"You are meant to be helping with preparations."

Obi-Wan watched Anakin's back straighten as he approached from behind, veering around to stand beside him at the end of the dining table. Anakin looked up, mouth bulging, as he quickly tried to chew through whatever he had crammed in there. Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest, generously allowing him a few seconds, taking the time to look over the veritable banquet laid out on the table. There had to be enough food for a dozen people, with leftovers to spare. Had his padawan finally succumbed to the black hole that was his stomach, and decided to eat the Temple's entire food supply in one sitting?

"This is obscene, even for you," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. "Why is there so much food here?"

"I'm helping out," Anakin replied, voice muffled, as a small spray of crumbs scattered out of his mouth.

Obi-Wan winced. Six long years trying to drill manners into the boy, and this was what he had to show for it. "How is this helping anyone?"

"Ems said she needed a food tester," Anakin said, shrugging and nodding to the plates in front of him. "So I'm testing the food."

"What is all this? I don't recognise anything," Obi-Wan said, peering down at one platter. It had little rounded circles, with some kind of green and purple topping.

"Em's been trying to make food from Earth. This is some of her…uh…attempts."

"Is any of it edible?" Obi-Wan asked, looking back up at his padawan. Anakin already had another morsel half-way to his mouth. He nodded with the kind of enthusiasm that Anakin tended to only show for flying or food.

"Yeah, it's great! These little cake things are so good, Master. And those round balls; she said they were called uh…falafels?"

"I am far more inclined towards the sushi," Master Mundi's said, from where he was sitting further down the table. Obi-Wan had been so focused on Anakin, he hadn't noted the presence of the two Masters sitting nearby. "Although I believe it might be improved upon if Anarati eel was used in place of gooberfish."

"That is an interesting suggestion," Master Unduli said, her own small selection plate in front of her. "Anarati eel certainly has a firmer texture - but the stronger flavour may throw off the delicate balance of the dish." Master Mundi nodded reflectively.

"Master Mundi and Master Unduli have been helping," Anakin added.

This was getting ridiculous now. What should have been one rather small - and easily organised - event, now felt like it was rippling out to engulf the rest of the Temple. Suddenly he had Master Koon cornering him after Council meetings to discuss appropriate shoes for human feet; or Master Nu wanting his opinion on the best holoimages Emily had drawn to forward to the Senate officials for display. It was all anyone seemed to talk to him about, and Emily had thrown herself head first into the thick of it. Most of his days were now spent trailing in her wake, watching as more and more Jedi from around the Temple were swept into the preparations. Emily seemed to be unable to speak to someone, without somehow managing to recruit them to her cause. At this rate, half of the Jedi Order would be involved before the end.

"While I appreciate your assistance, Masters, I do apologise that you were asked to contribute your time to this. I am sure you have much more important engagements to attend to."

"Not at all," Master Mundi said. "This has been a far more interesting midday meal than I usually partake in. Although I would caution against the 'chilli' sauce, as it is called. I'm afraid Emily may have misinterpreted a biological weapon as a food substance."

"I kinda like it," Anakin said. As if proving a point, he dipped a little beige dumpling into a ferociously luminous orange sauce and popped it into his mouth. Obi-Wan watched his padawans lips flush red as his eyes began to water. What sort of horrifying food would cause that kind of reaction?

"I'm not even going to ask," Obi-Wan said, watching his apprentice grimace and blink back tears as he chewed. "Do you know where Emily is now? I haven't seen her all day."

"She was with Master Ti in the music hall," Anakin said, his voice catching on a sputtering cough at the end.

"Why would she… you know what? Never mind. I'll ask her myself," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. Anakin was half collapsed over the table in a coughing fit, his face bright red and a sheen of sweat covering his skin. Obi-Wan turned to leave, calling back over his shoulder. "Oh, and Anakin? If you do insist on choking to death, please try to do so quietly. There are other people enjoying their midday meal around you. It's rude to disturb them."

Obi-Wan left the dining area and made his way towards the music and recreation halls on the upper west-side levels of the Temple. All Jedi were encouraged to expand their skills outside of the required training as part of the Order. Music and dance. Painting and carving. Whatever the inclination, all creative activities were supported. Much of the fine art and sculptures throughout the Temple were hand crafted by their own.

He walked through the bright and airy halls that held the music chambers. Since taking on Anakin as his padawan, Obi-Wan had little to no time to spare for his own recreation. He had no idea how Qui-Gon had managed to train him as a padawan, while still dedicating time to his interests. Obi-Wan felt like he barely had time to breathe, let alone indulge in a hobby. He eventually found Emily in one of the smaller rooms, curled up in a padded recess seat built into a circular performance chamber, the walls around her lined with a variety of instruments. This space had been built specifically for playing and listening to music, its domed ceiling reflecting and enhancing the sound of the instruments, so that anyone listening felt as though the music was all around them. As he approached her, Obi-Wan noted the beautifully crafted hallikset cradled in her lap.

"Anakin told me you were with Master Ti," Obi-Wan said, a few paces from her little alcove. Emily had her legs tucked up under the instrument, her bare feet stretched out across the blue-grey cushions. "I had presumed you were receiving music lessons. Have you finished already?"

"Oh yes. As a matter of fact, I've single-handedly mastered every instrument in this room," Emily said, gently plucking her fingers over the strings. There was a mischievous light in her eyes when she looked up at him. "Shaak Ti was so awed by my skill, I think she may never play again, out of respect for my peerless talent."

"Very impressive," Obi-Wan replied, smothering his own smile. He leaned against the edge of the wall, crossing his arms as he looked down at her. He watched her fight down her own smirk.

"I think the exact phrase she used was, 'a generation defining genius'," Emily said, her voice utterly serious. "I'm adding it to all the other titles about how brilliant I am."

"And is there any chance I might get to hear the musical strumming's of such a genius?"

"I'm not sure you're mentally prepared for such unimaginable beauty," Emily replied. She was losing the fight with her smile; the corners of her eyes crinkling with it. Obi-Wan grinned back.

"Oh, I'll brace myself."

"Fine," she said, pulling her feet back towards her, making room next to her on the seat. "But you may want to sit down for it. I won't be held responsible for any uncontrollable swooning."

"Noted," Obi-Wan said with a laugh. He tucked himself into the seat beside her, not really realising how small the alcove was until he was jammed in alongside her. Emily stretched her feet out again, resting them against his thigh, rebalancing the hallikset on her lap. She made a show of pretending to tune it, which would have been more convincing if she was actually twisting the correct spokes. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, which just made her laugh.

Then she started to play. Or at least, Obi-Wan was fairly certain that was what she was attempting. Emily clumsily plucked at the strings, the stilted notes almost forming something that could be called a tune. The beautiful, almost ethereal, reverberation sound which the instrument was famous for, was rendered into a jaw clenching whine under her heavy-handed treatment. Emily finished with a dramatic flourish, and Obi-Wan tried to not wince as the last wailing note was struck.

"Don't applaud all at once," Emily said, now fully grinning and seemingly delighted with the pain she had so brutally inflicted; not just on his ears, but on the good name of music in general.

"What can I say?" Obi-Wan replied. "You've rendered me speechless."

"Twinkle Twinkle Little Star will do that to a person," Emily agreed. "It's the most complicated and inspiring song from my world."

"I can see why Shaak Ti felt the need to leave."

"Jealously is a terrible thing to witness in a Jedi," she replied, sighing and shaking her head sympathetically. "I'm sure she'll get over it eventually, the poor woman."

They were both grinning at each other now, and Obi-Wan realised that this was another reason why he wanted this whole event over and done with. Not only was it taking up all of his time, and encroaching onto other Jedi, but it had also entirely consumed the quiet moments that he'd usually get to spend with Emily. He couldn't remember the last time they'd just sat down and talked like this together. He had gotten so use to the long evenings and occasional afternoons together, he hadn't appreciated how much he missed them, until they had been swallowed up in their entirety.

"May I?" he said, holding out his hand for the hallikset. If Anakin remained occupied with his food tasting, and no-one else came looking for them, there was a chance of snatching back a few hours together in this room. Obi-Wan would take what he could get. Emily passed the instrument over, her eyes narrowing as he cradled it in his hands. Obi-Wan started up a simple Mirialan tune he had learned as a padawan. He was surprised as how quickly the muscle-memory came back to him. It had been years since he had last picked up a hallikset.

"Ugh no!" Emily blurted out, after Obi-Wan had only managed to get a few bars in. She quickly reached forwards to tug the instrument out of his hands - his fingers faltering on the strings as it was wrenched from his grip. "I'm not having it. Give me that!"

"What?" he said, utterly baffled by the look of disgust on her face.

"You don't get to be good at this too," she said, holding the hallikset out of reach when he made for it. "I'm starting to reconsider the whole robot thing, Mr 'I'm perfect and good at everything'."

"That's hardly fair," he replied, pushing the hair back from his forehead.

"Oh please," she scoffed, "name me one thing you can't do then? Just one thing that you're bad at, and then you can show off all you want."

"I wasn't showing off," Obi-Wan said. "Anyway, there's plenty of things I'm not good at."

"Such as?" Emily asked, giving him a sceptical look. Obi-Wan took a few moments to think, smoothing a hand over his beard.

"Campfire cooking?" he replied back. "Anakin hasn't let me cook anything over a fire in years. He says it always ends up burnt on the outside and raw in the middle. And, unlike you, I'm not particularly good at drawing. There's also a Dug game called Rua'k'sha which your meant to play with your feet - I nearly lost a transporter on a mission to Malastare on that game."

"Alright," Emily said, reluctantly relinquishing the hallikset to him. "But just so you know, a game you're not physically able to play, doesn't count."

"You say that, but Anakin is rather good at it. Then again, he does have frighteningly long toes." Emily pulled a face at that, and Obi-Wan laughed, picking the tune back up from the beginning. She let him play without interruption this time. The notes echoed through the room, shifting and changing as they reverberated off the pale caramel walls.

"Does this song have any lyrics?" Emily asked after a few minutes. She had buried herself deeper into the upholstered seat, the side of her face pressed into the padded backrest. Obi-Wan hesitated for a second. He remembered the words, but suddenly the thought of singing to her - here, like this - tightened his throat. He had to look away, focusing on the patterned floor, before he could get his voice to work.

The lyrics were simple, and translated well enough from the native Mirialan; it was a song dedicated to the frozen crystal sands of Mirial's most sacred desert. Obi-Wan had expected some sort of sly remark about his singing, but Emily didn't say a word. She just watched him; her eyes glittering with warmth, her smile soft on her face, a few stray curls of silver hair brushing across the pale freckles scattered along her cheek. Obi-Wan would happily sit there and sing until his voice turned hoarse, if it would keep her looking at him like that. She was so beautiful; he couldn't have looked away from her even if he tried.

The sweet rushing ache that filled his chest was so sudden and strong, it felt like it had squeezed the breath straight out of his lungs. His hand froze, voice firmly wedged in his throat, the song dying as it hit him. He had only ever felt this way once before; so long ago now it felt like it happened to another version of him - an Obi-Wan now lost to distant, regret filled memory. He had looked into different eyes then; the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen in his young life - not the warm gold-flecked green in front of him now.

It was too much. He couldn't…this…he couldn't do this again. Obi-Wan was on his feet before he realised he'd started moving. He heard Emily say "Ben", her voice filled with concern. He was already walking towards the door before he noticed the weight of the hallikset still in his hands. Obi-Wan turned to quickly press the instrument into Emily's arms, not daring to meet her eyes, as he mumbled some half-baked excuse about a meeting he was late for. It was possibly the single most cowardly retreat he'd ever committed in his life, as he headed out the door and practically barrelled down the hallways.

This was…how could he have allowed this to happen? He needed to be alone. He needed to meditate. Because he knew exactly what this feeling was - filling his chest to the point of pain - all bubbling, beautiful elation and bone-chilling dread.

Love.

He was in love.

And the last time he'd been in love, it had very nearly broken him.