Summary: This overly ambitious story tries to explain how Obi-Wan could spend 20 years in a cave on Tatooine. I tried very hard not to go AU from the movies, but then Lucas puts out this silly trailer with the stupid 'No Love' plot device. So in my universe the Jedi, with a strong connection to the Force and thus to life, are not going to be priestly about sex, quite the opposite. I'm certain other authors have tried to explain any or all of these concepts and characters, but any similarities are purely unintentional.

Disclaimer: The Star Wars universe and all related parts belong to the great and powerful Lucas. Don't sue me; I'm actually over-drawn and late on my student loan payment. All the other characters are mine and likely no one else would want them anyway.

And: This an old story, just look at the original posting date. I finally wrote the last chapter and my wonderful writing partner/beta made it comprehensible. Please send me feedback; I need to know if I'm just whistling in the dark here or if any of this is any good. Flame if you must, but I wear amour made of dragon scales.

For a Thousand Years Chapter One - Out of Chaos– In which Obi-Wan Kenobi finds being a Jedi is sometimes a pain in the butt

The door opened and light spilled into the dim recesses of the bar. Smoke swirled in new eddies and waves and the patrons of the bar, their eyes accustomed to the dim light, were able to observe the newcomer without his being able to identify them. A squatty fellow with spiked green hair and oversize yellow eyes emerged from the light and scanned the room. He seemed to almost tumble down the stairs, his short legs having difficulty with the height of the steps. The fierce scowl that adorned his face and wicked scar that ran from his hairline to the corner of his mouth dissuaded any who might have laughed at him from doing so. He ignored the few pairs of eyes that turned his way, and headed for a booth in the far corner. Without waiting for acknowledgement or introduction from its lone occupant he hopped up onto the opposite bench and made himself comfortable.

"You are late." The hooded figure stated in flat, toneless basic that left him completely unidentifiable.

"Yeah, well, you'll live." The little man's voice sounded like he had breakfasted on broken glass and molten durasteel, and not for the first time. "So, the captain doesn't want me to waste any time…just how much tancho spice are we talkin' about?"

"A two year supply for at least 50 men."

"For fifty? Are you mad? We never do a first time deal for that much!"

"You've never dealt for that amount period, nor in spice for that matter. I'll pay in cash. No republic credits, straight Dombrek ingots should ease your employer's worry about a first time buyer."

Nervous laughter rolled across the booth, but the little man's eyes had lost their wary suspicion and now glowed with good-natured avarice. "Heh-heh, ahem, well, D-ingots are-, might be- I don't have the authority to decide that straight out. I'll have to get her – um, the Captain's approval."

"That would be agreeable. In fact, let's go see her- that is - the Captain, right now." The buyer stood and made as if to leave his place right that moment.

The little man jumped up in his seat and grabbed the other's sleeve to stop him. Then his permanent scowl faltered, and even though he appeared to be some one who would take on a wookiee without a second thought, he snatched his hand back as though he was afraid he might draw back a stump. Still he held his ground to keep the buyer from leaving. "No wait! I-I thinks she'll be agreeable, but I have to get her approval. She usually doesn't take these low-level meetings."

"Low-level? I could just leave now and take my ingots elsewhere." Though he didn't rais his voice, the sudden coldness in his tone was a palpable thing and the little man looked to see if his breath was suddenly visible.

"No, no sir! T-that won't be necessary. When I tell her what's at stake, she'll come."

For the space of ten heartbeats the stranger looked ready to leave, then the hood dipped slowly forward once in agreement. "Fine, I shall meet you both back here in two hours. Now go, hurry, and make sure you bring her back here. You will convince her this is the bargain of a lifetime." The figure lifted one hand and passed it slowly before the little man's face as he spoke.

"I will bring her back here. I will convince her that this deal is the bargain of a lifetime." The protruding yellow eyes were a little unfocused for a moment, but then he leapt from the booth and hurried out the door.

For just a minute the figure continued to stand, watching the door. All at once the strength seemed to go out of him, and he slumped into his seat again, reaching his hands out of his long sleeves and lifting them to the face he had kept hidden. When his hood fell back, a completely human face was revealed, and it would not have intimidated the little smuggler in the slightest. Beautiful eyes, green one moment, bright blue the next, fringed with girlishly long lashes topped an almost snubbed nose and a full, wide mouth that curled naturally into a smile at the corners. He would have appeared to be barely out of his teens if not for the full, neatly groomed beard that covered much of his face in a fierce copper profusion. His hair was a thick wavy mop, two shades lighter than his beard, and hung down to his shoulders. It was a kind, handsome face, on it's way to wisdom – not intimidating unless it was to threaten a certain overly-confident apprentice, hence the hood.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi knight and veteran of many tense political negotiations, put his face in his hands and sighed, "Force help me, sometimes I hate this job."

A sharp 'ping' pulled her eyes from the datapad in her hands. She glanced at the door, then back down to her work. "Come!" she called sharply.

The door slid open and the small, green-haired man strolled in, all confidence and smug superiority. He walked with care around a chair piled with data crystals and spare parts.

The entire room appeared to be on the edge of bursting with bundles of spice, plasfilm wrapped artwork and bins of old machine parts. It could go either way as to whether or not the room had once been an office, but was being forced into storage duty, or whether she had squeezed her desk into one of the storage rooms. Either way it was difficult to even find her in the mess. The masses of duraplas crates that threatened to overwhelm her desk completely blocked his view and thwarted his attempt to assess her mood. Bursin managed to hop up on a crate balanced on a chair, only to be filled with disappointment when he saw she wasn't even looking at him.

After an endless minute of silence, still without meeting his eyes she spoke, "Well?"

"He wants enough spice for two years – for fifty men." He grinned in anticipation of her outrage.

But she didn't even change her expression or stop what she was doing, let alone look up. "Like hell. Did you tell him to go fuck himself?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he offered to pay in Dombrek ingots."

Now he got his reaction. She sat up straight in her chair, her eyes blazing. He nervously watched her, lest a quick jerk of her body upset the delicate balance of goods and bury the two of them forever. "Ingots! How can anyone afford to pay for Eighty kilograms of spice in ingots?"

For a moment his eyes lost focus, but he spoke clearly, "He said he would pay in ingots and he said to bring you to speak with him."

She had looked away, speculating on the possibility of so much money, but she turned back abruptly at his tone, her eyes stabbing into his. "I don't meet with first time customers." She searched his face, wondering at the far-away look in his eyes.

He met her gaze directly, "He said he'd pay with ingots though – "

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." She tapped a long fingernail against her teeth and ran one hand through her messy, curly, chin length hair, "All right, fuck it! I could use a break anyway. You didn't say we would meet here did you?"

"Of course not! What I'm stupid now because I thought you might pry your lazy ass out of that chair for a few lousy ingots?"

She grinned and slipped out from behind the desk, elegantly weaving a path to his chair without making so much as a single container shift, "Oh, getting uppity on me now huh? You would know about lazy, you practically invented the word. Show some respect to the boss you little whomp-rat."

"Respect, Ha! - for a big ugly, gangly human girl? Not in a thousand years or if I got to watch you clean out this room!"

She glared down at him in mock indignation, "Ugly? I sir, am not ugly," She placed one hand dramatically to her chest and gazed at the ceiling like the worst kind of terrible over-actor, "I am what is referred to in women as 'handsome'."

Bursin rolled his eyes, meeting her gaze when she looked down her nose at him while she tried to hide the way her lips kept twitching into a smile. "Yeah, handsome, gotcha. For a human maybe you've got them slavering after you like gundarks, but on MY home, gangly doesn't begin to describe you!" He actually bent over and made retching noises.

"Well, since I can't win you over with my allure…" Glancing around at the mess that didn't even deserve the title of organized chaos She sighed dramatically and shook her head in mock sadness, "I guess I'll just have to live without your respect."