(So, probably wondering why not an update, right? Me too. In all honesty, I love this fic, but my plot bunny has hopped somewhere hither and yon, and just recently she's returned. Yes! So, I super-edited this chap 'cause I thought my last ones were pretty ... alright. Like I always say, reviews+feedback appreciated! Thanks for reading!)
Three quick knocks. Obi-Wan was tempted to peek through her mail slot, for he was nearly level in his wheelchair, but he fought the thought away. He knocked again, rousing another muffled, "Shut up!" from the inhabitants across the hallway.
The sickening scent of smoke eked from the carpets in the dingy hotel, hall lights flickering with age and floorboards worn and squeaky. The lopsided, half upside down numbers of Lystra Morro's hotel room swished and dangled as Obi-Wan rapped once more, wondering how such a girl as she could survive in so . . . modest of circumstances. Then again, Obi-Wan countered, this is the Underlevels.
He had been waiting, knocking, for a good amount of time, and knew he had only a little amount of time to spare. And a little means means less than an hour. Obi-Wan hoped to himself that Siri's stalling skills were better than he remembered them being. The Padawan was in awareness of the consequence of leaving the Temple without permission, and also of leaving in his still . . . broken condition. Qui-Gon would be nothing less than furious. Or, he would give him the silent treatment; either way, they were both readily avoided. He had a purpose to accomplish, to find out if his hunch about Lystra being involved with the Jedi was true. That and that only, or so he continued to tell himself.
Obi-Wan let out a soft noise of impatience, wheeling closer to the door then -
"Hello?" The door opened just a little, enough to see the profile of Lystra's face behind the doors chain-lock, her emerald eye and lips in tense expression. Obi-Wan barely realized how happy he was to see her again. She looked about curiously, warily, and then down to him subtly. "Ben, oh, thank goodness -"
"Here." Obi-Wan said, reaching in his pocket and holding out her earring carefully. Lystra really looked then, the door closing and opening as she unlocked it, and her eyes were soft on the jewelry and his face as she spoke, "You kept it safe. Even after . . ."
The guesture to his slings and bandages was followed by a laugh, and Obi-Wan smiled to her as she opened her small hand, revealing his pin - or, his fathers. Their eyes shared something then, and Lystra blushed a bit as she asked, "May I keep it? I know it is your fathers, but -"
"No. I mean, yes, I insist, please-" Obi-Wan sighed, and Lystra laughed at his fumblings. He took a deep breath, "Yes."
"Thank you." She hid another smile, one sly, "Now, I assume you are here for an interview. Come in, please."
Obi-Wan followed her inside, just as the kettle upon the stove shrilled, and Lystra went with light steps to her kitchenette to silence it. Her apartment was modest - just as cluttered as she had warned - and cozy. The dinge and drear of the Underlevels seemed imperfectly wonderful in her tiny room, mottled sunlight hitting scattered music sheets and instruments lying about her floors, walls adorned with posters of musicians and composers. Obi-Wan was intrigued, as always by the ways and lives of others, but intensely so by the place and her. He gazed about again in admiration from his wheelchair in the centre opposite to Lystra's sofa, just as she returned, nearly burning herself on her tea.
"Would you like some?" She offered politely as she set the tray of drink and sweetbread upon her low table between them.
"Yes, thank you."
Lystra was still dressed in her nightgown, the hour fairly early, but she had not a care. Obi-Wan did not either, as long as she was safe, though his suspicions were still heavy upon him. There was something he sensed still, though he had already determined things were fine in the Force. Something felt unfamiliarly familiar, oddly out of place. Like his Master would say, "A gundark in nerfs clothing." It did not soothe him, but put him on edge and aware.
He decided to ignore it then, for he did not want to let her sense it, knowing she could, voluntarily or not. At the thought, feeling that her senses were lowered, Obi-Wan probed lightly in order not to disturb or alert her. As being only a Padawan, he knew his skills of such were not of utmost ability and he could not pinpoint anything out of the ordinary.
He did notice, though, how the early sun hit her auburn hair loose around her, revealing a faint redness to it. Obi-Wan ached to touch it, remembering how it had fallen perfectly around her face the night prior, admiring its softness. His fingers trembled as he reached -
"I apologize for being so rude the last we met." Lystra glanced up at him and he clasped his hands together quickly, seeing as she hadn't noticed. "When you were only trying to be polite."
"I'm sorry for rushing off like I did. My father wasn't exactly pleased with my disappearance."
She smiled, "Whoul you like sweetener? Cream? I don't have much to offer."
"Cream is fine." Obi-Wan replied, outstretching his hand again, for a different purpose, "Please, let me. I'm not immobile -"
"But you're hurt. It's my fault."
"It isn't your fault -" Obi-Wan went to take the glass cup of cream with his good hand, but Lystra took it from him.
"It is!" She prepared his cup generously, "I knew . . . you shouldn't have been talking with me."
"That is not why I was injured."
"But if you wouldn't have, you probably could have escaped unharmed." Lystra looked to him sympathetically, "I barely did. Do you even know what happened?"
Obi-Wan pursed his lips, considering whether or not to explain the whole ordeal, "My father and I were trying to uncover and put to rest a rumored assassination attempt on Senator Thor-Chio Dawn. I was . . . I suppose, distracted by talking with you, and my position watching the Senator was compromised. The assassin got away with him, after breaking out a riot, and I was trampled in the mob."
Lystra nearly spilled the tea she poured at his words, startled, "Trampled? And what of the assassin?"
"I'm not sure." He lied cleanly, "Though I suspect that the plot was skin deep, after I was nearly poisoned."
"Assuming, now, that you are not really a reporter, you must avoid poison often?"
Obi-Wan accepted the drink from Lystra, and her emerald eyes smiled to him at his reply.
"I suppose so."
She sat back upon the sofa, settling down with a paper and writing device, "Well, we can still do the interview anyway."
"Alright. Did you want tea?"
"No, I'm fine."
Obi-Wan tasted the hot glass offered carefully with his good hand, inquiring at its pungent scent and flavour, "What kind is this?"
"I ask the questions, sir." Lystra mocked lightly, stating it just as he had yesterday. Her green eyes danced with pleasure. The interview had only just begun, but she was clearly enjoying it far too much. "Alright, question one: do you have other family beside your father?"
"No, just him and I now." Obi-Wan tensed his voice, although it was naturally at the mention of his Master, trying to imply discomfort with the topic. He sipped his tea, grimacing at the taste before continuing, "I don't like to talk about it."
"My parents . . . are both gone," The blunt confession caught him off guard, but Obi-Wan wheeled himself closer to hear her lowered voice, "I cannot remember them anymore."
"So, you didn't tour nightclubs with them?"
"That was just a cover I used. If people knew I was an orphan, I'd be much worse off." Lystra shrugged, a bit sadly, with a subtle smile. Obi-Wan ached to tell her the truth about his own circumstances, seeing her inhibitions around her falling, but supplied his reply from his cover.
"My father . . . is a peace-maker, my teacher, and I his successor. I live a fairly sheltered life still, and my presence here is highly unapproved by him." Obi-Wan gave a smirk he couldn't hide, "But I don't mind."
"Me either." Lystra agreed with genuine heartfelt, and giggled completely out of the blue. He grinned at the sound involuntarily, at her inexplicable sense of joy -
The knock at the door released a groan from Lystra, and her hesitation was palpable. Obi-Wan nudged her with his foot when she only sat and stared, and the knock was heard again as he asked, "Are you going to get that?"
"You do. I'm not home." Lystra smiled, and Obi-Wan's reluctance showed on his face.
"Then what am I doing here?"
"Please?"
Why was it that he could not bear to refuse? With a huff he complied, wheeling quickly to the door to open it. The beckoner met his eye to eye, just a child it was, and Obi-Wan would not have been surprised if he was just looking for money; he appeared to be a vagrant, wearing dirty worn clothes on his small thin frame, his hair dangling before his eyes and probably not cut for months. Obi-Wan recognized the face after a moment, realizing just who it was, though he did not believe himself. "You . . . you're not the kid . . ."
"Who shot you in the face?" The grimy little child asked back, wrinkled brows over his green eyes deepening their expression, "That would be me. Who are you?"
"Why would you be knocking if you didn't know who lives here? I should ask who you are."
"Lystra lives here, and my name's Jemitt. Jemitt Ontaph." The boy outstretched his hand, "Most people just call me Taph."
"Ah." Obi-Wan shook the tiny hand as he glanced up and down the boy's tattered looking clothes, still slightly confused. He suspected he knew Lystra well enough to call her 'Lystra' and not 'Wisper', but why, he wasn't sure.
Taph bounced on his heels, waiting patiently to be let in.
"If you're looking for Lystra, she isn't in."
Obi-Wan went to close the door, but the boy stuck his little boot in the doorframe, peeking in and giggling, "Are you one of her 'guests'?
"'Guests'?" The implication sent a pulse of suspicion inside the Padawan, one he damped before replying and folding his arms, "What do you mean 'guests'?"
"Lystra always invites boys to her room, you know, for dinner and things."
"And things?"
"Yep. She always sends them to the door the next morning."
"The next morning? Wait -"
Taph nodded innocently, "She keeps it secret -"
"Taph, if that's you, I gave you ten credits last night!"
Obi-Wan turned his head exasperatedly to Lystra at her call, looking for help, but she didn't move.
"You know how much good that did me!" Taph looked impatiently at Obi-Wan, gesturing to the door, "Ahem?"
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, releasing the door, and Taph skipped inside to Lytra's couch and took a seat beside her despite her exclamation. "Taph, I have a guest!"
Taph shrugged, hopping off the sofa and taking a long gulp from Obi-Wan's teacup. Lystra shrieked, utterly distressed at the show, snatching it from the boys hands and scolding like a mother, "Jemitt! That's enough!"
Obi-Wan chuckled softly, commenting as he rolled back, "So you do know him; this is the kid who gave me a black eye."
"Taph!" Lystra looked furious, and Taph only shrugged again, wiping the remains of the tea from his lips on his sleeve.
"Of course she knows me, silly! I'm her -"
Lystra hushed him concernedly, a signal in her eyes Obi-Wan saw, one to tell the child to keep quiet about something. But he had already noticed what he suspected they were hiding; he saw an uncanny resemblance about them, their similar tone in banter, their eyes. He couldn't help but ask.
"Are you two . . . siblings?"
They both looked to him and laughed instantly, and Obi-Wan folded his arms, waiting for it to die down, "It is a fair question, in my defense."
"Taph is my nephew, Ben." Lystra ruffled the boy's hair, "My brother's son."
"Brother?" Obi-Wan wondered how that detailed had not been mentioned, but by Lystra's tone it seemed like another sore spot.
"Brother." Was all she said, looking to her hands, and Taph tensed visibly at the mention of his father. Obi-Wan sensed both their apprehension, and did not want to prod.
"Tell me of it later."
"Right. Taph, we have an interview to do -"
"Ji sent me here to tell you he's coming." Taph mentioned with a yawn, laying down on the couch and closing his eyes. Obi-Wan wondered how the energetic child had become so sleepy so suddenly, but his attention was drawn to Lystra, her eyes lit up - in a bad way. She shook Taph awake, "Ji's coming here?"
"Ji?" Obi-Wan asked, "Who's this? Another unmentioned person?"
A cry was heard below them, a shout of protest, and Obi-Wan tried to hide his sudden alertness in the Force. The presence felt familiar. The assassin.
"Hopefully that isn't Ji." Lystra said, and the sound reoccured just as loud as before. Obi-Wan knew she could feel the tension, by her distressed, bewildered expression. He could not have lead him here -
They all jumped as three blaster shots were heard. Taph moved protectively to Lystra's side and took her hand, hiding behind her.
"Come on," Obi-Wan said hastily, leading them out the door, and hiding his nervousy best he could.
Upon racing down the hallway leading into the lobby, the three had come to find the noises increasing, the shouts and cries. Obi-Wan stopped them just as they neared the end, finding a substantial group of disturbed hotel inhabiters huddled around the door leading into the lobby, making a fuss.
It had only taken moments for him to realize. A crowd. Obi-Wan's palms began to sweat, and he stopped short before it, clenching hands around his chair arms. The unavoidable memories resurfaced, plaguing, and at the haggard breathing from his chest he started a Jedi breathing technique to calm himself. He would have done anything to simply turn about and go back to Lystra's room, but he was not about to prove himself a coward in her presence.
"Are you alright?" She asked concernedly, and he forced a nod, reaching in his pocket to grab her earring, squeezing it tightly.
"Follow me." Obi-Wan said to Lystra, and she grabbed his wheelchair and Taph's hand. The Padawan took a breath and lead them on, rolling forward quickly in his chair through the crowd, pressing them as close to the door as he could. At the exit, a terribly angered Twi'lek pounded a fist onto the door with a furious shout, and Obi-Wan asked him above the noise, "What's going on?"
"They locked this door!" He snarled back, giving a curse filled phrase with his next shout.
"Why?" Lystra covered Taph's ears at the swearing. The Twi'lek turned to her and spat, "Haven't you heard? They've come for the assassin."
"They who? Police? Bounty hunters?"
Amidst this, Obi-Wan had managed to peek out into the reception area through the small space between the doors, making out two forms clearly in a brawl. One was young man dressed fully in black, and the other a humanoid in dark violet armor. The man, pressed up against the reception desk then, must have been somewhat trained, for his next kick and block was rehearsed, natural. There was something in the other one's fighting style that Obi-Wan knew he recognized, but could not pinpoint; neither of them were the assassin, thankfully, but why were they fighting?
"Aunt Lystra, I'm tired." Taph rubbed his eyes, still clutching Lystra's hand with his other, but she hushed to him quickly and scooped him up onto her hip.
"What's happening?" Lystra leaned down amongst the people and whispered urgently to Obi-Wan, concerned by the continuing scuffle. "I thought you said you didn't know about the assassin?"
"I didn't." Obi-Wan replied, "But why don't we find out? Tell everyone to back up."
"Why?" Lystra looked to him, bewildered, as he wheeled backward a bit and cried, "Stand clear! Please, watch out!"
The crowd mumbled stubbornly at the cry, the one Lystra joined though still confused, and after a moment most moved back and gave him clear view of the door. Obi-Wan rolled near the door, placing a hand upon it and using the Force to unlock it. He paused a moment, listening to the silence behind him, and with a shove pushed it open, releasing a joyous cry.
"How did you do that?" Lystra asked, shouting over the noise.
Obi-Wan shrugged with an innocent smile, "I have escaped by bedroom quarters from time to time."
The crowd dissipated out into the open space hastily, Obi-Wan leading Lystra out to the side to avoid the charge, seeing the scuffle from the battlers in the centre of the room had ceased instantly. Hands released arms and shoulders, kicks stopped mid-air and punches withdrew. They pushed away from each other as the throng rushed around them and out the exit, breathing harshly as they tore their locked gazes.
The man, who was dressed in a long dark robe with a high necked tunic, noticed Lystra quickly and rushed towards them, hair a white blonde that he straightened then, revealing his intense brown eyes. Obi-Wan instantly could tell he was no one to kid around with, stature stiff and serious. His aura in the Force was neutral, a bit too neutral for Obi-Wan's comfort. A shrouding type of neutral.
"Thanks a lot for your help!" Ji cried, approaching Lystra mere inches from her face, "I was runninc all over the Underlevels, getting concerned about things, and you're just waltzing around your hotel with one of your boyfriends!"
"Ji, he's not -" Lystra tried, but Obi-Wan interjected to her, "One of them?"
"He's kidding." Lystra said, though her tone did not convince him, "Ji, calm down. He's our -"
"You didn't even contact me, and I had to send him -" Ji gestured to Taph, who reached out to him sleepily, "Ji . . . !"
"Hey my little Jawa, how are you?" Ji took the chid in his arms, who slept instantly in the embrace, continuing with Lystra, " - to come get you! We're all in an uproar because Emalie has gone missing -"
"Emalie?"
Both Lystra and Obi-Wan said simultaneously, and they looked to each other in confusion.
"Do you perform at the club with Lystra?" Obi-Wan asked Ji, and he wrinkled his brow.
"Lystra isn't a per -"
"Ji!" Lystra cut him off urgently, "What's with you? What did you think you were doing? Who is that?"
"Who's this?" Ji asked in defense, and Obi-Wan stood from his chair, tired of being below the action. Balancing on his good leg and looking Ji in the eye, he replied with annoyance, "My name is Ben -"
"Ben?" The form in the armor said from their place across the room, pulling their headpiece off and shaking yellow hair down and catching fierce blue eyes with Obi-Wan's. His frustration was suddenly forgotten, for it was then when he sensed Siri Tachi's presence. No, it can't be - She hadn't followed him, had she? And what was she wearing?
Siri put one hand on her hip, directing her attention to Obi-Wan. "What are you doing here?"
Obi-Wan couldn't reply, puzzled beyond comprehension. His head began hurting suddenly, and his chest felt heavy, If she saw him there, with Lystra, he knew Qui-Gon would not go without hearing about it. She has meant to rat me out the whole time!
"Do you know her?" Lystra asked, a confusion in her eyes, and Obi-Wan stumbled on his tongue.
"I . . . she, she's not - I mean -"
"Hey!" Siri exclaimed with a warning he knew well, "Don't you even dare to say you don't, Kenobi!"
"This is Kenobi?" Ji jutted a thumb to Obi-Wan, "You were supposed to bring him to the Jump two hours ago! He is our contact, right?"
Lystra was blank-faced, quiet, implication sent from her eyes to Ji's, and Ji looked to Obi-Wan in realization. Obi-Wan, however, looked to Lystra, confused.
"Contact?" He questioned, though it was more of a statement, one demanding explanation of all the strange coincedences that didn't quite match up. She shot her eyes to him, a coldness to them seen. Obi-Wan felt his stomach twist sickeningly. Something was going on.
"Ben, I -"
The Padawan's light-headedness overwhelmed him, his feeling consciousness skewed, hazy, and he faltered nearly, feeling weak as a child. He maintained his balance, holding out to Lystra her earring once more.
She gazed at it, but her emerald eyes no longer sparkled. They were dulled.
"I should have known." Obi-Wan managed, words nearly slurred as he tried to focus on the cold gaze staring into him. He stumbled, and she reached to steady him -
Darkness.
