CHAPTER 1

Notes: In this AU, Qui-Gon survived the duel on Naboo (for those readers that didn't read A Union Of Souls). Palpatine was exposed as a Sith Lord several months into the Clone Wars and killed in a duel with Obi-Wan. This story is set a little more than three years later (probably just before the start of Revenge Of The Sith in Lucas' universe).

Pairings: Qui-Gon/Other and Obi-Wan/Padmé.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila groaned as she heard the door to Dex's open. Near closing time and more customers? For kriff's sake, she was already in her fresher singing badly and loudly in her mind!

Nevertheless, she pasted on her best smile and made her way out of the kitchen. The fake smile became genuine when she recognized one of the customers. Obi-Wan Kenobi was a good friend of hers and came in often – sometimes on official Jedi business, sometimes just for a caf and a bantha burger.

Kila knew some people were afraid of the Jedi and their mystical powers. She rather liked them, on the other hand. They were polite, always paid their bills and didn't trash the place.

Order pad in hand, she headed over to the Knight who'd taken a seat opposite a very big man dressed in similar fashion, but easily thirty years older than Obi-Wan and herself. Another Jedi Knight? "Hi, guys – what can I get you?" she asked.

Obi-Wan looked up from the intense conversation he'd been having in some strange language with the big man and smiled at her. "Good evening, Kila," he replied. "I'll have a caf and a polan tart."

The big man looked up also, and Kila was startled at his strong, handsome features. Bright blue eyes, a firm chin and long gray hair gone silver at the sides made him look leonine and powerful. "Ah … just a glass of water for me, please," he said, giving Kila a warm smile.

Kila frowned playfully – she'd told Obi-Wan once that no-one could come to Dex's and not expect to be fed. "I can't get you something to eat?" she asked. She recognized the drawn look of someone who'd gone several hours without food or drink. "Something light but nutritious – Chandril winter broth perhaps."

The big man chuckled. "Persistent little thing, aren't you?" he teased. "The broth would be nice; thank you."

"Be with you shortly," Kila said, yanking her gaze away from those arresting features. Even though the rules regarding Jedi and attachments had been relaxed more than ten years ago, to the great pleasure of many people in the Republic, it didn't mean that this handsome older man would go for the likes of a little non-entity like Kila Marik.

"Don't rush off," Obi-Wan said now. "We could use a woman's opinion."

Kila passed the order to one of the waitress droids then sat down next to the big Jedi – she felt unusually drawn to him. "I'm all ears," she said.

"It shows," Obi-Wan said, face straight but eyelid drooping.

"Horrible beast," Kila replied mildly. "I don't think you deserve my wisdom now."

Obi-Wan widened his eyes and folded his hands together in a supplicating gesture. "Oh, forgive me, My Lady!" he teased. "I need your wisdom."

Kila sighed dramatically. "Very well," she acquiesced. "I'm listening."

Obi-Wan paused and looked suddenly bashful. "I'm … ah … thinking of proposing a bonding," he said.

Kila chuckled. "Well, it's about time," she said. "You've been insane about the Senator all the time I've known you!"

The young Jedi blushed, making him suddenly look much younger. "You could tell?"

The big man smirked at Kila. "So much for Jedi being attuned to feelings," he commented.

Kila shook her head firmly with a slight frown – she always got annoyed when she felt Obi-Wan was being put down. "It's sometimes easier to see other people's feelings – you have the benefit of distance," she said.

She'd met Obi-Wan several years earlier – just before the Clone Wars started – and they'd begun a friendship. Of a similar age to each other, both in their mid to late 30s, they had an almost brother/sister relationship. Obi-Wan had helped her overcome an almost crippling timidity and the insularity borne of her experiences just prior to her arrival on Coruscant and she'd cooked for him and listened to his troubles.

The handsome man raised an eyebrow. "Point taken," he admitted, yanking Kila back to the present. "I'm Qui-Gon Jinn, by the way. Jedi Master."

"Kila Marik." She clasped the Jedi's hand, her fingers almost swallowed whole by his. He was so very … large. He should have been intimidating, yet there was an aura of serenity about him that was very appealing.

And let's not think that way!, she told herself firmly. She turned her attention back to Obi-Wan. "So; what's the problem? You think Senator Amidala will say no?"

Kila couldn't see that happening somehow. She'd only seen the Senator and Obi-Wan together a few times, but sightless creatures in neighboring star systems could have seen that they were in love.

Obi-Wan blinked. "She's never expressed any interest in marriage," he said.

"When has she had the chance?" Kila countered reasonably. "It's only recently that you Jedi have even been allowed to marry – it's a big adjustment for Jedi and non-Jedi alike. She's probably just enjoying the fact that you can hold hands without facing censure." She smiled at the Jedi. "And she's still a bit younger than you, too."

Qui-Gon nodded his head, some long locks of hair dancing around his broad shoulders. And Kila felt the urge to push his hair back, run her fingers through the soft-looking strands. "You're very wise, Miss Marik."

"Kila … please," Kila said. "I'm not one for formalities."

"Kila," Qui-Gon repeated in that damnably soft voice with the unidentifiable accent, looking thoughtfully at her.

And Kila shivered. Now she understood the term 'bedroom eyes'. In the years since she'd left Tatooine and come to live on Coruscant, she'd seen many handsome men. Yet never had she felt any interest in one, never felt her senses comes alive like this. She shook her head minutely and smirked. "Of course I'm wise – I'm a woman," she offered smugly, rubbing at her aching neck.

Qui-Gon laughed out loud at this, drawing several interested stares from the other waitresses that remained at Dex's. "Modest, also," he replied dryly.

Kila shrugged her shoulders, and then looked down at her wrist chrono. "Sithspit! I hate to kick you boys out, but …" She got up and picked up Qui-Gon's empty glass and held out her hand for the crockery.

"But you're going to," Obi-Wan said, taking the unsubtle hint and finishing off his polan tart in several inelegant gulps. He and Qui-Gon got up and made their way out of the booth, Obi-Wan throwing Dex a friendly wave. The hulking owner returned the wave with two of his four meaty hands before giving Kila a meaningful stare. Dexter Jettster was a good man and a fair boss, but he demanded a full day's work for a full day's pay.

"Sorry," Kila said. "It was nice meeting you, Master Jinn." She poured his soup into a large travel flask and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed and a wave of heat engulfed her.

"Qui-Gon," the older man corrected. "You're not one of my Padawans."

"Qui-Gon," she echoed obediently. She turned to the younger Jedi. "And you … don't over-think things. You love Senator Amidala, she loves you – just let things take their natural course."

"Yes, O Wise One," Obi-Wan intoned solemnly, that solemnity belied by his dancing eyes and poorly-concealed smirk.

Kila laughed. "Go away, you horrible creature!" she said, wondering anew at just how much like a brother the Jedi felt like to her.

"I'm going," Obi-Wan replied cheerfully. "I'll think about what you said."

"Good," Kila said. She wasn't sure she believed in soul-mates, but Obi-Wan and Padmé Amidala looked good together and were obviously very much in love.

"Good night, Kila," Qui-Gon added more quietly with another warm smile – a smile that crinkled his eyes and took years from his features.

"Good night, Mas … Qui-Gon," Kila said. The two Jedi left and Kila chuckled when low feminine groans greeted their departure. She had to agree … there was something magnetic about the quiet, self-disciplined Jedi. So much strength and power beneath a calm veneer – like an explosive substance building up.

She went to the kitchen and grabbed some cleaning equipment, then set to work cleaning up the detritus of a busy day.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila made herself a cup of caf and opened the window to step out onto her balcony. It might be tiny – with only room for one small table and chair – but it was hers. She stood against the railing and watched as the sun came up. Although she knew that Capitol City was climate-controlled, the beautiful misty oranges and reds never failed to impress her after twenty-some years of the scorching Tatooine suns.

She caught sight of her neighbor – a Twi'lek female maybe a little younger than herself – and returned the friendly wave. Like herself, Shalla had lived on Tatooine. Unlike herself, however, Shalla had been a pleasure worker in one of Jabba the Hutt's many flesh palaces.

Kila shuddered at what the beautiful young Twi'lek must have gone through. Kila had suffered enough hardship herself as Gardulla's personal attendant, but the female Hutt had shown no interest in selling Kila on to one of the flesh palaces. She probably wouldn't have got very much for her, anyway.

Jabba, on the other hand … He repulsed even the other Hutts for his many excesses and that was saying something. The reptilian Hutt species had an entirely different set of mores to that of most humanoid societies – they thought nothing of rape, murder, extortion, theft. Lives were merely another commodity to those long-lived creatures.

Gardulla had been bad-tempered and unpredictable, yet she'd never inflicted on Kila the worst of her violent inclinations until that terrible day nearly five years ago. And Kila hadn't always been a model slave – she had opinions and she'd sometimes voiced them. Kila had the feeling that something in Gardulla had wanted someone who would oppose her once in a while.

With a small shiver, and a quick prayer of gratitude to whatever higher being or beings had enabled her to escape Tatooine and come to Coruscant, Kila took a careful sip of the still hot caf. Then she bit into the delicious sweet and flaky pastry Dex had given her last night as they'd closed up. Dex was a tough guy and was famous for his brawls – both onworld and off – but he had a soft spot for Kila, feeding her during the day and acting as a defender against anyone that might come on too strong.

She checked her wall chrono and sighed. Time to hit the fresher then another busy day beckoned.

You never know, something inside her said slyly, you might see Master Big And Handsome Jinn again.

Kila shook her head. Shut up, she told herself before heading for the fresher.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila shifted her heavy load and used her hip to bump open the door to the Temple Archives before breezing through, offering greetings to some of the Jedi she knew.

She passed Master Mace Windu, a very solemn intimidating Jedi, and nodded her head to him. "Master Windu," she said.

He nodded his smooth-shaven head and then returned his attention to his console – paying Kila no further attention. She could live with that. He wasn't being rude; he simply had very little time for anything outside of his duties as a Jedi Master. Kila could only admire that kind of dedication while knowing she could never replicate it – she was pretty scattered in some respects, prone to wild enthusiasm and a fondness for frivolity.

In an adjoining room, she could hear Master Yoda instructing some young neophytes in the mysterious ways of the Force, his odd grasp of Basic coupled with his small form making him seem endearing, eccentric … harmless, even.

Harmless! Great gobs of bantha poo-doo. She'd seen him once in action against another Master – a tall Mon Calamari who could have made ten of him. He was a whirling dervish of destruction, and Kila was just glad that he was on the side of Light.

"Good morning, Kila."

Kila turned and smiled at Obi-Wan. "Morning, Master Kenobi," she said teasingly. She lifted her heavy load onto a handy table, and then opened one of the boxes to reveal two large cups of caf … along with a Corellian flatbread that was one of her particular favorites. Kila shook her head – Dex never lost out on a chance to feed her up. "Dex sends his regards," she told Obi-Wan, handing him one of the cups.

Obi-Wan grinned, making his face look startlingly boyish in spite of his nearly forty years. "Oh, I love you!" he said.

Kila chuckled. "I'd be flattered except I know you're talking to the caf." Obi-Wan's … fondness for the mild stimulant was famed throughout the Jedi Temple and beyond.

Obi-Wan returned the laugh. "Oh, you're as bad as I am, Miss Marik," he shot back. But that didn't stop him from taking a long draught of the cup and emitting a pleasured sigh.

"Well, as much as I'd love to stand here and chat, I have a job to do. And so do you," Kila said, poking her friend in the arm.

"Slave driver," Obi-Wan said dryly before taking both cups of caf and departing with them.

"Hey!" Kila grumbled. "Man carries a lightsaber, thinks he's some kind of god …" She made her way into the large kitchen, mumbling to herself as she began restocking a nearby shelf with the supplies the Temple cooks had ordered.

She dragged the ladder over and made her way up, trying to ignore the fact that only a lightweight piece of metal stood between her and a nasty tumble to the ground.

Too late …

She gulped and her stomach churned. She finished putting away the supplies then began to make her way back down, but made the fateful mistake of looking down.

Never had three meters seemed so much before.