Author's Notes: This was written for a quotes challenge. The quote is "Son, your body is writing checks that your body can't cash," from Top Gun.
Timeframe: Sometime after Truce at Bakura... ;)
Summary: Mirax Terrik picks up an EV Luke. :)
Length: vignette
Flyboy
Wedge Antilles owed her big time. Mirax Terrik was used to smuggling Jedi artifacts and selling them to the highest bidder. She was not used to, however, smuggling Jedi [i]themselves[/i]. Luke Skywalker had gone EV in the middle of a space battle, and she'd had to pick him up in the Skate. Unfortunately, his suit had begun losing life support, and he'd been sick with hypothermia by the time she reached him. So not only did she have to play transport, she also had to play nursemaid. Mirax tossed her thick braid over her shoulder irritably as she tucked a thick blanket around Skywalker. She'd stayed up all night with him to keep an eye on his temperature, and because he moaned in his sleep. Mirax smoothed back his blonde hair as he stirred in his sleep, letting sympathy override her irritation. The last few years had obviously been hard on him, and he carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.
Mirax decided she must be growing soft if the sight of a helpless man made her emotional. Wedge was really going to pay for this. She decided then to move away from the sleeping Jedi, but strangely her hand refused to leave his smooth forehead, and the peaceful look on his face was quite captivating. He moved into her touch, and sighed softly. "Leia."
"Leia?" Mirax raised an eyebrow. How cute, he had a little crush on the princess. She'd killed men for less than mistaking her for another woman. She snatched her hand away as he stirred again, opening his clear blue eyes.
They widened upon focusing on her. "Um, hello."
"Hey yourself," Mirax nodded to him.
Luke sat up, the blanket falling down to his waist. "Who are you?"
"Mirax Terrik," she let her eyes roam over his well sculpted chest. "Do you work out?"
"Huh?" Luke asked, then turned bright red as he looked down. He lifted the blanket, and his cheeks darkened to scarlet. "Um," he took a deep breath, avoiding her gaze. "Where are my clothes?"
"In the wash," Mirax wrinkled her nose. "They were absolutely filthy." She laughed at the look of disbelief on his face. "You had hypothermia flyboy, I had to get your temperature up."
Luke slowly pulled his blanket up to his chest. "Y-you?"
"Do you see anyone else here?" Mirax cocked an eyebrow.
"No,...but..."
Mirax got to her feet, and ruffled his hair. "Relax Lukie, you have nothing I haven't seen before."
Luke stared at her. "Lukie?"
"It's your nickname," Mirax informed him, moving away from his bunk. "Stay there, I'll get you some broth."
"I'm not hungry."
"You will be when I'm done," Mirax replied simply. "You may want to lie down, Lukie, you'll feel better sooner."
She left him gaping after her.
***
From what Mirax remembered of Luke Skywalker, he was born and raised on Tattooine. She spent far longer than she would have liked trying to synthesize bantha meat broth. Now she was turning chef for this man. She decided that she'd better return him to the Alliance as quickly as possible, before she ended up sewing the holes in his flight uniform. How did he manage to get one on the ankle anyway?
Shaking her head, Mirax carried the broth into the medbay, finding Luke wandering about searching for his clothes. The moment he saw her, he jumped back in the bed, giving her his best wide eyed, innocent look. "Can I have my clothes back?" he asked.
"Depends."
"On?"
"Your abilities to stay in bed," Mirax pulled up a chair beside his bunk. "Can't have you fainting while wandering about my ship. I don't feel very inclined to carting you around again."
Luke tipped his head to the side. "You carried me?"
Mirax met his gaze steadily. "I'm a lot stronger than I look, flyboy."
"I believe it."
"Good," Mirax extended the broth to him. "Here, drink this."
Luke pushed it away. "I'm not hungry." He gave her a pleading look. "I need to return to the Alliance."
Mirax sat next to him on the bed and held the bowl in front of him. "Look, honey, you can either drink this like a good boy," she stroked his cheek, "or I'll have to charge Wedge extra for spoonfeeding."
"You wouldn't," Luke protested.
"Wouldn't I?" Mirax asked, looking pointedly down at the blanket covering him, then slowly turning her gaze upward.
Luke froze. "You would."
"There's hope for you yet, Lukie," Mirax patted his arm and handed him the bowl. "Drink up, then it's back to sleep for you."
"I'm not tired," Luke yawned, lifting the bowl to his lips. "Maybe I can help you repair something."
Mirax wondered if all Jedi were this stubborn. "Yourself, maybe. I make it a policy not to deliver damaged goods."
Luke shook his head. "I've got to do something. Do you have any remotes I can borrow?"
"Whatever for?"
"Saber practice."
Mirax raised an eyebrow. "You plan on sparring remotes naked?"
Luke blushed. "No, I meant for you to give me my uniform back."
"The moment I think you're well enough, I will."
"I'm well enough now," Luke persisted, finishing the rest of the broth. "I can prove it to you..."
Mirax pursed her lips, suddenly recalling the old Garik Loran holodrama, Ace Pilot, There was a specific quote that definitely applied here. She took the empty bowl from Luke and placed it on the night stand. "Son, your ego is writing checks your body can't cash."
Luke blinked, giving her a funny look. "Son?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Mirax smirked. "Do you prefer honey?"
"Yes!" Luke exclaimed, before realizing what he'd said. "I mean no..."
Mirax placed her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him down. "Go back to sleep, honey. I'll be here when you wake."
Luke looked up at her stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.
She raised an eyebrow, and leaned over. "What are you waiting for Lukie? A kiss good night?"
He gave her a decidedly impish grin. "Maybe I am."
"Too bad," Mirax got to her feet and threw him a wink. "I only give kiss good mornings."
