{Execution}
When he woke up, his brain took time to remember the past day's events. His fingers searched for the Force restraining collar. They traced the cold metal encompassing his throat. His eyes wandered to the limp form beside him. Blond hair was splayed out, limbs tucked into a ball. She was shivering slightly. Her face was streaked with, grime, and open cuts oozed. She stirred, then rolled over to face him, waking. He could see the glint of the metal of the same collar he was wearing to restrain their Force abilities.
"Obi Wan?" The cracked voice shattered the silence.
He moved in front of her, touching her hand.
"It's today, isn't it?"
He nodded, gripping her hand tighter. She sighs in resignation. They've been here for weeks, as the local councilors were debating on what to do with their captive Jedi. Yesterday they had come to a decision. They were to be executed.
Siri's voice shook him out of his thoughts.
"We may as well wash up. Don't want to look a mess for our execution, do we?"
He allowed a mirthless smile. Still, he complied, washing his face in the basin by the old and rusted sink while she changed into the clothes provided as a cruel joke.
She sat on the floor as he braided her hair. Sunlight fell through cracks in the walls of their prison, rays lighting up golden locks. She grasped his hand, leaning into him as they waited for the guards to pick them up.
As they were walked to the execution site, they sought comfort in each other, drinking in the other's presence. They'd be together, for the last moments of their lives...
They were there, the blade was to be dropped any moment...
He kicked out, rolled out of the way, grabbed her, and ran...
They took off in their stolen space craft, battle cruisers firing on their tail...
The craft was spinning out of control, they were crashing to the ground...
They finally crashed as their bodies entwined, tangling in the throes of sorrow of what was lost...
And of what could've been.
Yup. I went there. I ship them. Take that, fellow fanfictioners.