Title:  SHORE LEAVE 1/2
Author:  Sithchick80@hotmail.com
Rating:  At least R
Category:  Angst, suggested plot and backstory, speculation of Ep 2 and 3,
but no spoilers.
Characters:  O/F
Summary:  The story is in response to a list challenge to write a scene from
the foreign film, NORA, a biography of James Joyce and his lover and wife,
Nora Barnacle.  The challenge was to use the line from the film: "Come here."
I don't own it, but if you reprint this elsewhere, please include
disclaimers. 
blah blah blah.
********
It was the blasted, infernal hum of the heavy transports that awakened her. 
Nora could feel the reverberations in her bones; the tall palace windows of
the suite shook ever so slightly, as if weighed down by the heavy armored
carriers groaning upwards into the Alderaan pre-dawn. 

Another precious morning's indolent doze lost. 

Nora harumphed, and glanced at her lover sprawled over a full three-quarters
of the tangled bed.  Obi-Wan was blissfully sleeping away. Undoubtedly, some
part of his awareness sensed the commotion around them.  He might have even
received the orders the night before. But, for now, he was doing as any
soldier did -- conserving strength while he could, sleeping where it was
safe, and taking the respite of the brief shore leave like the thousands
serving under his command.

No wonder she was freezing.  Obi-Wan had stolen the thermal.  Again.  With
all Alderaani undertaking fuel economy to aid the war effort, Bail, showing
solidarity with his people, had turned the Palace thermostats down.  Way
down. 

There was no way Nora could reclaim her share of the thermal.  The blanket
twisted and coiled around Obi-Wan's body like a gently hugging serpent.  She
was reluctant to disturb him.  Sleep was even more precious than a private,
stolen morning and would be rarer still once he joined the deployment.  That
time was, judging from the speed and intensity of the humming, perhaps two
hours away.  Maybe less.

So little time.  Never enough time.

Nora again humphed, practicality pushing aside her creeping melancholy.  It
was simply too chilly to be lying around in nothing but one's own skin. 

With a sigh, she slid out of the bed.  Her creamy wrap was slung carelessly
over the footstool.  She scooped it up and wriggled into its soft, silky
folds.  She glanced again at Obi-Wan, but he slumbered on, tired face half
buried in the crook of his arm, one muscled leg curled protectively up.

She crossed the suite to the windows, wanting to see what she had been
listening to for the last three hours. 

The grassy common of the Alderaani Palace grounds buzzed with personnel. 
Large swaths of green, gray and brown uniforms swarmed over the landscape. 
Orange flightsuits blotted the common like flowers.  She saw the temporary
camps swaying on their foundations as droids busily dismantled the
structures.  Lifts and skiffs were everywhere, skimming the ground, burdened
with supplies and darting away toward the landing pads.  The sight confirmed
what she had known and wanted to ignore as she listened.  The orders had
come, the legion was deploying, and the brief shore leave was over. 

How long had it been last time?  Four days, three months ago?  And this time,
a meager three days.  Nora had heard of the leave from a military aide she
had plied with potent liquor.  It had taken her days to find and bribe a
pilot, steal the fuel, and sneak via back routes off of Coruscant to
Alderaan.  By the time she had finally arrived, the leave was half over. 

They'd not left the suite since.  The food tray from their late evening meal
was still on the table, barely touched. 

Still, it was never enough time. 

Nora raised her arms high, stretching tired muscles, and ran her hands
through her hair.  Her fingers caught on the tangled, curly strands. 
Gingerly, she ran a finger across her face.  Damn him.  Skin red and
roughened from too much ardent kissing would take a week to heal. 

And in a week?  Where would Obi-Wan be?  On what bloodstained battlefield
would he be, fighting another army of clones in blast armor?  Endless rows of
them, one after another, shock troops, simple fodder for an ion cannon.  How
many of the young beings dotting the Alderaani Palace Garden would be dead in
a week's time, cut down by another clone?

Cloning.  It was an abomination.  Such a gross perversion, it was difficult
to even comprehend the evil intelligence behind it.  Who?  Where were they
coming from?  Someone devised this.  Engineering beings who were no better
than droids...

Nora shook her head, trying to order her thoughts.  There was a similarity
here which had dogged her for the last eight months since the Clone Wars
began.  The theory behind a droid army and a cloned one was the same.  Sheer,
overwhelming numbers.  But, clones did not have the weakness of droids --
they were not directed by a vulnerable computer. 

Or were they? 

The instincts honed by fifteen years of information gathering told her that
the coincidences were too great.  There had to be a link, somewhere, between
the building and decimation of the Trade Federation droid armies and the
clones.  The pattern suggested the same driving and manipulative force behind
both.

She would be taking the long, circuitous way back to Coruscant in a few
hours.  There were avenues still to pursue.  Hirelings still to bribe.  Moffs
to be seduced and blackmailed.  There was an answer. 

Another burdened transport thrust up into the air, clearing the treetops. 
There was now more green space then encampments on the garden common. 

It was time for caff, and to wake the sleeping Jedi.  Nora cinched her wrap
about her waist, and started to pivot away from the pale sunlight streaming
through the window.

"Don't," she heard from a rough voice, heavy with sleep.

Nora smiled.  "So, at last you've decided to join me."  She turned her head
to look over her shoulder.  Obi-Wan would like to see the stretch of her neck.

He was propped up against the headboard, indolently leaning into a sea of
silken pillows, arms behind his head.  The thermal was twisted about his
waist, and he'd pulled one leg up, most immodestly.  That he was covered at
all was simple accident, not design. 

There was a long pause.  His eyes, narrow and slitted, didn't waver from her.
The words were more casual than the intense look which accompanied them. 
"I've been awake for some time," Obi-Wan informed her. "Watching you stand
there in front of all my troops wearing practically nothing." 

Jealous?  Nora scoffed at the silly and fleeting hope of being able to kindle
such a thing in Obi-Wan Kenobi.  After nearly a decade together, they knew
where one another's fidelity lay.   "The window is transparisteel," she
pointed out.

"True."  Another long pause, as his eyes moved over her slowly, as slowly as
his hands could move.  "In that case, turn around and open your robe so I can
actually enjoy the sight of you in daylight." 

Nora half-complied, pivoting, but arching a skeptical eyebrow at him.  "It's
cold in here."

"A minor concern," Obi-Wan said dismissively.  Then, he amended with a
gentler smile.  "And a temporary one."

Nora untied the robe's sash and let it slip down to the cold marbled floor.
Her wrap draped loosely from her broad shoulders.  She slowly turned to face
him.

"A little more," he asked, his voice pitching lower with the request. "I want
to see those strong shoulders of yours."

So like him, to turn her faults into a compliment.  With a shrug, Nora let
the edges of her wrap gap further apart. 

"Put your arms up again, like you were doing before." 

Nora felt a shiver that was not due to the cold.  She raised her arms, and
began combing again through her hair, pulling it away from her face and off
her neck.

He stared, fixedly, frowning. "Arch your back." 

Nora flinched, and her hands fell to her sides.  All this time, and still, he
could disconcert her as no other could.  She ducked her head, realizing she
was blushing like a virgin.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said suddenly, quiet and contrite.  "I've embarrassed
you."

Nora shook her head, but couldn't stop drawing her gaping robe close. "Maybe,
a little," she amended, feeling very shy and foolish.

She heard a small, sorry sigh.  "I'm sorry, Nora.  It's only that..."  His
eyes flitted to the window as another transport rumbled over head and drowned
out their lovers' small conversation. 

The sounds of repulsors faded and he pulled his tired face back to hers.  "I
just see you so seldom, and never it seems in daylight, and..."

Another craft roared overhead, burying his words.  Still, Nora heard them in
her heart.  "...and I don't know if  I will see you again."

Nora complied with his silent plea and parted the robe, letting it slide off
her shoulders, to hang loosely down her back. 

He mouthed a soft "thank you," but there was nothing gentle in the steely,
searching, and very thorough look.   Nora forced herself to keep from
squirming, and pushed out of the slouching, concealing posture she had tried
to adopt.  His eyes left her face and drifted ever so slowly, downward.

She stood straighter, arching her back and neck for him, and felt the color
rise in her cheeks.  The chill of the room bit into her flesh; the pool of
weak light in which she stood illuminated but did not warm her tightening and
prickling skin.  With flushing embarrassment, she saw his eyes linger
appreciatively over her chest, then slide over the slope of her waist, to her
hips.  And there, his eyes stopped, to examine every slope and valley of her
body.  Nora stilled the overwhelming urge to cross her legs, drop a hand,
something, anything, to shield her body from his study. 

Her knees were a moment away from trembling when Obi-Wan finally barked,
"Come here."

Withering embarrassment aside, Nora bristled at the curt demand.  "Jedi don't
command others to bend to their will," she quoted back at him.

Obi-Wan was not at all dissuaded and very smug.  "But Generals do."  Then, he
softened, and raised a hand, beckoning her to him in a silent and gentle
plea.  The commander of armies abruptly disappeared and in its place was a
lonely, burdened soldier on leave.

Her heart could break for him. 

If she allowed such frailty. 

Nora swiftly crossed the room, and let Obi-Wan draw her to him.  With his
impatient tug, her robe fell wide open and with another pull, she was
flattened on top of him. "As beautiful as you are to look at, I've decided I
want you here," Obi-Wan complained softly. 

"And whose fault is that?" Nora chided. 

He nudged her hips between his legs.  Skin against skin, legs tangled, her
body lightly pressed to his.  "And I want that lethal mouth of yours
**here**," he instructed. 

Obi-Wan wrapped the fingers of one hand around her neck and brought her down.
Her eyes closed, and his mouth opened to her.  Lethal indeed. 

His other hand, she felt smooth down her leg, then trail back upwards,
stroking, sweeping, holding her closely, her cool body flattened against his
warm one. 

She caught his head between her hands and reintroduced him to the art of the
kiss. 

Managing multiple enticements at once was one of the reasons Jedi could,
ultimately, be superb lovers.  As his tongue plundered her mouth, fingers
found and explored her breast, and his other hand continued its leisurely
reconnaissance of her backside. A war on three fronts?

Nora squirmed closer, not able to dispel the sudden, chilling thought -- this
identical drama was being played out in countless other places on Alderaan,
throughout the Palace, in homes, encampments, and brothels everywhere.  Would
this be the last time?  And if a Jedi, or any being, knew that it was, would
it stop them from hurrying to the last armored troop carrier?

No, Nora was certain.  Whatever, whomever was left behind, the decision would
be the same when a galaxy's future hung in the balance.  Duty was stronger
than love. Without duty, there would be no love to return to.  And with the
Jedi...  well, Nora knew better than any precisely which rung on the Jedi
Order of things she occupied.  Padawan.  Galaxy.  Order.  Every sentient
creature anywhere.  Every one of them came before **lover.**

Likely feeling the same sad echo, and more far acutely than she, Obi-Wan
gently pushed her away. Nora followed his lead, and allowed him to ease her
back into the bed.  He propped himself up on one arm, perched over her. 

Again, he started at her face, and she felt his fingers tease out strands of
her fly away hair.  His forefinger meandered along a trail from her cheek to
collarbone.  There, he lingered, always fond of the place where strong
shoulder and delicate neck met.  She felt his finger tremble, ever so
slightly at the sensitive place, then continue a teasing downward drift. 

His hand followed the line of her robe, down and across her torso. With a
hint of impatience, he pushed the silky, obstructing fabric down her arms and
away from her breast and hips.  The robe splayed out across the bed, a
useless encumbrance. Reclining and bared to his thorough inspection in
revealing daylight, Nora felt, oddly, like a rare and precious object Obi-Wan
unveiled

His roving hand again swept up to her throat, then descended, tracing the
cleft between her breasts, and lower, before finally trailing off to explore
the crevice between hip and inner thigh.

At least she wasn't cold anymore, Nora thought wryly, waiting for the
maddeningly feather light touch to turn to something less reverent.  They
didn't have all morning, after all.

End Part 1