It was the Chancellor's personal opinion—and don't get that wrong, he didn't think anybody else had to think this—that Aayla Secura had no idea what she was doing. Not ever, not once, never would. The girl was ridiculous.

Of course, when she was standing on a chair in front of a half-made coffee bar, singing to herself, fixing an air-conditioning pipe, she clearly didn't. The little glass room that was 24248, Green Road, had nothing to do with the Jedi Order. The place itself seemed to be an accident. It jutted out from the block of business offices that it was attached to, almost directly into the flow of speeder traffic, a sitting target for a crash. Honestly. Of all the stupid places to put a coffee shop; and really—a coffee shop? Why would Jedi Knights concern themselves with such trivial matters? He supposed that was one of the reasons he had decided not to ally himself with them. They were all as ridiculous as Aayla Secura.

It was actually a favor—her involvement in the coffee shop, that is. This crazy dude in a ridiculous bowler hat who wasn't quite human and called himself Geoffrey (though he probably wasn't that, either) had needed some help getting the place off the ground. Aayla was too bored to refuse (though she'd only, in fact, had a week off before she began to go out of her mind.)

Her bizarre friends then must have agreed to help her. On one side of the room, Qui-Gon was moving a table while at the other end, Luminara Unduli practically hung out the window, airing the place out and staring the two-and-a-half hundred story drop to Courascant's ground level straight in the face. To think that in that single moment, he felt a tremor in the Force, as if she were some kind of a threat! He decided that odd feeling in his lungs was just another confirmation that he should never associate with Jedi.

Well.

That was five years and a seeming world away.

Still, when he thought of Aayla, he came back to that moment. To see her as a bored girl fixing an impractical glass room as a favor to a stranger, to think of her as she was before the war, helped him keep the galaxy in perspective. Of course little Aayla Secura couldn't hurt him. Not ever, not once, never would be, not even tonight on the roof of the Senate building. For a moment, he was annoyed that he hadn't gotten rid of her after the premonition he'd had so long ago, but why should he be? He could just as easily deal with her now. Say she'd gone crazy. Say she'd attacked him.

Now there was no window between them and she had no one close by to call to. Her blade flickered like a torch in the setting sun just before she came at him, lightsaber flying, looking to any observer like she was completely out of control. Of all people to catch him talking to Dooku, relaying the workings of the Senate and the weaknesses of the Jedi forces, he couldn't have had better luck.

She couldn't have had better luck—she could see it in his eyes. He took her no more seriously than he ever had. This, the fact that he thought of her as unskilled, thoughtless, below him, was her best defense.

She raised her lightsaber to take the first of the lightning attacks. She had fought Dooku before—it was little surprise that his teacher had similar skills. This wouldn't be entirely unfamiliar, then.

But she had to remember to breathe.

She centered herself, preparing for the actual blows. She was not Aayla then. She was an instrument of the Force. She was its sword. She was breathing, and she didn't know anything else. She moved instinctively, shielding herself, defending. He moved far faster than she did. So she let the Force guide her and was almost surprised when she found herself rolling to the edge of the rooftop and striking upwards nearly hard enough to knock the blade out of his hand. She hadn't won, but he was rattled.

This wasn't the time to become overly confident.

He blocked every one of her attacks—of course. This was going to take more than a single knight, no matter how immersed in the Force she was. In fact, she reflected, when she saw him, she shouldn't have attacked. At this point, he could feign innocence and frame her, he could find a way to get her kicked out of the Order, he could kill her—no, this hadn't been intelligent. There was no way this could end well.

So she was grateful when she heard a voice behind her.

"What is going on up here?"

But the fact that Bail Organa had heard their duel didn't exactly mean they were going to stop. It hadn't distracted him. She couldn't allow it to distract her. He wasn't going to save her. An utterly fuzzy part of her heard him say something into a com-link, and then dutifully forgot him.

He wasn't going to be much good right then. He had no blaster with him, and was too dazed at the sight of a knight engaged in a duel, presumably to the death, with the Chancellor, so he wasn't doing much of anything. When he came up here he had assumed he was dreaming, it was precaution that led him up here.

The next ten minutes were a blur.

"All right! Put your hands up! Both of you!"

That stopped them. Seven clone troopers, none of whom Aayla knew personally, stood behind them, ready and willing to fire. She was all too glad to drop her saber. Then, against her will, the rest of her dropped, too.

She woke in the Council room, which wasn't very comforting. All twelve members sat staring at her. At least they'd given her a chair to wake up in, instead of making her testify after waking up on the floor. She expected they would've let her wake in her apartment, although the bizarre nature of what had just happened hadn't completely hit her—and she'd been fighting. Perhaps this needed an immediate answer.

"Aayla, talk, can you?"

"Yes—"

"Happened, what did?"

She relayed her version of events.

"Ah. Well, that's very different from the Chancellor's story," Ki-Adi said, as if someone had to inform her of that fact.

"I can imagine it would be. I suppose all I can say is that I'm telling the truth. I hope you all can—feel that."

"Relying on the Force you are. Good, that is. Searched my feelings, I have."

She nodded.

"Feel, I do, that it is one in the morning, that solved later, this should be, and that go to sleep, we all should." Yoda announced this with a yawn and, a second later, started snoring like a bantha.

"I—what?"

"Don't question it, my friend." Obi-Wan nodded.

"Force," she exclaimed quietly. Because even in the face of the most insane situation she had ever found herself in, the Council was still the Council.

[ A/N: After getting off of fanfiction for ages, I've become a Star Wars fan again. If you read, please review, whether that means one word, suggestions, or criticism, I don't care! Thanks for reading :) ]