{Disney owns Star Wars universe and characters, not me. Warning: depictions of sexual acts, nudity, adult language. 18+ only, please.}
"Oh, you came back. I was sure you'd be on your honeymoon by now, getting kinky with helmet boy." Dulo jeered in Rodian, upon Fuleen's entrance to the club. She was still dressed in her farmer's garb, but she slipped behind the bar anyway.
She then slapped Dulo's ass with force, causing Dulo to caw in surprise, but she gave the Mirialan sparkly, alien bedroom eyes as she passed.
"I deserved that. I was a bad, bad girl." This was said in Common for the benefit of her audience. The two men at the bar grinned lecherously at this exchange.
Dulo shouted after her, switching back to Rodian, "At least I waited till you'd finished! I'm a pervert, but I'm polite, damn it."
"You're so considerate." Fuleen retorted from the back of the club, then ducked into the changing room.
Tonight felt like a traditional dress night, she thought. She usually liked to vary her costumes, but that one was lucky to her, now. Tightening the pull-away straps, she glanced at the mirror. She looked so like the proper Mirialan ladies in the infoholos she had read. She touched her facial tattoos, and briefly considered getting more.
She started her set as usual, capturing the audience before even fully emerging from behind the curtain. As soon as she started, she felt it: a fellow force-sensitive being. It wasn't the first time, and she knew it wouldn't be the last. She just went into the dance, focusing on the music, quieting the part of her mind that would alert whoever might be able to hear it. Focusing on the physical always did the trick; the dull-witted plebians always focused on the mundane, the here-and-now. She was good at masking her talents and blending in, when she had to.
When she saw Din in the audience, in his new outfit, her mask slipped. The vest he wore was well-tailored, deep blue base and dark brown leather patches. His shirt had an off-center flap to fasten at the neck, but it was left open. He was smiling, as much as she'd ever seen him smile, which was only a subtle curve, but she could tell it was subconscious. Her mind reached out to his naturally, and she didn't think to stop herself. Ever since last night, when they had connected more than the bestial physicality of their first intimacy, she felt drawn to his thoughts like a magnet. It took effort to pull away. She closed her eyes, focusing on the dance, tilting just so, making her head covering drop away.
She was so absorbed in the music and the flow of her motion that she didn't hear the angry cries, at first. She felt the bottle before it connected with her shoulder, causing her to trip up and stumble. She caught herself before she fell, but glared into the audience, eyes centering on that same point that had alarmed her at the start of her set. An angry male Mirialan stood, fists balled, returning her glare with focused hatred.
"How dare you!" he repeated. Other patrons rose around him, protesting. Din, among them, stepped between Fuleen and the aggressor.
"Put your covering back on, harlot!" the man demanded, stepping closer to the stage. "How dare you mock our culture! You, of all our people, should know better! You disgrace the force with this display! Did you even earn those tattoos? Did you?"
Din put a hand to the man's chest, about to say something to placate him or defend Fuleen, but she was already off the stage and in the man's face.
"How dare I? How dare I make a living without selling my body to strangers? Oh, forgive me, your lordship. I was abducted and sold into slavery before my parents had a chance to brainwash me like yours did. And I bought these tattoos with my own gods-damned hard-earned credits. Kindly fuck off out of here with your outdated ideals and your precious 'force'. Bouncer!"
Hearing himself summoned, the Trandoshan bouncer came forward to grasp the irate Mirialan under his armpits, and proceeded to drag him out.
The man continued to spit hatred, shouting profanities in his native tongue as he was forcefully shuffled out of the establishment. Dulo was already putting a holo-call in to Maz with a snapshot of the offender.
"What a hypocrite." Fuleen laughed, taking the stage once more. "In that gangrenous asshole's honor, I plan to finish my dance, tonight. All… the way." she tore away the top of her dress, revealing a thin strip of fabric around her mid torso. Wild applause met her, but she felt Din's shock. He would have to deal with it; such outrage needed to be met with rebellion. It was her way.
She swayed to the rolling beat, tossing her ball-chains behind her, dragging her hands up her body. Howls and snarls of approval drowned out the music. Din, still standing, pushed his way out of the audience and stormed to the bar.
Fuleen refused to stop. She ripped away the long skirt, flinging it behind her. She moved like an eel, spine rippling slowly in time, hips oscillating. The music drove her; the exhilaration of exhibitionism encouraging her to remove more, more. The loin cloth fell away; the strip holding back her breasts snapped as she pulled at it. She twirled, raising arms above tilted head, the beat consuming her. Praise. Love. Attention. She felt it, even from these shallow minds. There were so many, it magnified in the closed space. It was a drug. The high hit hard. Her eyes rolled back as she dropped to her knees, bending over backward and sliding her hands down, down. She heard credits clinking around her as they were tossed onto the stage.
The rest of her dance was a blur. The music moved her like a puppet.
When the music finally stopped, she panted, struggling to come back to herself. She hastily gathered clothing and credits, smiling and thanking her kind patrons before disappearing behind the curtain. All she could hear was uproar and applause; all she could feel was shame and disappointment. Din was drinking, again. Dula was reveling in the drama.
Din's face was hot. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the glass of spotchka in front of him.
It didn't feel right. Any of it. The Mirialan man was out of line, but Din knew that outrage. They had come from similar cults.
Mostly he felt deep jealousy. Her skin was his; the intimate areas she had exposed so publicly were his to covet. He wanted to shoot every man in the room.
He also knew this was wrong. This was her life, not his. He had stumbled into it. He was not her slave master, and he did not own her. He drank down the glowing liquor in one swig. Dulo was filling it again almost immediately.
"So… that was exciting, huh?" she asked in Common. Her bizarre house fly head was propped on a hand, elbow on the bar, faceted eyes glittering.
"Mind your own business, scavenger." he replied in perfect Rodian. She recoiled, tisking. "See if I give you any more booze, you jealous prick." she spat back in the same language.
Din jerked in surprise at the clank of credits on the bar in front of him. Dulo scooped them up, still glaring. Fuleen stood silently by, now fully clothed in her waitress get-up.
"I'm sorry you had to see that. Any of it." she said quietly.
"Get the fuck out of my head."
"I'm not in it."
"How can I know that?" he said, finally turning to look at her. Both looked pained.
"You lied to me about… what you can do-"
"I never lied!" she hissed, moving closer.
"We can't talk about this here." She took his hand, pulling him to his feet. He allowed her to lead him to the same private room he had passed out in two nights previous.
They sat on a cushioned bench in the corner, dim red light turning Fuleen charcoal gray. Silence lay between them while she carefully chose her words, eyes averted.
"You were a slave?" Din asked, hoping to help her begin.
"Yes and no. I was… abducted… at a young age. I don't remember how old I was. Talent-seekers came to Mirial and found me. They wanted to use what I had for their own glory. The glory of the Sith."
She was quiet again.
"I've heard of them." Din offered. "They're the power behind the empire. I don't know much more about them."
"They're an ancient culture that reveres the dark side of the nature of thinking beings." she said, voice weak. He could tell she was forcing herself to talk about it.
"Do you know about The Force?"
"Not… not really. I've met people who could use it, though."
"Well, all life… all matter, is bound by and flows with The Force. Everything exists on a massive web of Force. We all feed and alter it, but only some can vibrate the strands between points on this web. I'm what is called force-sensitive. I can 'see' the strands of the web, and vibrate some to a degree. That's what lets me feel the thoughts and emotions of others. I can do more… but I don't want to."
Din put a hand on her knee.
"There are people who can help you. I… I helped someone like you before. I know where to go. I can… if I can get a ship, I'll take you there."
Fuleen shook her head.
"You're talking about the Jedi. Yeah, they already 'saved' me. There aren't many of them left, by the way. We narrowly made it away from the Empire. I trained with them for awhile, but I was… the damage was already done. I have too much pain in me. What the Sith did to me… no one should ever do to another living thing."
He waited for her to continue, but she did not. Her shoulders hitched in a quiet sob. He drew her close, pulling her onto his lap as one would a child, and just held her.
"The Jedi couldn't help you."
"N-no… they don't like damaged goods." she admitted, her voice pinched with tears.
"I left them, came here. Maz takes in all the lost children. She understands what I've been through. She helped me get a new life, a new name. Fuleen was an ancestor of mine. She used to run smuggling operations for Maz, hundreds of years ago. Another Mirialan who rejected her orthodox culture and made a life for herself. She's my hero. I draw on her strength daily. I keep the holos she left for Maz next to my bed, and watch them when I start to feel lost."
Fuleen sniffed deeply and crawled out of his lap. She sat apart from him and took a steadying breath.
"But I know both the Sith and the Jedi are still out there, looking for me. You see, I have a particular talent for hearing and seeing the minds of others, even strong minds. I'm not that strong in the force, aside from that, but my talent is rare. People want to use me. I guess… in a weird way… this is why I dance. It feels better to be in my body, to use my body, not my mind."
Din took all this in, lips pursed. He missed Grogu. He wondered if the little green child had been able to hear his thoughts, as well. Here was another green being, touched by the same intangible magic his surrogate son had wielded, seeking his help.
"What do you need me to do?"
"Please don't hate me for what I did. I was lashing out; I was out of control. That… that man brought a lot of buried trauma back to me. I needed to do something drastic… and it felt good. I won't apologize for it. But don't hate me. Please stay."
"I'm not going anywhere."
He turned her head, wiping away a tear with his thumb, and leaned in to kiss her softly. She melted against him, sliding her hand over his. She pulled away.
"I'm not trying to trap you here, though. Only stay if you really want to. I'll be fine on my own. I just… after tonight- after a fellow force-sensitive being called me out- I need to lie low for a bit. Someone will probably be coming to find me. And soon."
Din grasped the handle of his blaster briefly. "They won't have you."