, Obi-Wan's arms around me, pulling me from Furry. I knew they were Obi-

Wan's arms, even though I heard Qui-Gon's voice. "Hurry, Padawan. We're short

on time. Give one of the blasters to the Wookiee."

I wondered how Furry was going to walk out of there, much less effectively handle a

blaster, but the thought was so fleeting, it slipped my mind before I could ponder it.

Then, like a soothing rush of cool water over my burning body, Obi-Wan spoke.

"Kalla, come on. I've got to get you out of here."

My eyes suddenly were able to open, and even though he was slightly blurry, I could

make him out, his face, not the features, but the short, spiky hair, the braid hanging

from his left side, and the bright blue eyes. I half wondered if I was dreaming it, if

this whole rescue was a figment of my imagination, so I reached a hand up even

though it sent bolts of pain through my shoulder to do so, pain which I would surely

not have slept through, and touched his cheek, his lips, his nose.

He was there, warm skin under my shaking fingers, and as I touched the lips they

turned upward slightly at the corners. "I'm here, Kalla," he said soothingly. "Just

rest. I'm going to get you out of here."

Then I was being lifted, and I felt a wave of nausea crash over me. I struggled in his

arms, wanting to stand, but he wouldn't allow it, using his strength over mine to

keep me secured against his body as we whisked behind Qui-Gon and Furry down

the narrow corridor.

"Obi-Wan--" I moaned, in effort to warn him, of what I wasn't sure. I thought I

was going to be sick, but then realized I had nothing in me to give, and no energy to

even attempt.

I heard quick, labored breathing, and I realized we were running, rather he was

running, but he managed to answer me anyway. "Shhh. We're almost there. Just

hang on."

Defeated for what seemed like the zillionth time in a week, I stopped fighting and

curled my head in toward his chest, falling unconscious to the rapid beating of his

heart beneath his tunic.

**