Living Doll

By Jemmiah

"So," Jemmy spun around on one heel, pirouetting so that the shimmering fabric of her lilac coloured dress swung against her legs, "what do you think of this one?"

Rela gave her friend a searching look, chewing on a long curl as she considered her opinion.

"Looks good." She nodded approvingly. "Just like the other eight you already showed me."

"But do you think the colour's okay?" Jemmy tried to peer over her shoulder at the plunging back. "Is it too revealing? Too cheap-looking?"

"It's a bit late to take 'em back to Corellia if you want a refund!" Rela gave a sharp snort of laughter, amused as always by her friend's paranoia. "Seriously, I don't get why you're so darned insecure about the way you look! If there's a more attractive person in a twenty mile radius I've yet to see them. And for the record, the colour is fine."

Jemmy allowed her hands to drop against her sides in defeat. Rela was such a good friend that she never knew if she was saying what she wanted to hear or because she genuinely meant it. Perhaps she should ask Spider? If she didn't like it she'd come right out and say that it looked like so many feet of Dinko guano…

On second thoughts the idea of asking Spider about dresses and feminine things was possibly not the best she'd ever had.

"I wasn't always pretty." Jemmy stuck her chin out defensively. "I used to be so hideous that people would cross the street to avoid me. Or hit me like I was some insect." She added with a shrug, her eyes darkening as if at some distant memory. "Truth is even when I look in the mirror I don't always see an attractive person looking back at me. I keep expecting to see myself as a child with those freaky eyes and pointy chin…"

"Other people seem to think you're attractive." Rela answered airily, staring with pretended insouciance at the ceiling. "Valorum for a start."

Jemmiah frowned. "Chancellor Valorum? What makes you mention him?"

"Oh," Rela scratched lazily behind one ear, "nothing much. Except the way he chased after you last year when we were on Florizan."

"Nonsense. He was on vacation." Jemmy rolled her eyes, twisting a few more times before finally deciding once and for all that she liked the dress. "It was coincidence he was there. And I looked kriff-awful anyway after what happened on Urior: he couldn't have had any ulterior motive, other than that he was Quiggy's friend who decided to keep an eye out for us both."

"Yeah," Snickered the redhead, wondering at the Corellian's untypical lack of intuition, "Right. Of course that was it. Silly me."

Jemmy became slightly uneasy. "All the same, don't tell Obi-Wan. You know what he's like and frankly I can do without that kind of nonsense."

She began to parade up and down in front of the full-length dress mirror, admiring herself from every angle. She supposed it was safe to say she'd almost fully recovered from the events of Urior. Her figure was back, as curvy and as tantalising as ever. The brightness in her eyes had returned, and some of the pallor of her skin had begun to lessen as time had passed. Which was all for the good, because the one person she hoped to impress was taking her out that evening…

"I'll bet Scrubby liked the dress." Rela tittered unsubtly. "Got plans for the evening, has he?"

Jemmiah ignored the remark but grinned all the same. Spending any time with Obi-Wan was becoming increasingly difficult, to the extent that even Qui-Gon seemed apologetic for his near-continual absence. When one mission ended another invariably began, and it was left to Jemmy to snatch what time she could with her Jedi suitor in the few moments that existed for them both.

That said, he had liked the dress…

"He stopped by to welcome me back." She sighed happily, playing with the chain of her necklace. "I would have thought old master grizzly would have put in appearance, but Ben said something about him coming down with some kind of bug. He spent the whole of the mission wheezing and spluttering."

"Then no doubt he'll be leaving himself to Leona's tender mercies." Rela sprawled herself along Jemmiah's bed, resting her neck against the folded arms behind her head. "Probably planned it, knowing him."

"That's what I reckoned," agreed Jemmy with a nod, "but Ben said he didn't want to trouble anyone over such a trivial thing, so he's put himself in quarantine in his room until he gets better. There's no helping people, I guess." She shrugged, thinking that Leona would happily have sacrificed herself to the germs if it meant a chance to carry out some hands-on healing. "Thankfully I am resourceful and considerate, so when I went down to the infirmary to get checked over this morning - you know, for the standard 'welcome back, can I have some of your blood'event - I mentioned Quiggy's incapacitation and she gave me a new treatment-thingy for him. Some kind of strange mask that you put on and blow into, that analyses your germs and tells you exactly what variant of cold you have - and then treats you accordingly by releasing specific decongestants into your bloodstream."

"Sounds good!" Rela agreed. "Except for the fact he has to spend days walking around with a mask over his nose. Must be difficult to get passionate with one of those strapped to your face. A bit like Scrubby's beard, now I come to think of it…"

"I told him I had a little surprise for him later on." Jemmiah arched an eyebrow meaningfully.

Rela placed her hands over her ears. "I don't want to know!"

"Not that," the Corellian waggled a reproving finger in Rela's direction, "Something a bit different!"

"In that case he'll be disappointed."

Jemmiah gave up admiring herself, deciding it was a lost cause. It hardly mattered which amongst the twenty one dresses she'd managed to come home with looked best upon her: Obi-Wan would be honour bound to say he liked it or risk a smack on the jaw. And after all the time she'd spent tutoring him he surely wouldn't be as tactless as all that! Still, it was a hard life…deciding which dress to wear to the opera that evening…wondering what necklace would go best with the eventual choice…raking through her shoe mountain for hours on end until she located just the right size of heel…

She couldn't end war or abolish slavery, no matter how important the latter was to her. So, until she was in a position where people might listen to her, Jemmy went shopping to ease her conscience. It worked amazingly well, too.

"It's a doll." She added, pointing over to the package in the bag that lay at the foot of her bed.

Rela's mouth twisted as if she'd swallowed a particularly sharp lemon slice.

"A doll?" She gagged. "Isn't that a bit…er, girlie?"

"Not that kind of doll." Jemmiah swished and shimmered her way over to her vanity table and seated herself carefully on the delicate pink stool. "One of those 'dolls for men'. You know…" She prompted Rela towards enlightenment by using a series of wild hand gestures, indicating life-size height and ample curves. "Lilith gave it to me. She said that Jake had been given it as a joke by Kurtas on the occasion of their marriage, and that 'three was a crowd' and all that…and would I please take it off her hands before she punctured it with a heated cigara…"

"Ewww…" Grimaced Rela, sitting up once again. "One of those kind of dolls. You're not really going to give it to Scrubby, are you? Not second hand…"

Jemmiah responded by throwing her head backwards and laughing.

"Kriff, no! It's not been used or anything sordid like that. It's still in its little package, waiting to be inflated. Poor Ben! It'll embarrass the hell out of him to start with, but then he'll laugh at it and stand it in his wardrobe. Something to remember me by every time he goes to fetch a clean tunic!"

"I don't think I'd want that kind of image going through my head whenever I was searching for a new pair of undies." Rela shuddered. "What does it look like, this 'doll' of yours?"

"Take a look." Jemmy waved a hand at the bag. "It's the usual kind of thing. Plastic, blonde and easily available. Sounds a bit like Lauria." Snickered Jemmy nastily.

With mild trepidation Rela put her hand into the bag to feel for the little package containing Jemmiah's infamous inflatable doll. Obi-Wan would indeed be highly embarrassed to start with but, as Jemmy had indicated, she thought he'd probably find it quietly amusing too. Quite what Qui-Gon would make of the life-size, naked doll were he to see it she shuddered to think…

"It's a pity that Lauria had to move to the other side of Coruscant like that, wasn't it?" Jemmiah worked happily away at her fingernails with a file, endeavouring to get it just the right shape. "So suddenly too…almost as if her parents wanted to make sure she put some distance between herself and this district. I wonder what might have caused that to happen, hmm? I have to say, I've really missed seeing her cheap blonde highlights…"

"Er, Jem…" Rela gave a polite little cough. "What exactly is this?"

Jemmiah turned her head away from the vanity table, whipping round to meet Rela's confused face. There in her friend's outstretched hand lay nestled what appeared to be an oddly familiar small facemask. In fact it looked terribly like the one she had given Obi-Wan to hand to Qui-Gon when he had come round to see how she was…the one in the bag almost identical to the one that contained…

Too late Jemmiah realised her mistake, but when she did the reality hit her with the force of a jet-propelled Hutt.

"Oh…bassalads." She groaned.

"So, if it is okay with you master," Obi-Wan smiled at the ailing Qui-Gon, whose red-rimmed eyes peered suspiciously at the padawan over his freshly made cup of green tea, "I will take Jemmiah out to the opera tonight. I've heard that it is a critically acclaimed performance and I think she would like to see it."

"Why do I get the impression you will go anyway whether I give you permission or not." Qui-Gon sighed listlessly; knowing precisely the sort of critically acclaimed performance Jemmiah would have in mind after the show. "Very well…do as you please, padawan. Perhaps during the interval you will spare a thought for your poor, invalid master as he attempts to meditate himself towards recovery…"

A stray memory in Obi-Wan's mind clicked into place.

"No need, master." The padawan trotted towards the living room, feeling the weight of Qui-Gon's puzzlement upon his back. Now, where had he put that package with the…ah, there it was! He bent down to pick it up, and called towards Qui-Gon's room; "Jemmy spoke to Leona when she was at the infirmary for her check-up and Leona said that it paid to be careful of these kind of things and not to trivialise seemingly simple ailments when you get to your time of life."

"She said what!" Qui-Gon asked, his question interrupted by a paroxysm of coughing.

"Leona asked Jemmy to give you this package, but seeing as how you don't want to be in contact with anyone she gave it to me to pass on to you. If you follow me." He added with customary politeness. "Oh, Leona apparently said to lie down and relax. Once you've got it in position…" The padawan's voice trailed away into total silence as Qui-Gon undid the package, holding up the unfurling piece of flesh-coloured plastic until it fell full length to the floor, revealing a distinct and unexpected shape. Both Jedi stared at the object in utter disbelief.

"…just blow into it and it'll take care of all your problems…" He finished lamely.