CHAPTER 26

One week later:

Kila looked up and smiled as her unofficial ward stumbled out of his bedroom, muttering something in gutter Corellian and rubbing his eyes. "Morning," she greeted him.

"Mornin'," the lad grumbled, heading for the cooling unit.

"Sleep well?"

"Uh-huh," the lad replied – he still hadn't told them his name so Kila thought of him as Mr. Thing. "What ya doin' today?"

"I'm getting the keys to our new home – you want to come with me and pick your bedroom?" Kila said.

The brown head emerged from the cooling unit and he stared at her. "My bedroom?"

Wondering if she'd pushed the wary youngster too far, Kila nodded her head. "If you want," she said.

Mr. Thing shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Sure; why not?" he said, but Kila wasn't fooled. She knew he was growing fond of both her and Qui-Gon, even though he wouldn't admit it.

"Good," Kila replied. She indicated the massive platter the lad was holding. "So … sometime after you've waded through that, we'll go and look at the new house."

The lad also needed to go to school but he would likely not go – and he couldn't be registered without a name, anyway. He showed no evidence of Force sensitivity, but appeared to be good at math and physics. Maybe he could channel his independent and restless nature into flying when he became of age. The Republic Navy would give him some discipline and a sense of belonging. But that was a long way into the future.

"A 'ight," Mr. Thing mumbled through a large piece of kasafruit. He sat down at the table and poured some blue milk. "Want some?" he asked.

"Thank you," Kila said, pleased at the small courtesy and determined to encourage it. He was a good kid once you got past the rough façade he wore to protect himself. She sat back and sipped her milk, watching with equal parts amusement and sorrow as Mr. Thing plowed through his massive portions. She had learned the same lesson as a slave – when there's food eat it, for you never knew when your next meal would be.

Sooner than one might have expected, the lad sat back and belched. Kila chuckled. "Careful, kid – we might think there's a bantha loose in here."

Mr. Thing rolled his eyes. "Funny," he mumbled, wiping his mouth on his sleeve before catching Kila's meaningful stares. He blushed slightly and reached for a napkin instead.

"I thought so," Kila replied brightly. "Anyway; go and clean up, kid – you look like something that's been on the receiving end of a Wookiee hug."

The lad laughed – the sound rusty, as if he hadn't laughed in many years. Probably he hadn't, Kila reminded herself. "Been there," he said, sounding a little wistful. Then the hazel eyes hardened and he stood up. "Anyway … I'll go hit the fresher," he added and nearly bolted from the living area.

Kila sighed – for a second there, she'd thought he was about to divulge a little of his past. They obviously still had a long way to go before that would happen.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"I was thinking of this room for you," Kila said an hour or so later. "It's a good size and a little away from the other bedrooms so any babies Qui-Gon and I may have won't disturb you."

"Whatever," Mr. Thing replied.

Kila sighed. "I'm not going to decide for you, kid," she said. "As you pointed out, no-one owns you." She folded her arms over her chest. "So … make a kriffing decision."

Mr. Thing looked startled. "I … I like this room," he said almost shyly. "You and Qui-Gon … you … if you're wantin' babies n' such, won't I be in the way?"

"No," Kila replied. "If you decide to stay with us, you'll be family – who birthed you is irrelevant."

"Oh," the lad mouthed. "You and him … you're a 'ight ya know."

Kila grinned. "Well, you're a 'ight too," she teased, patting his shoulder and smiling when he didn't flinch away. He'd evidently had some parental interaction in his life. The shoulder wasn't as skinny as it had been a week ago, thanks to Kila's cooking and Qui-Gon engaging him in sports. She suspected that he would always be lean, but he'd lost that half-starved look he'd sported.

Unable to resist, she ruffled Mr. Thing's already untidy hair and chuckled when he made a half-hearted attempt at smoothing down the unruly locks. "You need a haircut, kid," she said. "Unless you want to grow it long."

"Nah," Mr. Thing replied. "It'd get in my way." Then he frowned. "Why're you goin' to all this bother for me?"

"Well, why shouldn't we? What's wrong with you?" Kila teased.

"Ah … nothing," Mr. Thing stumbled. "But … you know."

"Yes; I know." Kila relented in her teasing. Despite his world-weary attitude and street-smarts, he was still a child – a child that had trouble articulating what he felt. "It's like I said before – I'm not sure why I'm so drawn to you, but I am. You do remind me of someone I met once; that's probably a part of it."

"What … will o' the Force an' all that?" The skepticism in the lad's voice was evident.

"You don't believe in the Force?"

"I don't believe in anything I can't see, touch, hear, swallow …" – he held up a snack bar. "Ain't no mystical energy field controls my life."

"Such a cynic," Kila teased once more. "Anyway … I can't spend the rest of the day teasing you – as much fun as that is. You need a haircut, and then I want to start getting some things for this house."

"Shopping?" Now Mr. Thing let out a whine that made him actually sound his age.

"Deal with it, Mr. Thing," Kila retorted heartlessly. "I'm not keen on shopping either, but it needs to be done. Of course; we could go and register you for school instead," she added slyly.

"Ah … no. Shopping's all right. Why'm I complaining?" the lad replied quickly, scowling when Kila giggled. "Did you just call me Mr. Thing?"

"Whoops." Kila sighed then laughed. "It's how I've been thinking of you – it just slipped out."

"Mr. Thing?" The lad peered at her then wandered away to look out of the window. "She's weird," Kila distinctly heard him mumble.

"I heard that!" she retorted with another laugh.

"Kriff … ears like a Klontak hound."

"I heard that too," Kila replied. She went over to the window and put her hand on Mr. Thing's shoulder. "Bit of a smart-mouth, aren't you?"

The lad grinned slightly. "Yeah," he said. He gave one of his rusty-sounding laughs. "If Shrike couldn't beat it outta me, you'll never be able to."

"Shrike …," Kila mused. Why was that name so familiar to her?

Alarm flared in Mr. Thing's eyes before he tamped it down. "You know him?"

"No … but I think I've heard of him," Kila replied. She shrugged her shoulders when a face remained elusive. "Oh well … let it go." She'd encountered so many people during her life it was surprising that she remembered as many as she did.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

On Naboo:

Qui-Gon and his new Padawan, Kitster Banai, exited the ship and the Padawan gave a small shiver. The young man hailed from Tatooine and had only recently decided to join the Jedi Order. At 22 Standard years, he wasn't as skilled as other Padawans his age, yet he showed a great deal of promise.

It had been over ten years since Qui-Gon had had an apprentice, and he'd had his doubts when he was asked to take on Kitster. The lad had recently lost his parents during an outbreak of rivalries between various Hutt factions on Tatooine and he grieved badly for them. However, when Qui-Gon learned that Kitster had spent all his life in Mos Espa and had been friends with Anakin Skywalker, he had gladly agreed to take on the sorrowing young man.

Now, several weeks later, he was beginning to see the fruits of his labor. Kitster was a smart lad, obedient and thoughtful, not given to overt displays of emotion. "It's cold, Master," Kitster said now, wrapping his cloak around his shivering form.

Qui-Gon smiled down at him. "You're desert-bred," he said. "Anything below scorching will seem cold to you." He laughed. "My betrothed came from Tatooine also – even after five years she hasn't adjusted."

"You're betrothed, Master?" Kitster sounded surprised. "I … forgive me. I know we are allowed to form attachments, but I wouldn't have thought …"

"That someone as ancient as I could fall in love?" Qui-Gon asked impishly and watched as the Padawan's face turned several shades of red.

"I … no; that's not what I meant," the younger man stumbled. "I …"

Qui-Gon waved his hand. "I take no offense," he said. "Truth be told; until I met Kila, I'd never thought I could love so deeply. But she's an amazing woman and makes me very happy."

"Then I'm glad for you, Master," Kitster said, regaining his customary composure. He paused and blushed slightly. "May I ask your advice?"

"Of course."

"There's another Padawan I care for," Kitster continued. "I've never had a problem with approaching women, but this girl … She's so different. Fun and silly. We have great times together but she doesn't seem to realize how I … I love her."

"Who is she?"

"Her name's Ahoska. Ahoska Tano." Kitster gave a besotted sigh. "She's so tiny and sweet – yet feisty and snippy too."

"Padawan Tano …" Qui-Gon shook his head with a small smile. "You're several years premature for her, Kitster. Togruta childhood is longer than a human's – by her terms, she's still a pre-adolescent. Boys are at best playmates and at worst pests."

"Oh." Kitster looked crestfallen. "She doesn't look like a child though."

"Unfortunately, no," Qui-Gon agreed. Togruta of Ahoska's age were vulnerable to sexual predators as they looked like adults but weren't. "If you truly care for her, you'll remain friends with her. Then in five or six years time, she may see you in a different light."

Kitster gave another sigh. "Thank you for telling me, Master," he said. "I can wait for her – she's worth it."

Qui-Gon clapped the younger man's shoulder. "Good man," he said then straightened up as Governor Sio Bibble and Queen Jamillia approached him. "Your Highness," he greeted the young Nubian.

"Welcome back to Naboo, Master Jinn," the Queen returned, clasping his hands warmly. "It has been too long."

"Indeed," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "May I present Padawan Kitster Banai?"

"Your Highness," Kitster said quietly.

"Welcome to Naboo, Padawan Banai – is this your first visit to our world?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Kitster said with a small shiver.

"Forgive my Padawan, Your Highness," Qui-Gon said. "He comes from a desert world with twin suns and hasn't adapted yet."

"No apologies are necessary," the Queen said. "Shall we proceed to my chambers? We have much to discuss and there are warm fireplaces there." This with a mischievous twinkle to the young Padawan.

Qui-Gon smiled, recalling the young Queen's teasing of Obi-Wan during his convoluted courtship of Padmé. "An excellent suggestion," he said, nodding to the quiet Governor Bibble. "Governor."

"Master Jinn," Bibble responded.

The party turned and made their way back to the palace, the Queen slipping her hand through Qui-Gon's arm when he would have walked respectfully behind her. "I understand congratulations are in order, Master Jinn," she said.

"How did you …?" Then he realized. "Senator Amidala."

"But of course. A Queen has sources of intelligence everywhere." The Queen squeezed his arm. "I'm very happy for you, Master Jinn. You're a good man and you deserve to be loved. I just hope she's worthy of you."

Qui-Gon blushed slightly, uncomfortable with such fulsome praise. "She's a wonderful, beautiful woman," he said. "But I don't believe we were asked to come here to discuss my impending nuptials."

The laughter left the Queen's face and she sighed. "No; unfortunately not," she said. "But I would prefer to discuss it in less … open surroundings."

"Of course, Your Highness," Qui-Gon acquiesced.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several hours into the shopping, Kila noticed that Mr. Thing's eyes had started to glaze over and she smiled slightly. "Well, I don't know about you, kid, but I could do with a sit-down and something to eat."

"I could eat," the lad replied.

"You can always eat," Kila shot back. "I'm beginning to think that you're just a bottomless pit."

The lad smirked then indicated a small café. "How about here?" he said.

"Why not?" Kila replied – it was far enough away from Dex's that she didn't think of it as competition and therefore didn't feel guilty. She opened the door and recoiled as smoke hit her full in the face. Lucky her – she'd found one of the few public eateries where customers were allowed to smoke. "That's why not," she coughed, exiting rapidly. "Let's find somewhere a bit less … smoky, shall we?"

Mr. Thing shrugged. "A 'ight." Then he indicated a swoop transport stop. "There's a swoop due in a coupla minutes that'll get us near to Dex's."

"Good man." Kila squeezed his shoulder and smiled when he didn't flinch. Although he'd claimed that shopping bored him, they'd become closer over those hours of mutual boredom. Although to hear the way they talked to each other, no-one would think that. The lad was smart-mouthed and so was Kila – it made for some interesting conversations.

The swoop pulled up and Kila ushered Mr. Thing aboard, paying the fares demanded. The swoop jerked as it took off and Kila staggered as she hadn't found a seat. Mr. Thing grabbed her by the upper arms and steadied her. "Y'okay?" he asked in his rough chivalry.

Kila chuckled. "I'm fine – just a bit clumsy, you know."

"No, you ain't," the lad retorted. "That pilot shoulda waited. What if you'd hurt yourself?"

Kila smiled slightly and sat down next to the lad. "Kriff; another overprotective male in my life," she teased. "As if Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Dex weren't enough."

Mr. Thing shrugged his shoulders. "Well … you been good to me," he said lamely, his cheeks going pink. "I ain't stupid enough to let you get hurt – Qui-Gon would pound me into the ground."

"He wouldn't," Kila protested. "He may be big and powerful, but he's a gentle giant."

"Anyone can do bad stuff," the lad replied. "He just chooses not to."

Kila thought that over – recalled that Qui-Gon had come close to the Dark Side more than once in his life – and nodded her head. "You're pretty smart," she said.

"Yeah … well … On the streets the dumb don't survive," Mr. Thing stated in a matter of fact manner.

"Mmm," Kila agreed soberly. She'd been incredibly lucky that Dex had taken her in – she'd had nowhere near the level of street-smarts of Mr. Thing.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon sipped at his kevas, mulling over the unwelcome news that the Queen had just given him. Since the abrupt cessation of the war against the Separatists, the Trade Federation had withdrawn to the outer fringes of Republic space, seeming to content themselves with levying relatively reasonable rates for trade to the outer systems. For them to have re-established themselves this close to core worlds was a bold move for an inherently cowardly group of beings.

They'd occupied Naboo more than a decade ago, but then they'd had the backing of the then Senator Palpatine. After his death and subsequent unmasking as the Sith Lord Sidious, their foundations and their collective might had collapsed. The majority of the clone troopers had been found and reprogrammed, and were being encouraged in the development of their individuality. So … without Sidious and the might of the clones, where had they gotten the courage to move so close to the core?

"Naboo is peaceful," the Queen was saying, linking her fingers together and staring down at them as if they held the answers she sought. "We have no armies, very few means of defense. They were able to occupy us before – with very little resistance. I do not want history to repeat itself." She looked up from her hands and regarded Qui-Gon gravely. "I understand that you are keepers of the peace, not soldiers, but can we rely on your support should we be invaded once more?"

"You'd be better off learning to defend yourselves," Padawan Banai – hitherto silent – opined.

"Padawan!" Qui-Gon said sharply. "You forget yourself. Mind your place."

"My apologies," Kitster replied without sounding at all apologetic.

The Queen merely inclined her head. "Your Padawan has a point – however rudely made," she said. "But it is pointless to dwell on what might have been. We are not a fighting people, Master Jinn, and I ask for the Jedi's help once more."

"You shall have it, Your Highness," Qui-Gon promised, glancing at his red-faced Padawan.

The Queen smiled – an action that rendered her otherwise ordinary face quite lovely – and rested her small hand on Qui-Gon's larger battle-roughened one. "Thank you, Master Jinn," she said. "And with business out of the way, let us discuss more pleasurable matters."

"Such as …?"

"Such as your nuptials." Queen Jamillia patted Qui-Gon's hand. "You have done so much for Naboo – you were nearly killed in our defense. I would like to repay you."

"That's really not necessary, Your Highness," Qui-Gon protested, going slightly pink.

"I know, but I want to," the Queen returned mildly. "I know Jedi have very little money – therefore, I'd like to offer the use of my estate in the lake country of Varykino for your honeymoon. It's beautiful and isolated, and very romantic if Padmé Amidala is to be believed." She gave a mischievous smile at that. "Padmé Kenobi I should say. Please accept."

"Then I will," Qui-Gon said. "On behalf of Kila and myself; thank you very much."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila and Mr. Thing entered Dex's just as the rain began to patter down. Rain wasn't common in this part of Coruscant at this time of year, and she rolled her eyes. It looked like the weather net was having problems again. "Hi, Dex!" She waved at the massive Besalisk, busy as usual in the kitchen.

"Hi, Sweetness!" the Besalisk yelled back over the chatter of his waitresses. "Be quiet for one second, you gossiping harpies!" he thundered.

In the stunned silence that overcame the entire diner, Dex heaved his massive form out of the kitchen and made his way over to Kila and Mr. Thing. "Hello, Sweetness," he said in a softer tone, using all four of his arms to pull Kila into a hug.

She returned the hug with interest, patting Dex's side – her arms weren't long enough to extend around his meaty back. "How are you, Dex?" she asked.

"Can't complain," the Besalisk returned. "We miss your Sweetcakes, girl, but other than that …" He extended one of his arms out to Mr. Thing and shook his hand. "You got a name yet, young 'un?" he added with a grin.

"Mr. Thing," the lad said with a smirk aimed at Kila.

"Mr. Thing?" Dex echoed, and then shook his head. "You humans are very strange."

"I won't argue with that," Kila said cheerfully and returned Mr. Thing's smirk. "I've been calling him that in my head – it just slipped out this morning."

"You're a bit young to be goin' senile already, Sweetness," Dex said, letting Kila out of the hug and ushering her and Mr. Thing to an unoccupied booth as the noise levels returned to their customary muted roar. "So … Togrutian nerf pie and caf for you, and a bantha burger and blue milk for Mr. Thing?"

Kila raised her eyebrows at Mr. Thing and he shrugged, which she took as assent. "Sounds good, Dex," she said.

Dex turned to holler the order at a waitress and Kila smiled when a small mousy-looking creature poked her head timidly out of the kitchen. She smiled and nodded then whisked away to get the food. It looked as if Dex had adopted yet another stray – the dear man.

The small timid-looking woman reappeared moments later with a tray in her hands. Kila could see her bite her lip then heave a great sigh – as if shoring up her courage. She came over to Kila's table and gave them their orders in silence, offered another smile then whisked away once more.

"That's … that was my newest waitress," Dex said, sitting down next to Kila. "She's nearly as sweet as you, but she doesn't cook half as well."

"Young …," Kila mused.

"Bout 20 Standard, near's I can figure," Dex replied gruffly. "She needed work and I needed the help so … why not?"

"Dex; you can't fool me," Kila said fondly, cutting into her pie. "You can growl and bluster as much as you want, but I know you're just a big softy."

"Eat, Sweetness – hunger's makin' you delirious," Dex denied roughly. He squeezed her shoulder gently with one giant hand then heaved his bulk out of the booth. "Anyway; I can't stand here an' chat all day with you – cookin' to be done, waitresses to be scared spitless."

"Scared spitless …," Kila murmured scornfully. He really was just a big softy at heart – she'd known that the day she'd met him.