Rating: PG
Setting: The week of Sept. 10, 2000
Summary: The Sith-germs strike back!
Feedback: ummm, sure! Although why you would want to respond to this is beyond me. sleeperdown@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.dreamwater.net/pottedcactus/erjika
Archive: Why do you want this? But go for it, if thou must haveth it.
Disclaimer: At the bottom (don't want to give anything else away!)
"ugghhh..." She tried to focus on the screen for the millionth time, but it kept blurring out. /Of all days they had to pile the homework on.../ She rubbed her throat painfully. She hadn't been able to talk all day, which fortunately got her out of the French presentation, but the pain just wasn't worth it. The sithly germs had decided to clog her entire head and neck, but then they thought it wasn't good enough for their Dark Side tendencies- nooo, they had to give her a runny nose and allergies too!
She glanced mournfully at the trashcan overflowing with pink and white tissues. /What the sith inspired me to get PINK tissues??!! I hate pink! Argghhh, I hate this!/ Not only this, but she had this horrible Russian Christmas song stuck in her head. Ack. Feelings of disgust for the pink tissues, the music, and the Dark Side illness overwhelmed her. Determination and seething fury gave her some much needed energy, and she glared at the screen, trying to make sense of the conquistadores and their exploits in the New World. /Bet they never had diseases like this,/ as she read about the spread of smallpox. /"Juan Ponce de Leon, the first conquistador, sailed with Colombus in 15......"/ The words swam before her. Finally she gave herself up to the dizziness.
* * *
"whaa...?" She blinked in the harsh light.
"Oh, you're awake! Sorry about that." The light dimmed, leaving her in blissful darkness. She snuggled deeper under the thick blankets....
/Wait! What? Why are there blankets?/ For the past three nights, it had been 90 degrees outside. Her head popped up.
A pair of blue eyes stared at her. "Where am I?" she asked. Her eyes grew big. /I can talk now!!/
Ever so slowly, the blue eyes became surrounded by a face, which turned out to be a male face, which was surrounded by hair. Long hair. Half pulled back. No one wore their hair like that, except maybe hippies... which reminded her of the Sith Academy... errr...
"You wouldn't happen to be named Qui-Gon, would you?"
His blurred lips formed what looked like a smile, but her vision was still wacked up, so she wasn't sure. "Yes, it is, in fact. How do you know me?"
She felt the blood rush up to her cheeks. "Ummm, you don't want to know." He raised an eyebrow. She rushed ahead. "Sooo, where am I and what am I doing here?"
One last quizzical look before his features went into that ponderous Jedi expression we've all come to know and love. "You seem to be like a magnet for the Dark Side. We can't explain it, but you were sent to the Healers to see what they could do about it."
Dark Side, eh? That would explain her bizarre love for depressing Russian Christmas music. "And that's why I was sick?"
Another smile. Yes, it was a smile. Her vision finally cleared up most of the way, and she noticed the rest of the room for the first time. /earthtones. I HATE earthtones. And I HATE pink. ack./ "Yes. The Healers have eradicated most of the disease, but there are still some viruses left inside you that may turn back to the Light. If they can be turned, it will be much easier than destroying them, and they may even keep away the Dark Siders."
Viruses turning back from the Dark Side? Hmmm... /I wonder if there are virus Jedi.../
"No Jedi, but they can be Force-sensitive," Qui-Gon pulled the thought out of her disoriented brain. "You need to stay here until we can be sure they have been turned, or have been killed." He cocked his head to one side. "The Healer is coming now."
No sooner than he had said it, in walked... a bird?
With bright blue feathers, /she? he? it?/ looked like Big Bird on crack in a opium-laced Beach Blanket Babylon.
"Alright, let's get to it!" It sounded like a mix between Ewan McGregor and Kermit the Frog.
She felt a soothing energy surround her. "Sleep," it whispered, and she surrendered willingly.
* * *
"ugghhh..." She had fallen asleep on the keyboard. /Gah! I'm going to have keys imprinted on my forehead!/ She glanced up and saw only an hour had past. She reached for her throat... and found it wasn't hurting. In fact, she felt pretty damn good, aside from a bit of fatigue. She read the screen, and the words actually made sense! "Whooo, yeah!" And even better, that damn Russian Christmas song was out of her head!!! She grinned like a maniac on a sugar high (which was not an unusual state for her). She got up to stretch, and saw something flutter down. A slight frown, she leaned over to pick it up.
She grinned. It was a bright blue feather.
~finis~
Yeah, that was utterly mindless. I just had to get it outta my system.
Disclaimer: Qui-Gon is not mine, he belongs to George Lucas. The hippie idea belongs to the Sith Academy, run by Siubhan. Ewan McGregor belongs to himself, I'm pretty sure, but if he doesn't, I'm first in line to own him! ;) Kermit belongs to the Jim Henson Company, and Big Bird belongs to whoever the creators for Sesame Street are. "Russian Christmas Music" belongs to Alfred Reed. The pink tissues belong to Kimberley-Clark. The crack and opium belong to someone, I'm sure, but not me. Plot idea and the info revolving around it (like the stuff about the conquistadores) are mine! :)