Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No infringement of rights is intended.

AN: The sequel to Fallen is here! Sort of :) This chapter in particular is more of a teaser, though it is very similar to the way Fallen opens: a scene from later in the story that introduces something emotionally important to Aala. This scene actually touches on the main issues of this story that Aala will have to deal with so I'm especially anxious for some feedback. This story is a bit different from Fallen and, to be honest posting a new story is scary! I'm really unsure about it - I know there's not a lot of content here to review, but I'd love to know if you're interested in reading more. Or if it seems completely silly, you can let me know that, too :) If you're wondering, this is posted elsewhere already: this version is toned down for a general audience. Many thanks to laloga, as always, for her continuing support and feedback :)

The Fear You Won't Fall is a lovely song by Joshua Radin.

~Ashley

Exhausted and overcome with a bone deep weariness from two days of chaos on Bellassa, Aala trudged up the ramp of the sleek star skiff. Her limbs were heavy with fatigue, the muscles in her legs straining with each step forward, and she thanked the stars above for the deep cover of night. A hasty retreat seemed completely out of the realm of her capabilities right now, physically or mentally.

As she pulled herself into the helm of the intimate luxury yacht, her focus slid to one thing in particular – the oversized lounge seat set into the far wall of the main hold – the place where she'd been sleeping since they began the journey on this ship, and a wave of contented relief washed over her. It was a tiny ship, and there wasn't much to be said for her 'bed' but it was more than comfortable enough for her, especially when she was this tired.

Finally, finally they were headed to Alderaan and her chest swelled with nostalgia. The flourishing planet was as much a 'home' to her as Naboo, and she was glad to be going back after so long, even despite the space travel.

Maybe exhaustion isn't such a bad thing, she mused as she arranged the pillows on the lounge seat. She fully intended to be asleep for the entirety of the trip. Unconsciousness always made space a bit more palatable, in her opinion.

Besides that, she'd just about had it with present company, and she wasn't going to put anymore thought into it, into him, until she had at least 10 hours of sleep behind her. Honestly, she just wanted to be alone. For days, if she could manage it.

Unthinking, not caring about anything else, Aala climbed into her makeshift bed, a deep sigh escaping as she settled into the soft cushions. Trusting her companion to handle their departure safely on his own, she was sound asleep within minutes.

Aala had no idea how long it had been, but far too soon she was surfacing from the bliss of deep sleep. Distinct sensations registered one by one as she slowly came to: The weight of the blanket on top of her, the cool air recycling through the ship's ventilation, the hum of the hyperdrive, and someone – someone was there with her, but she couldn't quite bring herself to care.

Just as she was beginning to forget everything and slip back under, something, a feeling, was rousing her again.

Him.

At first, she was only aware of his roughened fingertip – tracing the line of her jaw from just under her ear to the point of her chin, caressing the slope of her neck over her throat, then drawing little patterns on the flat of her chest.

Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch, and she gave a quiet sigh as her body turned toward him.

Then she could feel him leaning over her, his voice low and husky in her ear. "I'm sorry." He paused after he said it, his lips brushing against her earlobe and before the idea had even crossed her mind, "Don't open your eyes."

"Oh," she very nearly whimpered. Maybe she didn't really want to be alone.

He pulled back again, and she could feel his gaze on her. His whole hand pressed to her skin where he'd delayed in his slow exploration, his fingers fanning out over her sternum and his thumb rubbing against the curve of her collarbone.

After what seemed ages, she shifted, restless, and his hand finally drifted lower, his fingers falling into line. Now unbuttoned, her shirt fell to her sides as his hand continued it's sweep down her torso and she shivered in the cool air, goose bumps raising on her arms.

While she was distracted by his mouth skimming over her abdomen, he slipped her trousers off and his hands continued their assault, sliding slowly down her legs.

When he reached her knees, one hand continued on, caressing her calf in slow circles, while the other hooked under her leg, bringing it toward his mouth to kiss the inside of her knee. The smoothness of his lips was contrasted by the scratch of his beard against her skin and the two varied, and unexpected, sensations sent a spark of electricity through her making her back arch just a little.

With her leg still raised, his mouth resumed the trek his hand had started, dropping kisses along her shin, then sliding to her ankle where he lingered, his tongue darting out to taste her. And when his lips pressed against the instep of her pointed foot, she gasped and her back arched again. Pleasure spiraled inside her, and her body ached for the press of him against her. She wasn't sure how much more of his unhurried inspection she could take.

"Please." Her voice was soft, more than a sigh, but not quite a moan, and she wasn't sure if he had heard.

But before she could plead again he was above her and all around her, heating her, and his mouth was on hers, caressing and coaxing. It only took the lightest touch of his tongue to her lips for her to open to him and the kiss deepened until she couldn't breath any more.

She broke away with a gasp but before she could catch her breath, he was leaning into her again. His tongue swept across her own, then over her full lower lip and she couldn't help but respond in kind.

Reaching down to grasp his hand in her own, she tried to anchor herself to reality, for she felt completely adrift. His face tilted away, but she could feel the rise and fall of his chest, much quicker now, pressed against her and she finally opened her eyes to meet his own.

His eyes were darkened by his desire, the pupils dilated so his irises were only a thin ring of stormy blue.

She would have been swept away, if not for his arm secure around her waist. She felt safe and loved and – maybe for the first time ever in space – very, very warm. Tugging on his hand, she brought it to her lips and kissed his knuckles before turning it around, palm open, so she could kiss each one of the pads of his fingertips in turn.

When she finished, he curled his fingers over her thumb and she kissed them again. Every detail was noted: his skin was warm and dry, not as pale as before and a bit rougher, his fingernails were neatly trimmed but she could see the trace of sand underneath them.

Meeting his gaze again, she felt nothing but love, flowing all around her, through her and she was captivated. "Obi-Wan," she murmured his name, her voice laced with longing.

And she heard her name in reply, but it was not Obi-Wan who said it.

Her eyes flew open and instantly locked with those of the man sitting across the room.

But it wasn't the stirring, sharp blue of Obi-Wan's eyes, it was the warm, deep brown of Jace's eyes. In a face that was clearly very amused.

Immediately her defenses went up."What are you doing?" Her voice was hoarse from sleep and she frowned at him as he regarded her.

"That must've been some dream," he teased, almost laughing now.

Her frown deepened and she struggled to untangle the blanket from around her body. "It wasn't..." she faltered. "It was... It was a – nightmare," she finished lamely.

"Ah, I see." His tone was conciliatory but she could tell by the smirk on his face that he didn't believe her. She would've blushed if not for the fact that her face was already flushed from arousal.

"What are you doing in here?" she demanded. "Shouldn't you be... flying, or something?"

"I heard a noise and I came to check," he shrugged his broad shoulders, leaning back in his chair with a casualness that only served to irritate her.

"So you decided to sit down and watch?"

"I woke you," he argued, but his smiled widened.

Damn kriffing, son-of-a sithspawn –

"Sweetheart..." mischief sparked in his eyes as he leaned toward her, strands of his dark hair falling across his forehead, "is there anything I can do?" he grinned.

"No!" Her answer was maybe a tad too quick and she felt her cheeks redden again. "Yes. Leave me alone."

Why does he insist on getting under my skin this way? Why do I let him?

She was tired. Exhausted and irritable, that was all.

Deciding to do her best to ignore him, she lay down again, pulling the blanket up and over her shoulders, despite her warmness.

It was a long peaceful moment before he spoke again.

"Take the room."

She sighed to herself. Of course, 'playboy billionaire' Jace Ryen would have a yacht designed with only one bedroom. If he hadn't insisted on always playing up to the image he'd let form of him in his younger years, they wouldn't have this problem.

At least, she was pretty sure it was only an image, but either way –

"No, thank you." She didn't care what his story for their cover was, there was no way she was climbing into Jace Ryen's bed, no matter if he was there or not.

Some lines were not meant to be crossed. Ever.

Sharing a bedroom with him in any way was just not going to happen. And it had nothing to do with the way she'd caught him looking at her.

Or his dark, brooding eyes.

...or the way he'd grabbed her and kissed her, like he'd done it a hundred times before, when they had no choice but to play their cover...

Or the fact that she was so desperate for affection she was able to conjure up completely realistic, barely dream-like romantic encounters in her sleep...

Kriffing, son-of-a – I'm not lonely. I'm not. I'm used to being alone -

"Aala. I moved all of my things. Take the room, it's all yours."

She sat up, looking at him. "But –"

"I set up a sleep pallet in one of the other holds." His voice was sincere now, a complete reversal from a moment ago.

"No, this is your ship, your money. You shouldn't have to sleep in a cargo hold."

"I've slept in worse places," he shrugged.

"And much, much better, I assume."

"Variety, my dear, is the spice of life." And just like that, his tone was teasing and flippant again, a rakish grin splitting his face.

Aala rolled her eyes at the suggestion in his voice, trying not to smile, but she was more than thankful he left the comment at that. She was too tired to act like she didn't know what he was implying and way too tired to argue.

Well, at least she'd almost made him laugh so her humiliation wasn't for nothing. Excluding the fake smile he liked to present to the public, in the short time they'd been working together, she hadn't seen a genuine smile more than once or twice.

"Thank you," she said softly, gathering up the few things she had laying on the floor.

"Anytime, sweetheart."

Sinking into the cushy mattress of the bed in the lone cabin, she couldn't help the relieved, happy sigh that escaped. The bed was soft and big enough for three people. I wonder if Jace has ever actually had...

Aala shook her head, cutting that thought off quickly. What the kriff is wrong with me? No need to go there. She was perfectly content to let her mind settle where it had been happily settling for the past 13 years.

Obi-Wan.

She sighed. Was she really that desperate? Or was her imagination just that good?

It, him, the whole thing had felt real. From the warmth of his body pressing against her, to the grains of sand under his fingernails – how could she possibly come up with that detail on her own? She hadn't seen him since he'd left her on Naboo.

Was it possible... did the Force...

If Obi-Wan had learned how to induce life-like dream interludes in her mind from across the galaxy, well, that was quite a trick. There were more than a few lonely nights in the past that it would've come in very... handy.

Aala smiled to herself, she couldn't help it. Despite the fact that minutes ago her heart had been racing, she found relaxation was coming easy now, alone in a comfy room, with a door that was locked.

She was asleep again within minutes. She wasn't sure exactly how she knew, but somewhere way in the back of her mind, she did. Everything was delightfully warm and fuzzy.

And then he was lying beside her, one strong, bare arm draped across her, his grasp on her opposite shoulder secure and attentive.

Shifting slightly, she turned so she could look at him, but his features were hard to make out in the dark. She moved closer, they were only a hair width apart, but still she couldn't quite see the details of his face. His eyes, though – his handsome eyes...

...were they blue or brown? She couldn't tell.

Lifting her hand from between them, she traced the contour of the curve of his bicep and the muscle twitched beneath her delicate touch. She marveled at the restrained power in his arms alone, and desire stirred low in her belly.

When her caress reached his shoulder, his own hand slid down her arm to her waist and he tugged her closer, so they were pressed together. Wriggling against him, she felt eager and restless.

Cupping her chin in his hand, he turned her face toward him, as if to urge her to focus. "Tell me what you want." His cultured upper Coruscanti accent made her weak in the knees.

"Obi-Wan," she acknowledged, though her mind was a bit hazy.

"What do you want?" he repeated.

There was no hesitation. "You. Just you. I want you."

He breathed deep and she felt his exhale hot against her neck. His hand moved back to her waist, brushing across her hip. Her breath hitched and then he was kissing her neck and her shoulder and her face. "I miss you," he said, his voice rough. "More than I should."

Her eyes fell shut, overwhelmed as she was by sensation and she gave a sigh as his attentions increased.

"Obi-Wan..."

He made a noise when she said his name again, a low rumble that came from deep in his chest and heat surged inside her as her arms rose to cling around his shoulders.

"I love you," Aala said, her voice little more than a whisper. She pulled back to look at him and the shade of his eyes was as clear to her as the depth of the emotion within them.

"I love you, too," Obi-Wan answered.

Nothing, ever, had sounded as good.