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jpoakbrook · 2 years

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BEYOND THE STARS, BEYOND THE SEA

chapter 17: THE HOWLING NARGLATCH PT 1

summary: You accompany Jer'ik Lo on a weekend event on Cheefdaz Fik's luxury liner. There, you meet a couple of Dathomirian-Zabraks.

It was your first time aboard the ship since your rescue from the Undercity. You had spent the trip back to Maverick’s in pain, shivering and crying in Obi-wan’s arms. This time, you were looking over every inch of the ship in awe. It amazed you that someone could make a ship like this home as he travelled across the stars collecting bounties when he could.

“Don’t you feel cooped up?” you called out, fingertips running over a map that was pinned to a corkboard.

“Nah. I stay on planets a lot. I don’t really leave planets unless I have a bounty,” Jer’ik responded as he was really letting the auto-pilot do all the work. But he was seated in the pilot’s chair, feet propped up, using a knife to clean the underside of his nails.

“But there’s no planet you really stay at more than others?” you inquired.

“Nope. Stay somewhere long enough, and you’ll find a reason to never leave,” came his response. You thought you could hear some tension beneath it, but you didn’t pry. “Besides, there’s always another party somewhere, and who am I to deny the galaxy my presence?”

You laughed at that, moving back to the cockpit to join him. “Is that where we’re going? A party?” you asked. He nodded. “I don’t have party wear, though.”

“I took care of it. Don’t worry. It’s in my room waiting for you. Just remember that, as far as anyone is concerned, you are there on official business,” he said. You huffed.

“I am there for business,” you reminded him. Obi-wan had agreed to let you go on the mission simply because Jer’ik had helped him in his time of need. And he couldn’t repay the favour since this required translations. So when the time for payment came, he had to be okay with you going with Jer’ik. He made you swear up and down that you wouldn’t leave Jer’ik’s side at any point in the night. When you petulantly brought up using the refresher, he made you swear even then. He wasn’t taking any risks.

“Remember, if at any point you’re uncomfortable or have something important to share…” he trailed.

“We speak Nagaian,” you confirmed. He nodded.

“Nobody there will know it. And I don’t want to risk a conversation in Basic where just anyone can interrupt or overhear us,” he said. He checked the route and hummed a little to himself. “We’ll be there in just over an hour. You want to go shower?” he asked. You nodded with a smile in thanks and headed down to the more intimate living area. You popped into his sonic before looking at his ample hair care products. You didn’t want to mess with any of them, wondering how he had so many, and instead opted to just brush your long hair and put it into a simple braid over your left shoulder. You stepped out of the fresher and headed into the small room that Jer’ik stayed in during his tenure on his ship. There was a box on the bed, and your name was written in Nagaian on the front. You smiled and undid the blue ribbon that sealed it. You lifted the lid and gasped.

There was a gorgeous dress laying on a bed of white tulle. The dress had an illusion neckline, the sheer part being a black sheer lace that drew stars and constellations across your chest in golden specks. The bodice of the dress was shaped, but not stiff, and black. The skirt of the dress was asymmetrical. The left side was bunched up and pinned just about mid-thigh. It dropped dramatically, going all the way down to your ankle on the right side. The way the silk felt, the way it bunched and fell in ridges, reminded you of a more casual dancing version of a sarong. It was black and faded away to gold at the end. There was a golden lace belt that connected the bodice to the skirt. It was beautiful, and when you slipped it on, it fit just right. You smiled, looking at yourself in the mirror. He must’ve commissioned it for you because it hugged you just right and emphasized the curve of your thick thigh, showing off the tattoos on your leg that not many got to see.

The box also held a smaller one, this one clearly concealing jewelry. There was a golden circlet that snapped around your thigh, and you felt decorated as the metal attached to your warm skin. There was another one to go around your right bicep. The metal was curled and twisted into a beautiful vine that curled around your arm three times, smaller and more delicate ones branching off to host small emerald leaves. It matched your thigh piece. The final piece was a golden pin to put in your hair. It was of a raven with a knife in its beak. It was the same symbol on the outside of Jer’ik’s ship. It must’ve been his symbol.

You didn’t mind wearing it tonight, slipping it into your braid, right at the base of your head. You looked in the mirror and felt beautiful. It wasn’t often that you got to dress up—kriff, you couldn’t remember the last time you got to. You added simple eyeliner, touched your brows up, and darkened your lips slightly. It wasn’t much, but you didn’t want much. You wanted the dress to be the center of your attention. And your eyes. You opted to take your glasses off for this, slipping contacts in. You took a deep breath, ran your eyes over your scars and tattoos and metal arm, before nodding in confidence. You looked great.

Jer’ik told you so when you went back up to the cockpit. He was beaming at you, and you couldn’t help but smile back. Gone was the awkward tension that had been there when you first met him. It had passed quickly as you realised, yes, he was handsome, but he felt more like a brother than anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to be attracted to him, and it seemed the feeling was mutual, to your great relief.

He excused himself to get ready as well, and when he returned, you were stunned to see he was dressed similarly. His top was a solid black, plain dress shirt that had a short collar on it that hugged the base of his neck, not folding down like modern dress shirts. It was solid without pattern. You recognised it as a traditional top, but he had it short-sleeved instead of the usual wrist-length. His bicep jewelry matched yours but was a dark silver like his eyes instead. There was a dark metal belt on his waist that pinned his jacket-type top down and also his pants. They looked like loose breeches, but what they actually were was a roll of cloth that wrapped around his waist, the edge then tucked down between his legs, brought up, and tucked into the metal belt just above his butt. His bottoms were also black, but they faded to silver near the bottom and on the middle strip. His long hair was pulled back into a low bun, a silver pin in there matching yours.

*** AUTHOR’S NOTE*** (This is called a “Sampot Chong Kben” in Khmer (Cambodian) clothing. It is a more trouser-type bottom than skirt, but the only thing stopping it from being a skirt is the strip of cloth pulled up between the legs. It’s so impossible for me to describe how it looks, so please, look it up lol. Also, I understand Tony Thornburg (the FC for Jer’ik) is Japanese/Swedish. But I chose the clothing I was familiar with, so don’t come for me. It is not appropriation.)

“Wow! You look amazing,” you gasped at him with a grin. He smiled.

“Thank you,” he said before taking a seat back at the helm of the ship. “We’re descending. Remind me of the rules.”

“I’m not to be out of your sight,” you said, remembering that as the first rule. He had relaxed Obi-wan’s demand when you got on the ship, but he was adamant that you were at least where he could see you. He nodded for you to continue. “As far as anyone is concerned, we know each other through Giddy Maverick.” He nodded again. “And I’m… not to…” You couldn’t quite remember the 3rd rule. 3 was a lot, after all.

“Not to leave with anyone else. Ever. At all. The entire time,” he repeated. You nodded.

“Yeah, that,” you said. He laughed and nodded.

“When we touch down, the servants will bring our bags to our suite. One weekend. That’s it. 3 days,” he said. You nodded. “And you remember the information you’re here for, right?” he asked. You nodded again.

“We’re looking for any hint as to where Yuvink is hiding the last bit of blackmail, Senator Clovis’,” you said. “And we’re not bringing Clovis up if our lives depended on it. Just going to slowly press for information.”

“Very good, Juniper,” he beamed at you, and you felt pride swell in your chest. Jer’ik, of course, could’ve done this on his own. He knew enough languages to get by, and he certainly could’ve just charmed the information out. But this was an excuse to bring you away from the jedi, to a party, and get to know you a little better. He wasn’t going to pass it up.

You descended onto the massive cruise ship. It was called The Howling Narglatch, and it took your breath away. It was a luxury liner for sure. Jer’ik caught you gaping and laughed. “You’ve never been on one of these?” he asked.

“No. Never even seen one this close,” you admitted. “I was born and raised on Coruscant. Didn’t leave until I became the ROA.” His smile barely faltered at your words, but he motioned to the ship as he pulled into one of the dock bays.

“Well, welcome to Cheefdaz Fik’s exclusive party,” he said gracefully. You were escorted off the ship by Jer’ik’s steady hand on your upper back, and your belongings were whisked away by servants in matching uniforms. Another one led you two away from the bay and to the main hall. You gaped in awe at the room. It wasn’t like Cheefdaz’ back party room on that Duro island. This one was grand, decorated like Giddy’s halls with wood and red, and there were dozens of tables strewn about the edges. The majority of the floor was open for mingling and dancing. But what really caught your eye was the buffet table at the far end of the hall. Your mouth watered.

“Ah! Jer’ik Lo! And miss Juniper Pyke!” Cheefdaz’ horrible throaty growl called out to you as you stepped through the door. You couldn’t help but smile at him, though. He had been a gracious host on Duro, and his ship was beautiful.

“Cheefdaz! Thank you so much for inviting me here,” you said with a polite bow of your head as the two of you approached him. Jer’ik was a full foot taller than you, and you were sure you made such an odd looking pair. You could feel eyes on both of you.

“Yes, I’m so glad you were able to make it. Did Jer’ik tell you what the party is for?” he asked. You shook your head. “It’s my annual party for the meteor shower across Gand’s sky. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ll see out here,” Cheefdaz said in regards to the Outer Rim region.

“I love meteor showers! I’ve never seen one from space, though,” you admitted. He chortled. “I look forward to the shower. When is it?”

“Tomorrow night. Tonight, the guests mingle. Enjoy yourself,” he bid you. You smiled and led Jer’ik away.

“He didn’t even talk to me. You must be quite the sight,” Jer’ik muttered to you in Nagaian.

“Jealous?” you teased him, and he scoffed a laugh. He introduced you around the party, meeting persons of all different species and walks in life. It seemed that Cheefdaz was not only in the company of slavers and smugglers. There were politicians, entertainers, scholars, doctors. There must’ve been close to a hundred people here. You were thankful for the memory you had, or you would’ve forgotten them long ago. You were also surprised to see that you could understand the majority of them, and they were all happily surprised when you communicated to them in their language. There were a few that you didn’t even know you knew. You must’ve picked it up somewhere, but you knew so many languages at this point that it was hard to keep track of when and where you learned them.

Only Jer’ik knew why you were able to pick up these languages so easily. Ones he knew you would’ve never come across in your time, but you just listened to them speak for a little bit and then jumped in like you knew it as standard as you knew Basic. He didn’t say a word, just watched as your Linguist trait flowed naturally. It impressed him. He wished he could brag to everyone around you about how brilliant you are, how talented, but he couldn’t. He bit his tongue and smiled.

“No, not my husband,” you said for the millionth time that night. “My bodyguard.” It was a partial lie, and one that Jer’ik insisted on. The people seemed to accept that and moved on from the topic. You found them interesting, strange, and so full of stories. But your stomach was growling at you, and you hated to make it angry.

You excused yourself from Jer’ik, who nodded when he saw your focus on the food table, and he stayed with his little group who were tripping over themselves to get to talk to Jer’ik Lo, bounty hunter. He sipped his champagne as he watched you walk away.

You were hovering over the table, mouth watering as you took in all the different foods there. You started with a mushroom cap that was stuffed with sausage and cheese. You didn’t even try to stifle your groan at the explosion of flavour. You smiled to yourself and went along the line, putting your favourites onto your plate. You tried a little bit of everything, even if it didn’t look appealing. You judged books on their cover, not food.

“It seems you’re the only one who has discovered the hidden pleasantries of this table,” a man spoke to you. His voice was both smooth and growled, low and deep, dark and endless. You felt it shiver down your spine, and you looked up to match a pair of red and yellow eyes. You had never seen such eyes before. Then you took in the rest of him. His skin was red with black tattoos that streaked across his face and body. The back of his head and his entire neck was black, but he wore a circular type collar there, black with silver along the layers. He had a crown of yellow horns around his head, a smaller pair just in front of his ears. He was certainly humanoid, even in spite of the metallic, raptor-type legs that replaced his organic ones. He had bracers covering his forearms that matched his collar, but his chest and upper arms were bare. His chiseled muscles were not lost on you.

“Oh stars,” you gasped, and his face registered a faint hint of surprise. “A Dathomirian-Zabrak. Never thought I’d see one in person,” you gasped, studying him carefully. He didn’t seem too put off by your actions, though you did see his lip curl a little. “Wow, interesting. I had no idea about the horns. Knew you had ‘em, didn’t know they were like this. Tell me, do they grow? Do you have to shave them down or do they stop at a point? I assume youth means smaller horns,” you murmured to yourself and to him.

He didn’t respond, just raising a brow at you. You blinked a couple times before breaking into a dazzling smile. He inhaled sharply, but that was the only reaction he had to your smile. “Oh! Sorry, I’m being rude. I’m told I can be that way sometimes,” you said and stepped back from him. You turned your eyes back to your plate of food and spoke to him as you went.

“I understand that the majority of Dathomirians speak Basic, but do you also speak Paecian? From what I understand, it is usually the Nightsisters who speak it, claiming it as their witch language,” you said.

“I do not speak it,” he responded, and you turned to look at him. You could drown in that voice.

“All the better. I’m much better at Basic,” you said with a laugh.

“You are a slave,” he remarked, and you saw his eyes flick to the brand that was plain on your left shoulder blade. The Pyke symbol. You didn’t think about the brand often, but every now and again you woke with a cold sweat after having dreamt about when you got it; It had been burned into you multiple times to ensure it stayed and healed correctly. It was gnarled and had millions of little scars holding it to your body, but the symbol was clear.

“I was,” you corrected him. “I am free now.”

“Free from all but Jer’ik Lo?” he inquired. You peered over his shoulder and saw Jer’ik watching you carefully from his spot in the crowd. You laughed and winked at him before returning back to flat feet to look at this strange, red man.

“He’s not my owner. He’s my bodyguard,” you explained. His lips pursed at that.

“And you? What do you bring to the table that made Cheefdaz invite you here?” you asked.

“Our business overlaps,” he responded simply.

“That is… impossibly vague,” you shot back. He didn’t move to explain further, so you sighed and motioned to the food on your plate. “I’m looking for a place to go eat this, and that table in the corner is calling my name. You are more than welcome to join me,” you said and headed away without his answer. You were less than surprised when he overtook you, but the surprise was evident on your face when he pulled your chair out for you to sit. You did, and you thanked him with a small smile. He took the seat to your right.

“Are you hungry?” you asked him and pushed the plate between the two of you. He seemed oddly familiar, but you couldn't quite place your finger on it. Not that you knew him. Just that his vibe seemed so familiar. He looked at you a moment before taking one of the foods and biting into it. It was a meaty thing, and you wondered if he could even eat some of these foods.

“Carnivorous,” he said as if he had read your thoughts. You nodded and shifted the plate around so the majority of the meat products were on the side closest to him. He raised an eyebrow again, looking at you curiously. “Why are you being nice?” he asked.

“Why not? You haven’t insulted me or harmed me. Jer’ik hasn’t come over and told me to stay away from you. I can only assume that means you’re fine to be around,” you explained. A hulking figure was making its way toward your table now, and you almost gasped in surprise. He was bigger than the red man, this one yellow and black. Everything about him was wider, thicker, and he was mostly covered by black leather armour. His cranial horns were longer. He carried 2 plates of food, and he sat down on your left.

“This is my brother, Savage,” the red man introduced. Savage eyed you warily, like he thought you were going to steal his food or something. So you did what you normally did and beamed at him.

“Hi! I’m Juniper Pyke,” you introduced yourself. He grunted and set to work on his food. You thought that a plate was for the red man, but you were clearly mistaken. The red man rolled his eyes lightly, but his attention was soon back on you.

“What makes Cheefdaz invite you here? His annual party is usually quite exclusive,” he drawled, clipped on the modifier to emphasise just how few get to attend this weekend party.

“Oh! I’m an archivist. I met Cheefdaz a few months ago. The invitation was meant for Jer’ik, but there was a +1 as long as it was me,” you explained.

“You must’ve made quite the impression, archivist,” the red man drawled. You nodded with a smile.

“He was impressed. He was a gracious host. So I came here not knowing about the meteor shower,” you said.

“It is quite the sight to behold. It will be Savage’s first time seeing them as well,” the man said with a flourish of his fingers at his brother. He was elegance and drama and charm to no end. His brother, on the other hand, was staring at you as he shovelled spiced ham into his mouth. You giggled at that, and you thought you saw the corner of his lip twitch upward for a moment.

“Is it fair to say you’re familiar with the ship, then?” you asked.

“Quite,” came his short response.

“Would you mind showing me around then?” You thought for a moment that he would say no, since you were an over-eager stranger, but he stared into your eyes for a long while. You recognised the tell-tale signs of someone who wanted to say no but just couldn’t. You smiled in victory even before he sighed.

~ *~

Jer’ik had been tough to convince to let you go. But you reminded him that you were on a ship. Nowhere to go. Plus, he could track your phone. PLUS, he was more than capable of hunting these two down if any harm came to you. He made that last fact clear with a glare at the red man as Savage scratched an itch on his arm and didn’t pay attention to the conversation.

“Is it just me or do they seem to have a history?” you asked Savage, eyes trained on your friend and the Zabrak. You weren’t subtle with the question, quite loud with it in fact. They both looked at you, and you refused to wither under their combined glares. You were not going to wither in this dress.

“We do,” Jer’ik responded simply, his gaze turning back to the red man. “It had not always been a friendly one. That is something that is new.” There was no response from the red man, and you felt like not even Obi-wan’s lightsaber could cut through this tension.

“Are you exes?” you inquired. Their glares snapped back to you, and you just shrugged. You could hear Savage chuckling under his breath.

“I would never sleep with this piece of stale bread,” Jer’ik spat, slipping into Nagaian.

“The feeling is mutual, Lo,” the red man snarled.

“It’s just a walk, Jer’ik. It’s too cramped in here, and you still have mingling to do. Plus, I can always see if they know anything,” you begged him in Nagaian. The bounty hunter looked at you and sighed heavily. He made it clear you were going to be tracked the entire time, and if you didn’t return in 1 hour, he was coming with a gun.

~ *~

The red man, whose name you still couldn’t pry from him, showed you around the massive liner. Everything impressed you. It wasn’t nearly as big as the Negotiator, but it was a civilian spacecraft, so that made sense. He showed you, and his brother, to the viewing rooms. There were designated rooms if you wanted the best view. One was a ballroom with massive windows. You could see the blue and green planet from a distance. He showed you the kitchens. He saved the best for last: a small, private library. You gasped and looked at every single title you could understand. Savage pointed out books and had you translate the titles for him. It was a fun little game.

“Why didn’t you stay at the party?” the red man asked as you texted Jer’ik your new location. You hummed as you looked up from your phone.

“What? Oh, because I hate parties,” you said simply. He gave a very long look at your dress, and you felt a blush appear when you realised just how much of your leg it showed off. “This was a gift. Just because I don’t like parties doesn’t mean I don’t know how to dress for them.” He smirked and looked away, taking a seat at the table with you. Savage was already seated with you. The red man looked slightly perturbed by how quickly he had taken to you, but you got that a lot.

“Are you going to tell me your name now?” you asked him.

“No. I am enjoying your presence, and my name will only be a detriment to our time together,” he said. You furrowed your eyebrows at that and took in a deep breath.

“Are you someone I shouldn’t be associating with?” you asked, interested now.

“I am certain that a friend of yours wouldn’t appreciate our acquaintanceship.”

“A lot of my friends don’t get along with each other,” you replied simply, racking your mind for any mention of a Dathomirian.

“Yes, but this one has a special place in that single heart of yours. Kenobi,” he breathed, and you flushed. How did he know? You stared at him for a moment, and Savage’s head tilted as if he could sense your mood shift. Then you felt it. You hadn’t noticed before, distracted by the party and the people, but you could feel it now. A warm water coating your mind. It wasn’t like Qui-gon’s. This one had the distinct feeling of sharpness, of needles picking and prodding their way through.

“You’re a Force user,” you said, and that helped narrow it down in your mind. Force users that Obi-wan didn’t like. You shuffled through the list, and you knew you were forgetting someone. Someone Obi-wan would hate you spending time with. But just thinking about Obi-wan in general made you miss his arms around you, his lips on your forehead, his warmth seeping into your bones.

“Interesting,” the red man hissed, and Savage just smirked at that. He could hear your thoughts loud and clear as well.

“Don’t tell me your precious Kenobi never told you about me,” he drawled. You furrowed your eyebrows at him. You were thinking, and you could feel him along for the ride. Your thoughts turned to Qui-gon as well, and you gasped a little.

“You’re Darth Maul,” you said, realisation sinking into your stomach.

“Just Maul. Former sith and all,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. You could feel cold water running down your limbs as you looked at him. You had enjoyed his presence all night; the way he chewed food like a thought, chuckled when you raced Savage down the hallway, was silhouetted by the great expanse of the galaxy when you were in the ballroom. You hadn’t felt unsafe with him at all. And, you also realised, you still didn’t. His eyebrow raised at your thought.

“Well, I can put a face to the stories now,” you said.

“You are unafraid,” he didn’t ask, just told.

“Jer’ik would kill you if you hurt me. And you have given me no reason to fear you thus far. I am not one to change my opinion on something just because I know what it is now. Like the people who eat a delicious meal, sing its praises, only to vomit when they find out it is the neighbour’s pet,” you said. And it was true. You enjoyed things, a wide variety of things, and it would’ve been a boring existence if you let the opinions of others change yours.

“I, in this scenario, am the neighbour’s cooked pet?” Maul asked. You nodded with a smile.

“Maul is a much better name than Fluffy or Socks, I reckon.” Savage barked a laugh at your quip and didn’t even bother trying to hide his grin now. Maul was… amused.

“The jedi are not so open-minded, archivist,” he said.

“And I’m not a jedi.”

“You work with them.”

“You work with slavers.”

“Barely.”

“Still.”

“I see,” he breathed and ran a thumb over his chin as he regarded you. It was like he wasn’t sure what to make of you, and you weren’t sure how to feel about that. You thought yourself to be a rather open and honest person, so to be scrutinised always left you feeling… awkward.

“I have nothing to hide, Maul,” you said. You felt him rifle through your mind, and you shrugged a little. “Well, I have one thing to hide,” you amended as you thought about Obi-wan’s breath in your ear as you cuddled in the night.

“That is your secret to keep. It seems you are a rather… honest person,” he said. “One who is not very pleased with the jedi order.”

“It seems so because it is so,” you replied with a shrug. “I value knowledge. Lying is a form of manipulating knowledge, of turning something that should be pure and untouched and spread to something of hate and deceit.” You curled your lip as you spoke, your mind wandering to show him Garrot. You showed him the snippets of the manipulation and lies you had to endure between the physical torture. You showed him lies from others in your life, as you worked so hard to claw your way out of the slave trade. You showed him the time you nearly died because you trusted someone who bring you to safety, and they instead decided to use and abuse you before returning you back to your slave master.

“I don’t like lies,” you said with a deep breath as he withdrew from your memories. You smiled at him. “So there’s nothing for me to hide from you, is there.”

“I killed your precious Kenobi’s master,” Maul said.

“No. You tried. He survived it,” you said. That wasn’t news to him, and you think he claimed the kill just to see your reaction.

“I’ve killed countless others,” he hissed, leaning forward.

“You do what you must,” you responded.

“And I liked it.”

“Different strokes for different folks,” you responded, making Savage laugh a little.

“Why are you so insistent on not hating me?” Maul asked.

“You haven’t given me a reason to,” you said instantly. “There are few in this galaxy I can say I genuinely hate. You have been kind, courteous, and good company. What you do for your profession, what you’ve done in the past, is none of my concern. How you treat me? Is.”

There was a long silence as he took in your words. “Kenobi will be displeased,” he said.

“He’s already displeased that I'm friends with Jer’ik. He can be displeased about this, too,” you muttered, still annoyed with the jedi for your misunderstanding after Qui-gon’s arrival. That was almost a month ago now, but you were still annoyed by the nightmares that still haunted you.

“You’re so stubborn,” Savage said, making you laugh. “I’ve… never had a friend before. Just my brothers.” His admittance was soft, so soft that you weren’t sure Maul could even hear it on the other side of you. But their species must have incredible senses because Maul cleared his throat.

“I will allow this friendship.”

“You don’t get a choice, buddy. I was gonna force it on you regardless,” you said with a laugh, slapping his arm. Savage tensed at the action, but there was no consequence for it. You checked your phone as it beeped and saw Jer’ik was summoning you back. “I gotta go. But come find me for breakfast, okay? I have so many questions,” you said as you stood up.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t exhilarated at the idea of befriending these clearly dangerous beings. It was the same exhilaration you got when you befriended Jer’ik, and all the people he had introduced you to as well. Plus, there was so much to learn about the brothers. And on top of it, you weren’t really one to judge someone for their past. There was almost a sharp sting in your Pyke brand when you thought that to yourself. Maul and Savage had been nothing less than great company for the early evening. You knew that you should probably hold their actions toward others against them, but… you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You thought of Maverick in that moment, how sweet he was to you and the family, but how cruel he could be to others.

You couldn’t hold it against them because you understood that life isn’t black and white and maybe shades of grey. Life was a whole spectrum of colours, and you couldn’t judge red or blue for not being white the same as you couldn’t judge green and pink for not being black. That was where you found the most fault with the jedi order the way it stood now. To them, it was either good or bad, and they only did “good”. But you knew that morals are subjective and what’s good to one is bad to another. So who were you to say Maul was bad? You were running these thoughts in your head as you headed back to Jer’ik, and you were acutely aware of the warm water that was still in your mind.

~ *~

“Are you going to tell her?” Savage asked as Maul stared at the door long after she had left. He was hardly breathing, wondering how she couldn’t be aware of the effect she had on others. On him.

“Tell her what?” he asked, his voice lower than normal. He was clearly distracted as he listened to her thoughts.

“About Kenobi?” Savage clarified.

“That he sliced off my legs and left me to die? That he knows the truth about her family and is hiding it from her? That he has that precious Mandalorian?” Maul sneered, a fire growing in his stomach. He chuckled. “No, my dear brother. I’m not going to tell her. Because it is not my business to tell. Kenobi will tell her soon enough, and when he does, the sweet betrayal that courses through her veins will lead her straight to us.”

“What do you need with an archivist?” Savage asked.

“Everything. Have you not heard stories about her, brother?” Maul asked. Savage shook his head. “I heard about her before she joined the jedi, when she was still working under Giddy Maverick. Because of her father’s species, she is incredibly talented at picking up languages. We have quite a few partners who don’t know Basic or will bend easier if we use their own language against them,” Maul explained. “Not to mention her expansive knowledge on the universe as a whole.”

“She smells so much like her father. Do the jedi really not notice?” Savage asked, remembering how similar Jer’ik’s scent was to hers.

“They do not have our senses, Savage. And the ones who do do not associate with the jedi hunter enough to know,” Maul explained patiently. He was patient tonight because he found a missing puzzle piece to his plan of revenge. His smile was cold. “Think of how crushing it will be for Kenobi when his lover joins our side purely due to his inability to be truthful with her as the jedi demand of him.” His laugh sent a shiver down Savage’s spine. “We don’t have to do a thing. Just be nice and honest. He will be his own downfall, and we will get the archivist.”

“It’s not hard to be nice to her. I just… feel like I have to,” Savage admitted, his tone hinting at his confusion at it.

“Her sweet words. Her scent. Her blood makes it almost impossible to resist her,” Maul said, knowing the components of her blood that she didn’t even know. Savage pursed his lips and accepted it, but he didn’t fully believe it. He was decent at resisting those things from others, and Maul himself seemed to be affected by it, not that Savage would ever point that out to his younger, smaller, but definitely far more commanding brother.

Maul could sense the thoughts and turned away from his brother with a growl. It wasn’t just the words and the scent. It was her innocence. She had gone through so much in her history, so much grief and trauma… and still, she only yearned for answers and truth. She wanted to see the stars, see planets, experience life. She was so passionate, even when explaining the simple difference between Chiss and Pantoran stories to Savage. She didn’t seem to live by the same rules they did, and it was an addicting thing to witness.

“Patience, brother. The archivist will be ours in time. All we need is to wait,” Maul spoke, his mind running over his plans and engraving her name, her face, her laugh into his mind.

~ *~

On Coruscant, Obi-wan shivered. He looked up at the sky. His eyebrows furrowed. He did not sleep well that night.

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jpoakbrook · 2 years

Text

BEYOND THE STORY

series summary: a collection of daily life drabbles from my fic "beyond the stars, beyond the sea".

These are filler AND are canon.

Just a bunch of happy little moments to show the relationships between Juniper & everyone else.

chapter 10: home spa day

“Wait, so, over, over, under?” Ahsoka asked. She was sitting on the couch behind you, your arms resting on her thighs. She was trying her best to braid your hair, tongue sticking out of her lips as she concentrated. She always looked so much like Anakin when she did that.

“No under. Just over and over and over again until you’re done,” Padme was explaining, sat beside her and pointing out that she needed to start over again. It had been a hot minute of her trying and starting over, but you didn’t mind. It felt nice. Self-care days at your apartment were nice, and the charcoal mask on your face matched Ahsoka’s, though Padme went mint this time.

“For the basic braid. If you want to learn other ones, we can teach that, too,” Plo Koon said as he carefully braided Qui-gon’s long locks in a complicated looking crown. He had a seaweed mask, Qui-gon going with a pomegranate one this time.

“Let’s just start her off here. It seems like she will need a little getting used to this,” Padme said to them.

“Hair is so weird. You guys are so weird,” Ahsoka muttered but worked diligently anyway as you just giggled and sipped your drink. Spa days were so nice with the right company.

#the research and outreach archivist #beyond the story #galactic daydreams #ao3fic #jp oakbrook #archive of our own #fanfic #star wars #the clone wars #canon #fluff #drabble #juniper pyke #padme amidala #ahsoka tano #qui gon jinn #plo koon

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jpoakbrook · 2 years

Text

BEYOND THE STARS, BEYOND THE SEA

chapter 14: THE ARCHIVES PT 1

summary: Qui-gon Jinn is back from his decade long spiritual sabbatical! He wants to get to know the ROA, but you're too busy (literally) sleeping with Obi-wan.

You heard that humming again when you entered the 4th hall for your shift. You were going to transcribe your notes from your adventure, and you weren’t looking forward to it. You had filled a notebook and a half full of information and drawings and notes that were written in a way that only you could understand it. It was much easier, that way, for you to write quickly, but the drawback was that nobody else was able to transcribe your notes then.

You didn’t mind that too much. Especially with the humming luring you further into the hall. You smiled as you turned the corner. “Obi-wan,” you greeted him. He looked up at you, and you melted in the happiness of his gaze. His smile was broad. His name was still foreign on your tongue. No matter how many times you had said it to yourself, it was still weird to say aloud, after 10 years of “Master Kenobi” and other titles. But you had been practicing saying his name out loud so that you wouldn’t stumble on it. You quite liked the way it sounded. And he quite liked hearing you say it.

“Juniper,” he responded. A furious blush rose to your cheeks as your name rolled off his tongue like it belonged there. After you returned to Coruscant, you promised to call him by his name when alone, but you didn’t know if you’d be able to manage saying it in front of other people. It was such an intimate step with the jedi, and your heart was already pounding. You couldn’t imagine ever getting used to this.

“Good morning. Chipper today, I see,” you teased him and set a travelling mug of tea down for him. He had told you he would be in at some point today, but he didn’t say when. You figured the travelling cup was the best bet at keeping his tea hot for whenever he arrived. He smiled at you in thanks and raised an eyebrow.

“What makes you think so?” he asked.

“You only hum when you’re extraordinarily happy,” you pointed out.

“Hum? I don’t hum,” he said, confused. You furrowed your eyebrows at him and laughed. But he didn’t laugh back.

“You’re kidding, right?” you asked him. He shook his head, but before you could comment on it further, your comm crackled to life.

“Is this the Archivist they call Juniper Pyke?” a voice asked, sounding a bit like Obi-wan’s but much deeper. You didn’t recognize it, and you didn’t recognize the number either. After your latest run-in with the Undercity, you were a little more on edge than before.

“Depends. Who’s asking?” you responded.

“I am Jedi Master Qui-gon Jinn,” he responded. Your eyebrows raised as you looked at Obi-wan. He seemed to be frozen at the moment. He weas staring at your comms in shock. “I heard from Anakin Skywalker that my former padawan, Obi-wan Kenobi, is probably with you, since I cannot find him elsewhere in the temple, and he isn’t responding to his comm. Have you seen him?”

“I have, yes. What do you want with him?” you asked, and he chuckled in response.

“To chat. Where are you?”

“I, specifically, am in the 4th hall of the jedi archives,” you responded.

“And Obi-wan?”

“I’m here, Qui-gon,” he finally seemed to break out of his shock, stumbling over his words only slightly. Qui-gon chuckled again.

“I’ll be there soon. Don’t go anywhere.”

After he hung up, you lay a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder. He looked up at you, focusing on your face. “Are you okay?” you asked him in concern. You had heard a little bit about what happened; Qui-gon and Obi-wan were attacked during a battle at Naboo by the Sith Lord Darth Maul. Maul had nearly killed Qui-gon and Obi-wan was barely able to defeat him before he, too, would’ve died. After his recovery, Qui-gon left to go meditate and refocus on the Force. He’d left probably just a few months before you arrived at the Archives.

Obi-wan didn’t want you to be the emotional filler for his master’s leave. That was the main reason he kept his distance from you when you first started working there, despite his attraction and desire to get to know you. Everyone said that you two would get along famously, but he was cold for a year or so. Eventually, as it happened with just about anyone you met, he warmed up to you. Didn’t take long, considering. You had probably seen him 4 times before it, but then he had to spend a weekend of research at the archives, and you were assigned to help him. After that, his visits were regular and long. You were friends before he could stop it.

“I’m… okay. Just in shock,” he said, and you smiled. Your hand moved to cup his face, and he lay a hand on top of yours. There was a moment between the two of you, and you took in a deep breath. He pulled your hand away from his face and pressed a gentle kiss to your palm. His beard and mustache tickled, and you giggled only a little bit.

“Obi-wan, you cut your hair,” a slightly disappointed voice remarked as the man walked up. Obi-wan jumped to his feet, quickly dropping your hand, and the intimacy was quickly hidden once again. Of course it was obvious on both of your faces, where furious blushes threatened to scorch your cheeks. But Qui-gon had more couth than to comment on it. He was taller than Obi-wan, a man who towered at 6’4”. He was muscular, and it was evident even with his loose robes. His hair was long, reaching down to his elbows, and it was pulled back on the sides. Brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes, he was undeniably handsome.

“I like to keep it clean,” Obi-wan responded and walked over to hug the man tightly. He laughed and hugged him back, patting him on the back. Qui-gon was squeezing him tightly, pulling back to press a kiss to his forehead as he cupped his face in both hands. “Welcome back, Qui-gon,” Obi-wan beamed up at him. He stepped back and held a hand out for you to step up. You did so, Obi-wan’s hand finding a spot in the middle of your upper back to usher you forward. He spoke proudly. “This is the Research and Outreach Archivist, Juniper Pyke.”

“I’ve been back less than 4 hours, and I’ve already heard so much about you, Juniper,” Qui-gon said and firmly shook your hand. You beamed up at him.

“Good things, I hope?” you chirped at the man literally a full foot taller than you.

“Exceptionally good. Unbelievably good. Had to come check you out for myself, see if you were real or not. They talk about you like you're a legend."

"And I've heard the same about you, Qui-gon. I was starting to think Master Kenobi made you up to scare Anakin and Ahsoka. But here you are," you said.

"Yes. And here you are. And here is Obi-wan," he said slyly, smiling at Obi-wan. He didn’t respond to that, blatantly ignoring the words that the other man wasn’t saying.

"What brought you back?" he asked curiously.

"I finished my meditation. Next thing I knew, 10 years had passed me by. But I learned things about myself, about the force, that I hadn't thought possible. And it wouldn't have been, should I have stayed here. But now I'm back, and I'm thinking of taking our new ROA out to see what all the hype is about."

"No, you absolutely will not," Obi-wan said. You and Qui-gon both turned to him in surprise. His voice was sharp, firm, and he crossed his arms with a thin line of his lips. Qui-gon’s eyebrow raised, and he took his own firm stance. “Miss Pyke has gone through a rather trying ordeal less than a month ago, and she will not be going on any adventures until after that month is up.”

“And what was that ordeal?” Qui-gon asked, interested.

“She got severely ill from one of her adventures and had to be quarantined for almost 2 weeks. I was able to care for her since I was also exposed to the illness. It took a toll on her, and I refuse to let her out on adventures before she is completely, fully recovered.”

“And what’s to stop her from just going with me regardless of your refusal?” Qui-gon asked slowly. He had a smirk on his lips, and you were inclined to just go with this man. You decided, right then and there, that you very much liked him.

“Because I’ll pull rank on the Council and ground her,” Obi-wan said. You gasped in horror.

“You wouldn’t!” you snapped. He looked at you in surprise, and his eyes widened a little at the shock he found there. He started to fumble over his words, but it was Qui-gon who started laughing. He lay a large hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder.

“It seems you have some apologising to do, my friend. I’ll see you both for tea in 10 minutes. I assume that’s enough time,” he drawled and gave you a look before heading out. After he walked away, you whirled to face Obi-wan.

“I wouldn’t actually, Juniper, please,” he said quickly the moment he thought Qui-gon was out of earshot.

“Oh, I know,” you responded, and it was his turn to be shocked. “I just wanted to see you squirm.”

He laughed and stepped forward. One of his hands snuck to the back of your head, his fingers tangling into your hair, as he pulled you closer to him. His lips found home on your forehead, your hand gently resting on his chest. You stood like that for a moment. He had been gracing your forehead with kisses since he rescued you, always in private and always no closer than your forehead. But this was the first time his fingers were tangled at the base of your head, and the touch felt so intimate that you were nearly in tears.

Neither of you wanted to pull away, but neither of you wanted to get caught, either. There was nothing inherently wrong with the action; Obi-wan kissed Anakin, Ahsoka, other jedi, and the vode just the same. Not to mention your cheeks are constantly peppered with kisses from the vode, you cuddle with certain jedi, and you weren’t above an obvious flirt with an attractive visitor or two.

You had done plenty of research, learning that the jedi were allowed physical permissions, but it was the attachment that they weren’t allowed to have. Nobody said much if they heard about a little roll around the sheets or even just a date or so. But start showing some emotion and… that was a different matter. You studied, figured out that while certain relationships were pertainable, it was the ones that could make a jedi jealous, feel like they would do anything to save the connection, that were forbidden.

And with his lips against your forehead, you would’ve done anything for Obi-wan.

Eventually, he had to let go. His fingers burned your skin as he pulled away, and you stared up at him to match his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were dark. You both knew what this was.

“We should go. Before we’re late,” you whispered. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and it was a lifetime before he nodded and turned away.

“Let’s go.”

~ * ~

Qui-gon was watching her with amusement in his big grin. She was standing a bit away with Anakin and Ahsoka. She and Anakin were back to back, and Ahsoka was touching parts of one of their robot arms to see if the other one could feel it. She insisted it was something to do with electrical currents or something. All Qui-gon knew was that it was hilarious to watch Ahsoka poke Juniper’s arm and watch Anakin react like he was the one touched.

There were other jedi wandering around, so many having come and gone to greet the missing master, and he was warmed at the friends, old and new, who came to see him. Obi-wan was off talking to Mace Windu about something, and Qui-gon wanted to eavesdrop. But then Kit Fisto passed by him.

“Kit!” he laughed and greeted the Nautolan with a hug.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Qui-gon. I’m glad your journey went well!” Kit beamed at him with that killer smile of his. Good to see some things didn’t change.

“Shoot straight with me, Kit,” Qui-gon said. Kit nodded as his arm slipped around Qui-gon’s waist. They were about the same height. Qui-gon motioned to the trio, Juniper now cackling as she kept zapping Anakin with her finger. Ahsoka was laughing and poking her master as well, Anakin yelping and smacking their hands away but laughing nonetheless.

“Since when are Archivists non-jedi?” he asked lowly. Kit looked over at the group, and his smile softened a little.

“She’s a special case. They haven’t informed you of her?” he asked. Qui-gon shook his head.

“Not really. They told me that she is a resource for information and translation. That she can be checked out of the library like some sort of walking data pad,” he said with a laugh. Kit’s chuckle joined him, and it felt nice to laugh with an old friend.

“Let’s take a walk, Master Jinn,” he said without a look around, turning to lead the man out to the balcony. Qui-gon looked around once before following him. They stood in silence, enjoying the breeze and the view of the city during the day. “What I am going to tell you is not mine to say. You understand this?”

“I do,” Qui-gon confirmed and Kit motioned for him to come stand beside him. He did, and the man’s voice lowered as he spoke quickly and softly. “Juniper Pyke is the daughter of Jer’ik Lo. We only recently discovered that Lo is a Nagaian, making her at least half. She is friends with him, but she doesn’t know his real identity.”

“Nobody told her he’s a jedi-hunter?!” Qui-gon demanded softly, running a hand over a scar on his left hand without thinking.

“No. She thinks he is just a bounty hunter. They are in frequent contact, and we allow it because we believe as long as she is friends with him and working for us, he will not harm the jedi,” Kit said. It was reasonable thinking, honestly. “She is unaware he is her father.”

“Where is her mother?” he asked.

“Dead. Died when she was young. She was raised a slave ever since, in the Undercity. She earned her way into Coruscant University, and she started working here 10 years ago as an intern. About 4 months after you left. After we discovered her parentage, we took her in full-time. Especially since she showed us her linguistic skill. There’s still much about her we don’t know, but some of it is better left unsaid,” Kit finished, though Qui-gon could tell he knew more about her than he was letting on.

“Is she a threat?” Qui-gon asked.

“Only at sabacc,” Kit said, making them laugh. There was a little clear of her throat as Juniper opened the door to the balcony.

“Excuse me. Kit? Master Ki-Adi-Mundi is requesting you,” she said.

“I’ll be right in, June,” he said with a smile and a wave. She smiled and waved back before retreating back into the room.

“She calls you Kit,” Qui-gon noted.

“She is on a first name basis with few of us. She and I happen to get along better than others,” he said with a shrug, wanting to keep it simple.

“Why?” Qui-gon probed, never one to shy away.

“Honestly? She’s addicting. You’ll see in time. Her energy is pure, healing, wholesome. She seems to be in tune with everyone around her, and it’s hard to not match her own emotions. But for me, she has stronger pheromones than others. I assume it’s a Nagaian thing,” Kit said with a shrug. Qui-gon smiled and ran a finger down Kit’s long head tails. Kit smiled and smacked his hand away.

“Not this time, Qui-gon,” he said simply.

“Yes, I heard about you and Aayla,” Qui-gon muttered. “How you manage her without emotion is astounding.”

“Nobody said there are no emotions involved,” was Kit’s only response before he was heading back inside. The admission took Qui-gon by surprise, but he obviously wasn’t going to say anything about it in front of the others. He instead joined Juniper, who was now standing with Obi-wan and Anakin.

“What happened to your padawan?” Qui-gon asked Anakin.

“She got mad and stormed off,” Anakin responded.

“Ann called her immature, so she’s going to do something immature to prove to him how mature she is,” Juniper responded. Qui-gon laughed and gave Anakin a look at that.

“She won’t! She’s going to be fine!” he insisted.

“She’s probably losing a limb as we speak,” Obi-wan said.

“You think it’ll be left or right arm? To match me or him?” Juniper asked, holding up her left arm. Anakin was scowling.

“Maybe a leg. She can be the first in our lineage,” Qui-gon said.

“You guys aren’t funny!” Anakin snapped and ran off to find Ahsoka.

“Seriously, though, she went to lay down because she had a long night. Sent her to my apartment in the Archives. Anakin’s never going to find her,” Juniper let Qui-gon in on the joke in a low voice. He laughed and clapped her back.

“I like you, Archivist. Let’s go on an adventure!” he said.

“Absolutely!” she immediately perked.

“Miss Pyke,” Obi-wan almost growled. Her lips pursed, and she looked at Qui-gon.

“You wouldn’t happen to need research done, would you?”

~ * ~

“Tell me you haven’t been here all night,” Obi-wan yawned as he came into Hall 3 of the Archives the next morning. It was early. Even for him. He set a cup of tea down for you, and you looked up at him in thanks. His fingertips trailed over the ends of your hair as he passed to take a seat across the table from you. Qui-gon was sitting in the seat beside you, but he had his arms crossed, eyes closed, and head down.

“There’s still much more to learn,” you said as you turned your screen to face him. You were past the point of yawning, well exhausted at this point. You would’ve napped beside the jedi master, in honesty, but you were scared. It would’ve been your first few nights sleeping apart from Obi-wan, and you weren’t willing to risk having a night terror with a stranger. You especially didn’t want to say something in front of Qui-gon.

“You need to rest, J- Miss Pyke,” Obi-wan started with a quick look at Qui-gon. He didn’t stir, and you breathed in relief. You were sure it was odd to the others that you were such good friends with Obi-wan and still referred to him so formally, but you needed as little suspicion on you two as possible. You weren’t going to be Padme, walking about calling Anakin “Ani” and pretending like nobody knew they were in a relationship.

“I’ll be fine, Master Kenobi,” you responded with a rub of one of your dry eyes.

“She’s scared to sleep,” Qui-gon muttered, and your head snapped as you looked at him. He hadn’t moved at all, but you were sure you had just heard him speak. “Don’t know why. I’m not going to hurt her.” This time, he slowly lifted his eyes to look at you, weariness there. He smiled. “Now that Obi-wan’s here for you, I’m going to go actually sleep in a bed. 10 years of bed rolls in nature will make you long for a bed frame.” He stood up and stretched, his spine cracking, and he smiled at you both.

“Please rest, Juniper. We have much more research to do, and I’ll need you sharp to do so,” he said and left with a nod at you both. Obi-wan watched him leave before looking at you. Your eyes were back on the data-pad, and you couldn’t even fight him when he slowly took it from you. You just blinked slowly and looked up at him.

He sighed. There were bags beneath your eyes, creases, a darkness. He pursed his lips. “You didn’t go to sleep yesterday, did you,” he didn’t really ask, seeing the answer on your face. The first night, you had promised him you’d be fine. The 2nd night, you said you’d find a clone pile somewhere. And this past night… you must’ve stayed awake through it. He sighed and looked around. “You can’t keep avoiding it, Juniper,” he whispered.

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted to him. He nodded.

“I know… So c’mon. I can’t stay with you right now, you know that, but I know a way around it,” he said and motioned for you to follow him. You did, your legs heavy. You felt like you were trudging through sap. He smiled and kept your pace, speaking lowly to you. His words were a grumble, a jumble, a mumble in your mind. And before you knew it, you were in a familiar gym.

“Kriff, ROA, you look terrible,” one of them said as he approached. You blinked and stared at him before smiling and raising a weak hand to rest on his cheek.

“Gregor! So nice to see you again,” you giggled. He smirked and took you in his arms, nodding to Obi-wan.

“We’ve got her, general. Don’t worry,” the captain assured him.

“How long’s she been up this time?” Waxer asked as the others came wandering up. You were clinging to Gregor, face on his chest, and he was stroking a hand down your spine. Obi-wan squashed whatever jealousy had started to bubble in his stomach. He was doing this for you. It’s not like he didn’t know you partook in the vode piles; he himself did on certain missions. But it still irked him to see someone else touching you the way he wanted to.

“Must be reaching 80 by now,” Obi-wan guessed, considering you hadn’t slept for 3 nights, and you were an early riser.

“Fuck. We’ll take care of her, General. No worries. You can trust us!” Wooley said and brushed some hair out of your face. You were already falling asleep in Gregor’s embrace, and he was doing his best to hold you steady.

“Just… make sure she’s not alone, okay? And if she starts having nightmares, call me immediately and directly,” Obi-wan instructed them firmly. They nodded and agreed to it. He left you in their very capable arms. At first, they were trying to figure out a rotation so they could continue the workout. Gregor and Wooley were going to pull first shift with you between them. They brought you to a mat, where you lay with your head on Gregor’s chest, his arm around you to hold you close, and Wooley curled up behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist. But then Waxer and Boil decided they were too tired to work out. The pile grew by 2, and they were sound asleep in no time. Slowly, the pile looked more comfortable, and by the time Obi-wan returned to check in on you 2 hours later, you were surrounded by the vode. You looked comfortable, at peace, in the middle of a pile of men who you knew would do anything to keep you safe.

When you woke up a few hours later, you were surprised to see you had slept soundly, but you were still exhausted. It wasn’t the refreshing sleep you were used to the last few weeks. You pulled your phone out and sent a text. The response was immediate, and you pressed a kiss to Gregor’s cheek. He stirred beneath the touch.

“I’m going to my room. Thank you for this,” you whispered to him. He nodded and kissed your hand as you crawled out from under the others. Your breath was light as you made your way to your room, locking the door behind you.

You stripped down to a tank-top and underwear, slipping into bed, and straight into the arms of Obi-wan as he waited for you. He pulled you close, his warmth hotter than anything else in this galaxy. His lips pressed to your forehead as he breathed in your scent. Your face buried into his chest hair, into his neck, and you were surrounded by him; his arms, his warmth, his scent. Everything about him was comforting, was what you needed to relax.

“Did you have a nice nap?” he murmured against your head. You laughed and slipped an arm over his waist, your mechanical fingers stroking over his back to mirror his actions on yours.

“It was nice. But it isn’t like this,” you responded. You could feel the way his beard tickled your scalp. He was breathing deeply, and it wasn’t his sleeping breathing. You knew that one well.

“Good night, Juniper,” he whispered. You smiled and buried your face into his neck, his pulse against your lips.

“Good night, Obi-wan.”

It was silent for a long while, but you fell asleep to the sound of him humming in your ear, that same song he always hummed when you were around. The one he didn’t realise he was humming. The one that lived rent free in your mind. It warmed your heart, and you were asleep in his arms before you could ask what it was called.

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jpoakbrook · 2 years

Text

BEYOND THE STORY

series summary: a collection of daily life drabbles from my fic "beyond the stars, beyond the sea".

These are filler AND are canon.

Just a bunch of happy little moments to show the relationships between Juniper & everyone else.

chapter 8: the clones like to cuddle in a massive pile, and you can't change my mind

You woke up with a little yawn. Crawling out of the pile of clones, you trudged your way to the ‘fresher. After a short while, you returned. The pile of 212th and 501st clones were snoozing in the middle of the training room. It was somewhere around 3am, and you all had just collapsed into a pile in the middle of the floor rather than drag yourselves to your individual bunks. It was your first night of travel back to Coruscant, and everyone was exhausted from staying on such high alert while out on the mission.

You carefully stepped around Hevy, who rolled over in his sleep and pulled Longshot closer to him as he buried his face into the man’s shoulder blade. You had to pause a moment to find a small area to step into in order to pass over Waxer and Boil, who seemed to be shielding Echo away from the world in between them. You stopped to press a kiss to the top of Wooley’s head as he lay with his head resting on Fives’ chest and an arm thrown over Kix to hold him close.

Then you found the little nest of clones who had kept you warm and cosy. Gregor wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you lay back down, sleepily pressing a kiss to your temple before turning his face away and allowing you to use his shoulder like a pillow. Rex slipped his arm back over your waist, his face pressing into the side of your head as he breathed in your scent to lull him back to sleep. Jesse yawned as he rolled back over to wrap his arms around your leg, his head resting on your thigh.

Surrounded, comforted, and safe, you drifted back to sleep.

3 notes · View notes

jpoakbrook · 2 years

Text

BEYOND THE STORY

series summary: a collection of daily life drabbles from my fic "beyond the stars, beyond the sea".

These are filler AND are canon.

Just a bunch of happy little moments to show the relationships between Juniper & everyone else.

chapter 6: anakin and the new force user

"I don't understand," you said as you tilted your head to the side.

"Just close your eyes and try and concentrate on the rock floating upward. Like, imagine lifting it up, the weight of it, the way it moves, without actually physically doing it," Anakin tried to explain. It was the weirdest thing. Years of no Force sensitivity from you, but then he had felt little inklings of it all week, seen unexplainable little movements and shifts around you.

It drove him crazy.

So now you were sitting cross legged in front of him, a rock on the coffee table, as Obi-wan sipped his tea and read a cookbook.

You sighed and closed your eyes. You had been trying for a while now, but he watched as your face tightened. Your lips pursed, your eyebrows furrowed, and he gasped in shock as the rock lifted off of the table.

"June!" he cried out in shock. Your eyes flew open as the rock fell back into place. Your hand clutched your chest as you heaved in a breath.

"I'm exhausted," you complained. "Did I do it?" You asked. He nodded with a big grin, but then he frowned.

"I can't feel any more sensitivity from you… let me go ask Master Windu about this. Maybe I pushed you too hard too fast. But I think we can slowly train you to have more endurance!" He beamed and patted your head as he ran off. After the door closed, it was silent for a moment.

"You're both cruel, you know that?" Obi-wan asked without looking up from his book. You just grinned at him as Ahsoka peeked her head out from behind a couch.

"That's what he gets for eating my last cookie," she responded, making him chuckle in response. He was sure Anakin would catch on… eventually.

#the research and outreach archivist #galactic daydreams #ao3fic #jp oakbrook #archive of our own #fanfic #star wars #the clone wars #canon #fluff #drabble #juniper pyke #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #beyond the story

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jpoakbrook · 2 years

Text

BEYOND THE STORY

series summary: a collection of daily life drabbles from my fic "beyond the stars, beyond the sea".

These are filler AND are canon.

Just a bunch of happy little moments to show the relationships between Juniper & everyone else.

chapter 5: fox's picture

“Look!” you gasped and held a massive plushie up to the commander. His face was hidden behind his helmet, and he had his arms crossed. “Lookit, Fox!” you gasped. There were stars in your eyes.

“Commander, look!” Thire said and joined you, crouching down so he was also looking over the plushie at Fox.

“Look!” Thorn gasped and joined the three of you. They had you between them as you held the plushie. Your eyes and their eye visors were the only thing visible over it. There was a long moment of silence before Fox sighed.

~ * ~

“How is Naruto?” you texted Fox. You were sitting in the Commander Rec Room, having been escorted there on Bacara’s arm. They had heard about the plushie you bought for the commander, and you showed them pictures of the one he bought for you. You had a plump space whale that lived on your couch. It was your new cuddle buddy for movies when Anakin, Ahsoka, or a clone were unavailable.

“It’s fine.”

“Hey, he has feelings you know!” you texted with an angry emoji. You could practically hear his sigh from where you were.

“You provoke him enough, and he’s going to snap one of these days,” Wolffe said as he peeked over your shoulder. You giggled and shook your head.

“I make him a calming tea with the flavour of caf. He needs me,” you responded. Your phone chirped.

“He’s fine.”

You giggled at his response.

“I want a picture,” Bacara said. He had his head resting in your lap as he watched whatever movie Gree had put on. You texted Fox for the request, and a moment later, your phone dinged.

“Whoa,” Thorn gasped as he walked by. Your face lit up brightly, and you went to hold your phone to your chest, but Wolffe snatched it out of your hands.

“Wolffe, no!” you gasped, but he was already showing the others in the room. Fox had sent you a picture as he lay in bed. He was shirtless, his body marked with thick scars, and he had Naruto, the massive fox plushie pulled under an arm and cuddled into his neck. He wore a sly smirk and a cheeky wink.

“Whoa, vod’ika. He sends you pictures like this often?” Wolffe teased. Neyo’s eyebrows raised and he took a picture of it to send to Ponds.

“Stop!” you gasped, diving to reach for your phone. They passed your phone around, and you were laughing along with them before Bacara finally passed the phone back to you. They had plenty of pictures of the text. You pouted at them and called him immediately.

“They got a hold of your phone, didn’t they,” he asked when he picked up, no greeting.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you whispered into the phone. He surprised you when he laughed.

“No, I’m sorry, mesh’la. You can expect an influx of picture from the vode for the next few days. They have to out-do me, you know,” he said. Your eyes widened.

“You knew! You knew what you were doing!” you gasped in horror. Your phone dinged once. Twice. It started dinging like crazy.

“That’s what you get for giving him such a stupid name,” Fox muttered, chuckling darkly as he hung up.

Fox was right. His brothers did their best to try and out-do the picture he sent you without being overly inappropriate.

Honestly, you weren’t mad about it.

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jpoakbrook · 2 years

Text

BEYOND THE STORY

series summary: a collection of daily life drabbles from my fic "beyond the stars, beyond the sea".

These are filler AND are canon.

Just a bunch of happy little moments to show the relationships between Juniper & everyone else.

chapter 4: which one is your favourite clone?

"Who's your favourite clone?" Waxer asked, his face next to your left ear. You didn't respond to that. You didn't even look up from your book. You were sitting next to Gregor, curled up and leaning into his side, your book partially in your lap and partially in his. He had his arm over your legs, fingers mindlessly stroking the outside of your thigh as he watched a movie.

"Yeah, ROA, who is it? Is it Gregor?" Boil asked, his face popping up next to your right ear, between you and Gregor. The captain looked at the intrusion with a small curled lip.

"Of course it's me. No competition," he responded and pushed Boil's face away with his hand.

"Now, wait a minute, she gets along pretty well with Rex. You might not even be her favourite captain, vod," Waxer pointed out. Gregor's head snapped to look at you.

"Wait, vod'ika, I'm your favourite clone, right?" He asked me furrowed eyebrows. You sighed and looked up at him.

"I don't have a favourite clone. I can't choose a favourite."

They obviously didn't accept that answer and devolved into fights. The arguments evolved into trying to gain favour with you.

Echo made you tea. Hevy carried books for you for a shift. Barlex braided your hair. Wolffe escorted you for a market night. Thire and Thorn brought you lunch. Monnk even sent you a new succulent for your office at work. Even Cody sent you a text to see how you were one morning.

"So, which one is your favourite?" Anakin asked as he and Ahsoka were curled up in your living room one night.

"Neyo. He lets me read in silence," you responded with no hesitation.

And that was that.

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jpoakbrook · 2 years

Text

BEYOND THE STARS, BEYOND THE SEA

chapter 8: SENATE BUILDING

summary: You are to translate for Chancellor Palpatine for the very first time in an intense hostage situation.

Short chapter.

“Just take a deep breath. You’re going to be fine. Just remember to be polite, respectful, and understand that he is not your boss. He has no say over your position at the archive. Your duty is to tell him the hard facts, even if he doesn’t want to hear it.”

You nodded as you were briskly swept down the hallways of the intimidating building. You’d been here countless times before to deliver information or for meetings… but this was going to be one of the extremely few times you had been in the same room as Chancellor Palpatine himself, much less actually having been requested by him.

“He will not be happy with some of the things that will come up in the conversation, so just try to keep a level head, okay? If you need help, just tap the table twice. We will do our best to protect you, but I fear the chancellor is not the most reasonable of men when it comes to dealing with the Sith. He may take out the frustrations he is feeling with the situation on you. If it gets to be too much, tap twice.”

You nodded again, the fear in your chest starting to swell a little bit more.

“All you have to do is translate and give the information to the best of your ability. Which I know to be quite high. If you at any point feel unsafe or uncomfortable, you can request a break.”

You tried not to let the tears swell in your eyes. Your anxiety was pounding in your chest like a war drum. The knots in your stomach were twisting and writhing, and your instinct to fight or flee was trying to figure out which one it wanted. Every part of you said flight.

“And Miss Pyke,” Obi-wan said and stopped you in front of her door, a hand on your shoulder. The weight and heat of his touch was enough to ground you, and you looked up into that blue gaze. “Everything is going to be okay. Just breathe,” he reminded you with a smile.

Your nod was firm. You chose to fight.

~ * ~

“There is no conceivable future where we make a deal with the Sith,” Palpatine argued with a slam of his hand on the desk.

“Sir, it’s the only way to get to the hostages,” Horox Ryyder explained. The Anx man wore his emotions on his head crest much more than a senator should, and it was a deep violet at this point, almost like the spikes on your armour back in your room. He was deeply troubled, a mixture of desperate and angry with deep tones of sadness. He was so bothered that he was unable to speak Galactic Basic like he usually did, and the deep tones of his native language resounded throughout the building. Unfortunately, none of them knew Anx.

You did, though.

Your Anx was one of the lowest times you vocal chords saw, and they were thrumming and humming and vibrating as you spoke to the Senator. But it was still significantly high-pitched in comparison to his.

“By giving up one of theirs? Absolutely not,” Palpatine said with a shake of his head. “Capturing this one was difficult enough. We are not giving him up.” Horox moaned something, and you grimaced.

“The Senator would like to know if the life of one man isn’t worth the lives of an entire planet,” you asked. The chancellor’s eyes flared with anger as he looked at you. Normally, the man was calm, collected, and as kind and passive as they came. He would not have been out of place at your library. But you knew from tales of others that he always had a very strong foot to put down when it came to dealing with the Separatists, especially the sith Count Dooku.

“Of course the lives of an innocent planet are important. We will not be leaving them be on their own. That said, we will not be giving up our greatest asset against the Separatists.”

“If we don’t give them something, they will murder everyone on Shusugaunt!” Horox cried. Palpatine glared at you like you spit in his face.

“Will you remind the Senator that Shusugaunt is not his planet of influence, and that the people there have not joined the Republic in any way?” He turned to look at the Senator, but you cleared your throat lightly. You had one hand grasping a data pad to your chest, and you hid your trembling hand behind it.

The noise you made caused his glare to snap to you, and you swore you knew what carbonite felt like.

“Actually, sir, Senator Ryyder is the representative of the entire Raioballo sector. He may be from Gravlex Med, but his area of influence does include Shusugant, regardless of their planetary status in the Republic.” You did your best not to crumble beneath his gaze. Your fingers trembled as you tapped twice on the pad, and Obi-wan stepped forward from his spot on the perimeter. Anakin and Mace Windu were there to provide a 3-jedi backup for their ROA, but it was Obi-wan who took the lead.

“The planet is in Republic space, chancellor, and that is an undeniable fact. The Separatists were so easily able to take a planet hostage in our territory, and if we don’t do something about it, then I fear the other planets may lose hope that we can protect them. On top of it, how would it look if we show we are unwilling to make the trade? The greatest move they made was to make the ransom public,” he explained on your behalf.

Even having him just step up beside you made you feel better. You couldn’t help but calm down a little bit, and he reminded you to breathe in deeply with just a look. You felt your nerves steel a little, and you looked back to the chancellor with a nod.

“There has been public outcry for the Republic to help, sir. And the people are scared that if we don’t do this trade, then we won’t be willing to trade for them either. The last time a public ransom was made like this, the chancellor at the time waited 4 standard days to respond. In that time, he lost 47% of that region’s vote at the next poll, and there was an overall -9.4% decrease in votes for him across Republic space,” you explained, your fingers running over your data pad.

“Are you a campaign manager or an archivist?” Palpatine asked with furrowed brows.

“One and the same, sir. If you know the past, you can change the future,” you responded. He paused for a long moment.

“Bring the prisoner here. I have questions for him,” he said to Mace Windu, who nodded, opened the door, and gave the instructions to the clones on the other side. You stood in an uncomfortable silence. You looked at Horox, whose crest was slowly lightening.

“Is there anything I can get you, Senator? Chewing on Xa’ar-do leaves can be quite calming,” you asked him, speaking his language for a little more privacy.

“How considerate of you, archivist. I would love some,” he responded.

“Can you ask someone to bring a bowl of Xa’ar-do leaves to us?” you whispered to Obi-wan. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not entirely sure I know what those are,” he admitted. You smiled for the first time since you stepped through the door and held your hand out for his comm. He passed it over, and you texted Commander Fox.

“Fox- Pyke. Need Xa’ar-do leaves asap”

The commander showed up with the leaves before the prisoner.

“Thank you very much, commander,” you smiled at him when you stepped into the hall to get them from him.

He nodded to you and looked up at the door. “How’s it going in there?” he asked. He was well-known for his dislike of the politics and the senators and, very specifically and only among the clones (and yourself), the chancellor himself. His contact photo in your own phone was a picture of him standing in front of graffiti (that he denied doing) with the chancellor as a crying baby.

“Promise you won’t assassinate me in the middle of the night?” you asked him. He titled his head at you, and you could picture the look he was giving you. “I mean, clearly he’s going to have my head on a spike after this meeting is done, I just want to make sure it won’t be you to do it,” you clarified.

Fox chuckled a little and his hands moved to cross across his broad chest. “And who would be an acceptable executioner?” he asked.

“Uh, probably Bacara? I feel like he would do it the best,” you said with a firm nod. He chuckled and lay a hand on your head.

“You’re gonna be fine, vod’ika. Get back in there before they think you’ve run away,” he said and opened the door for you. You smiled at him gratefully and delivered the calming leaves to the not-so-calm senator.

~ * ~

“He doesn’t understand a lick of Basic, sir,” you said to the chancellor.

“Do you understand him?” he asked. You nodded.

“My Fosh is not fluent, but it will do.”

“Then ask him why Count Dooku wants him so desperately,” he said. You turned to the Avian man and cleared your throat. This was going to hurt. Your voice was strained, taking on a rasp that tightened your vocal chords to an uncomfortable degree. Where Anx was low, throaty, and all about loosening your chords, Fosh was high and tight and raspy.

“He wants to know why your leader wants you back so greatly,” you said to him. The Fosh’s head snapped as he looked at you.

“You speak Fosh?” he asked in shock. You simply nodded. “It is rare to find a human who speaks Fosh,” he said with a nod of appreciation. He was clearly impressed by you. You motioned for him to speak. “I do not know why. I did not even know that Count Dooku knew who I was. I am a bounty hunter, hired by General Grievous, to take out a merchant who was providing for a Republic outpost. I was captured while on that planet.”

When you relayed the information, Palpatine shot back with a ramble of questions that you had to quickly spit out before you forgot.

“Did you meet the general in person? What was the compensation you were given? Do you work for them often enough to know about their plans and inner workings? Could it be because you have much deeper connections? What syndicate do you work with?”

The Fosh responded, and it was much easier to translate back to basic. His words weren’t rushed, and it was easier to speak basic. “He says he received a transmission from General Grievous. He was given half of the credits promised up front, nothing crazy. This was his first time working for them, and he isn’t aligned with a syndicate.”

Your head tilted as the man continued to speak.

“He says he isn’t sure why the general hired him. There are better and more experienced bounty hunters that have worked for them before. Especially persons who are familiar with the planet.” You stopped your eyes from widening as a realisation hit you. You tapped your finger twice on your data pad and asked, “May we break for a moment? I need a break from the strain on my vocal chords.”

The chancellor didn’t look too pleased to pause, but he couldn’t exactly say no. The jedi masters escorted you out, leaving the Sentinels and Anakin behind.

“What is it?” Obi-wan asked after you led them down the hall a little ways and into an empty office.

“I think I know why Greivous chose him,” you said with a low voice. “The Fosh are an extremely exclusive people, and they are not usually ones to discuss anything with other species,” you started to explain, your fingers frantically running through your data pad. Your eyes quickly scanned over the information, and it only confirmed what you knew about the Fosh.

“They look down on other species. They don’t play well with others. And because of that, their language is incredibly rare for outsiders,” you explained. “I think he chose him because he knew that he was going to get captured. Why else would you sent a bounty hunter to kill an incredibly well-protected merchant in the middle of a republic town that provides for an outpost? That is a suicide mission. Unless that’s exactly what he wants.”

Your eyes went wide as you stumbled across a line. “The chancellor,” you gasped. Mace immediately dashed out of the room, and Obi-wan kept you behind him but stayed close to you. “Their tears. Release pheromones,” you read outloud to him, “and they can be changed to heal or to be poisonous.”

Mace Windu already had the door opened, and Obi-wan shoved you away from the door as he covered your face with the sleeve of his robe. You coughed as a thick blue fog rolled out of the room, and you heard the Corrie guard running their way over to you.

“Keep her out!” Obi-wan shouted to them and ran into the room. You stepped to follow him, fear clutching your chest, but Stone wrapped his arms around you and dragged you away.

“There’s nothing you can do, Pyke,” he insisted as you fought against his grasp. Fox was shouting orders, and the boys in white and red were storming the room. Mace appeared first, dragging the Chancellor out as he coughed and was limp in his arms. Obi-wan had Anakin next, and a couple Sentinels were helping Horox out.

“Senator Ryyder!” you called out to him. His crest was a sickly, pale yellow. He looked up and waved his hand for you to come forward. Stone allowed you to do so, but he kept close in case you decided to run into the room again. “What happened?” you asked.

“After you stepped out, we couldn’t do anything. It felt like we were choking, and even young Skywalker was unable to lift his arms. The air was heavy. But when Master Windu came through the door, he shattered the windows and released the gas. We’re alive. We’re okay,” he explained.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you smiled and turned to Obi-wan. Anakin was coughing, telling his version of the story.

“Where’s the prisoner?” you asked him. Anakin just shook his head.

“They were waiting outside for him,” he said simply. Your lips pursed as you looked at the chancellor with a grimace. He was staring back at you.

~ * ~

The chancellor called you into his temporary office the next morning. Obi-wan escorted you the whole way, and he stood just behind and to the side of you when you stood in front of him. He was staring out the window, fingers templed in front of his face. There was silence for a long while, but you were not uncomfortable. You were, instead, cold.

You had feared the man before you your entire life. You knew he could destroy a person’s life with just a few simple words, and he was something of a bedtime warning to children in the Undercity. In all your time working there, he seemed infallible, invincible. But yesterday, you saw him angry at the idea of releasing a singular life to save a planet just because that planet did not bow to the Republic. Yesterday, you saw a light of cold contempt in his watery grey eyes as he refused to budge. Yesterday, you saw him weak and vulnerable to a species he didn’t know and didn’t want to know.

Yesterday, you stopped fearing him.

Yesterday, you started your long journey of disliking the chancellor.

“How did you know that we were in trouble?” he asked without looking at you.

“I was reviewing the records we have on the Fosh people during my break. It spoke of how they could alter the pheromones in their tears, and I noted my worry to the jedi masters, who then took action,” you stated mechanically.

“See, I checked our records. There isn’t such a note within them,” he said.

“Not in Galactic Basic, sir. It wasn’t written in Aurebesh. I compiled all the texts from my known languages that spoke about the Fosh. Apparently, the Brosin have had at least one run-ins with them in which there was a Fosh who used that trait,” you explained.

He turned to look at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Just how many languages do you know, Archivist Pyke?”

“More than a few,” you stated, unwilling to give that information. It played to your hand if they were unaware of just how many languages you knew, and it was safe to say you didn’t entirely trust the chancellor.

He smiled at that and nodded. “I see. It seems you have a rather good asset on your hands, Master Kenobi,” he said. Obi-wan nodded.

“Miss Pyke has been an incredible resource in her time at the Archives, and she has done an exponential amount of work of an exceptional quality in her time as the Research and Outreach Archivist,” the jedi confirmed. It was a little embarrassing, hearing him compliment you like this, but you would’ve rather cut out your own tongue than show any emotion in front of the chancellor.

“That is some very high praise coming from you, jedi master,” Palpatine said with a shock on his face.

“None that isn’t deserved,” Obi-wan responded simply. Palpatine nodded and looked at you again before nodding.

“You saved all of our lives yesterday, Archivist Pyke. I can never truly express my thanks for that. What I can do, however, is show you this before it becomes public knowledge,” he said and clicked a button. A holovid popped up, and you stumbled backward in shock. You had never seen a photo of General Grievous before.

Obi-wan steadied you, catching you as the giant hologram popped up, the chancellor facing it. He had caught you as you stumbled. One arm was around your back, hand on your opposite hip, and his other hand was on your shoulder. The shock of the touch was almost enough to overtake the shock of the Separatist general. He released you, crossing his arms, and you saw the pink on his cheeks matched the pink on yours.

The video started, and Grievous’ horrible, raspy voice echoed in the room.

“Hello, chancellor. I understand that it was not your choice, but we are grateful for Hvith’s safe return regardless. A deal is a deal, and Shusugaunt has been released back to Republic custody. There will be a public announcement praising your cooperation, no need to worry about your image. I am uninterested in your politics,” he added with a wave of his hand. “However, what I am interested in, is the person that Kvith said interpreted for him, the person to whom you owe your life.”

He looked around the room, and it was as if he knew where you were standing.

“The Archivist they call Juniper, from what I hear,” he hissed. You shrunk again, and this time, Obi-wan’s hand moved around your shoulders to hold you closely. Not even his grasp could stop you from trembling like a leaf.

“I hope you’re treating her well, chancellor. And I hope you’re keeping her safe. An archivist of her talents could be quite useful. I’m sure you understand.” His laughter was interrupted by a coughing fit, but he was right back to the growl afterward. “Tell Juniper…” He trailed off into a spew of Kaleesh, his native tongue, before he burst into laughter. The bone-chilling sound was the last thing that echoed when he ended the message, which cut out abruptly. Obi-wan dropped his arm from around you before the chancellor turned to look at you.

“It seems you are on the Separatist’s radar now, Archivist Pyke,” he said with a raised eyebrow. You didn’t say anything, lips pursed as you tried not to back out of the door. Grievous’ masked face and his raspy voice were still echoing in your mind. “I do hope you’ll be cautious on your adventures out with the jedi.”

There was an echo of a farewell as Obi-wan led you out of the office and back toward the hall that hosted your quarters while you were in the temple. Your head felt light, and you couldn’t stop hearing that horrible cough echoing in your ears.

“Miss Pyke?” Obi-wan asked as you approached your door. You looked at him, but everything was numb. “What did Grievous say to you? At the end?”

“He said,” you whispered, throat dry, “that he looks forward to meeting me soon.”

~ * ~

“The archivist is rather impressive. She has a great deal more hidden talents than initially anticipated. She was able to communicate with your Fosh hunter with ease.”

Dooku pursed his lips in the video and nodded. “An oversight. While we were aware of her existence, we did not anticipate her knowing such a rare language,” he remarked.

“Her records are sealed from even me. And even if I could see them, I’m not sure she was entirely truthful about the extent of her knowledge and powers. A brilliant tactic on her part.”

“There is one thing that can be confirmed, sir. She is unaware of her status and the circumstances of her birth. She does truly believe she is a human orphan from Coruscant,” Dooku explained. “I had it confirmed with the first Slaver who owned her.”

“Good. The less she knows, the better. Have you been keeping tabs on her father?”

“No, sir. It’s an almost impossible task. Jer’ik Lo is very difficult to keep up with. But we know he has continued to remain neutral in the war. Money is where his loyalty lies,” Dooku said.

“Keep an eye out on them. They apparently got along rather well when they met in Duro, and I don’t want his loyalty to change just because of a child.”

“Of course, sir.”

Palpatine hung up the call with a little sigh, leaning back in his chair as he stared out the window for a while. He hadn’t heard of this Juniper Pyke until she was already offered a proper job in the archives, and he didn’t know anything about her until she was offered this new position. She hadn’t mattered. But then she was the ROA, and he found out her parentage.

It was not good for him.

And if it continued that way, it was not good for her.

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jpoakbrook · 2 years

Text

BEYOND THE STARS, BEYOND THE SEA

chapter 7: DURO PT 2 (end of arc)

summary: You get to know Jer'ik Lo, spending a few days with him. Much to Neyo's great dismay.

“How long have you been working with the Jedi Temple, Juniper?” Jer’ik asked as he cut into the slab of meat on his plate. Your plate held the same food as his, so you figured he must be close enough to a human to have the same dietary needs.

“Just over 10 years now,” you said proudly.

“A decade? At your age?” he asked, eyebrows raising in genuine surprise. You nodded to him with a grin.

“I got the job my first year of university. Would attribute it to luck, but I worked hard to be where I am,” you responded with a shrug, taking a bite of food.

“Ah. And where you are is surrounded by a bunch of clone troopers?” he asked. Neyo narrowed his eyes on him, lowering his hand as his hand tightened around his fork. You lay a hand on Neyo’s knee, and he looked at you. You offered him a smile, that smile that said ‘Stass Allie said diplomacy is of the utmost importance, and if you start a fight here, we’re all fucked’. He slipped his hand into yours and continued eating, pacified for now.

“Yes. It is,” you said rather sharply to Jer’ik. He smiled.

“I didn’t mean to offend. It just took me by surprise. I thought someone who spoke as many languages as you would prefer a more… intergalactic type of profession,” he said, searching for the word.

“If Basic is difficult, we can switch to your native tongue,” you offered him. Neyo squeezed your hand a little tighter. He didn’t like being kept out of the know.

“What is the likelihood you know it?” Jer’ik questioned, an eyebrow raised. His words were melodic and lilted, almost like he was singing his words to you. Your eyebrows flew up as you recognised the words.

“You speak Nagaian?” you asked in shock. His expression mirrored yours.

“I am Nagai. How do you know my language?” he asked, laughing in shock and awe.

“I knew a… teacher when I was young. Who taught me the many languages of his colleagues. Nagaian was one of them,” you explained, hesitant on what to call Gorrot. You didn’t exactly want to call him your Slaver in front of the clones and a stranger. And you supposed he did teach you things… like how to patch a broken rib or how to withstand extremely hot metal pressed to your skin.

“You speak it well for an outsider,” he noted, impressed. His expression, the nod of his head, and the way he seemed to relax were all reasons for Neyo himself to relax. It wasn’t until he stopped squeezing your hand that you realised Bolt had turned toward you slightly, his knee now against yours. He was ready to pounce across the table to shield you or grab Jer’ik. Either one made your heart warm to the man.

“Well, it turns out my teacher didn’t know much about the language. I spent a lot of time researching it. Once I grasped the concept of how the pitches work, it went much faster,” you sang-spoke back to him.

“Are you this skilled at learning all the languages you set your mind to?” he inquired.

“Yes. There are very few languages I want to learn that I cannot. So few that I cannot give you an example,” you said with a laugh.

“It is nice to see my old friend getting along so well with my new friend,” Cheefdaz said as he shoved some food into his gigantic mouth.

“Your friend is very interesting, Cheefdaz. Thank you for the introduction,” Jer’ik said to him, the switch to Huttese jarring to those around. The language went from a light singing to a throaty grunt. The Hutt just chortled and changed the topic.

Dinner went smoothly, and the conversation became more relaxed, much more friendly. Jer’ik spoke in Nagaian now and again, but he opted to speak mostly in Basic as to not offend the clones. Bolt relaxed considerably as the night went on, and even Neyo stopped twitching for the knife in his boot every time Jer’ik moved slightly.

“I will be here for a couple days, Juniper. I hope we can meet again during that time,” Jer’ik said as you and the boys stood up to go to bed. You smiled at him and nodded.

“Good night, Jer’ik,” you bid him. He smiled and echoed your words with a touch to his forehead and a gentle swoop of his hand, palm up, out to you. You had done the action your entire life, a habit from years of the type of people you interacted with. You weren’t too surprised to see a bounty hunter using it, you supposed, but a shock of familiarity ran down your spine at it accompanied by an old, deep rooted fear. You took a deep breath to push it away, giving him a firm nod, and turning on your heel to walk away.

~ * ~

When you got back to the apartment, the boys immediately went to get ready for bed. You let them have their time in the bathroom, lazily flicking through the information you had about the Nagai. Your door was locked tightly, and Neyo had put a couple of chairs in front of it, precariously balancing a vase so that if anyone tried to break it, it would fall, and he could have a gun in hand before they made it to the bedroom.

Neyo called out that the bathroom was clear for you, and you went to take off your armour for the first time since arriving. It felt weird taking it off after wearing it all day, but it was nice to take a sonic shower. You slipped your blacks back on and carried most of the pieces of armour to the bedroom. Neyo and Bolt were trying to figure out which way to scoot to make room for you.

The idea of a dog pile to sleep had been both strange and a bit embarrassing the first time you watched the 212th do it. But it looked so comfortable and cosy at the same time. They were best friends, companions, brothers. A big part of building that trust, that unbreakable bond, was simply huddling all together for bed.

The first time you partook in the cuddlefest, you were comfortably wrapped in Gregor’s arms, face buried into his chest, as he did his best to shield you from Boil’s nighttime kicks. You were so nervous that you trembled like a leaf until he whispered to you in Mando’a to calm you down. After that, it was all over for you. You could only get a decent night’s sleep with at least one other person there. Thankfully, there seemed to be no end of clone piles to join at night. Sometimes, though, you took 4 shitty hours of sleep and spent the rest of the night in the library.

You were unsurprised to find the same bonding experience held true through all of the groups, even with ice cold Neyo and his 91st. “Scootch,” you grumbled sleepily and tapped Bolt’s leg for him to part from Neyo. You crawled into the bed between the two clones. Your body fit perfectly in front of Neyo’s, your shoulders pressed against his chest, and you tugged on Bolt to scoot forward to provide a wall of warmth and comfort in front of you. Your face buried into his chest, and you slipped an arm over his waist as you felt Neyo do the same to you. Bolt’s arm completely locked you in, going over you to drape over Neyo’s shoulder, and he buried his face into the hair at the top of your head.

“Goodnight, cyar’ika, vod,” Bolt muttered against your scalp.

“Goodnight, vode,” you muttered back. Neyo just grunted his reply, his breath already growing deeper as sleep settled on all three of you.

~ * ~

You woke up slowly, still sandwiched between the two clones. Only now, Neyo lay on his back, holding you to his side, and Bolt was curled up behind you, his head on Neyo’s shoulder and arm around you. You didn’t stifle a yawn, saw that it had only been a few hours, and started to crawl out of bed. Neyo bolted up, wide awake in a heartbeat, and he had a gun in his hand before you could even blink.

“Ne–” you started, but he pressed a hand to your lips. You were quiet. The room was quiet. And then you heard it. There was the slightest, softest speaking outside of the apartment. He crept out of bed, eyes narrowed on the door, and he made his way out of the bedroom as Bolt silently commanded you to stay in bed.

You didn’t listen.

The voices were getting a little louder as they approached the door to your apartment. You understood the language, someone on the other side speaking Durese to someone else, who spoke Pak-Pak.

“But think of the favour we could accrue if we bring her to him! Kill her bodyguards and offer her on a silver platter,” the Duros was saying.

“Those bodyguards are a couple of those clone troopers. If the Jedi left only 2 of them, then they are most certainly too difficult for us to kill. If anything, we would need to send a hunter in for her,” the Neidoidian was saying.

“Then let’s do that! If we deliver her, then there’s no way it wouldn’t be seen favourably, correct?”

“Time to go,” you whispered to Neyo, giving him a short rundown as to what was going to happen.

“Cheefdaz would send people after you like this?!” Bolt demanded as the three of you hurriedly slapped your armour into place. You shook your head and struggled with a thigh plate, which Neyo gave a good smack to lock into place. You smiled at him, eyes widening in surprise at how he was already done with his own. He didn’t leave you time to revel in it, though, as he immediately started hooking yours up.

“No, the way they were talking, they were hoping to gain favour with him by killing you two and bringing me to him,” you said as Neyo helped secure your bracers.

“Kriff, people need his good graces this badly?!” Bolt hissed, finishing his own armour. Neyo plopped your helmet on and patted your head.

“Let’s go. Stick close behind,” Neyo ordered you, and you nodded. The clones walked to the door first. There were noises on the other side, more talking, as they moved the chairs away. Neyo opened the door quickly, and they stepped out with guns drawn and pointed.

Jer’ik turned to look at them with a singular raised eyebrow. There was a small group of Trandoshans dragging away a very unconscious looking pair of men. Neyo didn’t lower his blaster.

“Good morning,” he greeted you all with a charming smile.

“What’s going on?” you asked him, your voice modulated through your mask.

“Caught this pair skulking about in front of your room on my way back to mine. Overheard their plans to try and kill the clones then kidnap you. Didn’t sit too well with me,” he said with a little chuckle. You raised a hidden eyebrow at him, a hand moving to touch Neyo’s arm. He very slowly lowered it.

“Thank you, Jer’ik,” you spoke to him.

“Of course. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. You will not have trouble during your stay going forward,” he said and touched his forehead, his little wave a familiar sight. You tugged on Neyo’s arm and he didn’t turn his back as he backed you all into the room. His security included shoving the couch up against it this time. You piled back onto the bed, but none of you took your armour off save your helmet. Neyo sat in the middle, and you and Bolt curled into his sides. He was a light sleeper, but you could see the next morning that he didn’t sleep a wink.

~ * ~

Mace Windu had been less than pleased with the interaction, and he was insisting that you leave, but you reminded him that your presence there was necessary in order to get the map.

“Kark the map, Juniper. You need to be safe,” he growled at you.

“I am safe! We avoided the confrontation because another one of Cheefdaz’ guests heard their plot. I promise, we’ll be okay. Just… get done soon,” you added uncomfortably. He nodded.

“We shouldn’t be longer than 2 more days. Are you sure you can hold out that long?” he asked. You nodded. “Okay… Well, listen to Commander Neyo. I don’t want to hear a breath about you disobeying him,” he said.

“I will,” you confirmed.

The call with Obi-wan had been a bit less angry and a lot more intense.

“I’m coming. That’s it. You’re not staying there alone,” he snapped.

“I’m not alone! I have Neyo and Bolt!” you insisted. Bolt waved with a grin from behind you, and Neyo simply raised his hand in greeting, glare still on.

“Miss Pyke, you were going to be kidnapped, the commander and trooper killed. Do you understand that?” he demanded.

“They were going to try,” you pointed out.

“That’s not the point!” His voice raised slightly, and you raised an eyebrow at him. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “You are in danger there. Who is to say it won’t happen again? And that they won’t succeed in it this time?”

“It’s going to be okay, Master Kenobi. We only have to last 2 more days. I think these boys can last 2 days,” you said with a jerk of your thumb behind you. Bolt waved again, his grin infectious.

“Don’t worry, general! We got this!” he called out. Neyo didn’t say anything, as he was prone to do. He sighed and waved back.

“Just… be safe, Miss Pyke,” he said again. You were getting kind of sick of hearing it from these jedi who dive head first into battle with hardly any armour on.

“I will,” you confirmed with a nod.

~ * ~

“I heard you had a rather active night,” Cheefdaz laughed over breakfast. You smiled, Bolt snickered, but Neyo’s glare didn’t change.

“Yes, we were ready to leave, but Jer’ik happened to take care of the issue before we could,” you mentioned.

“He is good like that,” Cheefdaz confirmed. The bounty hunter came wandering up at that point. He was yawning, rubbing his eyes, and you couldn’t believe he was hired to kill people. He looked so… normal. His hair was loose on his shoulders like yours. He wore a long, loose robe that was open in the front so you could see his chest. Half of his abdomen was covered by the dark blue pants that covered his legs. He looked at home. You saw there were scars and tattoos on his skin, and you had to turn your eyes away from staring at his muscles.

“Good morning,” he greeted in Huttese, to which you and Cheefdaz both returned the phrase.

“Sleep well?” he asked in Basic, looking at your companions.

“Fantastic,” he responded to Jer’ik. Neyo’s arm found its way around your shoulders again. Bolt was scarfing down food, and he didn’t even bother trying to respond to that.

“Your boyfriend is very cold,” he noted to you in Nagaian. You laughed and nodded.

“He is a very serious man,” you responded, smiling warmly at Neyo. He caught you in the corner of his eye and a ghost of a smile haunted the corner of his lips. You had a feeling that denying the relationship could only lead to trouble. It seemed safer to play along.

“A good trait for a good partner,” he said with a nod. Neyo’s eyes narrowed on him a little, and he tightened his arm around you. He didn’t know what the bounty hunter said, but he didn’t like the smile on his face.

“Have you walked through the market yet?” he asked in Basic.

“Not yet. We, unfortunately, have only seen the inside of this place,” you said with a motion around you.

“I would be more than happy to guide you through, archivist,” he said. Neyo’s chin raised slightly.

“We would like that. A little bit of fresh air, take in the sights,” you agreed. Neyo didn’t argue with it, and you think he was getting sick of being cooped up in that room. He needed to stretch his legs.

“Kriff, that sounds like fun,” Bolt said with a little chuckle.

“What about you, mesh’la? You down?” you asked Neyo. Mando’a pet names came easy to you, and you threw them around the clones like candy. It caused Jer’ik to pull back his warmth slightly, and that was exactly what you wanted. Neyo nodded, his smile slight but certainly evident.

Jer’ik’s lips pursed slightly.

~ * ~

Neyo watched her as she stepped forward, picking up a massive fruit in her hands. He wanted to smack it out of her hands, since she didn’t know where it kriffin’ came from, but the smile on her lips was so sweet that he couldn’t bring himself to rain on her parade. On Bolt’s, however, he released a torrential storm. “That’s so unsanitary, vod,” Neyo scowled as Bolt felt all of the different furs at the stall next to them.

“ROA, come feel this one,” Bolt gasped in excitement, ignoring Neyo completely. Juniper joined him, her hand immediately digging into the thickness of the rug he held out to her. The stars in her eyes reflected the ones in his. She gasped at how soft it was, and she giggled.

“That’s sooo soft! Should we get one? I mean, you could keep it in the 91st bunk,” she said. He nodded emphatically.

“This one or this one?” he asked and held up another one for her to feel. She had a hand in both and hummed.

“I feel like… I feel like Hexxer would like this one more, but this one seems more up Winch’s alley,” she was saying. Neyo almost scoffed at that. She was always so considerate, instead of just choosing the one she liked the most. She always had to think about everyone else, and it aggravated him sometimes. Couldn’t she see that they wanted to make her happy, too? That it sometimes was about her?

“We’ll take them both,” Jer’ik said and handed credits over to the stall manager. Juniper turned to look at him in surprise.

“You don’t have to do that, Jer’ik! I have money,” she said, but he insisted and smiled.

“A gift for my new friends,” he responded, and she beamed at him. Neyo’s lip curled a little at that. He knew she wasn’t dumb enough to fall for his faux charm, wasn’t dumb enough to let her guard down around him, but he hated how she certainly warmed up to him as at least a work acquaintance.

It wasn’t lost on Neyo that the two looked pretty similar, but he had met plenty of humans in his travels who looked like them. Black hair, slanted eyes, tan complexion. He didn’t have freckles like her, and his eyes were a metallic grey unlike her molten gold. There were similarities that indicated they were both human, or near-human, but plenty of differences that kept them apart.

Still.

Neyo didn’t like the bounty hunter.

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He swore he remembered hearing the name somewhere, maybe mentioned in passing. He wasn’t too surprised by that, since Jer’ik was apparently an infamous and elite bounty hunter. But even that brought a small smirk to Neyo’s lips. He may have been a good bounty hunter, but he wasn’t good enough to beat Jango Fett out for the spot of being the Clone Prime.

“Neyo, feel these!” Juniper beamed as she brought him the rugs. She pushed them into his arms, and he couldn’t feel the texture through his gloves. But Neyo’s a smart boy, and he knew what she wanted to hear.

“Very soft, vod’ika,” he confirmed with a nod. She beamed up at him, and even Neyo wasn’t invincible to the smile. He smiled back, and she skipped back to Bolt, whose enthusiasm matched hers. Jer’ik pulled up to her other side, and Neyo trailed right behind with the rugs in his arms.

He watched Jer’ik carefully. He was clearly older than they were. It was difficult since he didn’t know anything about Nagai, but from a human standpoint, he looked to be in his late 40’s. He looked wiry, thin, but Neyo had no doubt that only served him better in his line of work. He had inquired about the Nagai to Juniper, who gladly told him what she knew as well as found files for him to read. The Nagai were agile, fast, and were raised to be ruthless assassins. It made him all the more wary of his presence near Juniper.

“We’re thinking of grabbing a bite. You in?” Bolt asked as he turned to Neyo. The commander was watching Juniper carefully as she and Jer’ik admired a stall filled with different fish from around the galaxy. He was explaining to her where each one came from, and what some of them tasted like. She listened with wide eyes, laughing at some of them, and she even lightly slapped his arm at some joke he made. He chuckled and shrugged to her.

Neyo didn’t like him one bit.

“Don’t have a choice,” Neyo responded to Bolt and nodded to Juniper, who was now actively chatting with Jer’ik, her head tilted as she lightly chastised him.

“Are you jealous?” Bolt teased him, and Neyo simply gave him a look. Bolt laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think she’s interested in him like that. It’s more… he’s nice, interesting, and willing to tell her about all these things she’s always wanted to experience. You know she’s got that weird thing with the general.”

Of course he knew. Literally everyone knew. Not that either one would ever confirm it. Not that they needed to. A blind man could spend 2 minutes in the same room as them and see how painfully obvious it was. What Neyo didn’t understand was why his general allowed it. Mace Windu was not known to tolerate things like that very well.

“Still. She wouldn’t have to hide this one,” Neyo said as he watched Jer’ik buy a handful of fish food for her to feed to one of the tanks. She was so excited when the fish swam to the surface to eat the flakes, and she turned to look at him, asking if he was watching. Neyo smiled and nodded to her in confirmation. “I don’t like this,” he said to Bolt.

“She’s an adult,” he responded simply. Neyo curled a lip at that, not responding, but he had to stop himself from smacking Jer’ik’s hand away when the man started leading Juniper away with a hand on her shoulder.

~ * ~

“Did you have a nice day, mesh’la?” Bolt asked as they got ready for bed. You beamed and nodded to him.

“Parts of the market were extremely sketchy, but it was fun overall! And we have a pretty decent haul,” you said in regards to the pile of stuff in the corner of the room. You had ended up purchasing a lot more than intended–well, Jer’ik purchased them. He seemed to just buy anything you expressed even a little interest in. It shocked you each and every time he did, but he insisted that he wanted to and could afford to do so.

“Bounty hunting pays well,” was all he would say in regards to his finances.

Neyo was grumbling to himself as he got into bed, turning his back to you. You rolled your eyes at the sullen clone. He had been even more moody when you expressed to him that Jer’ik was under the false impression that he was your boyfriend.

“First babysitting duty, now fake relationship? What’s next, get married just as a prank?” he had grumbled.

“You volunteered to stay here with me. Don’t forget it,” you reminded him, which kicked off a string of grumbles that lasted the last hour. Now, you crawled into bed behind him, your arm slipping over his waist, and you buried your face into his back between his shoulders.

“Good night, Neyo, my love,” you teased him. He didn’t respond, so you shook him a little as Bolt settled in behind you, his arm also over Neyo’s waist. “Neyo, my darling,” you said. He grumbled, and you said, louder this time, “Neyo, my sweet.”

“Good. Night.”

The words were forced through clenched teeth, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling with Bolt.

“Good night, Bolt,” you whispered in the dark.

“Good night, cyar’ika,” he responded, his cheek nuzzling into your hair.

~ * ~

“We should be there in an hour,” Mace confirmed.

“Finally,” Neyo grumbled, and you waved for him to shut up, turning your attention back to the master.

“Sounds good, Master Windu! Can’t wait to see you all and hear about your adventure!” you beamed to him. He smiled curtly and nodded, hanging up before your positivity could infect him more than it already had.

There was a knock at your door.

Bolt drew a pistol and stood behind the door, one hand on the handle, and Neyo stood in front with a hand on his own holster. He nodded, and Bolt opened it slightly. Neyo inhaled and nodded for the door to be opened more. Jer’ik was standing there, and he smiled when his eyes landed on you.

“Hey, Juniper. I wanted to stop by and say farewell. I’m heading out on a job,” he said.

“Oh! Well, thank you for stopping by. And for everything you did while we were here,” you said, walking to the door with a smile. Jer’ik had grown on you a bit, in honesty. He was pleasant to speak to, funny, charming, and an intelligent man who definitely played dumber than he was. Still, speaking to him with a breath of fresh air that you didn’t get from the people who tiptoed around you on Coruscant.

“Of course. You have my contact information. If ever you need anything, give me a call. Or, well, if you just want to hang out. That’s cool, too,” he said. You smiled and offered him a handshake. He looked almost crestfallen at that, like he was expecting something more, but Neyo hovering just over your shoulder reminded him that he was nothing.

His fingers were rough and calloused in your hand.

“Good luck. Stay safe,” you bid him with a touch of your forehead and a slight swoop of your hand. He smiled.

“Thank you. Same to you,” he said and returned the action before leaving.

Neyo closed the door behind him.

~ * ~

“So, really, nothing happened?” Mace inquired again as you were back on the ship and headed the short few hours to Coruscant. You shook your head.

“Cheefdaz had us spend almost every meal with him. We went to the market on the 2nd day. 3rd day, we just hung out with him and the other guests in the main hall. He genuinely just chatted with us. He didn’t even ask me questions about the Jedi or the council or anything like that. Just questions about what I like to do, where I grew up, stuff like that,” you said in surprise.

“He didn’t ask about our operations or where Jedi are in the galaxy or anything like that?” Mace asked in confusion. You shook your head again.

“Master Windu, I’m telling you, he could not have been less interested in the fact I work for the Jedi Archive and these two are GAR. He genuinely only inquired about myself personally and a couple things about Bolt and Neyo’s personal life. For the most part, he really just wanted us to mingle with the other honoured guests,” you said.

“Who were they? Did they ask any questions about the Order?” he asked immediately, but you shook your head at that question, too. You could see how suspicious it was that nobody inquired, but it was the truth.

“There was a friend of the Hutt’s, a Lady Argui Costa,” you said. The Lady had gone into great depth about how her family had been in business with the Hutts for generations, and how she was more than happy for her children to continue the tradition.

“That opera singer, Quo-li Tellulah,” Bolt added. You laughed and nodded.

“Oh yeah! She performed for dinner yesterday. She was amazing,” you beamed. Mace was nodding as he listened, storing away the information for later. “There was us 3… and there was a bounty hunter. Jer’ik Lo,” you said, ticking off everyone on your hand. “Yeah, that’s all of us,” you said with a nod, looking at Neyo in confirmation. But he was looking at Mace.

“Sir, are you okay?” he asked in concern, and you looked at the jedi master. He was staring at you, face slack, and he looked almost pale, like the colour drained from his face.

“Did you say Jer’ik Lo?” he asked, his voice soft in disbelief. You nodded with a grin.

“Yep! I never thought I’d say this about a bounty hunter, but I actually liked him! He was quite nice. He bought us things, even though I told him he didn’t have to. A charming man. One of the few Nagai I’ve met,” you said. He raised his eyebrows at that.

“He’s Nagai?” he asked. You nodded.

“I confirmed it when we spoke Nagaian. He said he was born and raised there,” you said.

“I always thought… he was human,” he said, and he was looking at you funnily. You were a little uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny.

“Sir, you know him?” you asked him as you subconsciously tried to hide away into Neyo’s side. He straightened up in his seat and shielded you a little with his shoulder and arm.

“Yes. I do. He’s a rather infamous bounty hunter, a formidable one,” Mace Windu said, and that was all he would say on the matter. He fell silent, not answering your follow-up questions, and you were confused. You thought, since the jedi sometimes worked with bounty hunters, that it would be fine for you to befriend one. But the way he reacted, you had a feeling that you did something wrong.

You just couldn’t figure out what.

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jpoakbrook · 2 years

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BEYOND THE STARS, BEYOND THE SEA

chapter 6: DURO PT 1

summary: Mace Windu, Stass Allie, and the 91st Reconnaissance Corps take you on a mission to one of the many orbiting islands of Duro; you meet Cheefdaz Fik, a prominent Hutt crime lord, who takes quite an interest in you.

(also, the introduction of social media to my fic because i decided it would be cute to have them on socials)

“The journey is short, Miss Pyke. Do you really need to pack your things? It’s a 4 hour trip,” Mace Windu asked as he regarded the backpack on your back. Your trip with him before had at least been far away, so he understood the need for your dufflebag, but this time… Stars, you were staying in the Core Worlds region!

“Yes, they’re absolutely necessary, Master Windu!” you perked up as you swung the pack off your shoulders and started digging through. He was going to stop you, but you were already rattling off the information. “I’ve got my data pad, a notebook and pens, a book with some of the important areas of interest on whichever orbiting island, rations, first aid, some rope,” you rattled as you dug through the pack.

He was impressed you could fit it all in there.

“Why are you wearing… that?” he asked with a motion to your armour. You were getting faster at slapping the pieces on, and Gregor even said you were probably at the same speed as a new shiny at this point!

“Oh! Commander Cody insisted because he said Duro can be quite dangerous,” you said and tapped the 212th Attack Battalion symbol on your right thigh, the 7th Sky Corps symbol behind it in big sun rays. “Gotta follow orders, you know.” Your smile was bright, and Mace couldn’t even bring himself to roll his eyes at that.

“You stick out like a metal hand,” Ponds teased with a motion to your replacement. You stuck your tongue out at him as Neyo pulled the dropship into the much larger one that you were going to travel in today. It wasn’t the size of the Negotiator, but it was certainly impressive.

“You’re just jealous that I get bright colours and you’re stuck with a spot of red,” you retorted.

“Nothing wrong with red,” Neyo muttered as he walked up to you, undoing your seat belt swiftly. “C’mon. We’ve got places to be.”

You followed the laconic clone off the dropship, the others close behind, and he led you to a seat in the much larger bridge of this ship, strapping you in tightly.

“I can buckle myself, Neyo,” you said with a pout.

“Under strict orders to make sure you’re safe. Not going to risk it,” he responded, his voice low and devoid of emotion. You huffed and allowed him to tighten the straps. He lay a hand on your head when he finished, and you could just imagine his stupid grin beneath his helmet. “Good girl.”

You rolled your eyes at him, and he chuckled softly as he walked away. Immediately, you started reading through your notes and information on your datapad. You had done as much research as you could the week leading up to this mission, but without any specifics, it was difficult to know exactly what to look for. All Master Allie would tell you was that diplomacy was of the utmost importance. She needed you to translate for a meeting with an important informant, and you needed to know Durese and Huttese to do so. Luckily, you did.

Wooley had been a little more than concerned when you relayed the vague orders to him. You figured he was the one who put Cody up to the ordering of armour on this mission. Ponds and Neyo were both a little annoyed that Cody was being so dominating, but he was a marshal commander. Sure, Neyo held the same title, but Cody was sort of the mom of the commander group, and he didn’t want to be lectured for months to come if something happened to you. So he helped you tighten the straps of your armour and made sure you were buckled into your seat correctly.

“So, Master Allie,” you started slowly, raising your eyes from your data pad to look at the jedi. She was sitting across from you, a cup of herbal tea in one hand. The last time you were out with Mace Windu and the 91st, she hadn’t been there. But she worked with them often, apparently, and you were excited to get to know the healing jedi. You had heard great things about her from Obi-wan, and you couldn’t wait to see her in action. “Can you tell me now what to expect?” you asked her.

Stass Allie looked around, took note of those there, and nodded. “I couldn’t risk it in front of others,” she admitted, violet eyes focused on you, “but we are going to meet one of the workers for the Hutt cartel.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your voice a squeak. You knew the Republic dealt with neutral parties now and again, and the Hutts were technically unaligned at the moment, but they were evil. Word of their cartel had been whispered in plenty of dark corners in the underworld, and you couldn’t stop yourself from shivering a little.

“They have recovered some ancient knowledge for us, and all we have to do is something in return,” she said.

“What sort of something?” you asked.

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” she responded.

“But… what kind of information is worth it?” you asked her. She smiled and bowed her head slightly.

“The map to an ancient jedi temple that fell during the Great Sith Wars,” she said. Your eyebrows raised at that. So much information, so many places, had been lost during the Sith Wars. You weren’t particularly knowledgeable on the time period, but you knew it was a devastating time in Force user history.

“Oh,” you simply said. She nodded and repeated your word, both of you falling silent as you scrolled through your data pad again, this time with renewed fervor as you now had a direction to search in. Mace Windu appeared a couple hours later, taking a seat beside Stass, and they both watched you curiously. While you scrolled with your left hand, typing orders and clicking links, you quickly scribbled things down with your right in your notebook. It was a flurry of movement and they wondered just how much you were comprehending like that. But your writing was neat, and they didn’t want to distract you.

“We’re entering orbit, sir,” Ponds called out from one of the front seats. Mace nodded and stood up, Neyo coming to unstrap you. You were glaring at him each time, but he didn’t say anything in response. He didn’t have to; you could feel his smirk. Ponds and Neyo joined you and the jedi generals. On the way to the dropship, you accrued a couple more clones: Bolt, Vision, and Winch. You offered them little smiles as you stepped onto the ship, and Vision gifted you a nod.

The 91st wore the same sleek helmet as Neyo, and it certainly was an intimidating look. You supposed that checked out, what with Mace Windu leading them. Stass Allie was just a bit shorter than them, so you felt like you were being blocked by all of these warriors while you just carried your data pad in your hand.

You comm bracer beeped, and you checked it with a little smile.

“How’s it going? Smooth landing?”

You responded back to Obi-wan with “Smoother than when Anakin takes the wheel.” He reacted to your message with a laugh emoji, and it warmed your heart when he responded.

“Take care out there. Call if you need help.”

You closed the little panel and sighed lightly to yourself, the group stepping off of the drop ship and onto one of the dozens of orbiting islands. This one reminded you of a street on 3287 in Coruscant that anyone with their head on right would avoid. Your little group got glares and curled lips, but you were there with an official invitation from the Hutt who ran the street. So nobody said anything. You had slipped your helmet on to hide your face away. Now that you looked at it, your helmet looked a lot like the 91st’s, except you had a spiky mohawk down the center.

“In here,” Mace said and motioned to a strip club. You all made your way in, and you were greeted at the door by a Twi’lek male who led you past the dancers and the packed patrons to a back room. The music was blaringly loud out here, and it was thankfully much more muffled when you made it to the back room. Your heart was pounding as you looked around the room.

The perimeter was filled with lounging members of the cartel, speaking to each other, smoking, drinking, laughing, as waitresses walked around to service them all. On a raised stage, however, a Hutt sat and laughed as you all approached.

“You are graced to be in the presence of Cheefdaz Fik,” the Twi’lek announced to you. You saw Mace bow his head respectfully, and you followed suit. Cheefdaz spoke, and the Twi’lek went to translate for him.

“With all respect, Cheefdaz, we have brought our own translator with us. Not that we don’t trust yours to do the job well,” Mace Windu said and motioned for you to step forward. You did, and you set your shoulders as you did. You had never been a timid thing, but you had to gain more confidence to do this job, considering the people you’ve met. So you set your shoulders back, your head high, and back straight.

Cheefdaz took one look at you and burst into laughter. “A miniature clone in odd armour? This is who you think will translate for me? They can’t even show their face,” he asked.

“The honourable Cheefdaz questions why you would bring a clone to translate for you. He would like to see their face,” the Twi’lek said. You looked to Mace, and he hesitated. He looked at you, and you could see he was calculating something in that curious mind of his. He nodded firmly, and you pulled the bucket off of your head. Cheefdaz’ laugh stopped immediately after he saw your face.

“Oh. This just got interesting,” he said and slightly leaned forward. You were uncomfortable beneath his gaze, but you didn’t let it show, instead hardening your face like you had seen the clones do so many times before.

“I assure you, Cheefdaz, I am more than capable of translating,” you spoke to him in Huttese. He chortled at that.

“I see you are! Excellent. I accept you as the translator. Why do you wear clone armor?” he asked. You stepped forward again, Mace almost stepping toward you, but he trusted you knew what you were doing. You smiled at the Hutt.

“It may look like it, but it is not. I am just a librarian. I work for knowledge,” you explained to him. It was much easier to disarm someone when you put it that way. Sure, you worked for the Jedi Archives specifically, but the institution only served to give you a way of gathering more and more knowledge. It was an insatiable hunger, and you were more than willing to continue feeding it. An ancient jedi temple could host a great amount of knowledge you could never find anywhere else.

“What’s with the armour then?” he asked. You laughed at that and waved your hand.

“I grew up in the lower levels of Coruscant, Cheefdaz. I know I’d rather be in armour than out in a place like this,” you said. He chortled and agreed with the sentiment before nodding to Mace Windu.

“Tell me, Jedi, what do you know about the Crymorah Syndicate?”

Mace Windu’s eyebrows furrowed as you translated it for him. “Not much. Nobody outside of the syndicates knows much,” he responded. You were surprised by the answer, but you looked at Cheefdaz, who stroked his massive chins and nodded.

“There is one of the syndicate who is threatening a very important base of mine. They have attacked it twice now, and they need to be stopped. If you can stop them, you can have the plans to your precious jedi temple,” he said. You translated it to Mace, who grimaced.

“What is the catch? Are they impossible to kill? Droids? What?” he asked.

“They have killed dozens of my men. From what we know, they’re a band of very tough and competent Iktochi,” he explained. You listened and furrowed your eyebrows. It seemed, once again, a little too easy. Mace must’ve had the same feeling because he smirked a little at that.

“Yeah, we’ll see. Pass along the information where to find them, and we’ll be heading out,” he said.

“Wait!” You called out, translating Cheefdaz’s huttese with ease. Mace looked at him with narrowed eyes. “If you want the plans, you’ll have to leave the girl with me as collateral,” you said, your eyes widening when you realised he meant you. One of his claws was pointed at you.

“Absolutely not,” Mace snapped back, a fist clenching.

“I promise no harm will come to her,” you translated.

“She is not part of the deal. The deal is we do you this favour and you give us the plans,” Mace said.

“How do I know you won’t just return with more jedi and forcibly take the plans?” you asked him, your eyes focused on Cheefdaz. You were trying to understand his game. You didn’t know why he wanted you, but Mace seemed particularly sensitive about it.

“How do I know you’re not sending us into a trap?” Mace countered, anger now evident on his face.

“You don’t. But if I am, then I have no doubt the jedi will come tearing my house down, and I have no need for that hassle,” you said and looked at Mace. “He says he wants me to stay or the deal is off.”

Mace Windu regarded you with narrowed eyes, sizing you up. His gaze was a little more than intimidating, and Stass Allie stepped forward to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“She’ll be okay,” she said softly. Mace looked up at Cheefdaz.

“My men stay with her. If you harm any of them in any way, I will have your head on a spit roast,” he said. Cheefdaz laughed and nodded, waving his hand.

“Of course, I expected nothing less. I simply want to spend some time with her,” he said. You spoke the words, but that only drew curiosity to your mind. You looked at Mace and nodded.

“I’ll be fine, Master Windu,” you promised him. He pursed his lips and looked at your companions.

“I’ll stay with her,” Neyo said. You raised your eyebrows at that, figuring it would be Ponds with you and Neyo out on the field. But you knew that Ponds and Mace had a closer relationship. “We’ll keep Bolt with us, too,” Neyo added, and the clone stepped forward with a nod.

“We’ll keep in touch. If you haven’t heard from us every 6 hours, assume the worst and get her home,” Mace spoke lowly. Neyo nodded and confirmed the orders before Mace lay a hand on your head. He didn’t have to say anything. You smiled and nodded to him. Stass Allie cupped your cheeks in her hands.

“Stay safe,” she whispered and kissed your forehead. You gasped a little as you felt sparks tingle down your limbs. She winked at you and took leave with the others. Everything was a little brighter, a little louder, a little sharper. You didn’t know how, but Stass Allie boosted your senses.

“Zuzrori will show you to your apartment, librarian. But before we go, we’d like to know the name of our esteemed guest,” Cheefdaz said, the Twi’lek man stepping forward.

“Juniper Pyke,” you said. He chortled and nodded.

“An honour, Juniper Pyke. I look forward to your company these next few days.”

~ * ~

Zuzrori showed the three of you to the apartment you would be staying in. It consisted of a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. You immediately went to the bookcase to look at the texts there. You pulled a few interesting titles off of the shelf and brought them to the dining room table. The clones did a walk of the apartment, checking all the exits, before they took their helmets off and went to sit at the far end of the table from you. They pulled a deck of cards off the shelf and started a game as you spread your information material out. Neyo had his clone number tattooed beneath his left eye, and Bolt had a wide lightning bolt down the centre of his forehead, ending at the tip of his nose.

“So, what do you look for when you read like that, ROA?” Bolt asked, looking over at you. You supposed you looked a little frantic as you took notes, pictures, and flipped through books as your eyes quickly scanned each page.

“Anything and everything,” you said and looked up at him, taking a break. There was a pen sideways in your mouth, and you took it out to lay on the page, holding your place in the book. “Many researchers make the mistake of just finding information about a culture’s history, about the big events that happened to shape the world. But they shouldn’t ignore things like this,” you said and grabbed a book to hold it up. “This is just a book of bedtime stories that the Hutts read to their children. But from this book, we can see legends and fables, superstitions and childhood boogeymen. Sometimes a bedtime story is just a story, but more often than not, they have some sort of core lesson to be taught to the children. Or they reveal a prejudice that the race has as a whole.”

You flipped through the pages of Huttese, finding the artwork and standing up to reach down the table and show them with a tap of your mechanical index finger.

“This is Jonahl Arm-man,” you said. They looked at the man in confusion. He was glowing white, had 4 arms, and seemed to be floating above a dark cave filled with young Hutts. “In the tale, Jonahl Arm-man is a being who punishes Hutts who run away from home. He has 4 arms that can stretch and grab anyone with ease. He can burn brighter than a thousand suns. If a Hutt runs away, Jonahl will chase them down and kill them.”

“Kriff, that’s dark,” Neyo muttered, but he didn’t grimace like Bolt did.

“In actuality,” you said and moved your data-pad to sit beside it. There was a picture of a man who resembled the painting, except he had 2 arms. He was pure white, though. “This is Jonah Larmann. He’s an Arkanian-human jedi who was sent to capture a couple of runaway Hutts and return them home. His skin, like the skin of his people, is pure white and reflected the suns in such a way that they were temporarily blinded.”

You took the book and pad back as you sat back down.

“It’s things like this that make the culture a culture rather than just a political moment in history. If we can understand the culture of certain people, then we can more easily understand how they think, how they reason. We can figure out what their next steps are, and we can plan ahead of time. Just like how Master Windu knew that Cheefdaz was going to have his own translator and brought me along for integrity.”

Neyo was regarding you with a weird look, and you looked right back at him. “What?” you asked.

“You’re pretty sharp,” he said. Your eyebrows flew up.

“Was that a compliment?” you teased him, a grin growing on your face. He scowled and looked back at his cards. “Oh my stars, did Commander Neyo just compliment me?!” you demanded, laughing. Bolt chuckled a little, but his smile wiped away when Neyo shot him a rather intense glare.

You whipped out your phone and recorded a video. “Neyo, repeat yourself,” you said. He shot you a dirty look. “For history, for posterity,” you insisted. He looked at the brightness in your eyes and sighed.

“I said… that you’re pretty sharp,” he grumbled before burying his face in his cards. You turned the camera to face you, a hand raising to cover your grin.

“Commander Neyo noticed me,” you gasped softly. The video ended with Neyo shouting in the distance.

“Stop it!”

Cody chuckled as he watched the video on your InStarGram feed, sending the link to a few people. It spread among the clones like wildfire, and plenty of them teased the hell out of Neyo. You had a few accounts on the social media platform.

You ran the official one for the archives, simply called “Jedi_Archives”. You ran a meme one called “Archive_Deep_Dive” that memed things that you found in books and lore. But your personal one was “Just_ROA_Things”. Your name was “Sometimes Pyke, never Pichael” and you posted just about anything you wanted to. Pictures of Waxer’s tookas, a picture with the Corrie guards, even a sneaky video with a singing Ahsoka as she danced around your kitchen.

You had slowly accrued friends on the platform, but nothing like after you started working with the clones. Apparently, they were pretty active on InStarGram, StarChat, and Twi’ter. It allowed you to keep up with them, and you loved it.

Your video was captioned “Finally noticed by @neyo8826, guess I’ll die happy then.” Neyo scowled when he saw it, but you saw him like your post regardless. You laughed and went right back to researching until your comms started ringing. You picked up the call, the disc sitting on the table in front of you. A tiny version of Obi-wan popped up.

“Hello, Master Kenobi,” you greeted him with a smile.

“Miss Pyke, what is this I hear about you parting from Master Windu?” he asked you. Your smile faded. He sounded upset. So you explained the situation to him. His eyebrow furrowed more and more as you spoke. “I’m coming to get you,” he decided, and you saw him start rummaging around as he spoke. “I can be there in 4 hours, and we’ll leave,” he said.

“No, you can’t. I can’t leave or we won’t get the map,” you said.

“You’re not going to be held hostage by a Hutt if I can help it,” he retorted.

“I’m not! I’m here so that we can have the map. Please, Master Kenobi. This is important to Master Allie, and we haven’t been harmed,” you said. He raised an eyebrow at that. “As far as I can tell, Cheefdaz is just interested in my ability to speak Huttese. But he swore no harm would come to us.”

Obi-wan sighed, and he nodded. “I will not take you away. But that does not mean I have to stand by and do nothing,” he said.

“General,” Neyo interrupted, and he moved to stand behind you. “If you come, he might take that as an act of aggression.” Obi-wan pursed his lips at that. “Sorry, sir, but there’s nothing you can do.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just stay here… and check in. How frequently is Mace supposed to check in with you?” he asked.

“Every 6 standard hours, sir. It’s been 3,” Neyo confirmed.

“Okay then. Call me after he’s checked in with you, commander,” Obi-wan said, and Neyo nodded, going back to his seat. “Miss Pyke,” he said and got your attention. “Please do not trust Cheefdaz at his word. There is more afoot, I know it. I want you to be careful, okay?” he asked. You nodded to him, and he smiled. “Very good. I look forward to hearing from you in 3 hours,” he said. You bid him farewell and hung up.

“He worries that much, huh?” Bolt asked you. You smiled and nodded, your cheeks gaining just a touch of pink as you returned back to your reading.

~ * ~

“The honourable and mighty Cheefdaz Fik requests your presence for dinner,” Zuzrori said when you opened the door to him a few hours later. You had done your check in with Mace and the follow up with Obi-wan. Neyo and Bolt had both relaxed a bit more around you. None of you were willing to take your armour off, but Bolt made jokes with you and Neyo even smiled.

“Oh! I could do with some dinner,” you said and looked at the boys who nodded. Neyo’s lips pursed, and he was smart enough to know that the request wasn’t really a request.

The three of you headed back into that big hall where tables had been set up. You took a seat across from Cheefdaz and on his left side, whereas his body curled off to the right. Neyo sat to your right, Bolt to your left. You were surprised to see Zuzrori not take the seat to Cheefdaz’s left, leaving a chair open. The others at the long table were slowly being filled in.

“We are expecting another guest of honour, and I will introduce you all when he arrives,” Cheefdaz said when you inquired about the seat. You nodded and fell silent. Until he started asking you questions. You answered them with a polite wariness, careful not to give too much away.

“I’ve lived my whole life on Coruscant. I am an archivist, you see, my whole life is dedicated to my work. Part of my job is coming out on these missions to experience and journal all of the cultures and people I meet,” you were explaining. Neyo had a protective arm resting on the back of your chair, his hand very lightly touching your opposite shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it made you feel much more safe. All three of you had your helmets close by.

“Do you not find the work exhausting? Surely there’s more to life than studying and books,” Cheefdaz asked. You laughed and shook your head.

“Quite contrary, sir. I am completely engrossed by my work. I have learned to speak so many languages that it is always a treat when I get to put it into practicality. Meeting other species is exciting. I met plenty when I was young, the only human in the neighbourhood,” you said, and he chortled at that. “But going to these other planets and being able to record my adventure is amazing!”

The door opened, and you turned to look at the newcomer in interest. A man strode in with an air of stark arrogance. He had a small smirk on his lips. Neyo watched him from the corner of his eye the whole time, and his hand moved from grazing your shoulder to fully on it now.

The man was tall, a couple inches taller than the clones, and the first thing you noticed was how remarkably similar to a human he looked, especially in comparison to the very-not-human looking species all around you. His skin was lightly tanned, and he had long, straight black hair. It tumbled down to his elbows, quite like your own. He had a short beard on his face, which was sharp and angular. He was incredibly handsome, if not a bit gaunt. The muscles on his body looked like tight cords, but they were hidden away by a long sleeve black shirt that was tucked into black pants. He was focused on you as he sat down.

“Hello, Cheefdaz. Sorry I’m late. Traffic,” he joked. His voice was low and gravelly. You noted the sword on his hip that he had to adjust slightly to keep out of the way.

“I am more than happy to wait!” Cheefdaz laughed at him, but the man had his odd, metallic grey eyes focused on you. You didn’t so much as squirm beneath his gaze, instead raising your chin just a little bit in a subtle act of defiance. You weren’t going to back down from a look.

“Let me introduce tonight’s guests of honour,” he called out over the hall, the music softening to let everyone focus on his words. “Welcome, Lady Argui Costa, a dear friend to the family,” he called out and motioned to the Chiss woman on the far end of your side of the table. The others clapped, and you did as well, but you didn’t look at her. You stared back at the man who refused to break eye contact with you.

“The brilliant and talented Quo-li Tellulah,” Cheefdaz said, and the opera singer stood as well as a Thisspiasian could to give a little bow to her adoring fans. The claps were louder this time.

“The Research and Outreach Archivist for the Grand Republic’s Jedi Temple, Juniper Pyke and her bodyguards,” he announced, and you raised a hand in greeting, but you still didn’t look away from the man. The others clapped politely, but you could hear mutters about the title. It was long and informative, and they were wary of a GAR worker among them.

The man across from you had an intense glare, like he was trying to read your thoughts, but you knew that wouldn’t work because if he could read minds, he would hear Neyo warning him to look away before he loses an eye. Neyo’s hand tightened on your shoulder, and you took in a deep breath to keep your temper in check.

“And finally, my dear old friend, galaxy-renown bounty hunter, Jer’ik Lo.” The man smiled and stood up, bowing slightly to the people who muttered in awe and surprise. They had heard tales of the man, but they had never seen him. He sat down and offered you a warm smile.

“A pleasure to meet you, Juniper,” he spoke in Galactic Basic, his voice accented. You weren’t sure why since every fibre of your being wanted to slap the smirk off of his face, but you smiled and nodded back politely.

“A pleasure, Jer’ik.”

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jpoakbrook · 2 years

Text

BEYOND THE STARS, BEYOND THE SEA

chapter 4: JARESH PT 1

summary: You accept to go on a simple mission to Jaresh with Obi-wan and co. But there's a mishap during training that puts you out a little bit.

You were mumbling something to yourself as you stepped through one of the many secret side doors that led into the Jedi Archives. The library entrances were usually at the ends of one of the 4 main halls, but there were secret passages and pathways that staff used to move around quickly. You had taken one now to get from a distant hall in Hall 1 to get to a more familiar branch in Hall 3. As you stepped through the door that slid closed and left no trace of its existence, you heard something that made you stop mumbling altogether.

It was a hum. A low voice was humming softly, and you felt your heartbeat quicken. You recognised the song just like you recognised the hum. He often hummed the song to himself while in the library, not even realising he was doing it. Taking in a deep breath, you strode down the hall and made sure to make just enough noise for him to know you were approaching.

His hum cut away when you entered the more open area of the hall, and you stopped to look at him. He was sitting at a table, strolling through a holocron, and he had a notebook with some very messy notes in front of him. He looked up at you when you entered, and he offered you a tired smile.

“Good morning, Miss Pyke.”

“Good morning, Master Kenobi. Do you need help finding something?” you offered as you walked up to his table. You gently set the books you were carrying down and peered at what he was looking at. Your eyebrows furrowed a little bit. “The mating habits of a moonfish?”

Obi-wan flushed and quickly changed the page.

“I got a little lost while trying to do my own research. I’ve just mindlessly been clicking on links and hoping to end up in the correct place,” he admitted. You laughed and pulled a chair over to sit beside him.

“Well, let me help. What are you looking for?” you asked as he scooted over to let you take control of the screen.

“I’m trying to learn about the Kyuzo people. We may have a contact to meet about some important information regarding a group of smugglers bringing goods to Naboo. Unfortunately, I can only mostly understand Kyuzo when the person is speaking it to me. I’m useless with written or pre-recorded videos,” he explained. Your fingers were already moving swiftly over the screen as you opened up windows of information.

“Are you going to Phatrong?” you asked as you started to pull up the planet and it’s core information.

“No, the contact would like to meet on Jaresh,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Jaresh? I know that it is a popular bazaar planet with a high population of Kyuzo immigrants, but Jaresh is as diverse as a 4000 level of Coruscant. Are you sure your contact is Kyuzo?” you asked him as you started to pull up information about Jaresh. Obi-wan nodded and set a holovid on the table.

An undeniable Kyuzo person popped up from the little disc, and he was speaking rapidly, even for a Kyuzo.

“Oh. He says he’s in danger. He needs to meet before it’s too late. He says that the smugglers are onto him, and he needs an extraction in return for information,” you translated, having to play the video twice. The Kyuzo language was a fast-paced shorthand that sounded more like incomplete words strung together in a sentence than an actual language. It was one of your favourites simply because of how fun it was to speak. Nowadays, you didn’t run into many who knew it, though, so it was hard to keep up with the practice.

“Hmm… I thought my Kyuzo was polished enough to understand, but I see now I’ll be needing your services on this mission. Tell me, are you free to join us on a trip?” he asked.

“Of course! My next venture out was going to be with Master Plo Koon in a few weeks time,” you beamed at him. Your promotion came with a wave of excitement, and it suddenly seemed like every jedi general out there suddenly needed your help. You figured it was because they were more prone to just bringing a translator with them than actually sitting down in the library and studying on their own. Plus, most of them preferred the company of a humanoid over a droid.

From the time of your first mission to Kashyyyk, you had gone on 4 more. It had only been a few short weeks, but most of them were only a few days long. Only 4 trips, but they were all to places you could’ve only dreamed about before.

One was with Master Windu himself, along with Master Stass Allie, and you got to ride on the back of a speeder bike for the first time. Ponds laughed when you got off of the bike with shaky legs. Neyo had to steady you, apologising for the rough ride. But you enjoyed the massive flora of Felucia on the ride, so you weren’t complaining too much. The journey found you taking samples and notes on exotic wildlife, but you were there for some sort of capturing of a spotted criminal. You were safe with the 91st, and Neyo didn’t leave your side for a single moment.

Another journey was on the arm of Kit Fisto. Your friend asked you to escort him into the Coruscant underworld, where you translated a connection for him. Turns out, you knew a lot more useful contacts than you had realised, and you were able to help Master Fisto track down the shipment of death sticks before it was smuggled off-world. He was an intimidating being to work alongside, even with your friendship to him, but he never stopped offering you that perfect smile of his as reassurance that you were doing great. Even with Monnk hovering over you to ensure your safety, you didn’t feel useless.

Obi-wan and the 212th took you on a trip to a moon, where you weren’t sure your translating abilities would come in handy, but your research capabilities certainly did. There were ancient texts scrawled on cave walls, and after a couple sleepless nights of research (during which Obi-wan monitored you carefully to ensure your health and well-being), you were able to help find a secret entrance to an underground lab. There were rare crystals and artifacts down there, but you were most excited about the ancient scrolls and tomes you got to bring back to the Archive for repairs and restoration.

You had returned from a mission with Master Shaak Ti and her 41st. Gree had been an a-Gree-able companion (Obi-wan did not pity you with a laugh at that comment, to which you only pouted a little), and you found it an easy diplomacy meeting in which Master Shaak Ti brought you along to ensure as few misunderstandings as possible. The meeting took place in a busy marketplace moon, and you were excited to check out all of the stalls and goods for sale afterward.

That had been almost a week ago now, and you had been preparing for your mission with Master Plo Koon ahead of time. But you always had time for Obi-wan Kenobi.

“Excellent! The meeting is supposed to be in 5 days time, which gives us just enough time to travel there and find the place if we leave today. Do you have your belongings ready to go?” he asked. You nodded and motioned down one of the hallways.

“I have a bag ready in my room here. I can be at the dropship in 20,” you said as you checked one of the clocks on the wall. You missed the smirk on Obi-wan’s lips at your excitement and preparedness. Hardly the same as the first time he invited you off planet.

“Perfect. I’ll be waiting. Call Anakin if you need any help. He’s skulking around these halls since Ahsoka teased him for pronouncing a word wrong. He could do with being a hero today,” Obi-wan said with a small laugh before heading off to get everything ready. You watched him leave before quickly adding material to your data-pad, anything and everything you might need for a trip to Jaresh, including information on the most common people who frequented the bazaar.

~ * ~

“Welcome back, Pyke!” Waxer and Boil greeted you with massive grins as they came to the bay to greet the dropship. They were always together, you noticed, and it warmed your heart just seeing them. They were very friendly and treated you like an old friend.

“Good to be back! Though, from what I hear, we’re going to be travelling for quite some time this time,” you said. The trip to Kashyyyk had been 3.5 days, but this was going to be just over 4. You didn’t think half a day could make quite that big a difference, but being cooped up on a ship even of the Negotiator’s size proved you wrong.

“Perfect time to get some practice in then,” Waxer grinned mischievously. You grimaced at that but understood that you had to. Part of your new role was the fact you had to learn combat training from the 212th, specifically from Commander Cody. The commander did help teach you, but he left that mostly to the 212th and some of the brothers from the 501st whenever applicable. The issue was that the 501st were all known to be loose cannons, and the 212th had Waxer and Boil leading their little group of wild cards.

An hour later, you were in a training room with a bunch of clones. You were dressed like most of them: a tank top and standard pants while barefoot. Some wore more, some less, but none had the same tattoos you did. They lined your limbs, your back, your chest, and there were plenty more beneath the clothing as well. The first time they had seen your ink, they were surprised, and you remembered the way Obi-wan’s eyebrows raised. But then they saw what the ink was trying to distract from. Scars, thick and thin, of various shapes and sizes, littered your body. They were old scars, but they were the kind that would never fade. Nobody ever asked you about them, and that was okay with you. You didn’t want to talk about them.

“Alright. Let’s see what you remember from our last lesson,” Gregor said. He was standing on the mat in front of you. You nodded and assumed your hand-to-hand stance. Feet spread, knees slightly bent, and fists raised in front of your face, elbows in. He smiled and nodded before looking at the group.

“Volunteers?” he asked. They were all eager to spar with you, finding it fun and fresh.

“Waxer. It’s your lucky day,” Gregor called on the clone who stood up with a grin. He was in a t-shirt, and he didn’t take his eyes off of you as he took Gregor’s spot in the ring.

“Pyke, remember what I taught you,” Boil called out. You nodded without looking away, and Waxer’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. That worried him, but not nearly as much as it should’ve.

“Waxer will start. Nice and easy now,” Gregor said with a nod, stepping back and joining the wall of clones. Waxer stepped forward and threw a gentle jab at your head, which you were able to dodge with ease. He smiled and started boxing toward you, jabs mixing with punches and hooks and uppercuts alike. You dodged what you could, swatting away ones that you couldn’t in the minimal blocking technique that Crys had taught you.

Waxer was having fun, and he was increasing his speed and power as you warmed up to the exercise. You were concentrating on the fight, but you were energised by the cheers of the clones watching. They were proud of their little bookworm, watching how you grew with pride in their chests. They had repainted the sigil on the back of your armour, now having a book impaled on a pyke. They kept their claim of you as theirs, and they all made sure their names were permanently etched into the wood so you were able to paint over them whenever you could. It made you proud to see it.

“Pyke, now!” Boil called out. Waxer had overextended on a rear cross, and you moved quickly. You grabbed his arm, spinning to firmly plant your hip against his. You yanked hard on his arm, thrusting your hip up with a sweep of your leg. You got to watch the surprise grow on the clone’s face as you threw him over your hip, and he went crashing into the mat as you pinned his chest with a knee.

There was an explosion of laughter and cheers, and Waxer had a booming chortle.

“That was amazing, Pyke! Perfectly executed!” Boil shouted, running forward to scoop you up by the arms like you weighed nothing, swinging you around in happiness. He set you down, and you were surrounded by compliments and pats.

“When did you teach her that?!” Waxer demanded, stepping up to plop a hand on your shoulder as he regarded you with an impressed glance.

“Last week. Been training her in secret for this moment alone. How’d the video turn out, vod?” Boil asked Fives, who just gave him a grin and a thumb’s up. “Can’t wait for the others to see this.” Waxer descended on his brothers with shouts, and a small portion of them rolled into a tumble of fists and shouts.

“C’mon, Pyke. Let’s work on some more stuff,” Gregor muttered and pulled you away from the squabble. You watched Waxer bite down on Hardcase’s hand, and for some reason, Fives had Tup in a headlock while Boil smacked his ass. Jesse stood off to the side and recorded it while Echo threw in a couple insults here and there.

“Wooley,” Gregor called the clone over. He ran a hand through his mohawk as he approached, a sly grin on his face.

“Don’t throw me, too, Pyke. Got a bum hip from weights last week,” he said. You laughed and nodded, raising your fists. Gregor ran you through drills, calling the shots and fixing your mistakes as you went. Eventually, after the group calmed down, you were able to train alongside them on their drills. You were slow, fumbling, but you were catching on quickly (thanks to that part of your brain that made studying just that much easier).

“Excellent! I think you’re ready for some grappling,” Gregor said as you paused for a water break. Wooley “clinked” his water bottle against yours before you drank, and you looked at Gregor in exhaustion. This workout had already been more intense than the ones on Coruscant, but you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially in front of the 212th.

“Hardcase,” Gregor said and the clone stepped up. “Let’s start with a hip throw,” he said. Before he could give anymore instruction, the clone stepped forward and swept you off your feet. You flew through the air, an arc over his head, and you landed hard on the ground. Your hand got caught beneath you, and you heard the snap first.

The pain wasn’t immediate. You thought it would be. It was a fire that burst into life, though, and it burned hotter than anything you had ever felt. You quickly sat up, clutching your left arm to your chest, and Hardcase’s eyes went wide. You looked up at him, shock setting in, and you could barely hear the clones’ shouts.

“Pyke?! Are you okay?!” Gregor was yelling, but his voice was a million miles away and underwater. Hardcase swooped you into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quickly ran to the med bay, the others close behind.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I’m so sorry,” he was muttering to you, but you didn’t hear him. The fire in your arm was starting to become sharp. It was no longer just heat and pressure. It was starting to hurt.

“Hardcase, my arm hurts,” you said to him, and your voice seemed so far away.

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he repeated as he kicked open the doors to the med bay. Kix looked up with a start, jumping up from his computer. He noticed you and the way you held your arm.

“Here,” he ordered and threw a sheet down on a table. Hardcase set you down, and Wooley pushed past him to grab your left hand.

“Hey, cyar’ika,” he spoke softly, kneeling to look at you. “What are you feeling?”

“My arm hurts,” you repeated, barely speaking above a whisper. There was pain in Hardcase’s face, but his brothers shoved him to the back of the pack. Kix gingerly lifted your left arm by the wrist, and tears sprung to your eyes as pain shot up through your elbow. You cried out, and half of the clones visibly winced.

“She’s going to need surgery. Inform the commanders. General Kenobi will want to know. Everyone clear out,” Kix ordered. You hadn’t heard him so commanding before, but then again, you had never seen him in a professional place like this. Usually, he was cackling along with his brothers as you sat around a table playing sabacc.

The clones backed out of the room, their words of encouragement overlapping, and Wooley looked up at Kix. “Can I stay?” he asked, concern etching between his eyebrows.

“Sorry, Wooley. But I need the room clear,” Kix said. Wooley sighed and lay a hand on your head.

“It’s going to be okay, vod’ika,” he said with a smile. You tried to smile back, but your face wasn’t working. The fire was getting worse. Still, the pet name was nice. You were older than the clones, in every sense of the word, but they all treated you like protective older brothers. He took his leave as Kix started pushing your bed into a surgical lab, assistants and med droids joining him so he could change into sterile clothes.

“Just take a deep breath, Pyke. We’ll get you fixed up in no time,” Kix said softly, soothingly, as they fixed a breathing tube over your mouth. You took a deep breath, and you could feel your mind slipping away already. You watched Kix put on scrubs and an apron. The last thing you saw was his comforting smile before he put on a surgical mask.

~ * ~

“She’ll be okay, general. Just needed some surgery is all,” Kix explained to Obi-wan as the latter paced back and forth outside of the operating room. He looked at the medical clone.

“How bad was it?” he asked. Kix grimaced.

“It was a comminuted fracture. She must’ve landed directly down the bone. We had to extract pieces of bone and replace it with metal rods. However, we don’t know how she’ll react to the metal, so there’s a very real possibility that she can reject the graft,” he said.

“What? Isn’t this a medical grade metal rod? Meant for standard procedures?” Obi-wan demanded, his temper flaring just a little. Kix didn’t flinch, but he definitely grimaced.

“Well, sir… Her bones have shown signs of previous breaking and healing. They were set just fine, but there were definitely areas of thick bone regrowth. Looks like from when she was young. The impact snapped a part of her arm that was weak in comparison to the bone density surrounding it. The amount of regrowth on that bone alone would be enough for her body to reject this new invasion,” he explained.

*(I’m not a doctor, and I refuse to do any real research on bodies rejecting metal rods. This is just an excuse for a little background teasing and for June to get a metal hand. I don’t make the rules.)*

Obi-wan mulled over his words long after the clone went back into the recovery room to check on her. The clones who had been training with her were all perched around the waiting room, and Hardcase was one of the few pacing around. He was muttering something to himself, and Obi-wan pursed his lips.

“Hardcase,” he called the man over. He could feel the anxiety and guilt dripping from the clone, and he didn’t need Force senses to do so.

“I didn’t mean to, general. It was an accident,” he said in an almost pleading tone.

“I know. We all know that. Nobody thinks you hurt her on purpose,” Obi-wan assured him. He still felt bad, and he could see it on his face. Wooley stood away from his brother, his glare having softened now to a look of disgruntlement. He had a soft spot for the archivist since Kashyyyk when he and Gearshift hung out with her while she studied. He, like the others, loved the way her face lit up when she read something interesting and the way she bubbled as she shared the information with them. He had rested his chin on the table and watched as her eyebrows furrowed while she read, concentration focused solely on her book for well over half an hour before she realised he had been watching her. Then she broke into the brightest smile he had ever seen on someone and showed him what she had been reading.

It was an infectious presence that all of the clones had grown to love in the short time they’d known her. Wooley just happened to be a lot more upfront about his protection of her. He was often caught quoting that line from that show she loved to watch. “I’ve only had the ROA for a month and a half, but if anything happened to her, I would kill everyone on this planet and then myself.” The nickname was pronounced “row” and it was thrown around as often as “Pyke” was. It was a sentiment most of them agreed with.

Still, he knew that Juniper would hold no hard feelings against Hardcase, so he shouldn’t either… but that wasn’t going to stop him from pouting for a little bit in his little corner of anger. Obi-wan allowed it simply because it was going to pass.

“Any word?” Anakin’s voice crackled out from his comms. He and Ahsoka were under strict instruction to stay on the bridge with Cody and Rex, since he didn’t need their emotions flying with an already tense batch.

“General,” Kix called out from the other room.

“Hold on, Anakin,” Obi-wan said and went into the room where Juniper was still hooked up to liquids and gas. She was sweating, wincing, and he could see that her heart was racing on the monitor.

“She’s not taking the intrusion well. If we replace her arm and hand with mechanical replacements, then we’ll only have to worry about grafting to a single connection rather than introducing a middle-man like we have now,” Kix said. He went on about something that Obi-wan didn’t understand, and he tried to follow along.

“So, she’s more likely to accept a complete replacement?” Obi-wan surmised.

“Yes, sir,” Kix confirmed.

“Do it.”

“Yes, sir.”

~ * ~

“Are you kidding me? Why are you upset?! I’ve got a cool new hand!” you gasped as you looked at the metal hand. You flexed your fingers and saw the inner mechanics pumping and clicking. You looked at Hardcase with a laugh. “This is so cool! Plus, it’s my fault. I should’ve landed better.”

The clone sighed in relief that you weren’t furious with him, and he looked exhausted. You, on the other hand (another joke that Obi-wan didn’t appreciate from you), were well-rested. Probably the first good sleep you’d had in weeks. Jesse looked around for a moment before stepping forward. Gregor was busy talking to Rex, Obi-wan and Cody were off talking to the other two jedi, and the other clones around you were your friends.

“As payback, we’re gonna let you shoot him later, vod’ika,” he said in a low voice. You giggled at that, and Hardcase hung his head.

“Just make sure to aim for the outside of my thigh. It’ll heal fast, and you won’t kill me,” he added. That made you laugh.

“I’m not going to shoot you, Hardcase.” He looked relieved at that until you leaned forward, a wolfish grin parting your lips. “I’m going to punch you in the face as hard as I can.” This brought smiles and whispers to the boys, and Hardcase gulped before nodding.

“Yeah. That’s fair. When do you get out? We can spring ya,” he offered.

“No, you absolutely cannot. ROA is staying here until bacta finishes healing the skin at the graft sight. Are you sure you don’t want skin on top of the mechanics?” Kix asked you.

“Are you kidding me? This looks so much cooler! It’s so scary!” you said with a laugh. There was a wrap of bacta around the spot where your biological arm connected to your mechanical arm. It was definitely weird having a mechanical arm, but you figured you could get used to the movement. Kix lowered your hand and strapped it against your body in a sling that they had all signed.

“She needs rest. Out,” he commanded the others. They all grumbled their goodbyes and trudged out slowly. “Try not to move it around too much, vod’ika. You don’t want it to misalign or anything,” he said to you after they were gone, leaving behind the commanders.

“How long do I have to wear the sling?” you asked curiously.

“At least 5 days,” he said.

“5 days?! What’s the point of having a metal arm if I can’t use it?” you sighed dramatically. He just chuckled at that and patted your head before muttering something and walking away. He was probably going to check on the others in the bay. Anakin and Ahsoka replaced the empty space the clones had left.

“Hey, we’re matching now!” you beamed at Anakin and pointed to your hand. He smiled and wiggled the fingers of his right hand, which were always hidden beneath a glove.

“We can buy a pair of gloves and share them,” he said, making you giggle.

“You didn’t want to get the skin on it?” Ahsoka asked you with a raised eyebrow ridge.

“No, I think it looks cool like this. Plus, like, think of what kind of badass librarian has a robot hand. I must be the coolest one in the archives now,” you said.

“You have finger tattoos. You’ve been the coolest one,” Ahsoka said with a little laugh. You looked down at your hand in shock.

“Oh, yeah! My tattoos are gone now. Do you think I could etch them into the metal? Probably, right?” You were discussing the practicality of it when the other 4 walked up to join you.

“How are you feeling?” Obi-wan asked. His words and tone were professional, but you could see the worry in his gaze. You smiled to quell it and nodded.

“I’m doing fine! Kix is amazing at his job. Though, I hear I’ve been out for a while,” you said and looked at them for confirmation.

“Yes. The first surgery took a while, but the 2nd was longer. Then your recovery. We’re 30 hours away from Jaresh,” Obi-wan stated. The trip itself was supposed to be about 100 hours, and you couldn’t believe you lost almost 70 of them to this damn arm that you couldn’t even use right away.

“Damn. I was hoping to get some research done. Is there any way you could bring me my data pad?” you asked Obi-wan directly, not looking away from him. You were sure he would veto it is you asked anyone else, but how could he look you in the eye and say no?

“You need rest, Pyke,” Kix called out from across the room.

“Kay!” you called back to him before lowering your voice. “Seriously, sneak it in. I’ll hide it under my pillow. He’ll never know.” Cody chuckled and lay a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder.

“You’re the only one who can get away with it. And I’m walking away so I’m not an accomplice to this,” he said and briskly left with a wave to you. The others took his cue, and Obi-wan sighed when he was left alone with you.

“You really should be resting,” he confirmed.

“I should be getting ready for this mission. I need to brush up on things, and I have more to read about Jaresh,” you responded, crossing your right arm as best as you could without using your left. He smirked as he watched you fumble to find a petulant stance with just the one arm.

“Fine. But if you get caught, it’s you that Kix yells at. I’ve got nothing to do with this,” he warned you, to which you smiled and thanked him warmly. He inhaled slowly at the sight of your smile. He had been so worried the last few days, and to see you back to your normal self was refreshing.

You were scrolling through your datapad before 30 minutes were up. Kix knew you had it. You had done a pretty good job at hiding it from him the first couple hours, but then you got caught up in your studies and forgot to stow it away as he walked by. But he didn’t stop you. He knew he wouldn’t be able to, and he just left you be. You kept reaching, learning as much as you could before you were to touch down.

~ * ~

“How’s she doing? Obi-wan asked Kix when he came by the next day. He came to tell her that they were going to be landing soon. He had been in and out of seeing her, but he hadn’t been back since the night before. He figured she would be reading well into the night.

“She read for about half an hour after midnight. She’s been asleep ever since,” Kix said with a little laugh. He had watched her try so hard to be so sneaky about reading, but the exhaustion got the best of her. She had been out like a light all night. He was grateful for it, since she needed to rest in order to heal.

“Good. I’ll wake her up. I want you to pack some stuff up. We’re taking you with us just in case,” Obi-wan said. Kix nodded and strode from the room to his office. Obi-wan went through the door and exhaled a little laugh to himself. She was curled up on her right side, left arm hugged tightly to her body. Her face partially rested on her datapad beneath her cheek.

He moved to her right side, crouching down to look at her. She looked so peaceful like this, so at least. Her face was almost always pulled into either concentration or happiness. Like this, he could trace his blue gaze over her features without any obstruction. He followed the curve of her cheeks to the way her lips were slightly parted. He took in every bit of the light freckles that dotted across her nose and cheeks, fading as they spread out from the band and toward her hairline or jawline. She was slightly tanned, and her freckles were a light brown. They were accented every time she blushed, which seemed to be a lot around him.

Obi-wan felt a tightening in his chest as he reached forward and brushed a bit of her long black hair away from her face. His fingers barely brushed against her skin, and he could barely breathe. He saw her eyes twitch to life beneath his fingers, and he retracted his hand.

“Miss Pyke,” he whispered softly. When she didn’t respond, he said it a little louder, scared to touch her again. Not because he worried what she would do but because he was worried about the fluttering in his stomach. He hadn’t been able to stop the fluttering after all these years, but he could do his best to stop it from growing into something more. “Miss Pyke, it’s time to wake up,” he said with a smile.

Her eyes opened, and Obi-wan was frozen in time. They were half-open, and she was trying to come to terms with being awake. Her irises were a golden colour that he had never seen on a human before. They were that rich yellow that was obviously not another colour but held a warmth that only liquid gold could achieve. Her pupils were small as light hit them, but when they settled on him, he watched them grow like the smile on her lips.

“Master Kenobi,” she greeted him as she sat up. Time caught up to him, and he smiled at her.

“We’ve arrived, Miss Pyke. It’s time to get to work,” he said. She nodded and stretched her right arm above her head. She went to run her left hand through her hair, only for it to be stopped by the sling that locked her arm into place. She pouted at it slightly and rolled her eyes.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” she admitted and used her right hand for the action, though it was much more clumsy than normal. She may have been right handed, but she had no idea how to do most things with it after years of using her left. Obi-wan just smiled and nodded.

“Will you need help changing? I can have Ahsoka come assist you,” he said.

“It’s okay. If I can get this sling off, I can take off this medical top. I have a tank top underneath, so it should be easy to just throw on a shirt,” she explained, sliding out of the bed. She turned her back to him and waited. One moment. Two. “Master Kenobi?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Wait, m-me? You want me to do that?” he asked, fumbling over his words as shock hit him.

“Well, yes. It’s a lock on the back. Kix put it there so I don’t mess with it,” she said. Obi-wan could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped forward, seeing the lock. He carefully unlatched it, and she sighed in relief as she slid her arm out of the sling. “Don’t tell Kix,” she said quickly as she turned to face him. She looked down at the red shirt and back up at Obi-wan. There was a blush on her cheeks. “Um… I’ll need your help with this, too, Master Kenobi,” she spoke softly.

Obi-wan thought he was going to die.

He gingerly pulled the top over her head, helping her take her right arm through before gently pulling it off of the left arm without moving it too much. His knuckles brushed against her skin–warmer than he thought was normal–and he tried his best to contain his blush. She stood before him in her tank top now. He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over her tattoos. He had seen them before, he had even seen her in a tank top before… but this was so intimate that he couldn’t help but get a little overwhelmed, a little embarrassed.

“Almost there, master,” she said and grabbed a black t-shirt. He helped slide her left arm through it, then her right, and he pulled it over her head slowly. He was standing in front of her, hands on the hem of her shirt, and she was looking up at him. She had hair in her face from the action, and he gently brushed them away from her face. They didn’t speak, didn’t look away, didn’t dare to breathe.

He heard her heartbeat pounding, and he was sure she could hear his own.

“What did I say about that sling?!” Kix demanded as he charged into the room. Obi-wan jumped away from her, and she quickly fumbled to grab the sling.

“I just had to change, Kix,” she argued back as he strode up, apparently unaware of the tension between the jedi and the librarian. He helped slide her arm back into it and secured it behind her again.

“Then you should’ve asked me. General Kenobi is not a medical professional, and he could’ve hurt you if he wasn’t careful. You’re lucky I know that he happens to be a very careful jedi. I should order you bed rest and be done with it,” Kix reprimanded her. Obi-wan was going to defend her, but his throat was dry at the moment.

“Sorry, Kix,” she muttered.

“Are you running a fever?” Kix asked as he looked at her red face, feeling her forehead. “Take this before we leave,” he said and went to grab some pills. Obi-wan cleared his throat and headed for the door.

“I’ll meet you at the dropship the moment you can,” he said to them without looking. She refused to look at him as well, and Kix was going on some other rant about fevers and maintaining good posture the whole time. Obi-wan left and took a deep breath in the hallway.

“Kriff,” he whispered to himself.

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