Title: Eluding What Will Come
Summary: A bounty hunter falls in love with her Jedi prey on the eve of his confrontation with Vader.
Rating: T (sexual situations, violence)
Characters: OCs, Darth Vader
Disclaimer: The GFFA doesn't belong to me, neither does Vader. Naturally my OCs do.
Author's Notes: This fic was originally posted on the Jedi Council back in 2004, where it was nominated some-and-such awards but never won. I was always hesitant to post it here because it's purely based on original characters, and I wasn't sure what, if any, response it would get. But my good friend obaona – a long time supporter of this fic – convinced me over lunch this afternoon that some readers here may want to give it a shot. Thanks again to AmidalaSkywalker (shadowserenity) and Carrkicksdoor for the beta read so long ago.

Thanks for reading!

"You cannot run forever, Jedi!" The voice would have been lost to the winds had its owner not been yelling. "Stop!"

The man had clearly heard the order, but he still leapt up to the meter-high durasteel guidance rail before facing his purser. The fierce night air blew a chill into his robes and through his tunics, but he did not shiver - he had long since trained his body not to react to such things. He pulled his outer robes aside and reached for the lightsaber hanging on his left hip. He did not ignite it, however. In fact, he didn't even bother to lift it off his belt.

He crouched on the narrow railing, grabbing onto the bar with his free hand for support. His stare and pose resembled a Binarian sabercat ready for the kill more than a human facing an attacker. He stilled and waited for the bounty hunter to strike.

The hunter stood a few meters away with her blaster raised and pointed at his chest. She steadied her hand for the shot against the gusts of air, but did not fire.

"Aren't you going to shoot me, Nyssa?" he asked in a low, growling tone. He was baiting her to assault first and she knew it.

It was a familiar routine: the end of the chase, which would lead to a showdown between the two. Nyssa would fire; Daven would block the bolts with his lightsaber. Sometimes he would even reflect them back to their originator, causing Nyssa to duck for cover from her own firepower. She had worn a personal energy shield after their first few encounters, but, even if the blasts couldn't rend her flesh, they caused a dense plume of smoke after making contact with the shield. Nyssa would soon lose sight of her prey, and Daven would disappear.

But she had never had him cornered quite so well before. His only two options were surrender and execution or the two hundred-meter drop and the instant death that waited at its bottom.

He could resist his fate and fight her like he always did, but Nyssa had the feeling that even a Jedi couldn't keep his balance on that five centimeter-thick bar upon which he was currently perched.

"Give it up, Daven. There is no way out this time," she told him. She was yet unaware that her dark blonde hair had fallen out of its topknot and was currently waving around her face in a harsh dance with the wind. "I can make your death quick and relatively painless. Vader won't be so kind."

Nyssa didn't bother to elaborate on her reference to the famed Sith. The cloaked and masked man had appeared at Palpatine's side the day the former Chancellor officially reorganized the Republic into the first Galactic Empire. Palpatine had called this black creature – who resembled a twisted and evil droid more than a man – his apprentice and servant. He then proceeded to place a bounty on every head left from the Jedi Order, even the children and non-Jedi that were believed to have Force potential. Dead or alive, Palpatine offered the same reward – two million credits per clearly identifiable head.

There were rumors that the Jedi the troops didn't kill and the bounty hunters failed to collect became the special targets of Lord Vader himself and that Dark Lord was as brutal as he looked. Sometimes, his Jedi opponent would fall in to him merciful combat. Those that he managed to capture, however, were tortured to death or worse – made to renounce the Jedi before their slow deaths.

Daven smirked at Nyssa, a look that betrayed his youth. His auburn hair was also flying freely in the extreme breeze. It had grown longer, Nyssa noticed, since she had managed to hunt him down last.

"There is always a way out, beautiful," he declared. He removed his left hand from the hilt of his lightsaber and released his right from the railing, standing up as he did so. "See you around." With that, he took a single step back and fell.

"Daven!" Nyssa cried as she lost sight of him. She heard no scream or even the thump of a body hitting earth as she dashed towards the edge of the building and leaned over the railing. She looked down, feverishly hunting for his corpse, but found nothing, not even the shadow of his retreating form.

Not that she was surprised – she should have expected Daven to have some sort of Jedi trick left to play. He had never once led her anywhere on one of their many chases without having some plan of escape.

"Damn," she said in an almost dutiful admittance of failure. She tapped the metal railing with her finger in frustration before turning away. She would catch him eventually – no, soon – she told herself smugly. He couldn't evade her forever. There would be a day when she would gladly present his head, still wearing that infuriating smirk, to the Emperor.

And she would finally win.

Why, then, did she panic when she saw Daven jump?

Because you wanted to kill him yourself, Nyssa continued to tell herself as she sipped down the last remnants of her drink. She had lost track of time as she sat in the dank and gloomy cantina, drinking away her self-loathing.

How many times had she come so close to catching that Jedi, only to have him and his bounty slip through her fingers? She had lost count. She remembered the first time she had seen the impressively long list of contracts posted at the local bounty office on Nal Hutta. The rewards offered were phenomenal – one catch would make for an early retirement, two would make for an extraordinarily comfortable early retirement. She had picked his name off the list at random, "Daven Staver." The name looked boring, average, and woefully mediocre on its perch near the bottom of the list of mythically powerful beings – an easy catch.

That was two years ago. Since the day Nyssa had taken up Daven's contract, she had pursued him from one end of the galaxy to the other: from the streets of downtown Aldera to a snow filled bank on Hapes. She even added the untamed wilds of Kashyyyk to her itinerary after the stowaway Jedi had boarded a slaving vessel.

As he escaped her time after time, she began to wonder if the prize was really worth the trouble, or if the thrill of the hunt had simply taken over her motivations completely.

"Buy the wanderer a drink?" a calm but weathered male voice asked, breaking into Nyssa's thoughts.

She looked up sharply, knowing the voice immediately. Its owner was also easily recognizable, even if he had changed clothes to blend in with the local cantina patrons. Apparently, Daven had traded what was left of his Jedi robes for a discreet pair of brown trousers and a black dewback hide jacket. If his lightsaber still hung at his side, Nyssa couldn't spot it.

His light blue eyes glistened slightly, acknowledging her surprise, as he sat down in the vacant chair across from her. He ran a hand through his hair, adjusting a few rebellious red strands.

"You have a lot of nerve, Jedi," Nyssa hissed, trying to sound irritated at his intrusion. She was secretly pleased that he was sitting in front of her, but she wasn't ready to admit the feeling even to herself. "What's to say I wouldn't blast you into tiny pieces now that you're in my sights?" She smiled coldly and narrowed her eyes as the misty green of her irises flashed.

"Oh," – he raised his eyebrows at the question – "the energy prohibitors the barkeep so graciously installed to reduce the fighting. Don't tell me you didn't notice that little cannon of yours fall down to minimum power."

She gave a low growl in response and quickly looked down to her belt to find that, indeed, her blaster's charge was flashing blue. Her eyes flickered back up to give him a sour expression. She hefted her glass and filled her mouth with the last drops of bitter alcohol.

"You'll be happy to know that such prohibitors don't affect lightsabers, though," Daven continued brightly, watching her as she finished drinking. "So you really shouldn't try anything." It should've been a threat, but he spoke so carelessly that Nyssa could have easily thought he was merely suggesting what to order off the menu.

That was another of the many annoyances that were Daven Staver. Why did the man insist on being so pleasant, chipper, and positive? She had always heard that Jedi were stoic and calm, never letting their masks of solidity crumble. But there was Daven, telling jokes in the middle of combat, calling her "beautiful" whenever she came close enough to kill him.

It was as if he toyed with her, as if his bounty was some sort of game. He could have ended her life on so many occasions, yet he decided to keep the chase going.

"Why don't you just kill me, then?" she asked suddenly, catching Daven off guard. "You are armed and I am not. Kill me and end your trouble." She could feel her face grow hot. Daven's dive off the roof was yet another, no matter how small, indication of his true power. She had heard of Vader choking men to death without even touching them, and she had little doubt that Daven could do the same.

For years Nyssa had believed that the chase had been just as much a test of his skill as it had been for hers. Now she was not so sure. Daven's amused grin and head cocked to the side wasn't helping her feel any better.

"'End my trouble?'" he repeated. He shook his head after a moment's pause. "I'm afraid it would not be so easy. Rumor has it that you are one of the best bounty hunters in the galaxy. All those assassinated separatist leaders and annihilated rebel cells and, oh, let's not forget the many, many dead Hutt minions make for a very impressive resume, if I say so myself." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. His eyes narrowed judgmentally and his hardened features were in sharp contrast to the cheeriness of his voice.

"And?" Nyssa grumbled. Daven, despite his sense of humor, had still managed to assert the Jedi "holier than thou" trait, as she liked to call it.

"Why have a horde of lesser bounty hunters chasing after me when I could stick with just the one good one?" he stated rhetorically, nearly singing the words. "With you on the prowl after me, why would anyone else bother? I thought Vader might even forget about me, even if just for a little while."

"I get it," she nodded, displeased. "I'm your shield." She didn't bother to hide her annoyance.

"More or less," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"I hate you, Jedi."

"I know," he smiled triumphantly. "But I like you." His tone became suddenly sober, and he stared sadly at her empty glass. "Although our encounters have not always been … enjoyable … it was nice to have somebody there. A constant in my life of inconstancies, if you will."

"I don't understand. Why are you telling me this?" the bounty hunter tried to look stern, cruel even, but his dejected sigh caused her to worry. What had happened to the fearless warrior she had fought so many times?

"Vader is coming for me," he told her softly, almost in whisper. "You've taken too long, I think. I could not evade notice forever."

"Vader? How do you know?" Nyssa tried to hide her fear of the Dark Lord. True, she was not his target, but, if she got in his way, she could very well be killed. She had heard that he even murdered his subordinates when he was merely displeased. She could only imagine how he would treat a failed bounty hunter.

"I've sensed him," Daven said. He seemed unfocused, dreamy even. "He's here now, you know, on Corellia."

Nyssa allowed herself a sharp sigh. "You're going to fight him?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked rhetorically, misleadingly chipper. His empty smile, however, clearly showed his grief. "In truth, I had a nice little corner in the cargo hold of a ship bound for Manaan in the morning. I was going to slip out while you were in a drunken stupor."

She gritted her teeth at the comment. He had called her a "barbarian lush" on more than occasion and each time she returned it with "Jedi drone." She certainly could have thought of some comeback in this instance, but his seriousness humbled her.

He smirked sadly at her annoyance.

"I came because I wanted to say goodbye," he looked at her, staring directly into her eyes. "I don't think I'll see you again, Nyssa. Take care of yourself, bounty hunter."

She nodded, trying not to let the sorrow overwhelm her; it was, after all, only a lost two million, wasn't it?

"You too, Jedi," was all she found herself able to say. He nodded and gave her a small, mock salute before standing up silently and leaving her.

Leaving her alone. She watched him walk away from her corner booth, and she wished for another drink.

Say goodbye to your comfy retirement. The words echoed in the back of her mind. Well, fine, the thought was there - in there, somewhere - definitely, but it wasn't predominant. Actually, she doubted it was even true.

Say goodbye to Daven.

Her heart jumped up in her chest and did a small flip, causing her to come to a rather bizarre conclusion.

"Daven! Wait!" she shouted, but he was already out the door and out of earshot.