CHAPTER 4

Kila shifted her laden basket from one hand to the other, pleased with the results of her work. Her time as Gardulla's personal attendant had instilled in her a knack for haggling, and she had been able to talk down several vendors.

"Allow me," Qui-Gon said, relieving her of the heavy basket. He'd warmly accepted Kila's invitation to join her and had been a quiet pleasant companion for several hours.

"Oh, thank you," Kila said, rolling her head to loosen the stiff muscles of her neck. She was prone to aches and pains in her neck and shoulders – due partly to the manual labor of her job and due partly to her full breasts being ill-suited to her small-boned structure.

She sighed as her neck gave a satisfying click, and then tucked her hand into Qui-Gon's free one. "Well, I'm done," she said. "Is there anything you need to do?"

"I have no plans this afternoon," Qui-Gon replied. "There is a meeting of the Council that I must attend, but that's not for another five hours." He squeezed her hand. "How about we take your shopping back to the Temple – it's very near this part of town – and then catch a transport to the country?"

"There's country on Coruscant?" Kila was surprised at that. "As in grass, trees, flowing water?"

"There's a small Jedi reserve at Erith, where we often go to meditate," Qui-Gon replied. "Non-Jedi rarely go there, but I believe you would like it."

"Oh, I would," Kila said. Except in holographs, she'd never seen the countryside. "Lead the way, O Jedi Master," she added grandly.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are really quite strange?" he commented as they left the market.

Kila looked up and saw that the dimple had made an appearance. She bumped up against him. "Beast," she shot back.

He bumped back against her, causing her to stagger and lose her footing. "I'm all right!" she declared with a laugh, picking herself up. "You don't know your own strength, Qui-Gon!" She dusted herself off quickly, ignoring the tiny throbbing of her ankle – it was congenitally weak and turned on a regular basis.

"Can I give you a hand?" Qui-Gon asked.

Just as her hands reached her posterior.

She looked up at him suspiciously. Did he just say what I thought he said? She wouldn't have thought the dignified Jedi Master would be so bold. "No thank you," she replied then laughed. "Now who's the brat?" The saucy creature!

"Well, I can't let you have all the fun, can I?" Qui-Gon smiled then touched her shoulder quickly. "You're limping," he pointed out.

"Really … I hadn't noticed," Kila replied sarcastically. She put her hand into the crook of his elbow and tugged him out of the way of some Twi'leks – already the worse for wear judging by their unsteady gait.

"Your sarcasm aside, did you hurt yourself when you took that tumble?"

"It'll be fine," Kila said. "My ankle's always been a bit weak – I just have to keep walking so that it doesn't stiffen up."

"I didn't mean to hurt you – it was just a friendly push," Qui-Gon blathered on. "I forget how small you are."

Kila wondered how she was going to shut him up. Grabbing his face and kissing him hard on the lips was a tempting notion, but she didn't think he'd appreciate that somehow. Instead she put her hands on his shoulders. "Qui-Gon?"

"Yes?"

"You talk too much." Kila reached up and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. "There's nothing to worry about – honestly."

"Well, all right." Qui-Gon dipped his handsome head and returned the light kiss.

Kila resisted the adolescent urge to touch her cheek – he had an interesting combination of scratchy whiskers and very soft lips. Made her feel … tingly.

The sudden thought skipped through her mind that maybe Qui-Gon was interested in her romantically. She suspected that some of their interactions were rather flirtatious. Maybe she had an over-inflated ego, but she didn't think Qui-Gon behaved this way with all the women of his acquaintance. Yes, he was charming, a little rakish even, with a talent for flirting that must come naturally given the rules that had bound him for over fifty years.

But just because she was attracted to him, it didn't mean that it was reciprocated. And there was no way of finding out without risking looking foolish or – worse – pathetic. Once again, Kila felt robbed of a normal life, and acknowledged the resentment she bore the father who'd abandoned them both before Kila's birth, and her mother who'd abandoned Kila to follow her supplier around the worst parts of the galaxy.

She knew her father not at all and had only a few memories of her mother – before the death sticks had taken their toll. Reean Marik had been a young woman – only 18 when Kila was born – with a pretty face, slim figure and a joy for life that even the hard life of a slave on Tatooine couldn't eradicate.

Kila had inherited her mother's small frame but little else. Reean had been black-haired with deep brown eyes and an olive complexion that gave her good resistance to Tatooine's suns. Kila, on the other hand, had brown hair, pale skin and unusual violet eyes that she put down to an alien connection in the distant past. Violet eyes were not seen in humans but were seen in human-alien mixes.

She broke off her train of thought abruptly – she'd never seen the point of feeling sorry for herself, and she wasn't about to pick up that habit. Everything in her life – good and bad – was part of what made her Kila Marik, and most of the time she was happy with whom she was.

Of course she suffered moments of doubt – what sane, wise person didn't? – but all in all she had no complaints. She had her home, a job, her health, good friends, and a beautiful day to enjoy with her newest friend. So, why spoil it by yearning for something more?

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila followed Qui-Gon uncertainly into the deeper recesses of the Jedi Temple – where the private dwellings were located. Most of the Jedi they passed were too polite to stare, but Kila could see their curiosity at her and Qui-Gon's linked hands.

She blushed fiercely as they rounded the corner and met up with Master Yoda, hobbling along on his gimer stick. "Greetings," he said, his large eyes flickering over Qui-Gon and Kila, taking in everything.

"Greetings, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon replied comfortably, easily even. Then Kila recalled that Qui-Gon served with Yoda on the Jedi Council.

The strange powerful little being nodded then looked up at Kila. "Know your face I do, young one," he said now. "But know your name I do not."

There was something compelling about the little Jedi. Kila coughed. "Ahh … there's no reason you should, Master Yoda. I'm Kila Marik," she managed to croak out.

"Of course, of course. Makes much mention of your caf does young Kenobi." The wrinkled face took on a sudden impish look. "Without much of his intelligence he is until that first cup of caf he takes."

Kila laughed at that, recalling many a morning where Obi-Wan had come to her apartment to wheedle a cup of caf from her before she went work. "My fault, I'm afraid," she said, grinning at the tiny Jedi Master. "I introduced him to that quote, unquote noxious stuff." She aimed a mischievous grin at the man standing quietly next to her.

Qui-Gon chuckled and shook his head. "What a brat you are," he commented. "Isn't she, Master?"

"Indeed, indeed," chortled the ancient being, and then tapped Kila's leg with his gimer stick. "Much joy and great spirit you have, young one. A brat you should remain."

"Oh, I do my best," Kila laughed, finding herself liking the old Jedi immensely.

He looked up at Qui-Gon. "At the Council meeting you will be?" he inquired.

"Of course," Qui-Gon said.

"Good. Then importune you further I will not," Yoda said. He motioned for Kila to bend down and she did so curiously. "Pleased I am that come into Qui-Gon's life you have. Good for each other you are."

And he knows this after less than a half an hour?, Kila mused doubtfully but didn't argue with the venerable Jedi Master. "Ah, thank you," she mumbled, blushing hard. She was nothing special – just an everyday woman trying to lead her life. She had no special abilities, was not particularly intelligent, and had little in the way of good looks. Nothing to warrant this attention.

Yoda tapped her knee hard with his gimer stick. "Doubt yourself you should not," he scolded as Kila winched. "Much to give you have. Shy away from it you should not."

"Uhh … I'll try," Kila replied then caught at the gimer stick before it could make contact once more. "Please don't keep hitting me," she said. "I don't want to have to tell people that a member of the Jedi Council beat me up."

Yoda cackled gleefully. "Oh, like you I do, young Kila Marik!" He patted her knee with his tiny hand then gestured and the gimer stick flew into his waiting hands. "Now, go you must, young ones – enjoy this day you should."

And, with that, the little Jedi was gone.

Kila got back up, running a hand through her curls. "Why do I feel like he was testing me?" she mumbled, staring at Qui-Gon.

Much to her surprise, the handsome Jedi looked as baffled as she felt. "I have no idea," he said slowly. "Master Yoda never does anything without reason, but he did seem to like you."

"I liked him too," Kila said, then bent and rubbed her bruised knee. "I could have done without him hitting my knee so hard, though," she grumbled. She straightened up and tucked her hand back into Qui-Gon's, no longer so intimidated by the passing Jedi. "Anyway, let's dump this basket and get to the country you've promised me."

"Of course, milady," Qui-Gon deadpanned. "Your every wish is my command."

And if my wish is to find out what that broad chest looks like uncovered?

The licentious thought – for her at least – popped unbidden into Kila's mind, and she cursed her fair skin as it burned hotly. "As it should be," she shot back to hide her discomfiture and waved her hand grandly. "Lead the way, good sir."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Less than two hours later, Qui-Gon was watching Kila's rapt features as her head twisted this way and that, trying to take in as much as she could. She did not rush around or disturb the peace – she walked quietly, almost reverently, Qui-Gon mused. Only her wide eyes and beautiful smile gave her away. Although she was not beautiful, she was quite lovely – warm, caring, witty, loving …

A giggle broke off his musings and he looked at the object of his affections to see her indicating a large purple moth that had landed in her hair. "I think it likes me," she laughed.

Qui-Gon brushed his fingers gently over her hair – Force, it was soft – and caught the beautiful fragile creature. "He has good taste," he informed her.

They watched as the moth flew away, and then Kila pushed him playfully. "You big flirt," she accused then headed for a bush of flowers. Qui-Gon feared for an instant that she would pick one of the scarlet and white blooms but she didn't. "Oh, how beautiful …," she murmured, bending over to breathe deeply of the fragrant blooms.

Then she was away again, heading for the small brook with the eagerness of a child on its first school trip. She kneeled down by the brook and dabbled her fingers in the water with a blissful sigh. Then she took off her sandals and dipped her toes in, giving a girlish squeal at the coldness of the water.

"That's it," she declared. "Bring me food once a week – I'm never leaving this place."

Qui-Gon chuckled, and then his breath caught when she sat down and tipped her face up to the sun. He'd seen many exotically beautiful women in his years – had bedded more than a few of them – but none had ever resonated with him in the way this woman did. No-one since Shmi. "I think Dex might have something to say if you don't turn up for work tomorrow," he said, trying to ignore the tempting expanse of her pale throat.

Kila laughed, completely unaware of the inviting picture she presented just then. "You have a point," she admitted. She looked up and extended her hand to him. "How long has it been since you dangled your feet in here?" she asked.

"I … can't recall," Qui-Gon said, taking her hand and sitting down next to her cross-legged.

"If you can't remember, then it's definitely been too long," Kila said. "It feels really nice," she added, swishing her feet in the water and not seeming to care that her pants were soaked at the ankles.

Qui-Gon balked a little. Wasn't he too old for that kind of thing?

"Oh, come on," Kila laughed. "You don't want to be a grumpy old man before your time, do you?"

Qui-Gon shook his head and laughed helplessly before removing his own shoes. "Certainly not," he said, dipping his large feet in the cool water.

If only the Jedi younglings who held him in such awe could see him now, he mused. Awe would be the last thing they felt.

"Better," Kila said. She shifted closer to him and rested her head on his arm then closed her eyes.

"Much," Qui-Gon agreed, smiling down at her head before bending and rubbing his cheek over her soft curls in a gentle caress. He closed his eyes and felt the world melt away – his whole being surrounded by the Force, by Kila and the pure contentment of this moment.