~Forbidden Fruit~

-Part 1-

Valia Traxis examined the edge of the blade of the good old-fashioned
cleaver. She'd just sharpened it, so she knew it was keen. Perhaps she
wanted to point out the fact that she held a potentially dangerous object in
her hand to the large, meaty and unfortunately fellow human leaning on the
other side of the counter, closely watching her. Anything to make him go
away, without resorting to violence.

"Let the droid do that, sweet cheeks, and sit down with me for a while."

She bit down on a spurt of rage. Rage at being called 'sweet cheeks' by the
rat-faced man, and at being told what to do with her time. It echoed a
restaurant owner friend's words to her that very morning, about delegating
such low-tech 'grunt work' to the machinery.

Not when it was so satisfying, as it was right now. Not when she knew she
could do a better job than one of her small droids, and not when she owned
this exotic fruit and juice bar and called the shots.

Thock!! The blade severed the stem end of a long dark purple melon from Ord
Mantell. "I enjoy cutting them myself." She threw him a quick pointed
glance, then looked back down at her work. "I'm very busy right now and I
don't have time to while away with you now." Or ever.

"You had time last week," the obnoxious man said in what he probably hoped
was a sweetly convincing tone. Valia cursed herself for ever having spent
part of an evening with him at that antigravity dance club. What in the Core
Worlds had she been thinking? One date and he thought he owned her. He'd
been charming enough at first, but this possessiveness was taking on a
sinister tone lately. The more she'd put him off in the week since that
evening, the more tough or cold she tried to act, the more it seemed to turn
him on. She'd been hit on so many times and rebuffed so many men like this
in the ten years she'd lived in Galactic City that it was second nature to
her to come up with ways to defend and escape. It seriously bothered her
that she was now unable to safely turn this one away.

Whock!!! She swung the cleaver with unnecessary force. The blossom end of
the melon went flying. Purple juice flew. The blade sank satisfyingly into
the semi-resistant surface of the cutting board. The split in it healed
itself as soon as she withdrew the blade from it. The man leered at her,
apparently finding stimulation in her display of carving. "I love watching
you work, " he said his gaze lingering on her breasts. " I like knives, too.
I plan to show you my personal collection sometime."

Valia looked at the fruit she was preparing and noticed its resemblance to
the male human sexual appendage. Fervently wishing it was the one belonging
to the man in front of her, she savagely split the melon lengthwise. Whop!!

He'd picked his time well to bother her. He'd waited until the early
afternoon crowd had dwindled to nearly nothing and he'd seen her alone at
the semi-outdoor bar. All her University friends weren't here now. Drre was
busy back in the walk-in cooler. She glanced around at the outdoor tables
scattered near the store-front on the stone-paved plaza. One other customer
to the right, his back to her, and two men in nondescript tan and brown to
the left at the table near the tree in a large circular planter. For all
appearances, this might be a friendly encounter between proprietress and
customer and nothing was wrong. The man was going on. "You owe me at least
another night out, sweetheart." His emphasis was on the words 'at least'.

Valia poked the tip of her knife into the cutting surface and clenched the
handle. "I owe you nothing." She was bewildered at his line of thinking. "We
had a little drink, a little dance, it was nothing more."

"Nothing more?" he sneered. "The way you were wagging it in my face, I think
it was a whole lot more. Quit playing hard to get, pretty little girl and be
straight with me. I want you, you want me. Why are you putting off the
inevitable?"

Because that will be when Hutts fly, thought Valia, her eyes blazing. He
actually reached out to stroke her cheek. She jerked her head back, breath
hissing through her nostrils. She nearly took a swipe at him with her knife,
but controlled her hands. That was the type of thing that happened in lower
parts of the City or in an alcohol or stimulant bar, she thought in dismay.
Not here. Maybe he wants me to hurt him. Maybe he gets turned on by pain.
Maybe he wants my store and this is how he's planning to make me lose it.
She continued to work, trying to maintain outward calm, removing the bitter,
thorny projections from the melon she knew the droid would miss half of.
Logic, sarcasm, attitude, and ignoring him had not worked to get rid of him.
She thought of the blaster mounted on the wall in the back of the store. She
thought of the commlink in her pocket that would connect her to the police.
Her would-be lover had done nothing to warrant using either. Even if he left
her alone now, he might find her later...

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn glanced over at the counter yet again. His padawan
Obi -Wan Kenobi followed his master's eyes, breaking off his conversation.
The diminutive young woman working behind the counter was really giving the
business to something with a cleaver. Her pale ash-blonde thick braid swung
as she brought it down. Her face was calm. Almost. Her eyes looked as though
she could do murder. He'd heard snatches of low conversation from here and
it was clear she wanted the persistent man leaning in front of her to be
gone. Obi-Wan wondered if he was criminally stupid, harrassing a woman
wielding a knife like that or just supremely confident she'd never hurt him.

"Forgive me, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, swinging his attention back to his
apprentice. "What were you saying?" They were both becoming distracted by
the discordant encounter. They could almost feel it more than they could
hear it.

"What did the Council decide to do about the genocide rumors on Concord
Dawn?"

Qui-Gon answered him, while keeping a surreptitious ear toward the bar. He
wouldn't be disrespectful to his young student again by letting his eyes
wander. He could picture the wo man in his mind. They'd noticed her on each
of the previous visits to the fruit bar. She appeared to be in charge of the
place. She moved with a quiet efficiency, but was quick with a good-natured
musical laugh with the other employees and nearly every customer. He'd given
her a cursory appraisal from a distance. Cute was the word that had come to
his mind. She was small and trim. She wore practical, simple clothing, none
of the elaborate flowing gowns most Coruscanti women wore these days. Juices
in a rainbow of colors spattered a white apron which concealed most of the
front of her. Her hair was almost a white-blonde, and sensibly pulled back
and up. Fine cheekbones and jawline. Upper lip thin and chiseled above a
full lower one. Small, aristocratic nose. All this noted and filed
dispassionately. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had already traveled enough in their
few years together to have seen a jadingly huge number of beautiful women,
human and and otherwise. The two of them had been approached with offers by
royalty and courtesans, propositioned by prostitutes and seen a galaxy of
everything in between. Not temptations to distract a Jedi, but simply a part
of the colorful mosaic of real life is what Qui-Gon hoped to teach his
padawan.

"I told you already, I'm all out of those! They've had a fungus outbreak on
Alderaan and the crop was ruined. There won't be any neowallams until next
season." The conversation at the counter intruded again.

"Well, that may be," said the man greasily. "But I'm looking at something a
whole lot tastier anyway."

Whock!! purple droplets spattered. "For once and for all, please just go
away, Yersinn. I told you I don't want to see you ever again."

There was a pause, followed by a lengthy soft reply from the rat-faced man
that was laced with enough half-heard painfully descriptive obscenities to
make both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan gape at each other and then up toward the
counter. The woman had stopped her angry chopping and was staring at the
man, her face a study in shocked intimidation.

Qui-Gon met Obi-Wan's eyes across the table and gestured toward the counter
with his head. They both silently left their chairs and slipped to the bar.
Obi-Wan casually sidled to the counter at the man's immediate right and
leaned his elbow on it. Yersinn's head jerked in annoyance as he caught
sight of the young man choosing this spot over the entire length of the bar
to stand. Obi-Wan bobbed his eyebrows and head in a friendly casual
greeting. Qui-Gon loomed silently, yet unnoticed to his left.

"She really is all out of neowallams. We asked earlier. We just got back
>from Alderaan, as a matter of fact," Obi-Wan fibbed easily. "It was
terrible. Just terrible." He wore an expression of blithe friendliness on
his smooth face, but his eyes were sharp.

"What would you know about it?" Yersinn's voice had gone from oil to sludge.
"Beat it, kid," he said dismissively, staying planted at the counter. He
suddenly sensed another presence, and turned belligerently, fists already
clenching and starting to swing at any more obnoxious intrusions on his
courting. The other man he saw had only a handful of centimeters height
advantage on him, but there was just enough of an angry glower in Qui-Gon's
return stare to put a sudden chill in the pit of his stomach and make him
take stock of this new situation. His hands and forearms suddenly went numb.
He turned back to the young man who was still leaning next to him, a bland
look on his face. Obi-Wan shifted his stance slowly, just so the hilt of the
lightsaber hanging at his waist was revealed. Jedi. The chill turned into a
deep freeze.

Qui-Gon nodded almost imperceptibly at Obi-Wan over Yersinn's head.

"This place has nothing you need or want. You'd do well to never come here
again."

Obi-Wan drifted a hand across the space between himself and Yersinn,
speaking in the smooth modulated tones as taught to him by his master. "You'
ll leave her alone." Yersinn stared back at him, slack-jawed. He pushed
himself away from the counter and moved off across the plaza, rubbing his
hands, without a backward look. Obi-Wan glanced at his master for approval.
Qui-Gon nodded.

Valia had watched the entire incident a half-meter from her with a
death-grip on the handle of her knife and the commlink clutched in the
other. She exhaled and let go slowly, laying both down on the counter. So
they were Jedi. She'd suspected from their dress; master and apprentice,
apparently. She recalled seeing these two here before. She saw quite a
number of Jedi at her business, as the Temple was an easy walk north of
here. She knew people who were openly afraid of them, and she couldn't
understand why. She liked them as customers. They were unfailingly polite,
they paid their tabs, and didn't trash the tables. What was there to be
afraid of? Yet she'd never seen anything quite like this. There was no
denying the mystique and powerful aura that surrounded them. But they were
supposedly, from all she'd heard since childhood, on the side of justice and
good. They'd just been blessed with keys to the all-pervasive "Force",
unlike most other creatures. Being near them was no big deal.

No big deal...her musing echoed as her eyes went from the younger to the
older man, then traveled slowly up his big frame to his face. He was
so...large. She inexplicably thought of violet-blue seas of water and long
green grass. She was suddenly reminded of a king in a long-forgotten
childhood fairy tale as she took in his noble features and long hair. Brown,
just beginning to be streaked with silver. A little more frost in his beard.
She imagined some ancient ancestor of his standing on the deck of a ship,
the kind of ship that sailed on the watery surfaces of other far-off worlds,
that hair flying, those broad shoulders carving the wind...

Now where had she come up with that? A minute ago she was being verbally
harrassed, and the next she was fancifully daydreaming. The Jedi warrior /
king / sailor spoke.

"Did he threaten you?" he asked her. His voice was deep and
soft, tinged with an unidentifiable accent.

"You could say that," Valia shot back, her eyes having dropped back down to
her pile of purple melons. Was he joking? No, there had been no joke within
light-years of that stern face. "Please, don't make me repeat what he said."
She wondered how it was possible to feel so violated by mere words and
ideas.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, turned his head and held up his hands, palms out
toward her. "We heard enough to get the idea," Obi-Wan added.

"Does he know where you live?" came the next query from the older, taller
man.

"I...I never...he probably...he isn't my...no, I don't think so." She hadn't
been insane enough to give that information away. Unless he'd followed her.
She hoped not. Why was she having trouble answering this man's questions?
She'd done nothing wrong, but his unspoken demand for the complete truth was
making her feel put on the spot.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked this question more softly still, in a voice that
felt to Valia like a soothing brush of silk.

"No, no..."

Well...on second thought, yes. But not so anyone could see. But she got the
distinct impression that this man could and did see. That penetrating gaze
seemed to go right through her. She nervously looked up at him again.

Blue, she thought numbly. His eyes are blue. They were so deep-set and
shadowed she'd never really seen them until now. Until he was standing right
in front of her. She looked into them just long enough to take note of the
fine creases fanning out from them, and the concerned smile in them, then
dropped her own. All through this conversation Valia had sensed a
strange...closing in of their presences. They were much closer to her now
than on the other side of the counter. They were in her head! She had the
eerie sensation of her mind being explored, politely, but explored
nonetheless by the master and to a lesser extent, the younger student. She
felt a curious questing from them . It should have been creepy, but...it
wasn't. A blanket-like peace enveloped her. No one was going to hurt her
now. The message was almost as clear as if it were spoken aloud. She felt
and obeyed a sudden urge to look straight into those blue eyes of the Jedi
master. It was as if one gentle finger had lifted her chin. He was looking
into her eyes piercingly but kindly. His was a face that looked as though it
could say more with a twitch of a finely sculpted brow than one of the
blow-hards in the Senate could speak in an hour. She had time to study the
masculine bone structure under the skin. His virility was as thick and
potent as a fruit syrup. This, combined with the sexual overtones of the
incident which had brought him here in the first place was downright
unsettling. She was held this way for perhaps four seconds when she decided
it was best after all to assert herself. This was a little too intense. Don'
t play with my head, she thought firmly at him. Abruptly her mind was her
sole territory again. She was left with a strangely bereft feeling. The tall
Jedi then did indeed twitch one brow, and gave her an 'as you wish' sort of
nod. He looked as if he would turn to go.

Manners! What a revolutionary concept. "Wait! Thank you," she said,
addressing them both. "I really appreciate what you did." She had no idea
what sort of important things they must spent their lives doing, and they'd
been kind enough to help her. They both bowed to her. Valia was bemused at
the idea of these two mystical men bowing to her, especially the tall,
lordly one. She smiled, some self-confidence returning.

"I am Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he
introduced them. She nodded, memorizing the names and faces as she would do
with any of her customers.
"Valia Traxis. Please, let me cover your tab."

"That isn't necessary," said Qui-Gon.

"No really, it's all right. I want to, " she said, piling the pieces of
fruit she'd already cut up into a bowl. She needed to be doing something, be
busy, move normally.

"Isn't that bad for business, too much of that?" Obi-Wan asked her. Valia
grinned at him. He was much easier to look directly at. She liked him
immediately. She'd have bet every piece of her cutlery that he had a few
birthdays to go before his twentieth. His face was smooth and boyishly cute,
his eyes inquisitive and green. His hair was cropped fuzzily short. A thin
braid trailed from behind his right ear and just brushed his shoulder. So
young, not much more than a boy. She sensed a great, calm power in him
already. What did that say about the power of his master, the man?

"Too much, yes. There are plenty of other things that are bad for my
business, such as the terrible fungus outbreak you witnessed on Alderaan,"
she winked at him. "But this isn't one of them." She rinsed off the cutting
board and knife and placed them under the sanitizing scanner. "I don't think
my bottom line today will suffer."

"Do you own this this place, Miss Traxis?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes, I do," she said proudly. She removed the cutting board and leaned it
against the splashboard on the back counter. "Just call me Lia," she said,
flapping one hand casually as she carefully took the knife from under the
scanner with the other.

"Lia..." The sound of her nickname being tried by the big soft-spoken man
was like a caress of thick velvet. Valia had never heard it sound anything
like that in her life. Stupefied all over again, she nearly dropped the
knife on the floor, or into her foot. She was sure he hadn't intended it to
sound as intimate as it had sounded to her own ears. He just had a nice
voice, that was all. That had to be it. What was with her? After everything
that had happened in the last few minutes, she needed to go sit in the
walk-in cooler for a while. A slow drag on her water pipe would be good,
too.

Qui-Gon Jinn regarded her, startled to find himself assessing her in ways he
normally didn't when meeting someone. 'Cute' had been way off the mark. She
was beautiful up close. Maybe thirty years old. Hard to tell. There was a
guilelessness about her that suggested she had no idea how beautiful she
was, and didn't give too much thought to her appearance. As though she had
the good sense to leave well enough alone. She was fresh and unpretentious,
a rarity on Coruscant. He'd studied her hands after they'd sent her abuser
on his way. They were long and strong-looking. A nail or two was chipped,
and they had been stained purple, but the skin looked soft. While Obi-Wan
had kept a wary eye on her cleaver, he'd been staring fascinatedly at the
sinews in the backs of her hands. He'd positively itched to reach out and
cover one of them with his own, only in a gesture of comfort. It was just
something he did with people, just the way he was. But instinct had warned
him away from doing so. She would not have appreciated his touching her.
Then she had lifted her head to look at him, revealing an arresting pair of
dark gray eyes. Interest flared. They were breathtaking. She'd looked away,
and he'd known a wildly irrational, selfish desire to see them again.
Curiosity and need to determine whether she was really as all right as she
wanted him to believe drove him to bid the gentle command: *Look at me*. Her
eyes were tipped upward at the outer corners, almost slanted. The irises
were slightly darker at the outer edges. Dusky lashes circled them. He
looked beneath the surface features. Her life-force was brilliant, vivid.
But there were remnants of pain, sick fear and humiliation. For the second
time, he had to quell the same dangerous fury. He would never get over the
senselessness of abuse of any kind. But what really disturbed him was the
personal way he was responding to this trivial incident. He was astonished
at the surge of protectiveness she was rousing in him. But her life was not
his affair. He and Obi-Wan had simply been in the right place at the right
time to help her. Then her nostrils had flared and something strong and
imperious in her eyes had flashed at him, reminding him that he too had
overstepped his bounds, if only slightly. This was no young girl. No
trampled flower. She'd be just fine, he'd thought and released her, a little
sadly. He felt mildly disoriented, as though he'd spent several days in her
eyes instead of several seconds.

When they finished at the counter and turned to go, Qui-Gon was convinced
that this encounter would be forgotten by this time tomorrow.

Or maybe not. He was unable to pin down the vague sensation that something
deep inside him was not the same as it had been before. An odd tugging
pulled at him as they walked away from the fruit bar. He turned to look
back. The woman called Lia was looking back at him, this time with more
warmth. She was saying something to her now returned staff member. Then,
predictably, she glanced downward.

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

Valia carried the syrup module out of the small walk-in cooler in the back
of the store and brought it to the front counter. She discarded the empty
one from the dispenser and plugged in the new one. Maybe now she could get
to that accounting work. Several customers moved away from the bar, leaving
a gap through which she could see the outside tables. Then she saw him.
There he was, taking a seat at the same table as three days before. She
stared at him from under the sheltering roofed area behind the bar. Same
nondescript tan and brown clothing as before, only this time he was
enveloped in a dark, almost black cloak. Jinn, he'd said his name was.
Qui-Gon. He absently picked up a fallen tree blossom from the table in front
of him, closely examined it and flicked it aside. Oh, that tree, she thought
disgustedly as she watched him pick up another and toss it. She really did
feel fortunate to have it in front of her store and couldn't bear the
thought of having the city remove it. There were precious few trees on
Coruscant as it was. It was a reminder that seasons and nature did exist on
the city-planet. But it made such a blasted mess every spring when it
bloomed and dropped the pink tubular flowers all over the ground and her
tables. How many times had she thought of calling her brother or one of her
cousins about it? They probably knew of a way to treat it so it wouldn't be
harmed, just not drop the flowers. At least in autumn the fallen leaves blew
away and didn't stick like great pink slugs. Moving through the gap in the
counter she gave a quick hand signal to the hovering utility droid. It
obediently followed her as she headed in the Jedi's direction.

"Sorry about the mess," she said to him, picking up a flower from the
ground. She held it in front of the droid's blank black eye. "Pick these up.
>From the tables, seats, and ground." She eyed it for a few seconds, making
sure it did exactly as she asked. The last time, it had begun to pick them
directly off the tree.

"Or I can get someone to move the table over," she offered quickly as she
watched a blossom fall on his head, bounce off his nose and drop to the
table in front of him.

"No, don't bother, that's quite all right," Qui-Gon said.

A waitress approached and took his order. Listening, Valia helped pick up
flowers off the seats of the next table and took note of it. She liked to
know what her regular customers ordered. She caught herself wondering if
that's what he would be.

"Has your foul-mouthed friend stayed away from you?"

Valia stopped peeling flowers from the table surface and turned to him. "Ha!
He was no friend of mine, that's for sure." She walked to the planter from
which the tree grew and tossed the flowers over the short wall. "No, I haven
't seen him since." She narrowed one dark eye and gave him a smiling, mock
suspicious look. "You didn't go off afterwards and kill him, did you?"

Qui-Gon Jinn slowly leaned forward on his elbows. He looked to either side
conspiratorially, then back at her. "Would you like me to?"

Valia's eyes widened. He had to be teasing her back. As appealing as the
idea was, she herself had just been kidding. Wasn't he? There was just
enough seriousness in his voice and face to make her wonder.

"I didn't mean...you're not supposed to...I don't...No!"

Amused, Qui-Gon smiled serenely and leaned back in his chair. He probably
shouldn't tease her, but sometimes it was a blunt way of taking measure of a
person.

"Can you sit down for a minute?"

Valia stared at him with what must have been a stunned 'who, me?' look on
her face. Just like that, he was asking her to sit with him. She really
needed to get to those accounts, boring as the work would be. She should
blow him off, her normal course of action for an attentive male customer.
But there was something so intriguing and dashing about him. Besides, she
owned the place. She could do this. She sat with customers all the time. He
didn't look quite as overwhelming when sitting. And he had been kind to her.
She paused, trying to feel any peculiar tuggings or strong suggestions in
her mind. There were none. But then would she be aware if he was using the
Force on her?

Qui-Gon saw her suspicious hesitation and waited patiently, amused again. He
'd vowed to himself he would not bend her will in any way if he encountered
her again.

"That is, only if you want to. If you have time."

Valia paused another second, then approached his table. She pulled out the
chair on the other side of it, feeling somehow more at ease with something
solid between them. She casually sat, her back to the tree so she could keep
an eye on the store front and eating area. This was no big deal. She could
do this, and without feeling like a skittish little girl. She jumped when a
flower landed in front of her on the table.

"Is this your only store, or do you have others?"

"Right now, this is the only one. But I'm hoping to open another one
sometime in the next year. It all depends on finding a good location. I'd
prefer it to have access to the outside, like this one. This one has done
very well." And so it had. The area was bustling with humans and several
other species. Valia Traxis had tried to re-introduce a little nature back
into the artificiality of Coruscanti life. Fruits, juices, extracts and
preserves were imported from all over the galaxy and offered here, tastes of
home for transplanted city dwellers. Her store was a colorful little oasis
in a world of hard gray. Her customers seemed to truly enjoy the rustic,
natural feel of this tiny corner of the plaza. She was offering them a part
of herself, and making a successful livelihood of it. Qui-Gon sensed
everything from the chairs designed with comfortable organic curves to the
textured fabric swooping in loops from the overhang had been thoughtfully
selected by her. Where an ordinary plastic bin would have served, she'd used
woven baskets. She insisted on garnishes in all the fruit dishes and most of
the drinks. There was an atmosphere of warmth and generosity that came from
this place. From her.

She glanced over to a table full of noisy, juice-guzzling University
students. A rakish dark-haired young man was doing a handstand. She smiled
and looked fondly at them, shaking her head at the young man's foolery. She
was wearing black trousers and short boots. A simple loose white
open-throated blouse completed her outfit. Her sleeves were rolled up to
escape the ever-present fruit juice behind the bar. She'd removed her apron
which had been stained with a watercolor of juices before coming out to the
tables. The unfeminine attire only accented her all too feminine hips and
legs. Her hair was artlessly bound up in a loose knot at the crown of her
head. Several pale tendrils had escaped, one of which brushed the smooth
skin below her collarbone. She kept absently pushing it back over her
shoulder. Qui-Gon knew a nearly insane urge to touch it, to caress her. Even
stronger than three days ago. Not less, as he had hoped. He hadn't touched a
woman in any way more familiar than a handshake in over ten years, and
suddenly that was all he wanted to do. He folded his arms inside the sleeves
of his robe as if they needed more than his will to keep them obedient.
Three days and nights of wondering if she was unharmed, wondering if those
eyes were as beautiful as he'd thought they were, and a deep aggravation
with himself for thinking so had finall.y driven him to walk over here. An
apparent whim of fate had brought her straight to his table. He found
himself wondering what she'd look like just out of bed in the morning, all
tousled and silky. Wearing nothing but a smile. Appalled at the direction of
his thoughts, he forced himself to listen to her, his face never betraying
what was on his mind. This was a monumental personal distraction he did not
need. Not ever, but especially not now. Obi-Wan was reaching critical
junctures in his life and training, and he needed his full attention right
now. And he was a Jedi Knight, a Master. His behavior was supposed to be
above reproach. What was he doing? Qui-Gon Jinn paused to consider the
question. It wasn't a question he ever asked himself. He wasn't sure he
could produce an answer for it. He just did what he did. He sighed inwardly
and resolved to somehow find the strength to banish this this strange new
preoccupation. In the mean time, he supposed it couldn't hurt to be friends
with this Lia Traxis. She thought she appeared at ease in the chair across
>from him. One arm was loosely draped across the back, but he still sensed a
tenseness in the way she sat, as though she needed to be on alert to run
away. What was it about him that made her nervous, and what could he do to
help her not feel that way? Her fingers had idly shredded the flower that
had dropped on the table while talking to him.

"If you've been here only ten years, then you must not be a native
Coruscanti."

"No, I'm originally from Nyme'. Most of my family is still there. But this
is home for me."

Now he remembered where he'd heard the name Traxis before. A large, ancient
and clannish family, they owned and operated extensive orchards and
fruit-growing collectives on that Mid-Rim world. She told him about the
planet, her family and their land, but he picked up indications that she
wished to turn her back on her homeworld for some reason.

Valia found herself slowly growing more relaxed talking with Qui-Gon. He was
finally asking her questions she could easily answer. Try as she might, she
could detect no ulterior motive in his wanting to speak to her. He seemed to
be content just passing the time in an idle chat, maintaining a polite
eye-contact. Still, she noted the way his blue eyes flicked interestedly
over her during several points in the conversation. She wasn't sure whether
to be relieved or alarmed at the sight of a normal male reflex in him. She
couldn't quite think of him as ordinary. He seemed indefinably so much more
than that.

By the time Qui-Gon's juice glass was empty, Valia realized she had done
most of the talking, and she hardly knew any more about him than three days
ago. How had that happened? With some chagrin, she pulled herself away from
the table and vowed to herself the next time she saw him she would learn
more about him. Would there be a next time? As he rose from his chair, she
noticed one of the obnoxious pink flowers had caught on the hood of his
robe. Common sense told her he probably wouldn't want to walk around with
that. "Uh, Master Jinn, you've got..." she pointed to his upper back, then
realized it would just be easier to pick it off herself. She cautiously
reached up around him and plucked it from the fabric. She stepped back,
suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy. What was wrong with her? She wasn
't bothered by physically big men, but she was acutely aware of this
peculiar larger than life aura surrounding him. She forced herself to look
up at him. He really had the kindest smile. It was squeezing the outer
corners of his eyes into crinkles. He gave her another one of those courtly
bows, thanked her for the pleasure of her company, and was off with a swirl
of dark robe. She watched his long, rolling stride take him out of sight,
back to the Temple presumably. She stood lost in thought near the table
several seconds after he'd disappeared.

"Hobnobbing with Jedi Knights, now, are we?"

Valia turned to the wickedly handsome student who'd been doing the handstand
earlier. "Peel it and stuff it, Ravi," Valia said sweetly, walking back to
the counter. "It's not like they don't come here almost every day."

"You don't sit down at tables with them every day."

She wadded up the flower she'd picked off Qui-Gon and pelted it at him.

"Hey!" he protested as it struck him wetly on his ear.

Ravi Brillion was one of her best friends and one of the first she'd made
upon her arrival to Coruscant. Several years younger than her, he was a
perpetual student of various performing arts or whatever happened to catch
his interest. He was constantly in the middle of dreaming up and writing
plays in the hopes they'd one day be wildly successful. An expert dancer, he
often partnered Valia in the many dance clubs they frequented around the
City. He'd also introduced her to the sport of building-climbing and
para-gliding. He filled the role of adventurous younger brother and, at
times, son in Valia's life. But every time she felt the relationship was a
little too one-sided, such as when she was rescuing him from some drunken
adventure or one of his passionate political protests, he'd do something to
come through for her. Most of the time he simply kept the laughter in her
life. It was an odd but enduring relationship.

Valia sensed Ravi was going to be a complete pest about seeing her talking
with the Jedi Master, so she decided to fill him in. "This one did me a
little favor the other day," she said returning behind the counter.

Ravi theatrically jerked his head back in surprise. Then he leaned forward
on the counter expectantly. "Ooh, do tell..."

So she told him and the rest of the group of friends clustered at the
counter what had happened three days before. When she finished, they all
erupted at once.

"I'd have kicked this guy's ass to Tatooine and back..."

"Lia, why didn't you say anything..."

"I'd have dragged him to a dream shop and made them
wire him so he'd have everything he said to you done to himself..."

"What the hell do you mean they just 'suggested'..."

"Didn't they even use their lightsabers?"

"They should have sliced off his--"

Valia was laughing at their belated macho protectiveness. "No, no, they
never used their lightsabers. Except maybe to let him see they had them."
They all turned into little boys when it came to the subject of Jedi Knights
and lightsabers. Even though it was impossible to become one unless one was
born with a high midichlorian count and chosen by the Order, children and
young people everywhere dreamed on. They had their own ideas for how to
employ the classic Jedi weapons, as well. It was fortunate they'd never get
their hands on them.

"I'd have made this loser dance if I had a lightsaber." Paccaia was skilled
with metal swords and bars, and was making thrusts and swipes in the air
with an imaginary weapon.

"Yeah, the real story isn't very exciting." This from Bracca.

"Well, excuse me for sticking to the facts," Valia laughed. But then, I
really didn't tell you the exciting part, which I still don't quite
understand myself, she mused. She pulled datapads and cards out of a
cubby-hole in the back wall of the store. Ravi was already satirizing the
event which he'd been nowhere near to witness.

"Oh, Padawan-boy," he intoned in a comically deep, stern voice. He stared
down his nose at an imaginary offensive object on the ground. "Remove this
piece of dung from the lady's sight." He waved imperiously with his hand.
Valia snorted and rolled her eyes.

Part 3

Qui-Gon's broad back reminded Valia of a wall as she picked up a tray for
another table. He was sitting at the same table as before with his back
toward the noisiest part of the storefront, facing the tree. She hesitated,
wondering if he wanted to be left alone. But he could do that countless
other places besides here, couldn't he? Sooner or later he would want
someone to wait on him if he was here. Drre made a move to go to his table,
and that decided her. She stopped her with a raised hand. "I'll get it," she
said. Her staff member raised an eybrow but said nothing. It was quite
normal for the owner to wait tables and work the counter like the rest of
the staff. It was unusual for her to single out a certain customer. She
moved away to another table. Valia paused again. Had this been anyone else,
she would have already been over there with an enthusiastic "Hey, Qui-Gon!!
How's it hanging? What's up at the Temple? What are those fat bastards in
the Senate up to today?" Somehow this just wasn't going to happen. Not with
him. Well, if she was ever going to get over this shyness and be somewhat
comfortable with him as a regular customer, she should just walk over there
now. Taking the tray with her, she decided she'd just see what he wanted on
her way to the other table.

Valia circled around him and saw that his eyes were closed and his hands
were folded neatly in his lap. What was he doing, napping? She tilted her
head and curiously studied his calm face, leaning closer. It wasn't
classically handsome like the young faces of Ravi, Paccaia and Bracca. But
it was compellingly attractive to her, and growing more so every time she
saw him. A few loose strands of his long hair had escaped the section tied
back above his ears. They floated in the breeze. She wondered what his hair
felt like, if it was soft. His nose was fascinating. It had to have been
broken, probably long ago. There was surely some interesting history in that
face. She wondered if she would ever know it. She also felt like an
unbelievable snoop, staring at him like this. On that thought, he suddenly
sighed and snapped open his eyes. They were already focused on her.
Startled, Valia gasped and took a jerky step backwards, jostling and
spilling everything on the tray she held. Green juice spouted over the edge
and splattered on the stone. She shut her eyes in an embarassed grimace.
Immediately his hand was on her arm.

"I'm sorry," they both said at the same time. Valia's eyes flew open. The
hand that was cradling her arm was rock solid and steadying. It also felt as
though every single molecule of her had suddenly been magnetized and was
pulling in the direction of his touch. Even through the fabric of her sleeve
she could feel the sparkling warmth of it. Unable to keep her eyes on his
any longer, she dropped her gaze.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

"Well now, I could easily say the same to you," he answered gently. He
seemed to remember he was touching her and quickly withdrew his hand. That
had been a purely reflexive move, to reach out to her.

"Were you asleep?" Valia asked, setting juice-soaked objects upright on the
tray.

"No, meditating."

Oh great, she thought. I've intruded on some sacred Jedi ritual. But didn't
he have a whole temple full of places to do that? She gestured back toward
the tables full of noisy customers and tourists. "In the middle of all
this?"

He shrugged. "One finds many ways to tune out harmless background
distractions." Every distraction imaginable except you, Qui-Gon thought,
wondering how it was she looked more disarmingly lovely every time he saw
her. No, I haven't figured out how to tune you out yet, and I'm not sure I
really want to.

Once again, he'd been driven or drawn over here, he wasn't sure which. He
had not managed to crush out that spark of interest in this woman. During
the past week he had been so uncharacteristically snappish and irritable he'
d nearly sought out a temple healer to make sure there was nothing
physically wrong with him. But he had an idea what the problem was, and it
had something to do with a pair of haunting gray eyes. Obi-Wan was avoiding
him, and he was sure his name was being whispered in the stone hallways and
chambers of the temple. The first he needed to remedy, but the second he
could do nothing about, and really could not care less.

Yesterday he had called for a gladiator droid, hoping to release some of
this tension. A quarter of an hour later, when it was all over, and the four
meter tall opponent was reduced to scattered, charred sections of smoking
machinery, he'd felt marginally better. Scowling and sweating in the middle
of the hazy chamber full of wreckage, he'd absently noted he'd even taken a
couple of chunks out of the walls. Bad form. But as he deeply inhaled the
stench of ozone and cauterized machinery, trying to find his center of focus
and calm, he knew this was not a solution. There were those in the temple
who would have instantly seen this was not a heavy lightsaber work-out, this
was an inner battle. Well, right now he didn't give a womp-rat's ass who saw
or what they thought. Not wanting anyone to ask him what was troubling him,
he'd quickly stalked out of the room. Why her? Why now? This was something
he should be counseling young Obi-Wan through, not wrestling with himself.
He'd deal with this, one way or another.

One of those ways appeared to be to simply let go and just be here, where
she was. Personal distraction or not, it seemed the only way to keep some
measure of peace within himself. He could tell himself he was here to
protect her and make sure she wasn't being harrassed. But that would
probably be a lie. Even that excuse grew flimsier every minute he saw that
she wasn't. He was here because he wanted to be. And he was thirsty. Shouldn
't that be reason enough? Listening to his instincts had served him well in
the past. Right now they were telling him to sit here, patiently wait the
situation out, and observe. Observe, he snorted inwardly. Oh, yes indeed.
Today the lovely Miss Traxis was wearing a sky-blue duster over a
midriff-baring outfit of the same soft material. Her hair was softly twisted
away from her face above each ear and trailed down her back in a long thick
rope. She stood there holding the sopping tray looking at him apologetically
with those eyes. He desperately wanted her to be at ease, just be herself
around him. He wanted to be near the living heat and light that were her
life-force. He was also dangerously close to wanting her, if he hadn't
already crossed that Jedi-forbidden line.

Valia glanced down at the puddle of spilled juice on the stone pavers and
noticed droplets of it on his tall boots. Horrified beyond what she normally
would have been at such a thing, she launched into fresh apologies. "Master
Jinn, I'm so sorry, but I think I got some of this on you. Let me just go
get--"

"Don't worry yourself about it." He waved a hand dismissively.

"But it's on your--"

"Lia."

There it was again. That head-swimming rush she felt when he said her name
like that. Something inside her went all warm and drippy. She shook her head
to clear it.

"Believe me, this is hardly the worst thing that has gotten splashed on
these boots." He leaned back in his chair almost indolently, but sharply
focused his mind on calming her. "Let's see, in the times I've been here, I'
ve had flowers dropped on me and now been blessed with a sprinkle of fruit
juice. I think that makes the situation casual enough for you to just call
call me Qui-Gon."

Valia stared at him, transfixed by his eyes. She was vaguely aware of a
hypnotic, song-like humming in her head. A nearly euphoric peace settled
over her. This was such a trifling thing, he really didn't mind. She'd done
nothing wrong. Everything was fine. Was he messing with her head again? She
decided she didn't care, even if he was. She smiled and sighed.

"All right...Qui-Gon. I came over here to see if there was anything you
wanted. Can I get anything for you?"

"Do you have any of that Cerean juice?"

Valia grimaced and closed her eyes again. "I'm all out of that." This was
really going well.

"More fungus problems?" Qui-Gon quipped, smiling up at her.

Valia laughed. "No, no. I'm just out of the syrup base and it won't be in
until tomorrow."

She thoughtfully rubbed her chin and quickly tried to think of something
similar that might please him. "I've got a few experimental recipes I've
been working with. If you'd like, I can mix up something for you."

Qui-Gon considered this. Normally he detested being fussed over in any way.
He wasn't sure how he felt about her being the one to do it.

"What, don't you trust me?" she teased when he didn't answer right away. She
had one hand jauntily on a gracefully curved hip. Now that was an
interesting question, he thought. He covertly eyed the bare skin above her
stomach. It looked silky soft, over the flat muscles.

"You don't have anything poisonous back there, do you?" he teased back.

"Just the Ithorian Lida tree sap. But I promise not to use any of that."

"Well then," he said. "I leave myself in your capable hands."

Before Valia could think too much about that statement, she began moving
away. "Just let me take care of this mess, and I'll be right back," she
said, holding out a hand as if to keep him from leaving. Qui-Gon simply
nodded complacently and closed his eyes again.

She shoved her way through the crowd back to the counter. Drre was the first
server she saw. "Please fix this order, Drre and run it out to table 11. A
little accident." She really didn't want to go into an explanation of what
had happened. She was already thinking up a concoction of juices and
extracts, mixing in her head as she reached into refrigerated bins and units
for what she needed. He wouldn't want anything too sweet. Or too flowery.
She mixed syrups and juices in a pitcher, accurately estimating amounts. She
thought of the taste of the Cerean juice and drew from the extensive palette
of remembered flavors and essences stored in her memory. She entered the
recipe into a keypad, in case he really liked it . Or hated it. She diluted
it down and took a hurried taste with a spoon. She approved. It tasted just
like she'd imagined.

"Hey Lia, you got the izziwip syrup down there?" Chuluk shouted from his
station down at the other end of the bar.

"Coming at ya!" she yelled back and sent the dispenser down to him in a
graceful underhanded throw. He caught it with practiced ease and shot a
stream of it into the drink he was mixing. Tightly covering her pitcher, she
placed it with a glass and a hand towel on a tray.

"I will not spill this, I will not spill this..." she muttered softly to
herself like a prayer the whole time. Holding the tray over her head, she
elbowed her way back out toward the tree. She saw a familiar face.

"Hey, loser!" She happily pulled and snapped the harness strap against the
back of a monstrous freighter pilot. "When did you hit town?"

The man turned around. He was drinking large tumbler of something that
looked like blood. A smile split his face as he looked down. "About an hour
ago."

"You took a whole hour to get your butt over here and see me?" Valia gave
him a mock glare, hand on her hip.

"Traffic was bad."

"When is traffic not bad around here?"

"How's my favorite little fruit-squishing farm girl?" He wrapped her head
and shoulders in a one-armed hug until she squawked.

"Watch who you're calling 'farm girl'!"

"Or what? You'll take a pitchfork to me? Or prune me?"

"Oooh, don't give me any ideas, especially about what to prune..."

He laughed and she grinned as she moved away from her friend. "I'll talk to
you in a few minutes," she threw over her shoulder. She gave quick greetings
to several more friends on her way back to Qui-Gon.

The odd sensation of time itself slowing down struck her as she reentered
the pool of tranquility surrounding the Jedi Master under the tree. She
carefully set the pitcher and glass down on the table in case he was at his
meditating again. He opened his eyes.

"All right," she said as she poured. "Try this."

She waited expectantly as he took a drink from the glass. She breathed again
when she saw a positive reaction.

"This is wonderful," he said. "What's in it?"

"Ha! I thought you trusted me."

"Oh, I do. I just want to know what to ask for the next time I come here
thirsty."

She smiled and leaned forward on the back of another chair. "A Traxis secret
recipe."

She remembered the entry number had been 217 when she had been logging it
in. "Just call it 'Poison Number 217'. I'll know what you want." She
remembered the towel. "Oh, here's something to wipe off your boots." She
handed it to him. Qui-Gon sighed and took it from her. He wiped the already
dried and unseen juice from his boots more for her benefit than anything
else.

The quick upward stab of sexual desire caught Valia completely off-guard.
She nearly reeled from it. Maybe it was the way his long, strong-looking
thighs flexed through the material of his trousers. Maybe it was the latent
physical power she sensed in his easy posture. Maybe it was the mustache.
She had no idea. Probably a whole combination of factors. I wasn't looking
for this, she thought. I don't need this. She quickly tried to push the
feeling away, the thought of her lips and tongue against his to a far back
corner of her mind. Her attraction to him had been growing since the moment
she'd met him and now it was spilling over like table 11's ill-fated order.
She hadn't felt anything like this in years.

"Thank you," he said, handing the towel back to her. His fingertips brushed
hers as she took it. She bit the inside of her bottom lip at his touch. She
shifted her feet nervously and squeezed her thighs together. She was aware
of a blooming heat and wetness there. Thank the gods she hadn't been any
closer to him with that tray, or it would have gone into his lap. And how,
pray tell, would she have offered to clean that up?

"And thank you," he said again, raising his glass toward her in a toast-like
motion. He took another drink.

"It's not too sweet for you?" she asked. Taste was such a subjective sense.

"No."

"Not too tart?"

"No."

"You aren't picking up any hint of sliminess at all, are you?"

Sliminess?? He gave her a long quizzical look from beneath raised eyebrows.

"Because I can add a little more piock juice, it's got astringent properties
that would cut that..."

A smile crept into his lips. "No. It's perfect the way it is. Would you like
me to fill out a survey form?"

Valia stared at him, holding the towel with both hands. She twisted it so
hard her knuckles cracked. She was rambling on and dilly-dallying, and she
knew she shouldn't. What she should do is run and hide.

"Or you can sit down a while, if you'd like, and you can discuss your
formulation with me."

He was openly inviting her to do what she was thinking, and stay. How she
wanted to sink into a chair next to him and listen to that voice some more.
Study that mustache. All day long. She shook her head, fighting the vortex
pulling her to him, and it wasn't a Force-driven suggestion from him. It was
in her. She gestured vaguely with one arm toward the store-front. "I'm..."
she trailed off.

"Of course," he nodded. "You're busy." He studied her for a few seconds as
she collected the tray and made ready to leave.

"If you don't see me here for some time, it's not that you've mortally
offended me. I'm just going off-world for a while."

Why had he been compelled to tell her that? He was answerable to no one for
his day-to-day whereabouts. Yet beneath her salt and breezy nonchalance, he
sensed in this woman an enormous capacity to wonder and worry about each and
every customer that crossed her path. They became her friends, her family.
There were huge reservoirs of concern and care in her, and all it would take
is some trivial incident or misunderstanding to accidentally tap them.
Instinct again.

She shrugged. "I probably might have wondered. Well, not wondered about
offending you. About you. Well, not worried about you yourself necessarily,
because I'm sure you're quite capable of looking after yourself, but it's
just that I...you...oh, never mind." She covered her eyes with a hand and
blushed wildly.

Amused and charmed, Qui-Gon pressed his lips together to keep from grinning
at her. He considered the novel idea of anyone wondering or worrying about
him. With the possible exception of Obi-Wan, he had no one who would.

"Well, gotta run. Enjoy!" she said, and almost literally did, taking herself
and her pink cheeks away from the table under the tree. Back to the noise,
confusion and fast-moving familiar element she was used to. Back to her
friends, the people she knew. He switched chairs so he was now facing the
front of Lia's bar. He sat contemplatively, slowly drinking, trying to
figure out what she'd put in 'Poison Number 217'. And why she'd suddenly
acted so oddly.

Today was the first time she had really, truly smiled directly at him. It
reminded him of a binary sunrise he'd seen on some forgotten world. He'd
happened to be at a vantage point on the planet where both suns crossed the
horizon exactly together. The sudden radiance and warmth was the same.

He observed the crowd of varied customers. He was restless to be gone from
Coruscant. He needed action, duty. He needed to find out where that
Corellian group of terrorists was getting their chemical weapons from. He
knew there were those who would say he enjoyed looking for trouble. Trouble,
he mused, was subjectively defined, and something that didn't need looking
for. It was right here. It was sweet and kind. It moved with an unconscious
sensuality. It was beautiful large gray eyes in a heart-shaped face. When he
next saw Lia, she was sitting surrounded by a cluster of pilots and
freighter crew members, listening to a bawdy story. At least half of the
male ones were tossing adoring looks her way. Jealousy never occurred to
him. It was completely alien to him. But a longing he couldn't name spiraled
deep inside him. She laughed at something the pilot known only as 'loser'
said. She was smoking a water-pipe, and blowing smoke rings. She closed her
eyes as she took a long pull on the mouthpiece. To his annoyance, he found
himself becoming sexually aroused by the sight of her. He forced down the
physical reaction with a mental command.

She was just fine. She did not need him standing guard over her. He'd use
this picture of her, along with his considerably stubborn will to not think
of her at all after he walked away from here. He would simply forbid himself
to think distracting thoughts of her until he set foot on Coruscant again.

~~~~~~~~~~
Part 4

I am not awake, Valia told herself. Not again. The minutes went by. She
floated in a reluctant haze of half-sleep, wishing she could just slip under
again. When she realized her denial was not working, she sighed and opened
her eyes. Still dark out. She heard the soft drone of the endless
criss-crossing lanes of air taxis, transports, and the occasional freighter
outside her open balcony door. This was the quietest traffic ever got in
Galactic City, in the predawn hours.

Every night for the past two weeks, she'd unwillingly woken up at the same
time. Her sleeplessness was starting to show in the shadows under her eyes.
Even Ravi had asked her if she was all right. There was no apparent reason
for it, except that she felt tightly strung, hypersensitive to every sound,
scent and touch. Especially touch. She was sure she could feel every single
thread in the cloth of her bedding. She stretched sensuously. She was
sexually aroused. Again. She crossed her arms over her eyes and smiled
dreamily. Almost her first thought upon waking was of him. She definitely
was going to have to stop this before she saw him again. If he saw what was
on her mind... Well, what if he did? No, she didn't want to find out what
his reaction would be. The embarrassment would probably kill her. But in the
meantime, I may as well enjoy it, she thought. Maybe whatever this was would
clear out of her system before he reappeared under the tree outside her
store.

Without even touching herself, she knew she was wet, slick, and warm as
fire. She let her thoughts wander to fantasies that would probably never
happen. Even the idea of a long, lazy, whiskery kiss was enough to reach
flash-point. She closed her eyes and rolled over on her stomach. Her long
straight hair tumbled over the side of her face as she sought the perfect
spot to apply pressure. She ground her pelvis against the bed. It wasn't
anywhere near as satisfying as a warm, solid body of flesh in bed with her,
or even a virtual experience, but it was all she had at the moment. She
concentrated on the silky sheets sliding against her thighs and breasts,
imagining it was skin. His skin. She stretched her legs, luxuriating in the
feel of the muscles flexing. In less than a minute, she found her release.
She stifled a strangled cry with a mouthful of sheet.

When her breathing slowed, she rolled back over in the tangled bed. She felt
an unusual sense of longing as the afterglow died away. This was a bit
pathetic, actually. She thought of him again. Why him? Trillions of beings
on the planet, and here she was, falling for one tall, grizzling Jedi
Knight. A Jedi Master, of all things. Nomad. Mystery. And if not forbidden
to her, at least unavailable. This was like lusting after a priest or a
monk.

With a noise of disgust, she threw aside the sheet and got out of bed. She
pulled on a long silk robe. Hot tea and a puff or two. Maybe that would help
her get back to sleep. She went to the cramped apartment kitchen and
rummaged for what she needed. Her mind wandered as she dispensed hot water
and filled a small water-pipe.

Her life on Coruscant was full and good. It was now everything she'd hoped
it would be when she'd first arrived at the age of 19. Every form of
entertainment for the mind and body was at her disposal, should she wish it.
Her much-loved and growing business consumed most of her time. She had
numerous friends here and off-world. She was living at the heart of
political, religious and academic circles. She was at the center of it all.
Galactic core. Good old Triple-Zero. The Big City. Her home.

She carried pipe and tea out to the balcony. She had crowded the
ridiculously tiny afterthought with potted plants and containers of
flowering vines. It stood out conspicuously among the other balconies on the
side of the building. Easing into a chair wedged into a corner, she put her
feet up on the railing and curled her toes around it. She sipped the
fragrant tea and let the herbal smoke from her pipe do its soothing work.
The view never seemed less exciting or beautiful to her. This was the best
time for star-gazing, as the air-scrubbers finally caught up with the
previous day's haze and the air was at its clearest now. True, only the
brightest stars were visible because of the glare from the countless city
lights. But the endless vista of sparkling lights made an incredible
man-made galaxy. A police car, not restricted to the regimented lanes of
traffic, purred past around the corner of her building. She didn't bother to
straighten out her robe or wrap it more tightly around her propped-up legs.
She could very well be mooning her so-called neighbors in the next building
over, but in her present mood it didn't really bother her. The silk brushed
against her legs in the breeze. Her hair, completely unbound and mussed,
brushed the skin where her robe opened and on her arms. She leaned back
further and sucked slowly on her pipe, enjoying all the arousing sensations.
Whatever might be wrong with her, at least it felt good.

Blast and rot if he didn't cross her mind again! Qui-Gon Jinn. Had he worked
some wizardry when he'd looked into her eyes or touched her? She felt like a
droid with an electrical malfunction. Every time she thought rationally
about her attraction to him, it seemed crazy. But to every part of her other
than her brain, it made perfect sense. The man looked like he might be
closer to her father's age. Her father! She snorted with distaste and
dislike. Cold, ethnocentric, xenophobic and maddeningly patriarchal nature
aside, he'd probably like this Qui-Gon Jinn. Someone to debate politics and
share war stories with. Her mother would take one look at him and start a
deliriously joyful cooking frenzy. Yes, Tak and Binny would like him, all
right. Listen to me, what am I thinking? I have three awkward conversations
with a customer and I'm already taking him home to meet mama and papa, she
thought. Maybe there really was something wrong with her. Had it been that
long since she'd been with a man that she went sappy over the first one with
any maturity to have done something kind for her in who knew how long? Maybe
she just needed a wild meaningless fling with a non-human. Or, as Ravi was
forever trying to goad her into doing, get wired in a dream bar with him and
have a fabulously erotic virtual orgy. She didn't know what she wanted. Real
intimate relationships brought entirely too many risks, complications and
hassles. She'd more or less sworn off them several years ago after a series
of unsatisfying and painful affairs. She didn't need them. She didn't need
anyone else in her life. There was really nothing at all she needed that she
could think of, she observed as she rose from her chair. Life was grand just
the way it was. This was just a case of wanting something she couldn't have.
It would pass.

The sky was beginning to lighten to a dark blue-gray. She closed the door
and went back to her bedroom where she stripped off the robe and lay back
down in her bed. She fell into a restless sleep in which she dreamed the
bedsheets became the entangling folds of a dark brown robe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 5

Ravi Brillion was the writer, producer and star of his own play. With Valia'
s storefront as his backdrop, he performed every role himself. Three friends
guffawed and critiqued the lewd performance. A scattering of customers
watched as well, or did their best to ignore it. Ravi was deep into the role
of the female lead, sashaying back and forth before his audience with much
exaggerated hip-waggling. He enthusiastically ran his hands over the bulges
of the melons tied under his shirt and the other fruit stuffed into his
black pants. His artistic reverie was rudely interrupted by a loud
throat-clearing behind him. He noticed his audience's attention was no
longer on him. He turned to find an annoyed Valia, holding a large empty
basket and one hand on her hip. She set the basket on their table and slowly
clapped her hands.

"I hate to disrupt your masterpiece, but may I please have my display back?"

"Lia! Love of my life! You're just in time to catch the last act!"

"That was the last act."

"Come on, surely you can spare a few props for a work of art," the handsome
art student pleaded.

"Art, my ass! You're scaring away my customers!"

"And a damn fine ass it is, too," Ravi made a point of admiring her
backside. Valia brushed off his harmless, adolescent flirting.

"Mark my words, Traxis," he gave her a mock glower from beneath his swinging
hank of bangs. "When the art critics and reviewers start beating down your
door for the 'I knew him before he was a star' interviews, you'll be falling
over yourself to give them your reverent opinion of the undiscovered genius
you knew."

Valia rolled her eyes and made gagging noises. "Hand it over, Brillion."

"Seriously, Lia, I'm practicing for my playwriting class," he said reaching
under his shirt to free the melons.

"I'm sure it will be wonderfully received without the fruit. Hey, watch it,
you're going to bruise my melons!"

The table full of students erupted with laughter. Valia snatched fruit from
Ravi and placed it in the basket. He dropped to his knees in front of her.
"Forgive me, my lady, I would never do anything to bruise your delicate
melons." His eyes were level with her chest. Flushing now, she grabbed the
balis, teo fruits, beomuntis, freelas, liantiums and croniferra melons off
the table. The other friends scraped their chairs back and got up >from the
table, still hooting. "We gotta take off."

"See you later," Paccaia said to both Ravi and Lia. They left with noisy
farewells, leaving Ravi to face the fruit bar owner's wrath alone. "Who let
you take all this? Do I need to tell the entire staff not to take their eyes
off you?"

"I told them you said I could have it."

"They should know better than to listen to you."

"Hey, part of being a great performer is being believable."

Valia made a sound of disgust as she listened to her friend and dance
partner.

"Got your friend over there to crack a smile," he said proudly, giving her a
sly look.

"Who's that?" she asked distractedly.

"Old stone-face Jedi. Over by the tree."

Valia's heart lurched. She glanced quickly in the indicated direction.
Qui-Gon. He'd been here to see all this? And he'd smiled at it? Either Ravi
had actually been good, or she'd completely misjudged Qui-Gon's sense of
humor. She was still getting used to the fact that he had one at all. There
he sat, by himself, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. He was in
serious study over a data-pad, absently stroking his beard. A mug and
pitcher were placed on the table in front of him.

"Well, I'm sure now he knows what degenerates I hang around with and cater
to," she snapped.

"I definitely think he's got a thing for you," Ravi said, mischief gleaming
in his black eyes.

"He does not have a 'thing' for me! Jedi Knights aren't supposed to have...
'things' for people."

Ravi laughed, flinging back his black shock of bangs. "I think this one
does. Why else is he here almost every day? I've seen the way he looks at
you. Like he's really, really thirsty..."

Valia deliberately stamped out the flicker of delight at the confirmation of
Qui-Gon looking at her. "He just likes a change of scenery from the Temple."

"That's what he told you, huh? 'Scenery'??" He waggled his eyebrows at her
suggestively. Valia slapped at him affectionately, annoyed at her poor
choice of wording. "Well, that's not exactly what he said." She wasn't sure
how she was going to get out of this uncomfortable conversation. "He happens
to be a complete gentleman. Unlike some people I know."

Ravi's smile widened. "You've got a thing for him," he said, pulling
liantiums out of his boot tops.

"I do not have a 'thing' for him," she denied, minutely examining the skin
of purple-striped pink melon for damage.

"Come on, Traxis! You spill or drop something every time you see him or talk
to him here." Ravi shook his head and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "The way
I see it, at the very least, this guy represents a whole lot of wasted
inventory to you."

"I'm looking at wasted inventory as we speak. Give me that!" She snatched at
the fruit he pulled out of a shirt pocket. Ravi was really enjoying watching
her get riled.

"It's a thing."

"Not."

"Liar."

"Brat."

She grabbed at the long red pod-like beomuntis he'd wound hat-like on his
head. Ravi sighed dramatically. "I'm really torn here, Lia."

"Torn? How so?"

"Well, between doing my manly duty as a friend and protecting you from
involving yourself with him..."

"Oh, please--"

"Or telling you to just go for it and jump his bones."

"Ravi!"

"The smile you could bring to that face..." He gave her a leering wink.

"Don't be vulgar." She flushed again as his comment unwittingly came too
close to her daydreams. "He can probably hear everything you're saying."

"Vulgar? Me? What about that story you were telling yesterday about what you
and a certain body part can do with freelas--"

"Shush!"

Ravi unzipped his pants. Valia looked around in horror to see if any
customers were watching this. He casually removed fruit from the inside of
his pants. She looked skyward as if beseeching help. Then she held up a hand
to stop him. "On second thought, Ravi, I don't think I want those back any
more. You can keep those."

Ravi shrugged, his hands still down his crotch, and gave her a bright grin.
She swore the native Coruscanti had been born without a sense of shame. She
dared to glance back in Qui-Gon's direction. He was looking at them. The
cloud-filtered sunlight gleamed on his hair and high forehead. The breeze
lifted a section of hair off his shoulder. Was that a hint of a smile on his
face? She could see the blue of his eyes all the way from here. She
tentatively smiled and waved, then quickly averted her own eyes. Ravi sat
back down in his chair and was retying his boot tops. "He's looking at you.
Giving you that old thirsty eye."

"He's looking at the one-man public nuisance known as Ravi Brillion." She
turned away from him with her heaping colorful basket, intending to set it
back on the front counter where it belonged. Believing order restored in her
dining area, she looked once more in the direction of the Jedi Master's
table. Still looking this way. Just at her this time. No mistaking it. He
winked at her. Valia's lower jaw and arms sagged. Fruits tumbled over the
edge of the overfilled basket and fell to the stone pavers. A melon
splattered messily. Ravi saw where she was staring and flung himself back in
his chair and brayed laughter to the open sky. Valia turned to give him a
dirty look. She spilled half of the rest of the basket lunging to grab the
back of his chair as he fell backwards to keep his head from the same fate
as the melon. Ravi was still laughing at her as she set the basket on the
counter. Darting behind it, she glanced one last time at the openly smiling
Qui-Gon, and fled both of them to the safety of the walk-in cooler.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 6

Valia sat in the most unobtrusive place she could find in the viewing
gallery. Off to one side, where she wouldn't be easily noticed. She shifted
on the cool stone bench, trying to get comfortable. This place was no
monument to physical comfort, that was for sure. From the moment she'd
entered the Jedi Temple, she'd been awed by the sheer age of the place. Even
these benches looked ancient. Long echoing corridors, high ceilings, somber
statuary. All in polished stone. Robed figures moved everywhere, pages,
young students, knights, and a variety of workers. No one seemed to
give her any undue attention, yet she still felt conspicuous and out of
place. She'd worn a long hooded cloak over her clothing out of an urge to be
respectful, but to also provide some measure of anonymity. She wanted to see
him, but the idea of running into him here made her nervous. Her requests
for directions were met with polite answers, and now here she was in the
public viewing area overlooking a large practice hall.

Several weeks before, Qui-Gon had off-handedly suggested she could visit any
time she was free. She hadn't known there were places here open to the
public. She'd politely declined, but soon curiosity had gotten the better of
her, and she'd left the store for the afternoon. She'd wondered for years
what went on in this place anyway. Her "boys" would be more thrilled to know
about this than she. She'd have to bring them sometime.

Would Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan be here today? She scanned the floor. The sounds of
various students and masters echoed around the room. Some were practicing
hand-to-hand combat on mats. Others were using long, wooden staffs. Younger
boys were doing gymnastic moves under the instruction of a small greenish
humanoid. Then she saw him. The hair and height were unmistakable. Great
flaming gobs of comet crust, he had no shirt on! What were they doing to
him? Someone was tying a cord around his waist, apparently securing one of
his arms to his side. Valia suddenly forgot how cold the bench was and moved
forward to the edge of her seat. Obi-Wan was the re, too. The two of them
moved to a wide open space on the floor and faced each other. Both were
wearing dark trousers and boots. Nothing else. Valia wanted to slap herself.
The sight of all that bare male skin was making her giddy. She must look
like a staring fool, but what she was looking at was all too easy on the
eyes. Youthful Obi-Wan had heavier muscles and a patch of reddish-brown hair
on his chest. Really nice, but she concentrated her attention on Qui-Gon.
Large-boned and tapered in all the right places. Powerful-looking arms with
just the right amount of brawn. Hard, hairless chest and flat stomach. Valia
found herself memorizing details, her lustful curiosity about what had been
beneath that tunic and robe being slaked.

What if they saw her up here? Now, of course, would be the perfect time for
one of them to glance up here and catch her drooling. She shrunk back on the
bench slightly. It was perfectly acceptable for her to be here, she reminded
herself. There were even a few other observers scattered among the seats.
Her eyes scanned over them, flicking past a lone figure cloaked in black all
the way up in a far corner.

At that moment there was little chance of them noticing her, or much of
anything else for that matter, as they had picked up lightsabers and ignited
them. Valia had never seen one in use before, but she'd heard enough about
them. They dueled almost lazily, Qui-Gon holding his own very well.
Literally with one arm tied behind his back. No matter how Obi-Wan tried to
get at him on the side he was vulnerable, Qui-Gon was able to deflect every
blow, and even cause Obi-Wan to have a care for his own defense. Valia
realized she was holding her breath, and she released it with a long gust.
So this was what all the lore and legend was about. Her childhood, as well
as that of so many other living beings for millenia, had been colored with
tales of Jedi Knights with swords of bright fire. Here they were, storybook
heroes in real life. How was it that this gallery wasn't packed? They moved
like dancers. For just a minute Valia shared the desire of her young friends
to be able to pick up a lightsaber and use it like that.

At some invisible signal, they stopped and lowered their weapons. Qui-Gon
must have been explaining something to Obi-Wan about how to make a certain
move. She couldn't hear what they were saying from up here. Qui-Gon was
demonstrating something with his foot, and Obi-Wan was nodding. Their heads
were bent close together. She had gotten the sense that Qui-Gon would be a
good and patient teacher. They faced off again and joined in mock battle.
This time the sparks flew further, the blows were harder, and the looks on
their faces were more intense. A line of eight or nine-year-old boys and
girls filed in behind a Master and stood watching the duel with calm
fascination. This is what they dreamed of being one day; all their training
directed toward when they would be masters of those lightning bolts. Valia
was forgetting to breathe again. To her untrained eyes it looked as though
either one of them could be cut down any instant.

Again at some signal they stopped. Obi-Wan untied Qui-Gon's arm. Something
he said while doing it must have struck his master as funny, because he
threw his maned head back with a short shout of laughter. Now an assistant
came forward and begain to bind Obi-Wan's arm in a similar fashion. Qui-Gon
casually walked in circles, swinging his now free arm to loosen it. The
light from the high opaque windows played across the flexing muscles in his
broad shoulders and upper arms. Valia was not so far away that she would
miss the pale tracery of scars across his back and sides. His hair was
starting to stick to his sweating neck and upper back. She could not take
her eyes from him. She was even more entranced by him than she'd been
before. Coming here was going to result in even more days of hormonal
delirium, she thought with dismay. She wondered if anyone else had sat up
here and warmed this bench the way she was doing. She wondered if anyone
else had warmed it because of him. She brushed away the thought.

By this time teacher and student had reversed roles, and once again they
faced each other, weapons ignited. This time when they fenced, Valia could
see that Obi-Wan did not quite posess the grace and fluidity of his master
when given the same limitations. She wondered what they would face in their
lives that made it vital that they be able to fight on with one arm
disabled, or even missing. Obi-Wan missed his footing and nearly stumbled.
Qui-Gon lifted his blade out of the way while he regained his balance. He
patiently gave some instructions to his pupil and demonstrated a pivoting,
crouching motion to him. Obi-Wan duplicated the move. They clashed sabers
again, Qui-Gon shouting occasional encouragement or pointers. Valia watched
until even she could see a difference in Obi-Wan's technique. The afternoon
passed. She was startled to realize she'd spent nearly all of it here
observing the Jedi practice. She was suddenly aware that her mouth was
parched and she badly needed something to drink. But then that's what
happened when it was left hanging open for too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 7

"So very serious today, Obi-Wan," Valia remarked to him, strolling past his
table to check on him. As if he wasn't as serious every day. She stopped
behind him. "What are you looking at?"

Obi-Wan looked up from the large data screen he was frowning over. He
sighed. "Hyperdrive generator schematics."

Valia grimaced, looking over his shoulder. "Looks like the inside of a
rotted out liantium tree." She peered at the complicated diagrams. She could
take apart and trouble-shoot her small droids and some of her equipment, but
she had utterly no clue what these meant. Curiosity piqued,
she leaned her arms on the back of a nearby chair. "Why are you studying
these?"

"Qui-Gon and the other masters believe it 's good to pick an area of
interest and become proficient in it, to better serve others. It's also a
good idea to have something to fall back on in case...well, in case you don'
t pass the Trials and become a Knight."

Wash out of the program? Valia hadn't known that could happen. She
understood the life of a Padawan-learner was difficult and they faced great
pressure, but she had little idea of what the specific details of the daily
life of a Jedi-in-training were.

"Well, I suppose that's very practical thinking, don't you think so?" She
chose not to patronize him and merely tell him she knew he'd succeed. She
was sure he'd make a great Jedi Knight.

"Oh yes, it is."

"Need a refill on that juice?"

"Yes, please," Obi-Wan said, rubbing his eyes. Valia went to the bar and
quickly returned with a pitcher and refilled his glass. She also slipped a
plate of sliced beomunti on the table next to his elbow. She smiled and
winked at him. "I'll leave you alone now," she said and left the pitcher on
the table for him. She'd sweeten up the boy yet. She had resisted the urge
to ask him where Qui-Gon was. She no longer bothered denying to herself the
daily hope that she'd see him. But lately she'd distinctly sensed
disapproval in his student. Disapproval aimed at any attention she gave to
Qui-Gon. She'd also caught what she was sure were the same looks at Qui-Gon
when he gave her any attention, but more covert and hidden. Could he be
jealous of her? Or was he just trying to steer his master away from doing
anything embarassing or forbidden? The last thing she wanted to do was come
between master and apprentice or cause trouble for them. But Qui-Gon had
become a fairly regular fixture at her business. Sometimes alone, sometimes
with Obi-Wan. They'd appear for days at a time and then vanish for weeks.
She'd catch herself worrying and wondering about them until they reappeared
at the table under the tree as mysteriously as they'd gone.

Qui-Gon often spoke to her, but just as often left before she could find the
time or excuse to approach him. It was probably better that way. She
reasoned if she could just dismiss this huge attraction to him as just an
adolescent crush that would never amount to anything and eventually fade,
well, that's exactly what would happen. So then why did it never seem to
lessen? She was fond of him and his dry humor and wise observations on life,
and enjoyed his reassuring presence. Watching out for her, or watching her?
She wasn't sure which. When his eyes were on her she felt the most curious
sensation that he was trying to tell her things with them, as if all she
needed to do was look deeply into them and they could have entire wordless
conversations. So far she'd thwarted him by either closing her eyes or
looking away. She wasn't sure she wanted him to see what was on her mind.

She propped her elbows on the bar counter. No customers needed waiting on
and inventory ordering was taken care of. She could do something serious,
like continue her search for a new store location. She eyed a basket on the
counter full of Malastarian melons. Or she could see if she still knew how
to juggle. The pink and purple striped globes were about the right size.
Normally this was something she might holler at Ravi for doing, but...he
wasn't here now. And the place was nearly deserted at the moment. She picked
three melons out of the basket and moved outside in front of the counter
where she'd have more room. She held one in one hand and two in the other,
trying to remember how to start. She hefted them, gauging their weight. She
gently popped them into the air, and surprised herself when her hands
remembered what to do and she kept them from falling. She concentrated on
only moving her forearms and wrists, keeping her upper arms still. Chuluk
snorted with amusement at his employer from behind the counter where he was
restocking drinkware. Valia continued, wondering how to stop. She glanced
out at Obi-Wan. He was staring at her, openly curious, hyperdrive schematics
completely ignored. She stopped juggling and caught the fruits awkwardly.
She grinned at him. He smiled back. On sheer impulse, Valia tossed him a
melon. He caught it and looked at it as if unsure what to do with it. He
politely tossed it back to her. Her grin widened. The boy showed every sign
of growing up to be far more aloof, serious and introspective than even his
master.

"What do you like to do for fun, Obi-Wan?" Valia walked over to his table.
The young Jedi looked at her as if she'd asked him to sit on the melon and
hatch a rancor.

"Fun?"

"Yeah. You know, what you do in your spare time. Amusement. Hobbies.
Entertainment. Playing. Goofing off."

"We never 'goof off'," he said a little loftily. Valia laughed with delight
at him. Of course he wouldn't.

"A thousand pardons, oh serious one. But surely there must be something,
even if you don't call it goofing off. A famous philosopher once said
'change of work is rest', but some deep thinker from my own world noted that
humans are notorious for craving play, that it's a sign of great
intelligence. I like his thinking better."

Obi-Wan Kenobi thought about this. Valia nearly laughed out loud again at
the way his brow furrowed. He was serious about even this.

"Well, I used to enjoy building little model ships and fighters. I like
swimming. And I do really enjoy saber practice. I suppose I look on that as
fun."

"Hmmmm. That still sounds too much like work."

"It does?"

"Here. While you think about that, can you juggle?" She tossed him the
melons one after another.

"I don't know. I've never done it before."

"I'll bet with your reflexes you could pick it up in a minute."

Obi-Wan examined the melons in his hands. He stood up.

"Practice with just two to start. Hold your hands out like this." She gently
moved his arms into the right position. "Your palms will do most of the
work, popping them in the air. Try to never let them go higher than your
forehead, so you can always keep your eyes on them."

He looked at her again as if expecting to be the butt of some joke. Valia
shrugged and smiled. "Are you worried Qui-Gon is going to see you?"

"I'm supposed to be studying. That's what he left me here to do," he said
stiffly.

"And so you were. I saw you. But you need regular breaks from it, too. Your
eyes won't get strained, and it's a better way to study. Just tell him you
were practicing your hand-eye coordination," she said, her smile taking on a
sly look. She just absolutely had to see him do something frivolous.

Obi-Wan shrugged and threw himself into a concentrated effort to learn this
new skill. With much laughing and fumbling, Valia taught him in stages.
Learning how to juggle yourself was one thing, but teaching it to someone
else was entirely different. She demonstrated it for him by doing it herself
several times. He tried again and again, a look of concentration on his
face, to do as he'd seen Lia doing. At last he seemed to pick up the
pattern. He found the rhythm and sustained it. A smile broke over his face
as he kept all three melons moving in the air.

"Unbelievable. What did I tell you?" Valia watched him with her hands on her
hips. "It took me months to learn how to do that. Months!"

Obi-Wan kept juggling, not wanting to lose the rhythm. He studied the
pattern the fruit made. This was easy. "I think I see openings for more.
There could be more melons in the gaps between the other ones." His eyes
quickly flicked at them. "Toss me a couple more, I want to try it."

"Show-off!" laughed Valia as she went to fetch more melons from the basket.
"I think I've created a monster..." But she was happy to see him actually
playing.

When she returned, he stopped, catching the melons against his chest.

"Hold two in each hand, and when you've got the hang of four, which should
be no problem now that you've mastered three, we'll see if you can do five,
which I can't do myself."

Obi-Wan continued to juggle melons. When the time came to try five, he was
determined to succeed at it, just to master the skill, but also because she
couldn't do it. He had almost succeeded in trying to keep five in the air
when he fumbled. Trying to catch the suddenly slippery, round melons he
missed one and it landed on the stone with a messy splatter. Both he and
Valia stared at it for a second, then simultaneously burst into laughter.

"Oops," observed Obi-Wan, grinning at her.

"Oops," agreed Valia, laughing through her hands. Obi-Wan lifted up a booted
foot, checking for bits of melon and juice. This struck Valia as
particularly funny and made her laugh all the more. Her eyes were squeezed
shut and she had to lean on a nearby table. It was too hilarious. It served
him right. She was trying to tell him she would go get him a towel when
suddenly he wasn't laughing with her any more and a shadow had fallen over
the melon at their feet.

"Master," he said softly, his head bowed.

Qui-Gon studied the two of them for several long seconds, one the contrite
padawan, the other the hauntress of his dreams, and anything but contrite.
Her eyes were still sparkling with merriment from beneath her bangs. He
should have expected to find Obi-Wan doing something uncharacteristic after
being too long in this place. It seemed to have that effect on them. Or
rather its owner did.

He'd watched them for some time from a distance away on the plaza. The
sunlight gleamed off their hair as they stood together, most brightly on Lia
's. She was wearing the most casual attire he'd seen her in yet: flat
slippers, loose satiny trousers and a sleeveless shirt. The perfect clothing
for playing on a warm day such as this. And there she was, playing with his
protege'. Even from here he could hear that musical laugh of hers, as she
touched his hands and moved his arms just so, encouraging him, or as she
demonstrated for him. He should have felt mildly annoyed. Perhaps
exasperated. Most likely a well-practiced void of feeling would have been
the expected reaction from within him. But he was completely unprepared for
the crushing wave of emotion that threatened to flatten him where he stood.
He closed his eyes against it, against the pain, the stunning bliss of it.
There was no willing the feeling away. It made no sense. The only word that
his wildly searching mind could find for it was love. He was in love with
her. Loved her. Is that what this was? He stopped struggling to fight it,
stopped trying to analyze it and rationalize it away. He let it wash through
him. It was just so much easier. He'd worry about what to do about it later.
For now he concentrated on gaining control over his heart rate and
breathing, and the tightnenss in his throat and chest.

His apprentice remained where he was, his head lowered, waiting for his
instructions or reaction. He was sensing for his mood and erring on the side
of caution. Obi-Wan felt something intense, but strangely being kept from
him.

"Obi-Wan. Take those back to the counter now," Qui-Gon said softly.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan answered, clutching the four remaining melons and
moved to obey.

Valia studied Qui-Gon's face as he thoughtfully watched his student. She
made herself keep her eyes on it to see if she could read him. And she'd had
enough of the way she became outrageously demure around him. She was
relieved to see he apparently wasn't upset with them. Not angry, but
definitely deep in thought.

"He's not going to be in trouble, is he?"

Qui-Gon turned to look down at her. She maintained eye contact with him. "I
started this. I'm sorry if he is."

"No. He's not," he answered slowly.

"Well then... am I in trouble?" she probed after a curious pause. Had she
broken some Jedi taboo by causing his apprentice to goof off? His face was
its usual contemplative mask, but there seemed to be a lot going on behind
it. His eyes looked dark and mysterious, from some trick of the light maybe.
He looked at her for so long she nearly did what she swore she wouldn't do
and drop her gaze. There was a surprising amount of warmth in the way he was
looking at her.

"Possibly," he said. "But not in the way you think."

Valia put her hands on her hips and gave him a tilt-headed quizzical look at
this enigmatic statement. My dear, he thought, you've never seen a man whose
heart has just been ripped free of its moorings for you? A smile spread over
his face and he laughed. Just one short laugh upwards to the sunny sky. She
stared at his adam's-apple, startled because this was the last thing she'd
expected, and because she instinctively knew it was a rare thing. Well, it
had been pretty funny to see Obi-Wan juggling fruit. But there had to be
something else behind his good humor.

She felt an intense rush of desire for him again, similar to the very first,
but this time tempered with a longing to know the man, his thoughts, his
fears, his dreams. Her knees nearly went weak with it. She leaned on the
back of a chair with what she hoped was a casual-looking move. She'd never
wanted anyone so fiercely before, not even as a teenaged girl. When he
leaned forward and lightly brushed her shoulder affectionately, she closed
her eyes and swallowed hard. Her skin tingled where he'd drawn his
fingertips over it.

Then Obi-Wan was there again, and the current between them was broken.
Qui-Gon clapped a companiable hand down on his padawan's shoulder.

"Enough playing with food for today, young Obi-Wan. We need to go. Didn't
Lia tell you how easily those melons bruise?" He slanted a smile at her. She
could only give him a weak, abashed smile in return.

Obi-Wan's relief was evident on his face. He gave Lia a questioning look.
Had she come to his defense? There was definitely something between her and
Qui-Gon, but he couldn't quite pin it down. His master seemed to have put up
walls against him lately. And what was it in their conversation that had
made him laugh? And then touch her like that? He wasn't sure, but the Jedi
council and the Order would most likely frown upon and strongly discourage
this. Just how far had this gone? Another suspicion hovered at the back of
his mind. He wondered if he had just failed some test. Study without being
distracted. Had they collaborated on this? Was this just another excuse for
his master to be near her every chance he got? Why was he so interested in
her?

Qui-Gon had once told him that an overly suspicious mind was an open gate to
the Dark Side. He frowned. It shouldn't be any of his business. He didn't
like questioning his master's actions and decisions. All his training told
him he should not. But still... He was still shaking off the chagrin of
having Qui-Gon catch him at fooling around. He decided he didn't like this
unusual situation as he collected his data screen and they walked away.

Valia gave in to the urge to sit down and daydream for just a minute.
Bracca, Paccaia and Ravi found her a short while later, staring into space,
sitting next to a shattered melon.

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 8

Sweat trickled down Obi-Wan's right temple. Another afternoon of saber
practice, and mentor and student were well into the lesson. He and Qui-Gon
were taking a short break. Taking a deep breath, he happened to glance up
into the long gallery running the side of this particular practice hall. The
public was welcome to view practice sessions. It was a gesture of good will
>from the Jedi to the populace of Coruscant, and to the people they served.
It was also understood that it was not there as an ego-builder or to cause
inattentiveness. Normally during the day there were a few observers
scattered in the seats. Today Obi-Wan's eyes stopped on a familiar-looking
figure. The small woman was wrapped in a pale cloak and hood but there was
no mistaking who it was. It was not the first time he'd seen Valia Traxis up
there. Her gray eyes widened slightly and her body seemed to stiffen as she
saw him looking at her. He tried not to glare, and turned away quickly.
Qui-Gon had not once looked in the direction of the gallery.

"Your fruit lady friend is here." Obi-Wan spoke softly, not looking directly
at his master.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow as he turned to study his student. He'd !caught
the sardonic tone in his voice. It was not like Obi-Wan. She could be your
friend as well, he thought. Obi-Wan glanced at him, and looked away again.

"Yes, I was aware of Valia quite some time ago." Qui-Gon casually mopped his
sweating forehead.

Obi-Wan couldn't resist another glance up at her. He gestured toward her
with his head. "Why is she here? Why is she watching us? She's watching you,
isn't she, Master? She is going to be a distraction!"

Qui-Gon experienced a spurt of dismay at his student's outburst. Obi-Wan's
voice had carried to several nearby Jedi students. He sighed. The
observation was unfortunately too close to the truth. Qui-Gon's ulterior
motive for inviting Valia to the observation gallery was to test himself to
see if he could practice and teach without being affected by her. He could,
but it took effort to completely ignore her. A vague sorrow at having to do
so lingered each time. Now Obi-Wan's opinion of her presence had lately
become all too plain. The sullen looks, the bold questioning of where he was
going every time he left the temple and where he had been when he returned,
and the growing bad attitude in his student were becoming intolerable. As if
he didn't have enough to do battling himself. He relaxed his jaws,
unclenching his teeth, letting go of his anger. It was time to teach his
Padawan lesson or two in concentration and end this impudence.

"Have you practiced that back-hand parry we were working on last week?"

"A little, but I didn't--"

"Then we'll do more right now." Qui-Gon flung down the towel and picked up
the training saber he had been using today. They were using the low-powered
sabers less and less in their work-outs, graduating to the real weapons.
These would burn if the blade struck, but would not kill like the ones they
usually carried. Obi-Wan moved quickly to pick up his own weapon. A tingle
of warning went through him as he warily faced his master. There was now
something dangerous flickering in Qui-Gon's eyes. Obi-Wan swallowed hard and
assumed a ready stance. Then Qui-Gon lunged at him, forcing him to
immediately defend himself using a back-handed thrust. Having barely
deflected that, he was forced to counter another and yet another lightning
swing. Other blows were interspersed with the attacks meant to force him
into using and strengthening the move he was not skilled in.

Qui-Gon's blade was a blur, his hair flying, his booted feet barely touching
the floor. A sheen of sweat appeared on his bare chest and shoulders.
Several younger practicing students stopped what they were doing to watch.
The harsh buzzing song of swinging sabers echoed in the room. The blades
cracked and sparked against each other.

Obi-Wan performed a completely unnecessary backflip to narrowly escape the
scorching heat of a swing to his waist. This was the exact kind of flashy
move Qui-Gon had expected him to do in the presence of a rapt audience, and
something he had been trying to train out of him. Qui-Gon was in his face
the instant he landed, driving him across the floor. Obi-Wan gathered
himself to rise to this challenge, and began to move from the defensive
position to an offensive one. He called upon the Force and the suppleness of
his arms and swung at Qui-Gon with renewed strength. Now it was Obi-Wan
driving his master across the wide floor, using his body to snap speed into
every swing. He felt the exhilarating fire of his youth and ability. Qui-Gon
retreated, still forcing his student into a back-handed defense every chance
he could.

Obi-Wan stretched out his blade and managed to achieve a light graze across
Qui-Gon's ribcage. He noted the red welt that appeared a minute after his
score. He savored a second of satisfaction. He'd get to show Miss Traxis
exactly what he was made of today.

Qui-Gon was now anchoring the duel in place. He was concentrating intently
on his student's performance. Then he saw the opening he had been waiting
for and snaked out his arm. The next thing Obi-Wan saw was the opposite wall
of the one he'd been facing, and it was strangely upside down. He was
twisted in mid-air and landed heavily on his backside. His left arm flopped
down, released >from Qui-Gon's iron grip. His weapon clattered to the floor,
spinning away. Stunned, he felt prickly heat on the back of his neck. He did
not need to turn around to know his master stood behind him, the tip of his
saber pointed at the base of his skull. Had this been a mortal enemy, he
would have long been dispatched quickly and efficiently execution style.
Swallowing his humiliation he sat on the floor a few seconds more, and then
turned to face his tall teacher. Qui-Gon's face and body visibly relaxed. He
released his battle tension with several slow, deep breaths. But a stern ire
still shone in his eyes.

"A distraction for who, my Padawan?"

Obi-Wan dropped his eyes with creeping shame. He could not deny to himself
or to his master that he'd been bent on impressing Lia. But surely Qui-Gon
must know he wasn't doing it out of an interest of his own in her. He had
just gotten a little cocky. Come to think of it, he'd been more than a
little cocky lately. He knew a sudden shame for the way he'd been behaving
toward Qui-Gon. His master was teaching him a lesson, a valuable one that
could some day save his life.

"What is the lesson here, Obi-Wan?" came the soft question.

Still sitting on the floor and staring down at the very hard surface of it,
Obi-Wan tried to think of a suitable answer. "Don't lose focus on the task
at hand. Don't be distracted by...surroundings."

"Anything else?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Don't show off. And don't ever, ever forget where your
non-saber hand is."

Qui-Gon's expression softened. "That would about cover it." He flicked off
the saber and extended a hand to help Obi-Wan off the floor. Trying not to
wince from pain, Obi-Wan gripped Qui-Gon's forearm and stood. He felt his
composure returning. He deliberately turned his back on the viewing gallery.
Not even now did Qui-Gon acknowlege its existence or who sat in it. He
studied the opposite wall. "It seems I've heard nothing but impertinence
>from you lately," he said softly. "It does not become you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan stared at the wall too. "I'm sorry for my disrespect, Master."
Qui-Gon turned to bore holes with his gaze into his student. This disrespect
will end now. Show any for her and I will most certainly toss you on your
butt again, the look said.

"Some of your questions do not deserve an answer." Such as the ones
regarding how thirsty he was. "Others...I have none to give you because I
just don't know the answer." He was referring to Obi-Wan's outburst of a few
minutes ago. And the unspoken questions that hovered every time they were
around Lia. "I am trusting that this... fascination I have with Valia will
be resolved in time. I ask you to do the same, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon was
smiling, but Obi-Wan saw the weariness of an inner struggle in his eyes. He
felt a surge of worried affection for him. He nodded, knowing this situation
was far from over. He knew if Qui-Gon wanted anything to do with this woman,
there would be no stopping him. He may not like it, but he decided to do his
best to trust his master as he'd done for the last five years and be
patient.

He also knew he was going to have an an incredibly bruised ass tomorrow
unless he visited the healers later. Hopefully without having to do much
explaining. He couldn't resist one more question. "Can you show me how you
did that?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 9

"I think that's a job for the owner-operator." Drre nodded toward the front
of the store, top-knot of hair waving. Valia followed the direction of her
server's look. She was being teased, because there was Qui-Gon. She grabbed
a tray and waved Drre off with a sardonic smile.

She studied him from behind the counter. He looked tired. He looked like he
had a headache. Here was the picture of a man who could use a pick-me-up, or
encouragement or...something. A oddly powerful nurturing impulse welled up
in her. This was a new feeling toward him, but one she could at least act
on. She began putting things together on the tray. He might not want to talk
today, but that was fine, she supposed. Maybe that would help sink this
crush she had on him. She'd just have to watch her thoughts around him. If
she was tempted to think physically arousing images of him, she'd just make
herself think about something else. Like the very unsexy dispute she was
having with the manufacturer who'd supposedly repaired one of her stasis
units. And she had something she wanted to ask him about.

The weather had abruptly cooled down. It was as regulated on Coruscant as
possible, but nature still feebly gasped now and then. She poured two
mugfuls of a hot spiced juice mix that was always a big seller when it got
chilly. She headed out with her tray.

Qui-Gon's scowl softened when he saw her coming. She stopped next to him and
gave him an exaggerated cautious look. "Do you want to talk about it, or
should I take a flying leap off the next building?"

He answered with a dry chuckle. "Is it that obvious?"

"Everyone else was terrified to wait on you," she teased. "So they threw me
out here."

Qui-Gon gestured toward a chair. "Please."

Valia set down the tray and took a seat. She pushed a mug toward him. "Here.
Try som
+e of this. And then you can tell me what's bothering you."

Qui-Gon absently took the offered mug and gazed off at some mysterious point
in space.

"Or not," she said when he remained silent. He smiled at her and lifted the
mug to drink. He admired her through the drifting steam over its rim. She
was dressed in an almost black shade of purple. Those tempting wisps of hair
were drifting against her neck again. He wrenched his eyes away from her
breasts and sighed. How could he possibly tell her that she herself was part
of the trouble? Yet he felt better already just being near her. He warmed
his hands on the mug. She sat calmly next to him, peeling and slicing a
thick-skinned blue fruit.

"It's Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon began with the air of a man uncomfortable discussing
his student with a non-Jedi. With anyone.

"Is he sick? Is there something wrong with him?"

"No. Not physically. He's..." he trailed off.

"Getting an attitude?" Valia supplied helpfully, taking a guess. She had a
suspicion what the problem was.

"That would be a good way to put it, yes."

Valia raised her eyes to look at him. "He's not peeved about that
melon-juggling thing, is he?"

"No, I don't think so." He and Qui-Gon had had another seething, silent
argument about something completely trivial. Qui-Gon hadn't seen him since
he'd stalked away afterward, which had been yesterday.

"How old is he?" Valia asked after his brief sketch.

"He'll be eighteen in a few weeks."

Valia laid down her small vibro-blade and pushed a - plateful of sliced
fruit toward him. She took a fortifying sip out of her own mug. "Well," she
said, trying to think of what to say to him. "I have no experience raising
teenaged boys whatsoever. With the possible exception of my good friend
Ravi." This got another smile out of Qui-Gon. "Maybe he's just going through
that typical teen-age angst. It's usually a hard age for anyone. Is he your
first Padawan?"

"No, he's the third."

Valia raised her eyebrows. "How did your first two turn out?"

"The first was a success. The second..." A look of pain flicked across his
expressive features and then was gone. "Well, let's just say the outcome
wasn't what I'd hoped. We had a terrible falling out."

All right, thought Valia. We won't go there. But I wonder if he worries he's
going to relive whatever happened.

"I get the feeling that you and Obi-Wan are very close. Am I right in
guessing you're much closer to him than the other two?"

Affection softened the Jedi Master's face. "Yes. You're right."

"Well, some famous philospher, I forget who, said we hurt the ones we love
the most. It doesn't make any sense, but it seems to be true. Maybe that's
what's going on." She picked up a piece of fruit and flicked a seed from it.
"He's very protective of you." Trying to protect you from me, she thought.

His eyebrows went up and his forehead wrinkled. "I would think it's more the
other way around."

"Oh, I think it goes both ways with you two. And maybe he's threatened by
anything that would come between you." Or anyone. Out of the Jedi Master and
apprentice pairs she'd seen, none seemed more like father and son than this
one. She popped the slice of fruit in her mouth and munched. Then she
proceeded to tell him several anecdotal and funny stories about her brothers
and cousins when they had been seventeen or so, and the parental agony they
had caused. And how it had been resolved. When she finished, he was smiling
broadly.

"Why haven't you been to your homeworld for so long, Lia?" he asked after a
pause.

"Because I am home," she quickly returned. The look Qui-Gon gave her said he
'd patiently wait for her to elaborate the real reason.

"Well, I have no reason to go back to Nyme'. And not much time to be away
>from the store. I still talk to my family every now and then." She drained
her mug. "My father chose my younger brother instead of me to run the farm.
It's in his very capable hands. It will pass on to him when Papa is gone. My
ever so fertile brother pleases my father by carrying on the Traxis
dynasty."

Was that just the slightest bitter aftertaste left by her words? Qui-Gon
clearly saw there were large issues here she was just now getting over. He
did some mental backwards tip-toeing of his own and refrained from asking
her for more details about her past for now.

"And another thing. I really don't care for space travel. It's a stupid
thing really, but every time I'm on a ship about to make the jump to
hyperspace, I think this is it. I'm going to die. Just a silly phobia I
suppose."

Qui-Gon gave her a long, searching look. Finally he spoke. "If it helps you,
my dear one, I will tell you that you need not worry you are going to die
that way. You're going to live to be a hundred. You are going to be around
for a very long time, my beautiful juice-slinging friend."

Valia's eyebrows arched into her bangs. She stared at him frozen in
mid-chew. She wasn't sure which part of his triple part bomb hit her with
the most impact, the fact that he'd called her beautiful, that he considered
her dear, or that she was going to live to be a very old woman. She finished
chewing and swallowed. She nearly laughed at his pronouncement. "Well," she
managed. "How do you happen to know that?" Then she remembered she was
talking to a Jedi Master.

Qui-Gon Jinn shrugged under his dark robe. "I just...do." Every once in a
while he was gifted with a glimpse into the future. These glimpses came at
odd times. Then he was the one to look away from her eyes, as if embarrassed
to have revealed too much of his thoughts.

Valia smiled at him. She was enjoying this unprecedented display of
vulnerability in him. But there had been a touch of sadness in his eyes. She
was rocked by her own wave of protectiveness for him. And an urge to change
the subject. She remembered the unusual object tucked in a pocket of her
blouse. She pulled out the knotted blade of grass. It was drying but still
green.

"You know," she said, turning it over in her fingers, "I've gotten some
really interesting tips from customers over the years. Some of them weren't
so nice. Not nearly as nice as this. You wouldn't happen to know who might
have left this one, would you?" She showed him the long blade of grass with
the intricately woven knot in the center. It was a small work of art. She'd
found it on their table after he and Obi-Wan had last visited.

He smiled as he looked at it. "Perhaps it just fell out of that tree."

"Perhaps one of you two has very nimble fingers."

"Perhaps."

Valia held his eyes captive for several heartbeats with her own. Those
incredibly beautiful, upswept eyes, above matching cheekbones.

"I confess. I left it."

"You made this?"

'Yes."

She marveled at the neat, flat knot, amazed that his large hands had
fashioned such a thing. "How did you do this?" she asked, trying to trace
the pattern.

He leaned forward on the table, smiling. "Jedi secret."

She smirked at him.

"It's sometimes used as a teaching exercise in patience, or a meditative
tool. But something just told me you would appreciate it for its own sake."

She leaned her face against one hand and turned it over, examining it
closely. She did find herself outrageously charmed by his small gift. She
flashed him another smile, then dropped her eyes. She squashed the urge to
run. She also fought the urge to let herself read anything into this.

"I...well, yes. I do. Thank you." She wondered what there might be that he
still needed to summon reserves of patience for. Probably Obi-Wan was
enough.

There was almost nothing in Qui-Gon Jinn's life that was soft, warm or
pretty. He didn't wish for any other life than the one he'd always known as
a Jedi. That was the way it was destined to be. But he did know enough to
appreciate and savor small pleasures when he encountered them, without ever
letting them rule his life. If this was the closest he would ever get to
this woman, it would have to be enough. He told himself he should not dare
to hope for more. He reached out and took her hand with both of his. "Thank
you," he said softly, giving it a brief squeeze. He rose from the table.

"You're...you're welcome. But what did I do?" Valia's hand felt like it was
shimmering.

"You listened."

"I think I exercised my jaws more than my ears."

He looked fondly down at her. "You took the time to be kind and try to
help." She waved a hand as if it was nothing. "I can't believe kindness has
become such a rare commodity."

Qui-Gon wondered at her character, how it was that ten years on Coruscant
hadn't made her crusty, paranoid or completely decadent. I wish kindness
really was as abundant as you see it, he thought. It isn't. He nodded his
head northward. "There are those even in the Jedi temple who probably wouldn
't have bothered to hear out an old knight and his concerns."

"Oh, get out of town! You're not old," she blurted immediately and
truthfully. Did he really feel that way or had he just been using an idle
form of speech? She'd revised her opinion of his age after the first time
she'd seen him at saber practice. There had been absolutely nothing old
about what she'd seen. And there was nothing old about the ageless, youthful
glint that was in his eyes most of the time. As soon as she conjured images
>from those sweaty, bare-chested work-outs, she caught herself. She
remembered she wasn't going to think about that. He was giving her that
searching look again. Too late. All right, she thought. She looked straight
into his eyes, thinking, I've seen you with half your clothes off, and I
really liked what I saw. His eyebrows quirked. A small sideways smile pulled
at his mouth. "And you flatter me, Miss Traxis."

Valia could only return a creeping smile of her own, and helplessly roll her
eyes. Did he refer to her thoughts or her words? She could feel herself
starting to blush. She'd really been having a problem with that the last few
months. She rose from the table, busying herself clearing it to keep her
eyes lowered. "Well, I think things will work out between you and Obi-Wan. I
'm sure you two will kiss and make up soon enough."

Qui-Gon snorted at her choice of wording at the same time she regretted it.
Who was reading whose mind now? The thought of kissing her had occurred to
him just earlier. And countless other times.

"Just a figure of speech, Master Jinn," she said coyly, and slowly returned
to the counter. She watched him stride away with a considerably lighter step
than when he'd arrived. She picked up the grass knot from the tray and
looked at it again. She finally noticed Ravi sitting at the counter. He
looked questioningly at the object in her fingers.

"Is that what they study over there?" he nodded his head in the direction of
the temple. "Basketweaving?"

For once Valia didn't have a smart-ass retort for her young friend. She
merely gave him a sour look and carefully pocketed the knot.

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 10

Obi-Wan Kenobi leaned against the counter of the now very familiar juice
bar. True, this was a good place to take a break, and the people-watching
was hard to beat, but...did the y have to come here so often? He glanced to
his left at his master. Here was half the reason they came here so often.
The other half was the owner of the place, whom they were watching serve a
cluster of Ithorians herself. She set a huge bowl of green goo in the middle
of their table with a flourish. They made grunts of approval. She lowered
her forehead and rubbed it against the flat space between the eyes of
presumably the highest ranking member at the table. She spoke to them warmly
with the aid of a small translator clipped to the collar of her blouse.
After making sure all was well she returned to the area behind the bar.

"I'll have the money tomorrow, Lia. I'll pay you back." Ravi was perched on
a stool at the far end of the bar.

"You're damned right you will," she said pleasantly, unclipping the
translator and tossing it on the counter. "This is absolutely the last time
I'm bailing you out of jail for your mouthing off, Ravi. My funds and
friendship with the police only stretch so far. Do it again and you can get
yourself out, or rot in a holding cell."

Ravi actually looked apologetic. He knew she was as good as her word. "I'm
sorry, Lia," he said glumly. "My father will cover it. No problem."

Valia fixed him with a stare, her dark storm-cloud colored eyes steady. Ravi
's father was a stupendously wealthy real-estate developer on Coruscant who
didn't pay much attention to his son's affairs, and never really had since
his birth. Not his protests over various civil injustices, his opinions or
his passionate creativity. But he was ever ready to fork over the necessary
funds to get him out of trouble. And keep him from being more personally
responsible.

"No, Ravi. You see, there is a problem, because I don't want to see a single
credit from your father. This time you're going to pay me out of your own
pocket. And I don't care how long it takes." She was refilling his glass
with whatever he'd been drinking. "I'll only charge you two percent
interest."

Ravi was not too sure he liked this new, much slower payment plan. He
slumped on his stool and rolled his eyes at her. "You love me so tough,
mama," he murmured with a feeble attempt at humor. It was an old joke
between them. Ravi's father had been a help to Lia when she had first
arrived on Coruscant. Had she been open to the idea, it would have been very
little effort for her to persuade him to marry her. She might have been Ravi
's stepmother. And one very wealthy juice-slinger. Probably miserable, but
free of financial worries.

"Someone's got to look out for your crazy butt," she said pulling a
container of sliced fruit out of a refrigerator. "And it isn't just about
the money."

"If only I hadn't gotten tangled up in that grappling line. That was
stupid."

Valia slapped her forehead. "Of course. That was the only stupid thing about
the whole night."

"But Lia! Sector Governor Uniog doesn't give a shit about homeless rights,
no matter what he promises. He's an apathetic, lying, Dug-faced, lard-assed
son of a--"

"Well now, do you really think screaming it at the man through his kitchen
skylight is going to help any?"

Obi-Wan stifled a disbelieving smirk. Qui-Gon sat impassively next to him
wearing a frown of consternation. He foresaw an early death for the young
man unless he learned to control his volatile nature and pick his battles.

"Excuse me, but does no one care about anything in the City any more? This
is the kind of thing you have to do to get anyone to notice. No one
understands." He sounded exactly like a petulant child.

"Oh stop it already, you're breaking my heart. You know none of that's
true." Valia put her hands on his forearms and rubbed them. "Here, have some
of this." She picked up a piece of fruit and held it to his mouth. "I wish
you wouldn't hang around with that group. There have got to be better
ways..." Their conversation dropped to a low murmur. She tried to dispense
tough love at the same time she was hand-feeding him.

Paccaia and Bracca arrived and begged to be given the same personal service
as Ravi. She laughingly fed all of them, hoping a sanitation inspector
wouldn't happen along. She sighed as she looked at the half empty container
of fruit. "You guys may as well eat the rest of this. It's going to outdate
in an hour anyway."

"Thanks, Lia!"

"You're a real pal."

"And don't any of you forget it, either," she muttered, as she disappeared
into the back of the store. She returned with the blaster, intending to do
its monthly maintenance. When Ravi saw it, he gasped theatrically and held
out his hands. He launched himself into tearful pleas and nearly hysterical
begging for more time, for mercy. He knocked over his stool and crawled on
his hands and knees on the stone pavers. Customers anxiously turned their
heads and stared. Valia merely skewered him with a bored expression. She put
a hand on her hip and waited for him to stop.

"All right, all right, already. Knock it off," she laughed. "Why do I put up
with you?" She shook her head. She laid the blaster on the front counter.
"What's your poison today, Qui-Gon?" she asked, turning her attention to the
welcome calm of the the Jedi at this end of the bar.

"I'm in the middle of Number 232," he answered.

Obi-Wan always got the impression that everything they said to each other
was a reference to some previous conversation.

"Obi-Wan, how about you? You want another bowl of that Ord Mantell melon?"
Brightening, he lifted his chin from where it rested in his cupped hand.
"Sure." Since they were probably going to be here a while yet, he may as
well eat. Lia always gave him extra big servings. And he seemed to always be
hungry. She replaced his empty bowl with a heaping one.

Valia opened a small tool kit. She sat down on a stool on her side of the
counter and proceeded to take apart the blaster. She worked for a few
minutes while Qui-Gon closely watched her. She felt his blue gaze on her
until she was nearly itchy. But it was not at all an unpleasant sensation.
When she realized she'd been cleaning the same part for an entire minute,
she slanted him a look without raising her head. She slid her eyes back to
the blaster in her lap and smiled.

Here we go again, thought Obi-Wan.

"You're staring, Master Jinn," she said very pointedly and very softly.

"Was I? How rude of me. Forgive me. Perhaps you'd like to stare back," he
invited, and smiled too. Though it still unnerved her to communicate so
intimately, she took him up on his offer.

*You're especially beautiful today.
Ha! This sounds like something I've heard way too many times. But thank you.
You are. In every way. Don't you believe it?
I believe I don't want to get a swelled -up ego.
That's not likely to happen.
It might if you keep giving me all these flattering compliments.
You 're quite worthy of them.
I'm not...I don't have...I don't look like...
Silly little one. Wishing your hair was a different color.
Oh, get out of town!
So anxious for me to be gone?
No. Not really. Not at all. Never.*

Obi Wan watched them making eyes at each other, privately conversing. He
wanted to leave, but he checked the urge and willed himself to mind his own
business and be patient.

"I was wondering when was the last time you fired that?" Qui-Gon inquired
audibly about her blaster.

Valia shook the trance-like sensation out of her head. She seemed to think
about what he'd asked her, then laughed. She apparently found something
richly humorous about his question.

There was no way she was going to tell him she'd used it one night last
month at an indoor shooting range. After several alcoholic drinks. Using
slingshot-fired rotted teo fruits as the targets. She'd been gratified to
see she could still hit a moving target, and found a fun use for wasted
inventory. Her friends had told her she'd been quite entertaining. She
answered him when she stopped her embarrassed laughter.

"Just last month. I know how to use it if I need to, if that's why you're
asking. But I really don't care for handling firearms much. That's just one
more way I don't fit in with most of my family. Besides fruit-growing, there
is a Traxis passion for anything that can be aimed and fired." She squinted
at a power cell, checking for corrosion. "The immediate family can boast of
a few sharpshooters. A couple of snipers. And a few gun-smugglers and
illegal arms dealers. But you didn't hear that from me." She affected a look
of innocence as she rolled her eyes toward Qui-Gon. She snapped everything
back together, and rose to make an entry into a data terminal to check off
the maintenance.

"It looks like there's something caught in the barrel." Qui-Gon gestured
toward the blaster lying on the counter.

Valia turned that storm-cloud look on him. "What?"

"Take a look."

She reached over and snatched it up. She closely examined it. "
I don't see anything."

"Here. Let me have a look."

She brought it to him, wondering what he was talking about.

'Well, now. Here's the problem." He placed his fingers over the end of the
muzzle of the blaster and withdrew a large, dark blue flower. He turned his
hand so it rested open on his fingers. He held it out, offering it to her.

She just stared at it. Obi-Wan stared at it too, and then rolled his eyes.
The rational part of Valia knew it was just a trickster's simple sleight of
hand. She wondered where he had filched it from because it was nothing she
had growing in any of the containers in front of the store. The non-rational
part of her short-circuited, popped sparks, and melted. She tentatively
reached out to take the fresh, nearly perfect bloom. A soft breath escaped
her parted lips as their fingers grazed. She admired it for a few seconds,
then flashed him a rakish grin and tucked it behind one ear. Her eyes had
gone dark and smoky.

He was openly flirting with her, and she was encouraging him by enjoying
every second of it. Obi-Wan looked on in disbelief, feeling like a reluctant
voyeur. He'd never seen his master's head turned by a woman before. Now
this. Why her? Why now? Why was he doing this? Obi-Wan liked Valia. That is,
he really wanted to like her. She was kind and sweet and funny. And not too
hard on the eyes, either. He supposed if Qui-Gon was going to fall for a
woman, at least his taste was commendable. They really knew how to grow them
right on Nyme' or wherever she was originally from. But what was her motive
behind this?

At the end of every day, it was Qui-Gon's habit to ask his student one or
more questions about something they had seen during the day. It could be
about a person, conversation, or event. It was designed to keep him mindful
and thinking about his immediate reality. Qui-Gon never asked him about
anything to do with Lia. He knew this was his private business, but Obi-Wan
would have had some ready answers on the subject for his master, if asked.

Everything he knew about his mentor or had heard from others told him that
this entire episode from the day they had met her was just another form of
vintage Qui-Gon Jinn behavior. He did as he saw fit, with his own agenda. An
agenda he wasn't presently sharing with Obi-Wan. But a blind man could have
seen what that was! Thoughts of sex crossed Obi-Wan's mind often enough. He
knew it was natural and normal. But they remained passing thoughts, and had
no influence on his behavior. He was determined to be a properly devoted
Jedi. He firmly steered his mind away from the inevitable mental images of
his master and Valia...going to bed? He inwardly closed his eyes against
what he knew all too well what the outcome of this would probably be. Then
what?

Qui-Gon had confided to him not long ago that he wasn't entirely at ease
with the slow, small betrayals the crude matter of his body was beginning to
show. Not that Obi-Wan could see. His master was strong of body and would
only grow more powerful in mind, spirit, and oneness with the Force, but...
Could that be what this whole thing was all about? Nothing more than a
denial, a rebellion against age? Was he going soft in the head? What was the
term he was looking for? Mid-life crisis.

He glanced at Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master very slowly stirred the sediment in
the bottom of his juice glass with a long spoon, and took a slow drink. His
eyes followed her as she went about her business behind the counter. Nothing
short of a good thump on the head with Master Yoda's cane would have
diverted his attention from her. He never gave any indication that his mind
was on her when they were not here. But when they were here...his focus was
nowhere else.

There was a whispered conversation going on at the other end of the bar.
Obi-Wan caught the word 'midichlorians' but little else. Chuluk, Paccaia,
Bracca and Ravi were clustered together. Lia gestured toward Qui-Gon and
Obi-Wan with her head. "You can ask them. They'll answer you."

More low discussion.

"Well then, go ahead and keep arguing. But I don't think it's this big taboo
subject," Valia said turning away from them.

Qui-Gon turned his attention to the young men at the far end of the counter
and waited patiently for whatever question that was burning among them.

"Sir," Paccaia began. "We were just wondering. Do people who aren't Jedi
knights have midichlorians in their bodies, too?" He nearly squirmed with
potential hero-worship.

"Yes. Just not anywhere near as many. Everyone has at least a few."

Bracca mouthed 'see I told you so', and elbowed Paccaia.

"You both owe me fifty credits." A satisfied Ravi leaned back on his stool.

"I'll take the first installment on your debt now, Ravi." Valia was busy at
a data terminal so she didn't see the sneer he gave in answer to her remark.

"Is it really true that they...tell you things? Speak to you?" Bracca asked.

Qui-Gon folded his hands and leaned forward. "To put it very simply, yes.
They help speed our reflexes, telling us what will happen before it does.
They connect us and all living things with the Force."

"They've been arguing among themselves for a week about that," Valia said,
now frowning over a sticky lid on a container of extract. "I told them to
just go to the authority and ask. They thought it was forbidden to ask about
it or something."

"No question asked out of a search for knowlege should be forbidden."

Valia looked up from her cleaning. "So, do you have entire conversations
between yourselves and your midichlorians?" There was a teasing sparkle in
her eyes.

"It's not like that at all," said Obi-Wan.

"No, it's not. It's more of a one-way discourse. We don't tell them
anything. We listen."

"And are they telling you anything right now?" Valia sensed she was pushing
another flirt button, but she was curious to see what kind of answer he
would give her.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and appeared to be deeply concentrated on something
within himself. Then he opened them and gave her that soft look he gave no
one else.

"They're not speaking at all."

"No?"

"No. They're singing."

Valia raised one eyebrow and leaned a hip against a preservation unit.
"Singing?"

"Yes. They always do when I'm anywhere near you."

The hinges in Valia's jaws went loose. His face was completely straight as
she searched it for some clue that this was just more dry humor. She clapped
her mouth shut and glanced at Obi-Wan. The look on his face perfectly
mirrored the one on her own. This was possibly the biggest piece of drivel
either one of them had ever heard. In the last ten years, Valia had endured
probably every come-on line made up by the male of several species; every
tired fruit and juice-based sexual innuendo a clever customer could think
up. But no one had ever told her his midichlorians sang for her. Qui-Gon
studied the three-way battle as it played out on her face.

Well, come on, Traxis. Think of some smart-ass comeback for this one, her
mind urged. This is pure sap.

I can't. I don't want to, her heart dribbled. I think he means it.

How high would I have to jump to be able to clear this counter to get to his
side of it, her bod
y wondered.

She started to speak once, then thought the better of it and stopped. It was
really getting warm in here.

"Before you run to the walk-in cooler, can I please have a refill?" Qui-Gon
slid his empty glass toward her. Obi-Wan began a mental mathematical
exercise designed for patiently filling long waits.

Valia narrowed one eye and tightened her mouth at him in response to his
smug prediction. She turned to a refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of
232. She poured for him and set it down on the counter with a thump.

"My, you are in rare form today, Master Jinn." She wasn't about to run now.
"What an interesting curriculum you have designed for Obi-Wan. Does your
Padawan need lessons in flirting?" She smiled at Obi-Wan. He gave her a look
in return that clearly said don't even drag me into this.

"Flirting? Is that what I was doing?" Qui-Gon asked innocently. "I really
know nothing about the subject."

You know entirely too much, thought Obi-Wan.

"Qui-Gon, you've just set perfect examples of flirting."

Yes, thought Obi-Wan, perfect examples of things I shouldn't be doing.

Qui-Gon merely inclined his head and smiled at her.

"Hey Lia, you have time to show me how to calibrate the thermometers in the
walk-in today?" Chuluk stuck his head out of the walk-in's door.

"Sure, Lukki, right now." Valia grabbed a light thermal vest from a peg near
the walk-in. She threw Qui-Gon and his singing midichlorians a last look
over her shoulder as she disappeared into it.

Part 11
The carnival atmosphere in the plaza increased as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan made
their way toward Valia's. The warm clear weather and the government holiday
had drawn workers, students and tourists outside in hoards. The fruit and
juice bar was doing a brisk business. Music pulsed from a small player
someone had brought and placed in the outdoor eating area. A cluster of
humans and Twi'leks gathered around a small hand-held screen watching a
violent sport match. They shouted and punched the air with their fists.
Someone was doodling a raunchy caricature of newly elected Supreme
Chancellor Vallorum amid a heated political discussion. Beings stood, lay or
sat everywhere, drinking and eating. There were no empty tables and even the
tree was ringed with customers.

Qui-Gon paused at the edge of the crowd, Obi-Wan close behind him. They both
preferred a far less crowded atmosphere. Qui-Gon didn't even see Lia, but he
still scanned the bar for her. He knew she was there. Every other one of her
staff was busy behind the counter and at the tables. Chuluk ducked to avoid
a floater droid buzzing past with more orders and swore at it. Qui-Gon was
about to suggest they just keep going when he spotted her at the far corner
of the store, near the end of the counter, keeping out of the way. She still
closely surveyed all the activity. She looked like she was taking a hurried
break. The Jedi pushed through the crowd toward her. Conversations in a
dozen languages dropped noticeably in volume at the passage of the two
somberly clad knights. The would-be political cartoonist leaned forward over
the table to cover his drawing. Obi-Wan shrugged inwardly as he followed his
master. They were supposed to blend invisibly into crowds, but somehow they
just weren't managing it here.

Valia saw them approaching at the same time she popped several small red
fruits into her mouth. She waved at them. Her mouth was full, but her eyes
were grinning at them. She was always happy to see them. Of course, thought
Obi-Wan, more so for one of them in particular.

"Hi!" She greeted them enthusiastically. "What can I get you two today?"

"Nothing for me. Obi-Wan, did you want something?"

"No, it's a bit too crowded and noisy here today." And it was. But by not
staying long, there would be less likelihood of flirtatious by-play to occur
between his master and Lia.

"That was my thought as well," noted Qui-Gon. He leaned against the wall
outside the very end of the counter. "We were on our way to catch a
transport to the Senate building."

"Senate building? But it's a holiday. Oh wait, don't tell me. Jedi don't
have holidays," Valia said, eating more fruit. The flesh of each one pulsed
and writhed slowly under the skin. She cradled her dish in one arm and
leaned against the wall on the other side of the counter from Qui-Gon.

"It doesn't look like you do, either," observed Qui-Gon nodding at the crowd
without taking his eyes from her.

"No, not many," she said smiling up at him.

Before they could start making those eyes at each other, Obi-Wan intervened.

"Lia, I was wondering something."

She shifted her attention to him. "What's that, Obi-Wan?"

"About five years ago, I had a fruit on Bandomeer. It wasn't native, I know
that. But it was so good. I don't know what it was called. Do you have a way
to find out?"

Valia set down her bowl and pushed herself off the wall. She reached under
the counter and brought forth a data pad. "Describe it."

So Obi-Wan did, answering her questions about size, color, taste, climate
conditions and tree description. She tapped keys, bringing up pages from her
exhaustive field guide to the screen, and searched her own memory.

"Sounds like it was Syryngian globe-fruit or maybe a hybrid of it. I can try
to order some in, if you'd like. Then you'd know."

Obi-Wan considered this. It would be good to taste those again. That is, if
it didn't go beyond the need to satisfy curiosity into greedy desire. Valia
sensed what was behind his hesitation. "It's just food. You have to eat
anyway, and I say why not enjoy it to the fullest? And besides, my other
customers would get to try something new, too." Her eyes gleamed
vivaciously. "And it is just a simple quest for knowlege isn't it?"

"Sure. Go ahead, if it's not too much trouble," agreed Obi-Wan.

The gleam in Valia's eyes turned sly. "A famous philosopher once said
'satisfaction is the end of desire'. Ha! What brain did it take to think
that one up? That's common knowlege," she laughed. Her mood was exuberant.
She briskly rubbed her hands, returning to the keyboard. "Now..." She rubbed
her chin thoughtfully, cross-referencing for more information. She looked up
which planets they were grown on, which wasn't many. "Hmmmm. I may have to
pull some strings. Call in some favors." She was already thinking which
freight pilots she could ask, which growers to network.

"Nothing illegal, I hope."

"Obi-Wan, you are so cute," Valia laughed merrily at him, marking the
information and setting the device aside. "All strictly above table. For
you, my favorite Jedi Padawan, it's no trouble at all."

He gave her a quick grin and moved away from the counter. The press of
customers left little room to stand there.

Chuluk hustled his big body past Valia to the walk-in cooler. She hoisted
herself up onto the counter to get out of his way.

"Everything under control out there, Lukki?"

"We got it covered, boss." He disappeared into the cooler and re-emerged
with a large heavy carton. Valia took passing note of his snort of annoyance
at the large tray of dirty drinkware someone had left on the front counter.
He scooped it up and moved it to the counter against the back wall across
>from Valia. "I'll be back for that." Boss was a stickler for cleanliness,
no matter how busy it got. Whistling, he continued around the corner and
down the length of the bar.

Valia stayed perched where she was, separated from Qui-Gon only by the
raised portion of the bar that fronted the store, just a few handwidths. She
turned to look up at him. There was a good-natured twinkle in his blue eyes.

"And my favorite Jedi Master...how is he today?"

Qui-Gon smiled at her. She was one of the rare people who actually cared
about the answer she got from a question like that, no matter what it was.
Still, he didn't resist a juvenile urge to sidestep her.

"Master Yoda is very well, thank you."

She rolled her eyes.

Qui-Gon glanced around to check where Obi-Wan was. Right behind him, facing
outward. Guarding his back. He gestured with his head toward the front of
the store. Young humans, probably University students, were pushing tables
and chairs aside to make an impromptu dance floor. "Are you sure that's only
fruit juice they're drinking?"

"Qui-Gon, are you accusing me of spiking my wares with stimulants or
alcohol?"

"Not at all. Maybe they brought their own and spiked it themselves."

A boisterous dance was now underway. The noise level was rising. Valia wasn'
t displeased with all the carrying on. Dancing made people hot and thirsty.
She shook her head, smiling. As long as things didn't get out of hand, it
was good for business.

"I think it's just the weather. You know what the first really warm days of
the year do to people. Gets their juices flowing. So to speak."

Unfortunately, he did. But he didn't need warm weather to get his own juices
flowing. He needed to stop making love to her with his eyes and get moving
to that transport station. But she really was enchanting, sitting next to
him. So small and delicate. Shimmering with life. Talking about desire, of
all things. She was wearing those trousers again that displayed her curves
without being indiscreet. A pair of ornamental susp
enders crossed her breasts. A metal filigree adorned each strap, just above
their fullness. There was a tiny spot of juice on the collar of her blouse.
Right next to the bare skin of her neck. That smooth, soft skin. He wrestled
his mind off her body, and various ways of undressing it starting with a
finger slipped under each of those suspenders... and back to how to ask the
question he had for her.

Valia shifted another glance over at him. For a man on his way somewhere
else, he didn't appear to be in a hurry to get there. Obi-Wan stood behind
him, apparently meditating on his feet. She was suddenly exasperated with
the situation between them. For as intensely interested in each other as
they were, little had actually happened. Had this been someone else, they
might have gone out to eat, gone dancing, visited an indoor park, one of
Galactic City's many zoos, a museum, her bed... She almost laughed out loud
at the idea of asking this man to do some of these things. Then again, there
had to be something better than this uncertain circling and flirting. Oh,
but the flirting was fun. She quickly stopped this line of thought before it
could go to other things she wanted to do with this large hunk of pure alpha
male. She concentrated on the activity in front of the store. She didn't
know if this was a good habit to cultivate, but she was learning to not
think when she was around him, especially this close to him. Just certain
stimulating thoughts.

"Lia, I have a question of my own for you." Qui-Gon's voice saved her from
having to watch her mind.

She smiled indulgently at him. "What's that?" *Ask me anything.*

"How do you feel about about babies and very small children?"

Anything but that.

The question had seemingly come out of nowhere. It was fortunate she was
already sitting down because she would have needed something to lean
against. She sat frozen, her eyes widening. All right, Traxis. Stay calm.
There's probably a very logical reason behind his question. She realized her
mouth was stuck on the first sound of the word 'What??!!' but nothing had
come out. She slowly turned her head to look at him again. He was studying
her closely, but that glint of mischief in his eyes was unmistakable. She st
rongly suspected he enjoyed catching her off-guard and watching the results.
Actually she really loved babies, adored them, but she wasn't going to
directly answer this question. Finally in a voice as cool as one of the
melons stored in her walk-in, she responded.

"Now, why do you ask that?"

Qui-Gon sensed her immediate urge to push him away from an old tender spot
and withdraw. He pressed ahead. "You may have heard that all Jedi are taken
>from their birth parents before six months of age and brought to the
temple."

"Yes," she said slowly, picking up more fruit and chewing thoughtfully. "I
had heard that somewhere. Which incidentally, is one of the saddest things I
have ever heard of."

Qui-Gon's forehead wrinkled. "Why do you think it's sad?"

"Why do I think it's sad? A little baby wrenched out of its mother's arms! I
can't even imagine what the parents must feel like. It would be awful."

"It's really not like that. The birth parents always have the choice to keep
the child, or give him or her up for Jedi life. Most consider it a great
honor."

"How do you know what they feel?" Valia turned to face him, sitting
cross-legged on the counter. She looked as though she was preparing for a
debate. "Don't you wonder what your birth parents thought? Don't you ever
think about your birth mother? Your history? Don't you ever want to know
where they are, how they're doing or if they're even alive or dead?" She had
a passionate light in her large gray eyes as she bombarded him with
questions.

"I may have felt some stirrings of curiosity when I was eighteen or so, but
no. I never think about it all now."

Valia regarded him almost sorrowfully. "You're not at all sad about
completely missing the very existence of your parents?"

"How can I spend valuable time being sad about something I never knew? I am
at peace with the matter."

Valia sighed deeply. Qui-Gon smiled. He saw them arguing about this for
years to come.

She heard a familiar whoop and glanced out toward the crowd. She saw Ravi
strutting his stuff, showing off some footwork in the middle of a group of
young people.

"In regards to my original question, your feelings on the subject only tell
me you'd be perfect for what I had in mind."

Valia stared at him, her eyes round.

"There are a large number of infants at the temple right now. There are also
too few surrogates to help give basic care, and just hold them and interact
with them. We take them from their parents to train them for a life as a
Jedi, but we find they do much better if they aren't allowed to become
touch-deprived. If you are interested, I can arrange for you to become a
surrogate parent."

"Me?"

Qui-Gon leaned toward her. "Yes. You."

"But how...but I'm not a Jedi."

"That doesn't matter. There are lots of non-Jedi who volunteer their time.
All it takes is a good heart and gentle hands."

Valia picked up more fruit and bit it, stopping its rhythmic contractions.
She considered the idea. It sounded intriguing. Since she would never carry
a child herself again without a lot of expensive medical technology, this
might be an opportunity to be around babies. Provide a valuable service. But
she also wondered if it would dredge up old hurts and regrets. Well, if she
hadn't dealt with the adolescent mistake by now, it was probably time she
did. Still, she hedged.

"What are we talking, here? Feeding, burping, holding, changing dirty
diapers, the works?"

Qui-Gon laughed softly. "I suppose. I really don't know all the dirty
details. It's the holding that's the most important part."

"Hmmm. I don't know. I'm pretty busy with the stores..." She had opened a
second store a month before, and was twice as busy now.

"You don't have to decide anything right now. Just think about it. There's
simply a need, and I believe you are the one to help fill it." He knew this
was exactly the type of trivial matter that the Jedi Council would think far
beneath his talents, and question why he was involving himself in it.
Another ripple of consternation with his name on it would result, but he
really didn't care. The seed of the idea had been planted in his mind the
day she'd made an oblique reference to her infertility. He was absolutely
certain it would be as enjoyable for her as it would be beneficial for the
infants. He had to give this to her.

Valia laughed. "I really don't know much at all about babies. Or baby Jedi."
She couldn't believe she was having this conversation with him. "I do much
better feeding adults."

"I see that."

"Speaking of feeding, are you sure you don't want anything? Here I am eating
in front of you." She gestured with her dish.

"No, thank you. But what are those?"

"These are Nymean freelas. Best in the galaxy. Want to try some? I'll
share."

"I'm sure you would. You are that way." He gave the squirming fruit a
doubtful glance.

"In fact, these are the best I've had in quite a few seasons. And I grew up
on these."

"Did you really, now?"

"Absolutely. The house I grew up in is in the middle of a huge freela
orchard. The flavors are incredible, complex. Once you get past the
sensation of something moving in your mouth while you eat it." She supposed
a lecture on titratable acidity, sugar content and flex-fibers would be lost
on him. So, being the good pitchwoman for her homeworld crop she was, she
picked one out of the bowl and in a completely impulsive gesture, offered it
directly to his lips. He accepted it from her with the barest brush of
contact with her fingers. She watched his face as he bit through it. She
smiled at the shades of approval on his face as all the flavors she promised
burst forth.

"Mmm. Yes. Very good."

"See, I told you," she purred. Emboldened by the roguish gleam in his eyes,
she fed him another. "Too bad they're so deadly poisonous."

His eyebrow lifted and he stopped chewing for just a fraction of a second.
"That would explain why you're eating so many yourself."

"Oh, didn't I mention only to Mon Calamarians?" She faked toward his mouth
and at the last second popped it into her own, smiling impishly. She fed him
another, deliberately brushing against his lips. "And some species tell wild
stories about what a powerful aphrodisiac these are."

Both eyebrows lifted this time. "Is that so? And do you believe them?"

She gave him a smile more suited for a boudoir than an outdoor juice bar.
"Maybe I do." Then she laughed, a low, husky sound. A little voice in her
head warned her she was playing with fire, even as she put a freela between
her teeth and offered it to him that way. He laughed and politely declined.
She knew she shouldn't tease him or be disrespectful. But she was suddenly
in a very playfully sexy mood and wanted to push the envelope. Maybe the
warm weather had gotten to her, too. He didn't seem to mind this, and
certainly wasn't stopping her. But that little voice was annoyingly
insistent. She looked around, sure other customers would be watching. None
were.

"Look at me, teasing you. I shouldn't play around with you like this. And I'
m keeping you from your errand besides."

Qui-Gon Jinn simply smiled fondly at her for a long moment. "No one has
teased me or played with me in a long, long time."

Valia raised her eyebrows, then irrationally wondered who had been the last
one to tease or play with the Jedi Master, and why, and how.

"But you are right. You shouldn't," he said softly, leaning toward her face.
"And I shouldn't tease you." She leaned toward him too, mostly to hear him
above the din of the crowd but also because of the magnetic pull of those
soft dark blue eyes. She could almost feel his breath as he spoke. "But the
torment of it is, I...enjoy it far too much."

Torment. The word was appropriate. It seemed to hang in the air between
them. The words to tell her he loved her were nearly on his lips when he
firmly pulled back. No. Now was not the time. And what would she say or do?
He wasn't sure which frightened, yes, frightened him more, the possibility
that she might blow him off, or that she would feel the same way. Of every
danger, enemy, personal challenge or sticky political situation he had faced
in his life, he had nothing to quite compare with this. He wondered for the
hundredth time how it was he could feel so much like a confused, besotted
teen-aged boy inside when he looked into her eyes. The attention she was
giving him was melting his insides in ways he hadn't felt in...well, he'd
never felt this way in his life. He'd known for some time she physically
wanted him, and was shocked all over again by the notion. It was dangerously
flattering.

Valia dropped her gaze down to the dish in her lap and sighed. "I...Well, I
...yes, I enjoy it as well." She peered up at him through her bangs. "Like
you say, maybe too much." She thought she heard her name being called. It
sounded like Ravi. She suddenly resented being surrounded by what seemed
like thousands of noisy people. Then she looked directly into his eyes.

*I want to go somewhere alone with you.*

A look of gladness then regret flickered in his eyes. Did she imagine it or
did the back of his hand glide across her cheek?

Not wise.

Why?

Before he could answer, she was distracted again by someone calling her
name. There was Ravi in the crowd. He looked right at her without seeing
her. In fact, no one at all seemed to see her and Qui-Gon. Only half aware
she had done so, she had placed her hand on his. She was startled to see it
there and would have drawn it away, but he turned his big wrist and gently
held it, partially inside the sleeve of his tunic. To cover her shock and
the crazy joy that jolted through her, she reverted to teasing.

"What have you got up your sleeve today, Master Jinn?"

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Sadly, he'd picked no
flowers for her today. He thought of leading her to some secluded corner in
one of the Temple gardens and showing her all manner of blooming things.
"Just my hand," he answered. And his heart. Surely she would hear it trying
to pound its way out of his chest so it could flop at her feet like an
offering.

They decided at the same instant this needed to end. For now. With a final
caress, Qui-Gon let Valia have her hand back. She cleared her throat. "All
right. One more freela because I won't have anyone leaving here hungry or
thirsty, and then you'd better be on your way. And it's back to work for
me."

"Those are most sensible ideas, Miss Traxis."

So when she lifted the fruit to his lips, the last thing she expected was
for him to take two of her fingers in his mouth along with it. It was a move
as impulsive as her own had been. The sensations that flooded her nerves
swept away all sensible ideas or wisdom. She felt the light flicking caress
of his tongue against her fingers. Warm. So warm. She closed her throat over
the low moan that threatened to escape. Part of her had suspected, but now
there was no doubt that the physical desire was mutual. Not hers alone. She
lightly trailed her fingers across his lower lip and the crisp hair of his
short beard, savoring the feel of him. What store? What customers? The rest
of the universe had dissolved away around him, this man who had at some
point pledged to desire nothing physical, yet desired her. He'd never taken
his eyes from hers. She caught the briefest 'I can't believe I did that'
expression in the m, quickly followed by a flash of fire, and then that
roguish sparkle. He chewed slowly, a bemused expression on his face.

Valia glimpsed Obi-Wan over Qui-Gon's shoulder. He had turned around and was
wearing a puzzled expression as he took in the two of them. She pulled her
hand back from where it was suspended in the air. She quickly glanced
around, sure that everyone in the entire area was staring at her and
Qui-Gon. To her shocked relief, everyone was oblivious to them. They
continued to eat, drink, laugh and talk. No one had noticed a little thing
like the bar owner's libido going supernova in their midst. The heat that
had bloomed between her thighs exploded upward and flushed her forehead.

Obi-Wan had literally and figuratively turned his back on the discourse
beween Lia and his master. Now he was plagued by that voyeuristic feeling
again. Her face was that of a woman in an erotic painting he'd seen once.
Now what had happened to bring on that expression? What was he doing, eating
out of her hand now? He'd been patiently waiting, musing on the future when
he had been rudely jerked into the here and now by a jolt of pure emotional
current. For the first time, he found himself wishing the apprentice-master
bond between himself and Qui-Gon was not so strong. Standing this close to
him, it had been a conduit for something he wanted no part of. He felt
vaguely like he'd been electrocuted. The sexual tension between Qui-Gon and
Lia was setting his teeth on edge. It was monstrous, dark and sultry. And he
was a fool to get in the way of it. The wildly impractical idea of locking
both of them in Lia's walk-in cooler for several hours crossed his mind.
Cool them both off. Or see what they would do to keep warm. End this
discordant wanting, needing.

Composing herself, Valia rubbed the back of her neck. She mustered a weak
but raffish grin. "Who's teasing who, now?"

Qui-Gon was not so distracted that he didn't see what was about to happen
next. In fact his senses seemed to have sharpened. Before the first brush of
apron fabric against the corner of the glassware tray told him. Perhaps long
before that, the determined stride of the server Drre as she moved toward
the walk-in. Perhaps just because it would be so crashingly appropria te.
Her hip nudged the corner of the tray as she moved behind Lia and turned it
just enough to up-end the entire thing and send it sliding over the edge of
the counter. He reflexively held up a hand to summon the Force to stop the
tray. It did, but part of its contents still slid into a spectacularly loud
and messy wreck on the floor.

There was a second of total silence after the last piece of glass had
shattered and the final drop of juice had splattered. Then the place erupted
in noisy cheers, hoots and clapping. The din resumed, even louder than
before. A mortified Drre had her hands over her blue-skinned face and was
apologizing. Chuluk came barreling around the corner and took in the scene.
"Sorry, Boss." He and Drre began picking up the mess. A hover-droid,
attracted by the sound of breaking drinkware buzzed into the area as well.
Valia sat rooted to the counter watching as if from light-years away. She'd
nearly jumped out of her skin. She heard her name again. Go away. She looked
toward the shouting. Ravi, hands on his hips, a devilish smirk curling his
lips. He jerked his head in a 'come here' motion.

"Traxis! Dance with me!"

Valia sighed. Of course. He would want to dance right now. Though she wanted
to, she couldn't really leave her spot. Broken glass, sticky liquid and
bickering employees blocked the only way out. She still had enough
adrenaline pumping through her that she probably could have flown right over
the counter and halfway across the plaza. She distractedly reassured Drre
and pulled herself back to reality. Of anyone standing nearby, she noticed
only Qui-Gon wore an expression of placid calm as if nothing at all had
happened. Even Obi-Wan looked slightly blanched as if his nerves were
jangled too.

Qui-Gon stepped back and held out his arms toward her. Not comprehending at
first, Valia stared at him. Every molecule of her seemed to cry out at the
rightness of the sight. He gestured toward himself with his fingers and
waited. Oh. I see, she thought dully. To help me over the counter. She rose
and climbed toward the offered escape route.

His grasp was gentle and very politely placed around her ribcage. She
lightly placed her hands on his broad shoulders. All she would have to do is
slide them around his neck and mane of hair and fit herself against him. For
just a second Valia thought or hoped he would wrap his arms all the way
around her and lustily crush her to him. She imagined them locked in a
plundering kiss. None of this happened, however and he set her on her feet
outside the storefront. His hands stayed on her no longer than necessary,
and he stepped back.

"Hey Lia! We're wasting good music!"

Qui-Gon looked down at her, a faint smile on his face. She'd seen that fire
in his eyes again before he quickly banked it.

"I know, I really need to beat some respect out of that boy."

"Be gentle. Off with you, then." Qui-Gon gestured toward the waiting Ravi.
"You'll think about what I asked?"

"I'll think about it." There were moons and stars shining in her eyes before
she dropped her eyes away from his face. Then there was nothing else to do
but thank him. He gave her a polite bow with his head. The gesture was a
laughable contrast to the potent man-woman thing that had just flashed
between them.

Qui-Gon watched Ravi's smile spread into an impudent grin as Lia approached
him. "I did not spill that..." The beginning of her indignant protest
clearly reached his ears above the crowd. Ravi put an arm around her and
spoke something in her ear as he guided her to the cleared area. Whatever it
was earned him a sharp pinch in the side.

The two Jedi paused long enough to watch them smoothly move into lockstep
with each other. The words to the song were in a tongue neither of them
understood, but the rhythm wa
s distinct, ancient, and suggestive. No longer boyish or playing the
buffoon, Ravi expertly led Valia. It was obvious they had danced together
many times before. They moved together sinuously, their footwork precise and
practiced. The metal ornaments on their boots flashed in the sunlight. Valia
joyously threw herself into the dance, work briefly forgotten. If she couldn
't give herself to him, she'd give herself to this. She could still feel
where his hands had been on her. She flung her head back on the turns,
causing more strands of hair to loosen and twist free from its thick knot.
Becoming warm, she reached up to loosen the top of her blouse and shake it
open. She spread it wantonly, to several approving cheers from onlookers.
Ravi's eyes widened, then he grinned. He wasn't such a fool that he couldn't
recognize her misdirected passion when he saw it. He also wasn't going to
miss an opportunity to thoroughly enjoy it. He made wild animal noises at
her, encouraging her. "Yeah, mama, dance fierce for me...!" Her eyes
sparkled, and her lips previously parted in a 'ravish me' expression closed
in a wicked smirk.

This time it was Qui-Gon urging Obi-Wan away and onward to their
destination. Obi-Wan had caught himself staring. He'd had no idea she or her
friend could move like that. Those supple moves for no other purpose
than...fun. Ravi's exuberant howl drifted over their shoulders as they
quickly slipped away from the crowd.