Genre: First Meeting/Romance

Rating: T

Summary: The Jedi Council has sent the newly knighted Ursa on a mission: track down, capture, and bring back a rogue Sith that has been causing trouble on Coruscant. Of course, it's not as simple as it sounds. (Star Wars crossover, Urzai)

Ursa was enjoying the hunt.

For one thing, she got to wear black clothing. Master Iroh had been nearly insufferable for her whole Padawanship, making her wear nothing but white 'as befitted a Jedi.' She'd ached for something darker and sleeker, something she could feel good in, but Iroh had said no time and time again. She stuck her tongue out at the memory.

For another thing, now that she had been Knighted, Iroh was finally letting her do something unsupervised and unmolested by offers of tea and recycled Jedi proverbs. In fact, she now crouched on a ledge just above head height, observing the crowd and trying to figure out where the Force was leading her. It rang like bells in her head, and despite its constant presence she still wasn't very good at deciphering it.

There! On the far end of the courtyard, cloak grimy with the refuse of Coruscant's lower levels, a tall figure tried to avoid notice. Almost certainly her target. Now she was enjoying this even more.

They weaved through the streets of Coruscant, sinking down into the sea of grime and metal and artificial light that comprised the foundation of the shining city-planet, and Ursa began to get a little nervous despite herself. She'd never been down this far. Yes, she'd trained to deal with fighters of all kinds. Yes, being a Jedi was supposed to give you special protections. But lower Coruscant had a reputation for lawlessness, and she wasn't sure she liked the looks she was getting.

(Apparently this was a place where being pretty was a bad thing.)

Ignoring the leers around her, she focused back onto her quarry. They led her on a merry chase through dirty cellars and cloth mazes, weaving their way through the underworld. There was no way they didn't know they were being followed with the amount of backtracking they were doing. Still, she kept her attention locked on their hood and Force signature, and she didn't lose sight of them for long until they ducked under a cloth into some strange establishment and their signature disappeared.

Kriff.

How had they done that? She'd only ever heard of the oldest and most powerful Jedi being able to shield so effectively. There was only one way to keep going now. She had to enter the building after them.

It looked like a strip club, maybe even a brothel. There was a back entrance with a familiar figure waiting behind it - her quarry! - and before any of the dead-eyed aliens approached her (oh Force, had they been kidnapped? Why would the Jedi allow this sort of thing to happen?) she ducked out the door after them into another grimy alleyway, with another door at the end. She followed them through the door.

They - he - was waiting for her on the other side.

His hood was down, revealing a pale, pretty face, long black hair framing sharp cheekbones and a sharper jawline. He waited for her in the soft light.

This was a trap. This was almost certainly a trap.

Ursa lit her lightsaber and advanced anyways.

His blade cut red into the dimness, clashing with her blue blade as she swung wildly. He fought defensively only. No thrusts, no swings, only parries and stance shifts. The darkness that made up his signature stayed calm, controlled, bound tightly to his physical form.

She'd always been taught that Sith used their anger, their hatred, destroying without inhibitions or mercy. Apparently not.

Still, she stayed on the offensive, gaining ground by centimeters, desperately swinging, pushing, thrusting, trying to break through to him. Her orders were to capture him alive and bring him back for trial, but she couldn't capture him if she couldn't overpower him. She was using up all her energy against someone who was clearly better (why did she slack off so much in her lightsaber training? Kriff!). She couldn't overpower him. She couldn't capture him, not here, not now.

She made a single mistake and the Sith took his chance. She ended up lightsaber-less, arms held down by her enemy.

Kriff.

His finger stroked her forearm as she struggled to break his hold. "Don't worry," he murmured, voice low, tone aiming for soothing. "I'm not going to hurt you." He let go and Ursa spun away from him, grabbing at her lightsaber -

It flew away from her and into the Sith's hand. She was weaponless.

Unlike what she'd been taught of Sith, he didn't advance on her, just held both now-deactivated lightsabers as he stood and watched her get to her feet. "Why don't you kill me?" she spat. "Am I not worth it?"

"I just said I wasn't going to hurt you." He raised an eyebrow. "Unlike your Jedi, I have an appreciation for art."

Was -

Was that a compliment?

She felt blood rush to her cheeks and struggled to hide it behind aggression. "I'm not art! I'm not an object!"

"You don't need an object to be art, Ursa."

That stopped her blush.

He knew her name.

How did he know her name?

He chuckled, low and deep. "You're interesting. Not something I ever thought I would find within the Jedi." A toss, a catch, and Ursa's lightsaber is back in her hand. "Meet me at sunset, two days from now, outside where we came in. Allow me to teach you some things the Jedi won't."

And then, in just a step, he was gone.

Have another thousand word Urzai fic I guess.