Well, this had all the potential to be an absolute disaster, Obi-Wan mused to himself, as the Chancellor led Emily towards the raised dias. He watched as she lifted the swirling fuchsia edge of her dress, revealing a brief glimpse of pale leg that had him examining the ceiling supports and reciting the Jedi Manual for Lightsabre Maintenance in his head, as she started to ascend the stairs. If the reasoning behind her choice of dress was to have everyone in the room struck mute on sight, then Emily was to be commended on so thoroughly achieving her goal. Obi-Wan felt like he'd swallowed his own tongue, every time he looked at her.
He also felt the need to go and personally disassemble whatever droid it was that kept topping up her glass. Emily must have gone through at least two bottles of the expensive vintage so far tonight, and while he knew that her liver was larger than a galactic standard human, he still had no idea how capable it was of breaking down such a large quantity of ethanol. Although the fact that she still seemed steady on her feet, for the moment, was at least a small consolation.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have reached the part of the evening where Emily has kindly agreed to answer a few questions from the people present here tonight," the Chancellor said, drawing the attention of the room. The background sounds of music and chatter faded until the room was silent. "I'm sure you are all as curious as I am about the marvellous world Emily originated from. You may ask your questions when ready."
Obi-Wan watched as Emily twisted the flute of wine back and forth in her fingers, a hum of nervous energy surrounding her. He didn't like how exposed and vulnerable she looked up there, under the scrutiny of so many people.
"I believe that the location of your world - Earth, as you called it - has still not yet been discovered. Do you remember how your ship came to crash on Coruscant? The information we received says that your people have not yet achieved FTL technology." The question was asked by one of the scientists from Zerpen Industries.
"Starting with an easy one then?" Emily said, and Obi-Wan tried not to flinch as she tilted her head back and drained her glass. She didn't even seem to be tasting the wine anymore, she was just pouring the stuff directly down her throat. He watched her fiddle for a second with the empty glass, frowning. Then she looked up; a small, slightly sad smile on her face as she shrugged her shoulders. "I honestly don't know. All I remember was that the aircraft was shaking. I think the pilot had lost control; he was telling us to brace for impact. Then I remember seeing the walls of the ship starting to come apart. The air felt…thick…and electric - and then I woke up here."
"What was that like?"
"Painful," she admitted. "I don't remember much. My arm-" Emily ran her left hand down over the raised skin of her right arm, "-it looked wrong, but I couldn't understand why. My throat hurt, and it was hard to breathe. Then I punched a droid - which didn't help things." That received a murmur of laughter from the room.
"You say your world only has humans as the sentient species," asked one of the representatives from Eriadu. "How did you react to seeing non-humans for the first time?"
"Not very well. To be honest, I thought it was just humans wearing, uh, masks-" she waved her hand in front of her face, as if in clarification "-or coverings. And then I thought that they were maybe a sort of Earth equivalent of an advanced droid. Let's just say, it took a long time to convince me that what I was seeing was real."
"And what did convince you?"
"Babies," she said, her smile turning fond. Her eyes found Obi-Wan's, and he could remember exactly how she looked that day, holding the youngling Grogu in her arms, her eyes wide with wonder. He returned her smile. "No-one would make a droid that cries and throws up on you at the same time."
"What do you miss most about your world?" asked Paskra Dorvu, a musician of some fame from Coruscant.
"My family," Emily replied without hesitation. "My friends. The food. The sound and smell of the sea. Everything."
"There is a rumour that your treatment by the Jedi was rather torturous at first. That you were experimented on and left scarred…"
It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. The uncomfortable silence that fell, as the reporter who asked the question just folded her arms and waited, eyebrow raised, her holo-droid floating in the air by her shoulder, recording everything. Obi-Wan quickly smothered the angry flare that ran through him at the accusation. It was exactly this sort of hateful, anti-Jedi rhetoric that had him so eager to avoid this event in the first place. The media loved spreading this sort of gossip about the Jedi, seeing them as easy targets.
"I believe that I have already addressed these vicious rumours, seeking to cast the Jedi in a distasteful light," the Chancellor said, voice raised. He scowled at the reporter, but she didn't seem at all phased. "While an unfortunate incident did occur, I can assure you that this was perpetrated by outside parties."
"That doesn't explain why Emily appears to have been left unhealed," the reporter retorted. "It seems cruel to leave her in such a state."
"I'm sorry my state offends you so much," Emily said, her voice sharp. The unblinking glare she levelled at the reporter was enough to finally make the woman twitch. "But it didn't work on me. Your bacta. I think I'm allergic to it. Actually, I think I was allergic to everything at first. For a long while, I couldn't eat anything without being sick, either. If it wasn't for the Jedi, specifically Master Pelri and Doctor Nema, who both worked very hard to make food I was able to eat, I would have probably just starved to death. In fact, they're currently working on making a bacta that's compatible for me, to help heal my scars - even though they don't have to. Even though they've saved my life countless times already, and should probably be dedicating their time and talents to a better cause than me. But they're doing it because they're infinitely kind and compassionate and good, and I'm frankly disgusted that anyone would look to spread lies painting them as anything else."
Obi-Wan's heart swelled. Stars, how could he not love her? Standing up there, beautiful and defiant and practically burning with indignation, in front of an entire room full of politicians and media, a situation that would have left most people cowed. Emily's eyes swept over the audience in front of her, hard and fearless, like she was daring anyone to contradict her. The reporter made no further comment, though a sour expression was on her face.
"The history and stories you have told of your world so far, are astonishing in how expansive they appear to be, especially for a world isolated from the galactic community. Do you know why this is?" asked the Director of the Humbarine Academy, his voice breaking the tension that had settled in the air.
"Well, I suppose that when you spend thousands of years stuck on a planet with nothing but your own species for company, you need to do something to stave off the boredom," Emily said. Her posture had relaxed again, and her smile was back, though a little more muted now. "I think that we just have a drive to create - to tell stories, to do things that have never been done before. I imagine humans here are the same."
"From what I've read, a large amount of that boredom appears to have been relieved more by killing each other, than by peaceful creation. Your people seem to be especially violent towards each other," said a Ithorian politician.
And just like that, the tension in the room was reignited. Enough of this, Obi-Wan thought, ready to lead Emily off the dais. He should have known better than to worry about her causing any issues, when there was a room full of politicians and reporters who were more than happy to stir up controversy on their own. She didn't need to be subjected to their venom.
"Maybe we are," Emily said, and Obi-Wan stopped in his tracks. She didn't look, or sound, particularly offended by the accusation. "I don't really know enough about the history of humans here to compare the two. There's no doubt that we did fight a lot. I don't think there was ever a point in our history where there wasn't a war going on somewhere, even during the time I lived in, when our leaders would pretend to disapprove of that sort of thing, while still making and selling and dropping bombs on other countries far away."
"I think it's proof of what we've known all along," came a clear response from the Governor of Concordia. "That humans are naturally made to be warriors and leaders. Here we have an example of what we human's once were; a people built to fight. The reports say they have nearly three times the strength that we do, and bones five times as dense. A body designed to run for hours without tiring; to endure injury while still surviving. What must you think of us now, to see how much our strength has declined?" he said, the final question directed to Emily, as he indicated the room around him with a shake of his head.
"I don't-" Emily began, but was quickly cut off.
"If by strength - you mean warmongering and genocide - then I would say that our movement away from that part of our nature is a marked improvement, Governor Visla," replied Senator Mon Mothma.
"Yes, that sounds like something a weak-willed pacifist might say," the Governor retorted.
"My friends, please," the Chancellor said, holding out his arms. "This is hardly the time for such a debate. We are gathered here to celebrate the discovery of a new branch of the human race, not to argue amongst ourselves."
Governor Visla looked like he was going to say something else, but he gave a stunted bow instead. "My apologies," he said, his voice clipped. The room fell silent, the tension in the air still tightly wound. It felt like no-one wanted to speak up after that.
"We were a bit shit," Emily blurted out after a long, awkward pause. Her words sent a small rumble of shocked mumbling through the room. The Chancellors eyebrows were raised so high, they were almost launched off his head. Obi-Wan swallowed down a groan. Where had she learned that word? He was going to have a serious talk with Anakin later.
"Humans, that is - where I'm from," Emily clarified. "We did some horrible, unforgivable things to each other; half the time over stuff as trivial as the colour of our skin, or a difference in beliefs or because of what patch of dirt we were born on. Mostly we did it because we wanted each other's stuff. So yes, we were shit - but we were also at our absolute best. The world I left behind, the amount of progress we had managed to make, even in as short a time as a hundred years, was just amazing. The potential we had to keep on bettering ourselves, to improve the world we lived in, was limitless - even if, at times, it felt like all we were doing was going backwards."
Emily brought her hand up to her pendant, which was held close to her throat by a loop of black ribbon. Her eyes were distant as she continued speaking - as if she was talking mostly to herself, instead of addressing the room.
"I don't know much about the humans here. I know nothing about the differences between us biologically. And I don't doubt that humans are still a little bit shit, when it comes right down to it. But when I look at what you've achieved, I can't help but think that right now, you're the best that humanity has ever been. Look at what's outside that window! You've met and peacefully integrated with hundreds of other species - that's something we could only ever dream of. You can travel to other planets, other star systems, in the space of a few hours. You have technology and medicine that's so beyond anything from my world. I can't begin to comprehend your potential to do even more, to better yourselves and improve the galaxy you live in. I'm in awe of what you've accomplished so far, and I honestly feel lucky to be alive to see whatever you do next."
Her speech ended with another long silence. Someone quietly cleared their throat. Emily's eyes widened, as if she had only just realised that she'd made a rather long monologue. Then someone started clapping, the sound of it echoing through the air. Surprisingly quickly, the clapping spread, until the whole room had joined in with the applause. The Chancellor smile was particularly satisfied.
"Well now, I think this is a good place to end this interview," he said, voice rising above the din. "I think now would be an ideal time for a refreshment break. Please enjoy." He motioned to Emily to take his arm, leading her down from the platform as the music started up, and droids wheeled out with platters of food balanced in their hands. The applause petered out, as the sound of voices rose, the crowd breaking off into groups again, likely to discuss the controversy. Obi-Wan felt like he could finally take a full breath. That had been even worse than he had feared.
He watched as Emily leaned towards the Chancellor, saying something to him that was too low for Obi-Wan to hear. Palpatine patted her hand, indicating a door to the side, leading to an external balcony. Emily broke away from him, making for the exit. Obi-Wan checked that Anakin was still in the room, before following. His padawan already had a plate of food in hand as he walked the perimeter. When Obi-Wan opened the door, Emily was stood with her back to him, head bowed as she leaned against a railing, arms spread out. Obi-Wan let the door close behind him before approaching.
"Well, that was something," he said in English, coming up to stand beside her. "I'm not sure what exactly, but it was certainly something."
"Where I'm from, we'd call that an utter shitshow," Emily said. She let go of her death grip on the railing, and scrubbed her hands over her face with a sigh. "Just how badly did I screw up? Because it felt pretty bad."
"I think you did remarkably well, given what you were faced with," Obi-Wan said. He reached out to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but stopped himself when he realised. Touching her was probably not the wisest move, no matter how much he wanted to.
"It's good to know that politicians are awful no matter what galaxy you're from," Emily agreed. She turned her back to the Coruscant skyline, all glimmering lights against the black of the night, and leaned her back against the railing. Obi-Wan took in her profile, her head tipped back slightly as she took a few deep breaths, letting them out in a long exhale. The usually wild curls of her silvery hair had been somewhat tamed - smoothed and twisted until they fell across her forehead and brushed along her throat. There was a smudge of something dark around her eyes, but that was the only addition to her face. Obi-Wan would have happily spent the rest of the night out here, just quietly drinking in the sight of her.
"Well," she finally said, "at least the wine is good." Obi-Wan watched, baffled, as a glass appeared in her hand. He plucked it from her grip before she could raise it to her lips.
"How…where did you even get this from? You didn't - where were you hiding this?" he spluttered, looking around. It wasn't in her hands a minute ago. He couldn't even see a ledge or table nearby for her to have sat it on.
"Listen, I'm Scottish. That's the only explanation you need," she said, laughing as she tried to get it back from him. Obi-Wan decided to drain the glass himself - goodness knows he needed it. She was utterly impossible.
"Why did no-one tell me that I've been Captain America all this time?" Emily asked, watching the blue liquid disappear, disappointment writ large across her face.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Obi-Wan replied, setting the empty glass on the ground.
"The whole super-human strength thing that guy was talking about. Is that true? Am I stronger than the humans here?"
"Didn't Pei talk to you about this? I'm sure she said she spoke to you about it."
"Pei said I was dense," Emily replied, crossing her arms and smirking. "Physically and mentally dense. I figured she was just finding new ways to insult me."
Obi-Wan snorted a laugh. That sounded exactly like the kind of thing Pei would say. "Your muscles are denser than ours, yes. As are your bones. I'm not sure how much stronger you are, although you did manage to pry a welded metal panel from a wall with your fingertips - and you were half-starved then - so I'd say you're probably stronger than you realise."
"So, am I as strong as you then?" she said, straightening up, her eyes bright with curiosity.
"It's doubtful," he replied back, running a hand through his beard. Maybe if Emily had decided to take up literally any form of exercise during her time at the Temple, she might have built up enough muscle for it to be a possibility. As it was, she'd scoffed at any suggestion of regular physical activity, saying that she got plenty just walking from one end of the Temple to the other for her daily meals.
Emily's eyes narrowed. "We should arm wrestle to find out!"
"We are not arm wrestling."
"Okay…well am I at least strong enough to lift you up then?" she said, and before he had time to react, she ducked down, making to wrap her arms around the top of his thighs. His hands shot out, grabbing her by the shoulders.
"Emily! For goodness' sake, would you stop being ridiculous for one second! If someone caught us…" he said, pushing her back as she shook with laughter.
"Spoil sport," she said, tutting and rolling her eyes, her grin wide and irresistibly infectious as she looked up at him. "I bet Ani will let me try and lift him."
"Oh I don't doubt it," Obi-Wan said, fighting back his own smile. "But if you could reserve your antics for when there isn't a room full of the galaxies leaders just beyond the door, I'd appreciate it."
"You think I can convince the Chancellor to arm wrestle me? I bet I'm stronger than him at least."
"How is this my life now?" he said, shaking his head. Emily laughed again, then he felt a shiver run through her. Obi-Wan released his grip on her shoulders, smoothing his palms down to gently chafe her arms. One side was all smooth silk under his hands, the other textured from her scars. Another tremble ran through her, but it was different, finer. Before he knew it, he was leaning over her; Emily's face close enough that he could make out the amber flecks in her eyes, the green darkened in the low light. Her cheeks were flushed and there was a slight tinge of aqua blue staining the inside edge of her pink lips. She was so close he could almost taste the citrus sweet of the wine lingering on her breath, and all he could think about was how much sweeter it would be, drawn from her mouth and tasted off her tongue. As if she could read his thoughts, he felt her shift under him, her face slowly inching up until her lips were close enough, he'd swear he could feel the heat of them.
There had been exactly three times in Obi-Wan's life where he found his future at a crossroads, and the decision on which direction it would take, felt like it lay entirely outside of his control. The first was at the age of twelve, standing before Qui-Gon Jinn, who had seemed so impossibly tall and serious to his young eyes. He had looked into that gentle face, his entire future hanging in the balance on whatever those deep blue eyes saw in him. Then Qui-Gon had nodded, once, and laid a heavy hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, and in that moment his future was set before him.
The second time was at nineteen, standing on the airship docks of Sundari. Behind him, his Master was boarding their T-6 shuttle back to Coruscant. Before him, Satine was stood, newly sworn in as Mandalore's leader, dressed in ceremonial robes shaped after the only flower that still survived in its war-blasted deserts. He waited, heart beating out of his chest, not knowing what had his stomach churning more, his fear or his hope that she would ask him to stay with her. But she didn't say a word; she just stood there, tears glittering in her eyes, as Qui-Gon called him back to the ship - back to the Jedi Order. The last thing he saw was a single tear slide down Satine's cheek, as he turned to join his Master.
The third was kneeling in front of Yoda as he paced back and forth in front of him, gimer stick clicking angrily across the polished marble floor. He would fulfil Qui-Gon's dying wish, but whether that would be with the approval and guidance of the Jedi Order, or stumbling blindly outside of its support, lay on the Council's final decision. Yoda cursed his stubbornness, and Obi-Wan whole-heartedly agreed with him, but it didn't change the reality. Anakin would become a Jedi. That was the last thing Qui-Gon asked of him, and he would see it done. The relief he felt, when Yoda said that the Council agreed, was so great he felt faint with it. It wasn't until that moment that he'd realised just how desperate the other path would have been.
And now he had come to another; looking down into Emily's beautiful face. Love was such an impossible feeling; he'd never felt such utter contentment mingled with such an exquisite ache, as he did when he was near her. And Obi-Wan knows - as sure as he's known anything in his life - that if she kisses him now, he'll never stop. That his future would suddenly find itself veering off in a new, unplotted direction; one of constant uncertainty and broken promises - not just the ones made to Qui-Gon, to Anakin and to the Jedi Order - but also the promise he'd made in his heart to Emily. To keep her safe.
Outside of the protection of the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan knows that she's nothing but a target for bounty hunters and slavers. Outside of the Temple, Emily has even less experience than he does about day to day living as a normal citizen. How would he be able to look after her, to keep a roof over their head and protect her from the scum of the galaxy at the same time? He couldn't; it would be impossible. So why then, in spite of it all, did he want nothing more than for her to press her lips against his?
A second passed. Then another. Emily didn't move, either to draw away or to stretch forward. He could feel her breath fluttering sweet and warm against his face. She was looking up at him, watching, eyes shadowed beneath her eyelashes. It was like she was waiting for something - for him. And then Obi-Wan realised; she was letting him decide - to kiss her, or to walk away. To abandon duty on the wild hope that she wanted him, that she could love him, as much as he loved her - that this wasn't just a drunken impulse for her to regret and for him to throw his life away on.
"I…" the words caught in his throat. Obi-Wan wasn't even sure what he was going to say. "I'm sorry," he whispered. It broke his heart to say it, to watch as a flicker of hurt crossed her face. He wanted her so much - more than he'd wanted anything in his life. But he'd made a promise, to see Anakin become a Jedi Knight - to keep Emily safe. He couldn't break those, not even for her. Obi-Wan watched her slip from him. He felt all the warmth leave him as she drew back from under his hands.
"We should go back inside," she said, turning away from him towards the door. He searched for the words to explain, to try and make things right, but they eluded him as he watched her walk away. Emily didn't say a thing, as the door slid shut behind her, leaving him standing alone in the dark.