PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT

Tahiri Veila ate mat hard. So hard, in fact, that the friction between the synthetic fabric and her skin caused an enormous burn down the length of her arm.

She attempted to get up, but on thinking again, decided on staying in that position, as her sparring partner came rushing over to her side, mumbling apologies.

"I'm so sorry, Tahiri," he was saying, as he gingerly lifted her up and sat her on the edge of the blue mat. "I thought you were going to block that last attack, and then when my leg connected with your knees…"

He traced lightly over her searing flesh with his fingertips, and winced in sympathy, as even this small amount pressure drew a sharp intake of breath from her.

She watched in wonderment as he slid over the polished floor to the edge of the training ring, grabbed a handful of bacta gel tubes, and came to rest beside her again in one fluid movement.

Tahiri wriggled out of his grasp as he endeavoured to put a large blob of the cooling gel on her friction burn, and laughed at the scandalized expression that flashed across his handsome face.

"It's fine, Anakin, there's nothing to worry about," she assured him with a small giggle. "Really, it's ok. It's just a superficial burn…it looks a lot worse than it actually is."

She rotated her arm from the elbow as proof that she was really ok, but could tell by his frowning brow that Anakin didn't buy it for one minute.

Tahiri tried a different tactic, standing up and jumping around, and letting her injured arm slap her side. After the third jump, Anakin had grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her down rather forcefully, so that she was again by his side on the edge of the mat.

"Anakin, I really…" she began to protest, but was silenced as his hand covered her mouth. He then opened a tube of bacta gel, and with his free hand, began to liberally apply the salve to her arm.

When he was done, Tahiri watched as he sat back and admired his work, completely oblivious to the scowl that had crept on her face. She sat there in silence, her arms folded across her chest, and waited for him to notice.

If he was aware of this, he didn't show it, and proceeded to carry the tubes back over to their place on the edge of the arena. His ignorance, deliberate or not, frustrated Tahiri immensely, and she continued to sit on the mat, positively breathing steam in her effort to control her growing anger.

To start off with, he'd forced his aide on her, even though he should know by now that the Yuuzhan Vong in her liked a little pain from time to time and now he was snubbing her, and acting like nothing had happened; like he hadn't hurt her in the first place.

Well, she wouldn't let him get away with it that easily. Not without a back rub at least. And maybe a spin in his new hover car.

Tahiri's lips twisted into a mischievous grin as she saw Anakin had picked up one of the two slender duelling sticks that was laying on the floor a few clicks away. Perhaps she could get him back sooner than expected.

The sticks were long and light-weight; made from a special type of wood found only in the swamps of Dagobah…and they were perfect for training lightsaber techniques when a remote wasn't readily available.

She stole a glance at the sythi-burn on her arm and grimaced at the now liquefying bacta gel, which was slowly sliding down on reddened flesh, and dripping on to the mat. At least it would make the duel interesting.

Anakin stepped back onto the mat then, and floated the remaining stick in her direction. She caught it in a tight grasp and made sure to hold it in the centre, for optimum manoeuvrability. He did the same, curling his fingers around the smooth caramel wood and locking his thumb in place behind his forefinger.

Tahiri twirled her weapon in wide, methodical arcs in front of her diminutive frame as part of her warm-up exercises, while Anakin slashed and hacked at the air, taking a more aggressive and controlled approach to his preparations.

Once their muscles had moulded to their respective sticks, they both took up their attack positions; Tahiri in low crouching pose with her training staff curved behind her, and Anakin with his legs spread and weapon thrust out at chest height.

"I'll try not to hurt you this time," he said, his tone serious and full of sincerity.

"Thank you," she replied sweetly. Her voice took on a darker tone, and she leant even closer to the ground. "But I'll be trying to hurt you."

Her words caught Anakin off-guard, as she was hoping they would, and she cut out with her stick, the solid wood cracking against his exposed shoulder and pushing him to his knees.

He cried out as the pain from the blow reverberated through every muscle and bone in his left arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

Tahiri straightened her posture and swivelled the weapon around in her palm. "Practice," she said offhandedly.

"Practice?" Anakin repeated as he rose shakily from his kneeling position.

"Yes," she answered, raising a blonde eyebrow slightly. "How can you possibly improve your skills if you aren't practicing in a real-life, unpredictable, combat-type environment?"

"I'm just trying to make this as real as possible for you," she added in a syrupy voice. "You know, play the role of the bad guy…or girl."

"Well, you're doing a pretty good job at it," he said through clenched teeth. He rolled his shoulder in a semi-circle a few times, loosening up the tightened muscles that had fused together after the last hit.

The Yuuzhan Vong part of Tahiri relished at the creases of pain she saw plastered across her best friend's handsome face, but the human part of her wanted nothing more than to hold him until the sting went away.

This time, the Yuuzhan Vong in her won out. She resumed her attack position, her fiery green eyes set in concentration. Anakin did the same, and this time, it was he who struck first.

The older Jedi's stick swung at her feet, and she had to jump a good foot in the air in order to avoid being cleaned up by the assault. Tahiri retaliated by flicking her weapon in the direction of her opponent's head, a method that worked best when she was using her artificial amphistaff.

Anakin ducked easily under this attack and brought his stick up to block as the younger Jedi's came crashing down on his in a vicious slash.

The duel continued like this for some time – the pair bobbing and weaving under and over jabs and hacks. Once they had gotten into a combat rhythm, their movements somewhat resembled a dance. A passer-by could have been fooled that that was exactly what they were doing…until they caught sight of their expressions.

Tahiri's face was hard-set and dark; her usually sparkling emerald eyes cold and focused on her partner. Anakin's was much the same; his jaw clenched, his mouth tight-lipped, and his brow furrowed in determination.

It was a battle of will-power now. The first to crack under the pressure of combat would be the first to fall.

Today, it was Tahiri.

After dodging a particularly nasty slash attack, the young Jedi lost her footing, slipping on a small puddle of melted bacta gel and toppling head over heels. On the way down, she tried to stop her fall with the duelling stick, plunging it into the mat and attempting to lever her body upright.

Her effort was futile, and all she managed to do was tear a big gash in the synthetic cover, before falling flat on stomach.

In the chaos, Tahiri somehow lost a grip on her weapon, the wooden stick flying out of her grasp and smashing into an overhead light.

When she lifted her head off the mat, she saw that Anakin was crouched on the opposite end, his blue eyes wide, and his mouth agape. She followed his gaze and caught sight of the splintered glass that littered most of the training arena floor and shuddered inwardly.

They were in big, big trouble.

"More than big," Anakin murmured as he rose shakily to his feet. "How do you say dead in smuggler's tongue?"

He was right. Booster was going to kill them. And after the smuggler was finished with them, Corran would take over for damaging his father-in-law's ship.

This was a situation Han would refer to as "being in the poodoo," Tahiri thought to herself as she rolled onto her back and sat up. She let out a dry cough and wheezed slightly as she stood, still recovering from the fall.

Anakin didn't come to her aide this time. He was too busy surveying the damage, and was obviously clicking over possible solutions in his mind. After a few moments, Tahiri was struck with a rather brilliant idea.

She walked over to where the older Jedi was pacing and tapped him on the shoulder, her head held high in the air, and her mouth plastered into an enormous grin. "Why don't we just flip the mat over and hide the rip?" she suggested proudly.

Anakin grinned back at her. "Do you think it will work?"

"Of course it will work, dummy! They'll never know the difference!"

He shrugged his shoulders in agreement and tip-toed down to the other end, trying his best not to crush the glass into even smaller pieces. Tahiri picked up her end, and Anakin his, and the two Jedi flipped the mat easily.

Once it had settled on the floor, Anakin let out a stifled laugh. "Good thinking, genius!" he choked through his chuckles. "The only problem is that someone's already beaten you to it!"

Someone had, indeed. Right down the centre of the cerulean fabric was a big, gaping slit, almost twice the size of the one Tahiri had made moments ago.

She flopped down onto a bench on the edge of the ring with an exaggerated huff, folding her arms across her chest. "What do we do now?" she moaned.

"You mean what do you do now?" Anakin corrected, joining her on the seat. "After all, it was you who ripped the mat, not me."

Tahiri stared at him, her expression a mixture of incredulity and outrage. "Excuse me? Are you saying that you take no blame whatsoever for this accident?"

"Pretty much, yeah. It wasn't my fault you slipped and fell." He stood up and walked over to the towel racks, clutching one in his hand and dabbing it on his sweaty forehead, before heading for the exit.

Tahiri jumped up from the bench, incensed, with her hands clenched at her sides. "You come right back here, Anakin Solo!" she shouted. "This is as much your fault as it is mine!"

He spun around on his heel, and amused expression playing across his face. "How did you come to that conclusion, exactly?"

The fact that he found all of this funny only managed to magnify her rage, and she found herself yelling even louder in reply, her pitchy voice echoing around the high-ceilinged room. "You were the one that put all of that stupid bacta gel on my arm, without properly sealing it, I might add, and then it slipped onto the mat, and made me fall."

Anakin's laughter had died now, and in its place a hiss of frustration. "Yeah, well, if you'd blocked that kick like you were supposed to, you wouldn't have gotten hurt, and I wouldn't have needed to put the gel on you in the first place!"

"Oh, ok, blame me for getting hit by a kick instigated by you!" she scoffed, throwing her head back in a humourless laugh.

"Look, can we not fight…"

"And who said I was hurt, anyway?" Tahiri interjected fiercely. "Don't you remember that as part Yuuzhan Vong, I don't feel pain the way everyone else does?"

"Oh, that's right, all you Vong types drink up pain like its some delicious form of hot chocolate! How could I forget?"

Tahiri knew he regretted saying it right after the words left his mouth, but that didn't make the insult sting any less. She turned away from him, her face red with an angry blush, and her lip quivering with the threat of tears.

"Tahiri…"

"No, I don't want to hear it!" she sniffed furiously. "Just go away!"

He ignored this, of course, because the next thing she knew, his arm had curled around her neck, and she was pulled into a warm embrace. "I'm so sorry," he was mumbling in her ear as he held her to his chest. "I never should have said that, and I don't know what came over me. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Well, for starters, you could help me clean up our mess."

Anakin chuckled at this, and Tahiri pulled out of the embrace just enough, so that she could make eye contact with him. "What's so funny?"

"I was going to help you, anyway. I was just teasing before."

"But you were leaving, and you said it wasn't your fault…"

"Whether it was my fault or your fault, or both our fault, I wasn't going to let you clean it up all by yourself. I was going to check the storage room for a spare mat, that's all."

"So you let me yell at you for no reason then?" Tahiri asked incredulously.

"Well, I tried to tell you, but you kind of interrupted me."

She blushed at this, and at the same time, a fresh wave of anger flashed through her emerald eyes. "That still doesn't make up for what you said."

"I know," Anakin sighed. "And I'm sorry. Like I said, I'll do anything." He spread his hands in an attempt to show her how much, and then let them fall to his sides.

"Anything?" she repeated.

"Anything."

Tahiri's lips twisted into a mischievous smirk, as she decided on what Anakin could do to make it up to her. "I want dinner at the Luxe De Falesh."

"You've got to be kidding!"

She saw with delight that her best friend's mouth had dropped open, and he was staring at her like she'd just told him to eat bantha poodoo. "Quite serious, actually," she answered.

"The Luxe De Falesh?" he cried in disbelief. "You want dinner at the Luxe De Falesh?"

"I've never been there before, and it's always been a dream of mine."

"You do realize that you can't get in there without shoes?" He stole a purposeful glance at her bare feet.

Tahiri let her lips form a little pout. "Hence the reason why I've never been."

"And you want me to take you there how?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll figure something out!"

She giggled as Anakin groaned out loud. "Didn't you say something before about looking for another mat?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Well hurry up then! I want to get this cleaned up before Corran sees it…or worse…Booster!"

Anakin suddenly had a renewed sense of vigour, and he hurried toward the exit, to find a replacement mat. Tahiri shifted the tattered one off to the side, and called a dustpan and brush to her from a utility cupboard.

The young Jedi began to sweep up the fragments of glass she'd shattered earlier, and while doing so, started to plan what she'd wear to her dinner at Luxe De Falesh – minus the shoes, of course.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Anakin Solo cursed to himself all the way to the storage room. How he could be so stupid as to insult Tahiri about her Yuuzhan Vong personality, he didn't know. How the thought had even popped into his head in the first place was even more of a mystery. He loved Tahiri, and he knew in his heart that he didn't think of her like that…so why had he said it? Was it something said in the heat of the moment, or was his subconscious telling him what he really thought?

He shook his head in frustration. At least Tahiri had forgiven him for it.

But she hasn't really… not yet, a little voice reminded him. That was true. She'd said she wanted dinner at the Luxe De Falesh restaurant to make up for it; the most expensive, extravagant place one could go in all of Coruscant. And she didn't want to wear shoes.

The young Jedi sighed and ran a hand through his tousled brown locks. He was in deep; maybe too deep this time. But he had to take her to that restaurant. He had to find a way. The last thing he wanted right now was for Tahiri to stay mad at him – even if he deserved it.

As he came to the storage room door, he decided to forget all about his promise of dinner for the time being. The first thing he had to do was help her clean up their mess. Then he could think about dinner.

He punched in the access code on the side panel and entered the room as the blast door hissed open. It was dimly lit; probably because no one had been in here for quite some time. Anakin was about to turn on the light, when he heard a muffled grunting from the left-hand side of the room.

Placing his hand on the hilt of his lightsaber, he crept closer to where the sound had come from, using the force to block his approach. He found the origin of the unidentified noise – a small storage locker, no bigger than a 'fresher.

Anakin peered in through the tiny slits, and at first, couldn't make out anything due to the darkness. After his eyes adjusted, however, he had to take a step back in shock at what he'd just seen.

His sister, Jaina… and Jag!

Somehow, they'd managed to squeeze themselves into the confined space. Anakin didn't want to know how this was possible.

He tried to ignore the presence of his sister and her boyfriend while he rummaged through a pile of equipment that had been dumped in a heap at the end of the room, but the image he'd seen moments ago kept creeping its way back into his thoughts.

Anakin shuddered at the sick feeling this brought to his stomach, and almost rejoiced out loud as he found what he was looking for – a new training mat, minus the rips. He'd begun to pull it out when a voice behind him exclaimed: "I had no idea you could fit two people in there!"

Anakin knew whom the voice belonged to without having to turn around. "Aren't you supposed to be dealing with the mess in the training arena?"

The soft squeak of bare feet on the glossy floor echoed off the panelled walls, and he found himself stealing a glance at the storage locker housing his sister and her companion, hoping they hadn't noticed all of the commotion.

Luckily, they seemed so far oblivious to the two extra beings in the room, and Anakin wanted to keep it that way. He couldn't think of anything worse than dealing with such and embarrassing situation.

The fierce jade eyes of his best friend, Tahiri Veila, came into view then, and if he had been able to swallow his last words, he would have. There was something worse than catching his sister making out in a storage locker – having Tahiri mad at him.

"I'd wondered what was taking you so long!" he heard her mutter under her breath. The cool air tickled his cheeks, and he fought hard to keep down the blush that was threatening to spread.

"I was looking for the mat, and now I've found it."

"Uh huh," Tahiri replied dubiously, rolling her eyes for effect.

He could tell by her reaction that she thought he was fibbing, so he indicated toward the stack of equipment he'd already sorted though. The mat had been near the bottom of the pile.

Tahiri giggled at this and shook her head, her blonde curls flowing around her face in soft cascades, and utterly hypnotizing Anakin until the movement stopped. She gave him a quirky smile, and continued. "You don't have to lie to me, dummy; I know why you took your time with the mat." She pointed toward the storage locker. "It's ok to admit that you were perving. I understand that you need some new pointers when it comes to…um…" She winked.

Anakin was mortified. Did she really believe that he was perving on his sister and her boyfriend, in order to get pointers on the more intimate details of life? He watched in silent horror as Tahiri tip-toed back over to the locker and squinted through the metal slits. Her hand flew up to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a gasp, and he rushed over to her side.

"That's so not right…" she murmured with a little shake of her head.

Anakin instinctively covered her eyes with both hands and gently steered her away from the wicked scene. She fought against his grasp and tried to protest through his hands, but he held them firm, and said in an admonished tone, "Sorry, Tahiri, but that's not for the eyes of younglings."

She managed to wriggle free at that comment, and turned her burning eyes on him with practiced fury. "I'm not a youngling, dummy!" she hissed, folding her arms across her chest in a trademark irate Tahiri expression.

He pushed her toward the door, urging her to go back to the arena. "I suppose that was a little harsh," he admitted in a low whisper, keeping a hand on her back as he continued to walk her to the exit. "But you have to go back. I'll be there with the new mat in a second."

His friend raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at this, and he added defensively: "And I wasn't looking for pointers, either. I don't need help from my sister on that front."

Tahiri looked him up and down slowly as a smirk played on her rosy lips. "You're right there." She placed her hands strategically on the curves of her hips and blew him a kiss. "And besides," she supplemented playfully, "I'm so much more flexible than that."

She then acquiesced to his request, and sashayed out of the storage room, letting her hips sway suggestively from side to side as she went. It was all Anakin could do to keep the drool off his chin. He definitely had to take her to that restaurant – even if it meant using the force to manipulate the maitre des.

For the second time in as many minutes, his thoughts were interrupted by a female voice.

"That is sick and wrong in so many ways!"

He was so deep in thought this time that he jumped visibly at the statement, and was surprised to see Jaina's head sticking out of the open locker door when he turned around. By the look on her face, she'd just read every thought he'd had in his mind over the last thirty seconds.

The realization of this made him blush furiously, and his sister had to gag in order to keep her food down. "Next time, would you mind blocking off those thoughts from our force-bond…or any force-bond, for that matter," she scolded.

"Sorry, Jaina, believe me. You were definitely not meant to know that."

"Yeah, well, you were just lucky Corran Horn wasn't walking past then. Or Valin, or Jysella. Pretty much any force-sensitive being would have been able to pick up what you were feeling just then and as your sister…"

"Ok, ok, you've made your point," Anakin interjected hastily, wanting desperately to get off the subject.

Thankfully, Jaina decided she'd had enough of the teasing as well. "What are you doing in here, anyway?"

He pointed to the mat on the floor. "Tahiri and I kind of made a mess of the training room, and I was just getting a replacement mat."

"Ah."

The siblings fell into an awkward silence then, no doubt having something to do with what they'd both just been caught out doing, and Anakin ran a shaking hand over his face and hair, before deciding it was time for him to depart as well.

"I'll just be going now," he said.

"Good," Jaina replied. Her head was still sticking out of the partially open locker. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, see you."

As Anakin headed for the door, he heard the creak of metal, and a shuffling of bodies, and then a gruff male voice asked: "Is the coast clear?"

After the ridicule he'd just received from his sister, it was too good an opportunity to pass up, so he stopped mid-step and spun back to face the secretive couple.

The young Chiss spotted him instantly, and Anakin took pleasure in the sheer humiliation that was visible on his scarred face. "Oh, uh, hi Anakin," he mumbled clumsily.

"Jag," he acknowledged with a curt nod.

Jaina rolled her eyes as Jag played with his shirt collar. Despite the awkward situation, the soldier felt compelled to keep it going, and began to make even more discomforting small talk with the Jedi.

"Ah, nice weather we're having."

"Mmm." An amused smile played on Anakin's face as he took in their surroundings – an enclosed storage room, with one tiny viewport, displaying the dazzling lines of hyperspace. Wonderful weather, actually.

His sister had clearly had enough, because she interrupted their stilted banter with a loud throat clearing.

Anakin allowed himself the satisfaction of a small chuckle, before he turned for the exit again. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Just as he was about to put his hand on the access panel, he tilted his head back in the direction of his sister, catching her in the middle of closing the locker door. "Oh, and just so you know…Tahiri's much more flexible than that."

He spat his tongue out humorously at his scowling elder sibling and keyed in the correct code, striding out of the door toward the training arena with his head held high, and the replacement mat floating behind.