Bolt Hole by Gheorghe2 and ginef

by ginef

Post TPM. Knight meets information broker. Things happen.

2. Three Credits in the Fountain

By Gheorghe2 and ginef

CHAPTER TWO - "Three Credits in the Fountain"

"I still think that I should go with you," Ben insisted, again.

And again, Linn beat back the gesture that was as well intentioned as it was stupid. "Forget it, Ben. There are only three things you can do for me, and none of them involve helping me find Sly."

"And what are those?"

Linn tilted her head in the direction of a very anxious Annie waiting at the bottom of The Ron's ramp. From the moment they had broken orbit, the boy had chattered as incessantly as a protocol droid. Their landing clearance had taken several hours in Coronet's crowded skies. Having finally hit dirtside, Annie wanted to see something new. **Now.**

The corner of Ben's mouth twitched, signaling amusement and comprehension.

"Second, go to the hotel, and get our rooms."

Ben nodded. "And the third?"

"Tell me what my credit line is."

He blinked in astonishment, apparently dumbfounded.

Linn snorted. "To get information, I am going to have to pay for it," she intoned in the voice of the very wise instructing the very naive. "To do that, I'll need a line of Republic credits."

It seemed to Linn that this fundamental fact had never even occurred to Ben.

"Well," he stammered, finally recovering. "Do you have to pay the sellers immediately?"

Linn couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Information is a cash on delivery only business."

"Oh." Hesitantly, Ben drew a Republic transfer card from a pocket. "There's a 20,000 balance here."

Linn arched an eyebrow. "I'll try not to spend it all."

She made sure that Ben and Annie were on the right transport into Coronet, then headed to her first stop -- the sprawling Coronet Spaceport Headquarters. She paid her docking fees for two days -- every spacer knew you never tried to jump Corellia without settling all accounts with the HQ first. Because it wasn't unusual for spacers to depart Coronet in someone's blaster sights, paying in advance was always the safer course. The HQ, recognizing the economic realities of its desperate clientele, did not grant refunds.

The credit card was useful in the HQ records center as well.

"Here are the data disks you requested, Mistress." The protocol droid splayed the cards on the console and took Linn's credit card.

HQ charged exorbitant fees by the minute for searches of the ships berthed at the spacedock. She knew that Sly's CEC freighter, Rimrunner, had been docked at Coronet less than a week earlier. Linn didn't think the search would take long.

And it didn't. "Excuse me," she called before the droid retreated to its workstation.

The droid minced back. "How may I serve?"

"What does this mean?" Linn asked, pointing at the screen.

The droid studied the flashing screen. "This ship is under interdiction," the droid announced. "By order of the Corellian Security Forces."

* * *

"CorSec?" Over the comm link, Ben sounded astonished.

"It could mean nothing," she began, not wholly believing it. "But, I'll know more after my meeting."

"Meeting?" Ben said, in a fair approximation of an echo.

"Dar had a snitch inside CorSec. I'm meeting her in an hour. I'm afraid this is going to cost us." She was not speaking metaphorically.

There was so long a pause at the other end of the link, Linn wondered if the very proper senatorial aide was packing up his bag and his ward, and getting off planet before she further sullied his reputation.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Linn."

Sure. Whatever. She switched him off.

* * *

Renka Newan might have been related to a Gamorrean. Her black little beady eyes stared out of fleshy cheeks. She had a habit of grunting rather than communicating in complete sentences. Linn had, concededly, never seen her drool.

The CorSec administrative assistant had been very useful to Dar over the years. She had consistently and persistently assumed that his attentions to her stemmed from ardent passion, which she returned in odious good measure. About only two things was she more passionate: her obsessive pursuit of cash, and her visceral hatred of her CorSec supervisor, who had also spurned her aggressive advances. As they so often were, she was a horrid person, and an excellent, if expensive, snitch.

The only thing worse than Renka in love was Renka in tears. She was wailing. Linn tried to wave down a server droid to bring the distraught woman a drink. Even the droid, however, ignored her.

"I caaaan't believe that lovely man is gonnnne." Adding to the Gamorean imagery, Renka's enormous bosom heaved, nearly upsetting the cantina table she shared with Linn.

Renka's grotesque display of grief was sufficient incentive for Linn to keep her own manner calm. "I am sorry for your loss, Renka. I know that he meant a lot to you," she lied. "You were very important to him, too."

The woman blew her nose loudly into her sleeve. "I'll do anything to help you, Linn, dear. Anything so that we can punish whoever killed poor Dar."

Even if she didn't think Renka was up to the role of the avenger, Linn did appreciate the sentiment. And the offer. "I need to know about Sly Gawron," she began. "Where is he and why did CorSec interdict his ship?"

Linn should have been more alert. For all the wailing, Renka's mercurial eye had remained quite clear. "Well, you know, dear," Renka sobbed, "even the dead cost money on Corellia."

* * *

When she left the bar 30 minutes later, the Republic was 3,000 credits poorer and not much wiser. Linn felt that she had been gutted and trussed in a Gamorrean hunting ritual. Being taken by a greedy CorSec slime had that effect on a person.

She buzzed Ben on the comlink. With the prompt, "Yes?" she surmised he had been waiting and might have been considering sending out the troops to apprehend the broker who made off with his 20,000 credits.

"Do you want the good news, or the bad news," Linn said heavily.

Maybe her somber tone clued him in. "Good news, please."

"I found out why Sly's ship is locked down tighter than a Toydarian's purse."

"Why?" the disembodied voice of Ben asked.

"That's the bad news. Sly was found dead two days after Dar and I left Coronet. His throat was cut."

* * *

When she and Dar had stayed at this hotel before, the tinkling of the courtyard fountain had always been soothing. This time, as Linn lay in bed trying to sleep, the repetitive drip timed to electronically themed music seemed more calculated to drive her out of her mind.

Gods, she missed Dar. He wouldn't have been taken by that ploy of Renka's. And he'd know what to do next. Try to get into Sly's ship? Find out what CorSec knows? Look for Sly's buddies? A thousand questions, and no answers. As the moons rose, she tried first breathing, then pacing the confines of her room, with the rhythm of the spouting, multimedia geyser outside her window.

It was hopeless. And time to take matters into her own hands. She dressed again, grabbed her multitool, and headed downstairs. In the interest of her sanity, and the desperate hope of a few hours of sleep, the other hotel patrons could do without the musical water show for a night.

She snuck through the deserted hotel lobby and slipped outside to the patio. There, she saw that someone else had had the same idea.

"Ben," she scolded. "There's probably an easier way to turn it off."

He didn't seem at all surprised to see her. "Well, then don't just stand there. Make yourself useful and find it before I short out the entire hotel."

Ben looked ridiculous. He was standing in the middle of the pool, with pants rolled up to his knees and stringing wire out of a small control box in the fountain's central column. He ducked as a spray of water arced over his head. Sparks flew under his hands, and Linn heard a soft exclamation.

"Are you okay?" she asked, circling the fountain.

"Fine," Ben grumbled. "This isn't the first time."

Spying a likely candidate, Linn stooped down and turned a knob at in the fountain's base. With a faint gurgle, a spurt of water died in mid arc and the musical track stopped. The pulsating lights dimmed to a few simple, yellow lamps embedded in the fountain's pool. Refracted through the water, the lamps softly lit the area, wavering and throwing shadows across the courtyard.

Ben waded through the fountain to her and Linn offered him a hand as he climbed out.

"And the sentients rejoiced," Linn commented wryly, setting herself down on the fountain's edge.

"I certainly will." Ben flicked the water from his feet and with a distasteful grimace, squeezed into his shoes. "It's hard enough to sleep without the water torture test." He glanced up. "And this was your favorite place?"

Linn nodded, feeling a pall settle on what had been a lighter mood.

Apparently seeing her droop, Ben quickly apologized. "That was callous of me. I'm sorry, Linn," he said brushing out the fabric bunched up at his knees.

Linn reached over and smoothed an errant edge. She shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Thanks to your valiant display of mechanical ineptness, I haven't thought about Dar for almost five minutes."

"I am glad then to have helped." He pulled his legs up under him into a more comfortable position facing her. "Was thinking about what to do next keeping you awake?"

Linn nodded. "I had been wondering what Dar would do."

With mild censure in his tone, Ben said, "I still can't believe that you bribed a CorSec officer."

She dipped her fingers in the fountain and began making wet prints on the ledge. "Can't believe that I bribed someone, or can't believe that a CorSec officer was that easily bought?"

"Both."

"I'm not a good enough slicer to hack into CorSec and I wasn't going to try breaking into an interdicted ship." Linn's thumbprints were forming the shape of a petaled flower. She dipped her hand in again, and began on the stem. "Cash was the best way. I'm not a mindreader."

"No, I suppose you aren't."

Hearing a strange tone to Ben's voice, Linn glanced up, but he was only watching her prints on the ledge.

"So what have you decided?" Ben finally asked.

Her artwork complete, Linn sighed. "I hadn't. But in mulling it over now, I think the best plan is to get an early start tomorrow and track down Rog Hoff."

"Who?"

"One of Sly's pals. If anyone knows what he was up to, it'd be Rog."

Ben nodded. "I'll come with you this time," he announced flatly.

"Think you can do better than I could? Or just worried about what I'll do with your credit card?"

Ben frowned at her too-casual flippancy. "Sly is dead. It could be dangerous."

Linn shook her head. "I appreciate the concern, and if this gets nastier, I promise I'll reconsider." Not that she thought that Ben would be all that intimidating. "Besides, there's no risk where I'm going. Whoever did it has long since cleared from here and none of Sly's cohorts would have murdered him. He was too good a smuggler."

Ben made a disgusted "humph" sound -- clearly the aide was not accustomed to the peculiar morality of the fringe.

"Maybe you and Annie can lay in supplies for The Ron tomorrow. If I get some news, we'll want to leave in a hurry."

Ben nodded reluctantly.

"You and Annie can probably squeeze some sightseeing in, too."

With that invitation, Ben smiled fondly. "I thought he was going to overload a circuit when he saw the Selonian at dinner."

"Did you finally get him to sleep?" Linn asked, recalling Annie's buoyant enthusiasm.

Ben nodded. "Hours ago." He paused, as if calculating. "Or, well, it seems like hours ago."

Linn propped her arms behind her, and tilted back to look at the sky. Ships zagged between the stars, leaving long tails of light in their wakes. She finally commented, "Nights are the hardest aren't they?"

A long moment beat by before Ben conceded, "I don't have anything to keep me occupied. So, I relive it over and over again."

"And wonder what you could have done differently," Linn concluded. She suddenly felt raw and battered, as if propping herself up for a normal conversation drained her of every spark of energy.

"I knew Qui-Gon was tiring," Ben said quietly. "But I couldn't reach him in time."

"Ben," Linn pleaded, leaning in to curl her fingers around his arm. "I'm sure you did everything you could. You aren't to blame."

"And you don't wonder every day how it might have been different if you hadn't taken so long to get a drink at the bar?" There was no accusation in Ben's voice, only sorrow.

Linn released her grip on Ben's arm. "Every day? Every minute I wish that I had been there. I know that it isn't my fault..."

She faltered, and Ben finished the thought. "But we can't forgive ourselves for not being there when they needed us."

Linn nodded. The hollowness she heard in Ben's voice echoed within her when he said, "We shouldn't feel guilty."

"You'll have to sound more convincing than that, Ben, before I'll believe you."

That earned her a wry smile. He shifted on the fountain's edge, brought his arms around his knees and seemed to take sudden interest in his hands. "What is it?" she asked.

Ben proffered his right hand. His fingertips were black with char. She winced. "Ouch. Are you okay? Do you want me to get a med kit?"

He shook his head. "No, it doesn't really hurt." Ben trailed off, a pained expression on his face.

"At least there," Linn finished.

"It's just that I've always had a problem with burning things out, leaving lights on, forgetting to turn things off. I was thinking what Qui-Gon would have said."

"That you're a sentient and everyone makes mistakes?"

He snorted gently. "More likely that I was too reckless and impatient. That I wasn't paying attention to the liv..." He stopped and seemed to correct himself. "To the little things. I always had my attention somewhere else than where it was supposed to be."

Linn could not see the basis for the criticism. "You don't seem like that to me at all."

Ben shrugged. "It's all relative I suppose. Qui-Gon and I would be out together on a mission for the Senate, and he would always find something else that seemed more important. And it usually was. I never had the insight to understand what he was doing."

"Dar would do that too," Linn exclaimed. "Although," she added, "when you are an information broker, following those detours is how you make a living. But, it could try the patience of a Jedi."

"That bad?" Ben commented dryly.

Linn nodded as the memories flooded back. "Still, Dar's instincts were always the right ones. He'd get things no one else could from the most unlikely and pathetic of sources."

"I think Qui-Gon and Darrow might have gotten along quite well," Ben said. "He could just be infuriating."

"And we loved them in spite of it," Linn managed.

"Yes." Ben leaned over and dipped his hand into the fountain. Swirling his fingers in the water, the char on them flaked away. "What do you do when you can't cry for them anymore?"

In Ben's voice, she heard pain as fresh as she own. Pangs of grief gushed through her. "I don't know," she gasped. "I still am." Linn turned her head away. Tears burned in her eyes and fell into the water, around the fountain's ledge, and on to Ben's sleeve.

Ben's head snapped up. "You're crying."

"I'm sorry." Linn sniffed loudly and wiped her cuff across her face. "I just miss him so much."

Ben raised his hand. She felt his damp fingers on her face, the cool water of the fountain mingling with her hot tears. The anguish paralyzed her.

"I miss my Mas-- Qui-Gon too," Ben whispered. "You shouldn't be ashamed of your grief."

Linn bit on her lip, trying to still the trembling. "I still see Darrow. He's in a dark corner, around a turn, just out of my line of sight. Whenever I drop something, I hear him laughing. When I call up sources on a datapad, I hear him comment on how much they charge. I have to catch myself to keep from pouring him a drink when I get one." Her voice hiked, hysteria rising. "Is that crazy?"

"No." She felt Ben's fingers, first one hand, then both begin tracing her face where the tears had run. Soothing. Somehow, she felt her panic ebb. "I know exactly what you mean," he said softly.

Words were sticking in her throat, getting lost somewhere under Ben's touch. "You do?" she managed to stammer.

"Qui-Gon is always with me. I hear him all the time."

Almost without volition, Linn's hands rose to Ben's face. She wanted to capture the strange, innocent marveling that had settled there. "What does he say?"

It seemed as if his eyes briefly went out of focus, as if he looked away or inward. "He encourages me," Ben finally said. His eyes closed as she moved her fingers along his jaw. The next words were ragged. "He helps me."

Linn felt the warmth of self-conscious embarrassment rise. What was she doing? She wanted to run away, but where could she go? She was utterly alone, except for this almost stranger who had as little as she and had lost as much. She brushed her fingers across Ben's closed eyes. "Is he talking to you now?"

He nodded.

Linn slid her hands up his shoulders. Ben's eyes flickered open. She half expected him to push her away, but then took in his expression -- discovery, surprise, and maybe even... fear? He was pulling her closer even as she drew him to her. "What is he saying?" she whispered.

"Live in the moment."

Their first kiss was hesitant, an uncertain touching, lip to lip that still made her head swim. Linn wrapped her fingers about his neck, instinctively looking for something more.

Ben's yelp of pain so startled her, she snapped back and almost fell into the fountain. His hand flew to the back of his neck. "Ow!"

Linn felt she would die. "I'm sorry. I..."

She tried jerking away, but Ben grabbed her hand, still wrapped about his head and shoulders. "No, it's okay. Your wrist chron just got caught in my hair."

And so it had. Managing to contain her chagrin and astonishingly intense disappointment, Linn was able to remove her chrono and then untangle it from Ben's hair at the nape of his neck. The first kiss had been tantalizing. A balm over a wound so profound it seemed it would never heal. And all she'd done was maim him.

But, once freed, Ben surprised her, with an eagerness that seemed to match her own. "Now, where were we again?" he asked, pulling her close again.

Linn, more gingerly this time, slid her arms around him. "About here?" she suggested, feeling shy and breathless all at once. She tilted her head to the side, and Ben promptly rammed her in the nose.

"No wonder Qui-Gon and Dar took care of us," he murmured, burying his head at her shoulder. "We're pathetic."

She caught his face in her hands and lifted it up. Once gracious turn deserved another. She settled her lips on his. The light, tentative brushing became a deeper bruising as Linn felt a cold and desolate place within her begin to warm.

It seemed forever before she needed to breathe anything but him. When she opened her eyes, Ben was gazing at her with a look of wonderment. Linn bent into him again. She simply had to kiss the mark high on his right cheek. Ben's eyes drifted shut and he exhaled heavily as her lips smoothed the darkened skin and then traveled softly toward his brow.

A desperate idea formed that she could not say, and could barely whisper. Her lips sought his ear, "I..." Linn began awkwardly. "Let's..."

Ben suddenly drew back, startled. He seemed almost shocked. Linn felt a stilted moment of panic. Had she offended him? Maybe, her heart wailed, he only pitied her.

"I'm sorry," she began, stammering and flustered.

But Ben put a finger over her lips. "You mean...?"

Linn nodded. She couldn't read the unfathomable look. Had her hammering loneliness been too obvious, too aggressive?

"With me?" Ben asked.

Linn could only assume he must have meant it as a joke. "Of course," she retorted. "Do you see anyone else out here?"

***

Ben followed Linn, down the hallway toward her room. A thousand thoughts and feelings were running through him. There were rules for this, he knew. Some fixed and rigid, others part of the lore apprentices shared at the Temple. He had never paid much attention to it before. Now he wished that he had. Somehow, innately, he knew that if there were exceptions, this wasn't going to be one of them. He was trying to remember why he cared.

Qui-Gon would have known. And might have even understood. But, a fresh wave of grief engulfed him, his Master was gone, and Linn was the first being who had seemed to grasp what that searing loss had meant.

He sought for some measure of guidance in the Force, but all he could sense was Linn, her hot hand in his, and the race of her pulse under his finger. Ben still had the presence of mind, barely, to check on Annie as they stumbled past the room he shared with the boy. He could sense his Apprentice was still deeply asleep.

Linn hesitated, looking at the door, then to him. "What about..."

"It's alright. Annie sleeps through anything." They were at the threshold of Linn's room. With a firm tug, Ben brought Linn around to face him. He had to be certain of this. "Wait," he began. "Are you sure..."

It should have been a delightful affirmation. Instead, it was rather painful. Again. Linn flew at him, pressing her light body to his, and pinning him to the door, which immediately slid open under the pressure of their combined weight. They tumbled through. Ben landed with a loud thump, Linn sprawled across him. The door slid shut behind them with a hiss.

Linn laughed. It was the first time he'd seen her really smile. "Good thing he'll sleep through anything."

Ben reached up and caressed her cheek. "I..." he struggled for words.

"What?" she asked, kissing her way up his neck toward his mouth.

Her squirming against him seemed completely natural and totally unintentional; and felt impossibly good. He slid his hands down Linn's back. To his staggering amazement, she shifted her slim hips, wrapping her legs in line along his. Even with her mouth feverishly working his, still, he could not silence the involuntary groan that escaped.

She stiffened, startled. "I'm sorry."

Ben grasped her quickly, fearing that the sensations would end before they had begun. "Why are you apologizing?"

Linn colored, a blush deepening the warm pink already on her face. And then Ben understood what he should have realized from the very beginning. He pulled her back to him, running his hands along her sides, nudging her gently to recapture the exact fit Linn had found unconsciously. "You are perfect."

If it were possible, she reddened even further, even as her body relaxed against his. "I wasn't sure."

He ran his fingers through her hair, down her neck, peeling away the collar of her tunic to smooth the skin at her collarbone. Even while wondering how he could possibly reciprocate the slow burn working through him, Linn answered the question, swaying above him, arching her back in response to his touch.

Her eyes were very bright, her neck and face flushed. Could he **really** be responsible for the excited heat that rose from her? It would be so easy to find out and Linn lacked even the sensitivity in the Force to detect what he would do. Without another thought, he dipped into the aura that was Linn's, and nearly drowned in her longing. As a Jedi he had felt every emotion a species could have. Never before, though, had desire been directed at him.

Ben was dizzy with the discovery. He felt a new urgency to get closer to what was still tantalizingly distant under the thin cover of her shirt. Patience had never been a particular strength of his.

He began fingering the fabric bunched at her waist, wondering. "What now?" he finally had to ask.

Linn stared down at him, sincerely surprised. "You mean you don't know?"

Ben cradled her face between his hands. He **did** want her to know this, whether for reasons of ego, or because it just seemed important, he wasn't sure.

"Remember, you're not the only one who's been sharing quarters with their father for most of their life."

She trapped his hands in hers, kissing his fingertips, nodding her understanding. Ben felt a gush of shyness, and realized that it was a measure of his own feeling, reflected in Linn. "Illumination down 85 percent" he called softly, and the lights in her room abruptly dimmed.

Linn sighed her thanks. "And now," she began, amusement lacing her voice, "if the holovids are any judge, you are supposed to throw me over your shoulder and toss me into bed. Then we tear each other's clothes off."

In theory, it should have been easy enough. Linn obliged by rolling off of him. Ben stood, scooped her up, turned, and immediately tripped over a storage locker at the end of the bed. They sprawled forward, slamming the bed into the wall and tumbling onto a mattress stuffed with the feathers of some exotic blue humanoid.

Linn yelped as she hit the bed.

Ben swore under his breath. "Did I hurt you?"

She laughed and rolled on to her side. A multitool protruded from her hip pocket. He fished it out and tossed it away. Judging from the sound, the flung tool hit a glass on the mantel at the far end of the room.

Ben tried to stammer an apology, but Linn shook her head. "No more talking. I can't bear it."

"You're not sure," Ben began.

"I'm sure," she cut him off. "I need this..."

Ben brushed away the tears that had suddenly appeared on her cheeks. "...to begin to let go. I know," he finished softly for her.

"How do you do it?" Linn asked, dragging him unresisting to her.

"What?" he breathed.

"Know exactly what I'm thinking," she replied.

"Luck, I guess," he lied, feeling a twinge of guilt, but not enough to resist the heady experience of his desire bouncing back to him through hers.

It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, in the Force, anywhere. He couldn't, he wouldn't give it up. Qui-Gon had always encouraged him to explore detours, to see the beings who came in his path as opportunities presenting themselves for a reason. Somewhere, distantly, he thought he heard his Master's voice. A warning. That this was not the way to the living Force Ben so believed it was.

But then he felt Linn's hands on him and didn't want to hear anything more. He shut out the dissenting voices. It was a blur -- her nails on his skin, his mouth on hers, a feeling of control, terror, helplessness. Lost within the other. Trying to prolong a living moment so exquisite it was painful.

Afterward, he held her in his arms, brushing his lips across her forehead, breathing in her scent and her thoughts, until she drifted into sleep.

Just before he followed her into slumber, he noticed that water had started bubbling over in the fountain again. He didn't care.

* * *

A tiny "rap, rap, rap," followed by Anakin's small voice calling, "Hello?" brought Linn out of her first peaceful sleep since Dar's death with a start. She sprang up abruptly. Sickening, disorienting seconds passed before she remembered where she was and why.

To banish any doubt, Ben, but a beat or two behind her, lunged into a sitting position. "Blast," he swore softly, grabbing at the sheet, and making as if he planned to pull it off the bed with him.

"It's **mine**," she hissed, refusing to relinquish the modesty that had abruptly returned after an alarming few hours absence. A small wrestling match ensued, with only the sheet to be the certain loser.

"Hello?" Annie called again.

Ben let go of the sheet, grabbed up his clothing, and began backing toward the washroom, making Linn heartily wish there had been at least two bedcovers handy. "Stall him," he pleaded softly.

"Coming, Annie," Linn called, pulling the sheet around her. "I'm not dressed yet, just give me a moment."

"Okay," she heard him reply. She spied her robe strewn across a chair and bolted out of the bed to pull it on before anything else was revealed in the bright light of day. Last night she'd shared her body and her bed with this man, this person she barely knew, but with whom she shared such a painful bond. Yet now she didn't feel connected to him at all. She felt awkward and embarrassed. And more alone than she had felt before.

Ben emerged from the washroom, disheveled and alarmed, trying to tug on his second shoe. He hopped on one foot, casting about for an escape route.

"I'm coming, Annie," Linn called again to assure the boy. And then muttered to Ben as he dashed across the room, "The window? You'll kill yourself."

"I'm well versed in these escapes, I can assure you," he replied, as he popped the window open and fearlessly hopped out on to the ledge.

They stood staring awkwardly at one another. Linn had no idea what to say, and judging from his panicked, mute expression, Ben was none the wiser, either. Somehow proclamations of love and devotion seemed even more inappropriate than saying nothing at all.

Ben began to reach out to touch her cheek, but checked himself. Instead, he said, "Right, then. See you momentarily."

With that he skittered down the ledge toward his own room. Linn held her breath. She didn't think she wanted him to tumble off the edge. She counted to ten, then rushed to open the door. At the threshold was a little boy, in a voluminous nightshirt, hair spiked wildly in every direction, face still swollen from sleep.

"Do you know where Ben is?" he asked plaintively, rubbing an eye with a tiny fist.

"I haven't seen him yet today," Linn hedged. She didn't like lying to Annie, partly because she had a feeling he could see right through her.

"I woke up and he was gone," Annie said softly. "He's always there when I wake up."

Linn's heart sank and she dropped to one knee, resting her hand against his cheek. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sure he's fine. He probably just went to look for breakfast. Don't worry, he'll be back."

At that moment she saw Ben emerge silently from their room and begin walking up the hall. "There you are, Annie," he said brightly. Then to Linn, he added, "Good morning."

"Good morning," Linn replied, fighting the panic-driven bile rising in the back of her throat.

"Nice day out," Ben ventured.

"Lovely," Linn replied.

They stared lamely at each other for a long and tense moment, unable to think of a thing to say now that the standard pleasantries had been covered.

Annie stood looking back and forth between them, his brow crunched in thought, apparently easily picking up the odd current running between them. "I'm hungry," he announced, ending the strange stalemate.

"Right, breakfast," Ben said, obviously grateful to have a goal placed in front of him. Feeding his young charge was something he was probably equipped to handle. Small talk with his first lover, while his Apprentice looked on was not.

"Are you coming with us?" Annie asked to Linn.

Linn hesitated. Frankly, she'd rather break bread with a Hutt. But there were things to do, and none of this was Annie's fault anyway, and it wouldn't be fair to take it out on him. "Sure," she replied with a smile. "How about I meet you in the cafe' in fifteen minutes?"

"Okay," Anakin replied cheerily, turning to head back toward his room.

Ben lagged behind. Whatever words he was hoping to find didn't come. They continued staring at one another until Annie's voice called, "Come on, Ben! I'm hungry!"

Ben hesitated another moment, seemingly about to say something, but then nodded shortly at Linn and turned to catch up with the boy.

When the door shut soundly behind them, Linn fled to the shower, determined to wash every trace of the senatorial aide from her body.

***

Breakfast was a slightly less awkward affair. Ben picked up again his complaint from the night before. Maybe he thought that sleeping with her would make her yield on this point too, Linn thought sourly. Which made her all the more adamant to carry the argument.

"You can't come with me," Linn stated for the third time, as she stirred another spoonful of sweetener into her caf.

Ben pursed his lips and put down his breakfast pastry, not liking the answer any better this time than he had the last two. "But I don't understand why not. It might..."

"Let me put this in plain Basic," Linn sighed, interrupting him. "If I drag a Republic official and his apprentice to the place I'm going, I'll never work the Corellian sector again. And while that may not be of concern to you, it is to me."

"But you don't have tell him we're from the Senate," Ben complained.

"You couldn't pull it off. You look, at best, like tourists. At worst? Well, it would never work."

Anakin, who had been busy making mountains out his porridge, took the ensuing silence as a chance to chime in with, "Look, it's Beggars Canyon," followed by his spoon making a run through the narrow gorge, complete with sound effects.

"Do you think it's going to rain today?" the child asked, as his spoon cracked up on the cereal wall. "Boom! Sebulba is out of the race!"

"Anakin, stop playing with your food and eat," Ben ordered.

Linn shot him her best grumpy look. "I don't think so, Annie. But perhaps while I'm out, Ben could take you to the Gold Beaches to see the ocean."

Anakin's spoon clattered across the table. "Ocean? I've never seen an ocean!" he exclaimed, then turned to Ben. "Can we go? Please! Please!" He was bouncing up and down in his seat, a half liter-sized ball of energy.

Ben looked to Linn as if to plead his case once more, but seeing his defeat, returned his attention to Anakin. "If you finish your breakfast. And after we've prepped the ship."

"Wahoo!" Anakin yelled. Grabbing his spoon, he began shoveling alarming amounts of cereal into his mouth.

"You'll meet us there after?" Ben asked.

Linn nodded, took another sip of her caf, and began to gather up her belongings to go.

"Call if there is any problem," he said.

"I will," Linn replied. She hesitated, wondering if she had heard something in his voice other than concern about her unfettered access to his Republic credit account. Maybe. Linn could feel the color rise in her cheeks and turned away from his regard. "Annie, have fun at the beach."

The boy could only nod and grin through the mouthful of porridge.

* * *

There was nothing quite like Treasure Ship Row anywhere else in the galaxy, or at least not anywhere else that Linn had ever been. And she'd been more places than she could remember. Or probably wanted to anyway.

She moved quickly, bobbing and weaving deftly around one street merchant after another. Even having spent all her life in places like this, Linn usually only recognized the wares they were attempting to hoist on her about half the time. Sometimes it was just better not to ask.

Still, Annie would be amazed by the place. If they were still dirtside come this evening perhaps they could bring him here. But with any luck they'd be back aboard the Ron and well on the way to their next lead.

Ship-bound with Ben. It was enough to bring her up short in the middle of the crowded market. Linn exhaled a deep breath. Forced to share the confined space with him? For, and she shivered at the prospect, **days**? The idea was as terrifying as it was thrilling.

She cursed the awkwardness of the morning. It had never occurred to her that it would be so... bright ... in the room in daylight. Poor Annie, she reflected, with more than a twinge of guilt. She and Ben had been totally irresponsible there. With the intrusion there hadn't been any time to talk at all, either.

Should she have done something else? Said "Thanks?" Or "That was great?" Or ... what? She had no idea. It was stupid to think of having to resort to holovids for advice on this sort of thing, but it wasn't like she had any other resource.

Her skin still felt tender and raw from where he had touched it. Linn didn't think she was imagining it and pulled her arms tighter about her. More obviously, she had noticed that her face was red from more than just a perpetual state of embarrassment. Was this normal? Did he feel the same way? Had he enjoyed it too, or maybe Ben had just humored her? She didn't think so, but...

Space, she was starting to sound like a bad holonovel. She shook herself out of it and found she was staring blankly at a display of tapestries. She had work to do. They'd never be back on the Ron at all if she couldn't find that hole in the wall that Sly's pal Rog used as a second home. She started walking again.

She'd thought it was tucked in along a wall that bordered this line of stalls, but couldn't be entirely certain. Dar had always known the way. Dar had always taken care of those types of logistics. Something she was going to have to learn to do or starve. But even more terrifying than the thought of being destitute was the prospect of running Dar's beloved business into the ground. It had taken him years to build up the network of contacts he'd patched together. She couldn't let it all fall apart. Somehow, someway, she'd make him proud.

But right now she had to find Rog. Just when she was about to give up and try another row she caught a glimpse of the familiar yellow neon sign. "Good food, cheap drinks" it would have spelled out had not all the letters been burned out save the G-O-O-F-S. The locals simply called it "Goofs". Linn remembered thinking the last time she was here that she'd just as soon eat off the ground in the marketplace as touch a morsel of food from this dump's kitchen.

She struggled with the heavy door until it finally gave and swung outward. The contrast between the sunny Corellian morning and this dark pit was so extreme that she was blinded the moment she stepped inside. She knew the reason this effect wasn't remedied with proper lighting near the entry was both strategic and comical. Strategic because the unwelcome were easily picked off, and comedic because it was just plain amusing to the cretins who hung round here to see newcomers stagger and stumble around until they got their bearings.

Linn was wise enough to wait it out. She stood with her back against the heavy door listening to the ever-present holo mounted on a wall behind the bar blare out the latest smashball match accompanied by the hoots and hollers of their respective fans. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkened room.

The drunks hunched around the bar were just beginning to come into focus when she heard a familiar voice ring out from the corner. "Hey, Darrow, where's your old man?"

Linn turned toward Rog's regular corner. Sure enough, there he was, drink in hand, sprawled out across his customary booth. "Dead," Linn called back.

The bar went silent and all eyes turned to her. After a moment, there was a communal shrug and everyone went back to their drinks. Linn made her way over to Rog's table and slid into a seat across from him.

The dark-skinned man produced another glass from somewhere, poured her a drink from the bottle he had at his side. He pushed it across the table toward her. She accepted it gratefully.

Rog and Dar went back many, many years. Sometimes rivals, sometimes partners. Always mutual respect. They were cut from the same garment, Dar often said. A notion that Linn scoffed at, pointing out that Rog was nothing but a dirty old drunk. Which Dar assured his daughter he would have been too had it not been for her. Linn felt her eyes sting at the memory.

"That's a damn shame," Rog said with a heavy sigh.

Linn nodded her thanks and fought harder to hold back tears. If she were going to play this game, the game Dar had taught her, she couldn't burst into tears at the drop of a credit. She took a sip of her drink and steadied herself.

"It was the damn data disk, wasn't it?" Rog asked, although he already seemed to know the answer. He ran his stubby hand through his graying hair, giving his head a good scratch.

"Yeah," Linn replied, taking another drink. Rog refilled her glass.

"I suppose you know about Sly or you wouldn't be here."

Linn nodded. "Do you know what was on the disk?"

Rog shook his head. "Didn't want to know. Stupid kid. Anything from Naboo space is too hot. I told him to dump the damn thing, but the rancor's ass wouldn't listen to me. Thought this was his big break."

"Do you know where he got it from, Rog?"

"Sly was running the Fed blockade." He slurped his drink noisily. "Probably picked it up when he was in the neighborhood."

An idea formed. "He wouldn't have gone in there by himself." Linn sipped her drink. Rog did always have good taste in booze, even before lunchtime. "Sly must have been pulling for someone else. Any idea who, or where he got his crew from?"

"Dunno. There was a lot of competition for Naboo business. All the syndicates were in there."

Linn nodded, hoping her disappointment didn't show. Sly had free-lanced for a dozen cartels and could have picked up crew in 50 different places. Or his contractor or broker might have supplied the crew. She needed a better lead. "Is there anyone you can think of who might know what was on the disk or where he got it from?"

Rog scratched his scruffy chin, his milky blue eyes rolling back slightly as he considered the question. "There was this little Twi'lek number he'd been shipping up with lately. Bela or something, I think. Maybe she knows. Works as a dancer down toward the city center."

"Do you remember the name of the place?" Linn asked, leaning forward, elbows on the table, unable to check her rising excitement.

"Can't say that I do," he replied, and then called to the bartender. "Hrudey, what's the name of that club where Sly's Twi'lek dances?"

"Lookwooder's."

Rog snapped his fingers. "That's it."

"Thanks, Rog," Linn said, trying not to grin. "I owe you one."

"No," Rog replied. "This one's on me. For your old man. You just watch your back, you hear?"

"I will. Thank you," Linn said, rising from the table.

Before she walked away, Rog said, "He was a good man. If I had friends, I would have considered him one."

"I know he felt the same way," she said and hurried away. She stopped by the bar on the way out and had the bartender send over a bottle of Corellia's finest. Compliments of Dar.

***

Ben and Anakin had spent their morning drawing additional stock for the ship, seeing to refueling, and a dozen other tasks of vital importance to survival, but horribly dull to a nine-year-old waiting to see the ocean for the first time. Anakin had tried to be mindful of the lessons in patience. They were exercises Ben considered he should probably review himself in light of his own considerable distraction and agitation. By midday, Annie's excitement could no longer be contained, and Ben welcomed the excuse. When Linn contacted him on the comlink to report on her meeting with Rog, there was no reason to wait. So, they headed off for the sea.

By the time they were within sight of the beach, Anakin was hopping from foot to foot with excess energy, struggling to stay at his Master's side and not break into a run.

"It's so big!" Annie bellowed. "It goes on forever and ever!"

Ben smiled. "Go on, Annie, I'll catch up."

"Yippee!" the boy exclaimed and took off at a dead run for the water.

Ben watched him go, laughing to himself and wondering when was the last time he'd ever been so awed by anything. The answer, when it came, caught him off guard. Despite the awkwardness of this morning, he couldn't deny last night was one of the most wondrous of his life. If he closed his eyes he could still remember in perfect detail her scent, her taste, the velvety feel of her skin. The way she sighed contently when he -

"Master, hurry!" His reverie was ended abruptly when Anakin called to him. The boy was crouched down just in front of the water, poking his fingers at it, but pulling them just out of the way of the tiny waves lapping the shore. He leapt away squealing in delight as a larger wave nearly caught him unaware.

"Anakin," Ben scolded, as he joined the child at the shore's edge. "You must be mindful of how you address me."

"I'm sorry... Ben," he said earnestly. Annie then spun about to chase a wave out to sea, only to run back shouting gleefully as the wave returned to chase him. Ben watched, bemused, as Annie pursued and was pursued by the pounding surf. A nagging sense of responsibility made him feel they should take advantage of the tides to work on Force channeling exercises. But Annie's attention was firmly fixed elsewhere, and his own absence of mind had turned every mundane task that day into a grueling ordeal. Lessons would wait for another day.

Annie whooped, having won a running race with a large wave. His victory lap brought him back to Ben's side. "Can we go in?" Anakin asked, breathless and already soaked to the skin.

Ben wished he'd thought to acquire something more suitable for them to wear.

"Yes," he relented. "But not too far out. Linn should be here soon."

Annie was already running up the beach, away from the tideline, pulling off his overshirt. Ben followed, and they both sat down.

"You like her, don't you?" Annie asked as he yanked off his first boot.

"Who?"

"Linn!" Annie asserted, like his Master wasn't the brightest crystal in the lightsaber.

"I suppose she's all right," Ben replied, heartily wishing he could change the subject.

"You really don't know anything about girls, do you?" Annie said, shaking his head.

"And you're an expert?"

"*I've* had girlfriends before," the boy announced, pointing at his chest with his finger for emphasis.

"You have, have you?" The relationship between Master and Padawan was supposed to be a symbiotic one, with each one learning from the other, but Ben thought this was going a bit far.

"Sure!" Annie replied, very earnest and serious. "They can't resist pod racers."

"Oh, of course." Ben finished rolling up his pant legs and pulled his undershirt over his head, tossing it aside. The boy followed suit.

Anakin got up and headed for the water. "Anyway, if you want her to like you back-"

"Wait," Ben interrupted, following. "Who said I wanted her to like me in the first place."

Annie shot him a look which in any culture could only be read as "whatever" and rolled his eyes. He took his first step into the water and yelped. "It's cold!"

"It's better if you just jump in," Ben assured him, and sprang forward, giving a yelp of his own as he was engulfed in the frigid water. Well, that answered the question of why no one was at the beach.

Anakin waded out to where Ben was, moving gingerly and shivering. Through chattering teeth he said, "You get all nervous around her."

"I'm not nervous around her," Ben denied, hunching down and wrapping his arms around his knees so he was at eye level with Anakin. Only his head remained above the water. Anakin was in up to his waist.

The boy dipped his hands in then yanked them back out. "Yes, you are," he assured Ben. "Girls don't like that. They want you to be sure of yourself, to seem like you know what you're doing."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ben said with a wry grin.

"Good. That way when I get married you won't be left alone."

Ben threw his head back and laughed. "Annie, we're Jedi, it's highly unlikely either of us will be getting married."

Anakin drew his eyebrows together in confusion, but before he could voice some unspoken concern, they were interrupted.

"Are you mad?" Linn called from the shore. "It's far too cold to be in that deep."

"Why don't you come out and rescue us?" Ben shouted back.

"Because I'm not crazy!"

"Come on, Linn, it's not that cold," Annie wheedled through his chattering teeth. "Pleeeaasssse."

Linn stared at them both. "You **are** crazy." But she did sit down on the beach to pull off her boots. When she joined them in the water, Ben saw that she had only rolled up the legs on her flight suit. "Only up to my knees."

"See, it's not that cold," Anakin said, splashing a little water at her.

"Then why are your lips blue?" Linn retorted, sending some back his way.

It didn't take a Jedi to read Linn's intent when Ben saw her gesture for Annie to join her. She bent down, and said something to the boy.

Anakin immediately ducked under water. When he popped up again, it was with both arms working, sending walls of water at Ben. Ben, of course, was ready for him. To Annie's euphoric delight, Ben grabbed him around the waist, and lifted him up out of the water. With the sweeping movement, an emotional current sparked so suddenly, Ben nearly dropped his giggling apprentice before he could hurl him into deeper surf. Where had **that** come from, he wondered. He glanced around, but only Linn was close enough, and she was staring down at the waves lapping to her knees.

"Come **on**, Ben!" Annie squealed. Ben obliged, heaving Annie up, and sending him sailing. Annie landed with an enormous splash.

With the motion, Ben felt another fervent wave. The gush of longing was so foreign and so exhilarating, it took a few seconds before he recognized it from the night before. And it was directed at.... him? But from where? Ben actually looked around, befuddled, trying to pinpoint the source of someone's sly, and not-to-so innocent, regard.

As Annie would have said, sometimes, his Master wasn't the brightest crystal around. Linn had to be the source. There wasn't any other person and the sensation had her particular stamp upon it. This casual, disinterested pose was an act. And this merited further investigation, Ben thought.

He waded over to her. She was playing the downcast game again, and seemed determined to ignore him. As Annie erupted in the surf, an unlikely fish, Ben confided to her, "I bet I can guess what you're thinking."

"Can you?" she retorted, her face coloring. Linn sensed the challenge, raised her head to take it, and promptly lost. As her eyes flickered over him, lingering, he felt another spurt of pure desire.

Ben hadn't even been aware of it. He had thought nothing of stripping down to his trousers and tearing around in the water. For a Jedi, the physical body was merely a crafted vessel for channeling the Force which he or she shrouded in a dark robe to symbolize service and anonymity. To have prompted and be the object of a woman's very private fantasy was unprecedented. It was amazing. Embarrassing. Thrilling. And as suddenly as her desire had flared, his responded. Ben wanted her. Badly.

"If you can tell what we're thinking, then the women of Corellia aren't safe until you find some dry clothing, are they?"

It was a bold and delightful comeback. Ben did the only thing he could do. He swung her into his arms.

"Don't you dare, Ben Kenobi," she threatened. It might have been more credible if she weren't clinging to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

And he would dare. Besides, with Anakin swimming over to join in the fun, there weren't any other options. Ben heaved Linn into the water. She was no more anxious to release him than he was of her. They both went under together in a tangle of brushing limbs.

When they came up for air, Anakin sent another wall of water in their faces. He then announced suddenly, "I'm hungry!"

* * *

As day faded into dusk, the market stalls along Treasure Ship Row magically transformed themselves from a place to shop, to a place where tourists, smugglers, and those with more credits than brains could entertain themselves with games of chance and skill.

The aroma of the cuisine of a hundred street vendors mingled in the air with the laughter of the winners and the discontent of the losers. It was just the sort of place that fires the imagination of a nine-year-old boy.

Annie was so excited he didn't know where he wanted to go first. Linn suspected that if he could have, he would have split himself into a million little pieces and scattered like mercury. As it was, Ben was keeping a hand on the back of the boy's neck to keep him from running off and getting lost in the crowd.

"What's that?" Annie exclaimed as much as asked, pointing to table where a man moved three crustacean shells in a rapid circular motion, weaving them in and out among each other. He pulled away from Ben's grip and dashed to the table.

His head bobbed back and forth between the wizened old man with the shells and the Selonian across from him. Linn couldn't tell if he was more excited about, the game or the alien.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

The old man gave the lad an approximation of a smile. "She's to watch and see if she can determine which shell I have the bead under."

"That one," the Selonian guessed, jabbing her finger at the center shell.

The old man shook his head and lifted it to reveal nothing by empty table. "Care to try again?"

The Selonian shot him a dirty look and moved away.

"How about you, young man?"

"Okay!" Anakin sang out at the same time as Ben's, "No, thank you."

"Please," Annie begged, looking first to Ben then to Linn. "Just once?"

"It's not up to me," Linn replied.

Annie turned his attention back to Ben. "Please! It would be a good concentration exercise."

Ben sighed. "Once," he said, putting down a credit chip.

The man smiled, already seeming to calculate his winnings. "Now watch carefully," he said, slipping the bead under the right hand shell.

Annie watched with rapt attention. When the man stopped, he immediately pointed to the shell on the left. "There."

The man frowned and lifted the shell to reveal the bead. "Double or nothing?" he offered.

Before Ben could object, Annie agreed.

They were going on quadruple or nothing, when Linn decided this would be a good time to run her errand. "I'm going to go," she whispered in Ben's ear.

"I wish you'd reconsider," he replied, his voice hushed as well, half an eye on Anakin.

"It's not exactly the type of place we can take Annie," she pointed out.

"Then let me go."

Linn laughed out loud at that. "I'll meet you at Jor's in an hour. Do you remember where it is?"

"Believe it or not, I've been making my way around the galaxy for nearly twenty-six years now," Ben said, not without some humor.

Linn placed a hand on Annie's shoulder. "I have some errands to run. I'll see you at the restaurant."

Annie nodded slightly, not taking his eyes off the moving shells. A crowd was starting to gather, watching in amazement. The man behind the table was beginning to sweat.

Linn shook her head and retreated into the crowd. He truly was a remarkable little boy.

***

Ben watched Linn push through the crowd away from them and sighed. He really would have preferred to go himself, partly because he was worried about her, and partly because he believed he could get the job done faster and with less attention drawn.

Again, however, he had conceded. Again, he was forced to wait. It was almost felt like being with Qui-Gon, he mused, and then steadied himself for the familiar pain that had always ripped through him whenever anything reminded him of his former Master.

It didn't come. Could he be beginning to heal, he wondered. He still missed Qui-Gon to be sure, but the searing psychic loss hadn't come in the expected wave. Perhaps finding Linn had been the will of the Force after all. Perhaps they were brought together to help each other.

He liked the thought anyway. It helped to quell the nagging doubts. And if it had indeed been the will of the Force that brought her to him, then the Council could hardly object. Could they?

"Yes!" Anakin yelled in celebration of another victory, dragging Ben back to the here and now.

The crowd around the boy was growing larger and it was starting to make Ben a bit uneasy. It was time to move on before they attracted the wrong kind of attention. Besides, it was unethical for a Jedi to use his Force powers to take advantage of those lacking them, even if it might teach the con artist a lesson or two.

"Annie, that's enough," Ben said, when the youngster had beaten the man for the eighth time.

"But?"

"No buts," Ben interrupted firmly, placing his hands on the boy's small shoulders. "It's enough. Settle up and let's be on our way."

The con snarled with relief and handed over the credit chips.

***

Linn made her way up Starline Avenue at a clipped pace, head down, shoulders slouched, mind fully on the task at hand. Well, mostly, anyway, although she had to admit a certain senatorial aide dominated a small, but significant, section of her thoughts. Thoughts she firmly pushed aside as she spied the sign for Lookwooder's just a few doors away proclaiming, "Live Nudes! Over 80 Species!"

Charming, she huffed to herself and hesitated a moment at the door. She took a deep breath before entering. The interior was just as she'd expected it. Dark, except for a brightly-lit catwalk stage where a parade of females danced in various states of undress. Even more disturbing were the males clamoring for their attention from their velvet upholstered, overstuffed booths. She thought she recognized a few of Dar's pals.

A scantily clad light blue humanoid approached her and gave her the once over, eyeing her oversized flightsuit with distaste. "We're not hiring right now," she said, gesturing back toward the door.

"Oh, I'd pay to see that," called an obviously inebriated man from a booth a couple of meters away.

His companion slapped his head. "Shut up, Court, that's Dar's girl."

The other man laughed. "All grown up now though, I see."

"The day you see what's under this flightsuit is the day Hoth becomes a summer resort," Linn promised. Her hands on hips stance was a front though. Underneath, she felt as naked and exposed as the women up on the catwalk. The faster she could get out of here, the better. "I'm actually looking for someone. Bela," she said to the woman, speaking low. "I hear she's a dancer here."

"Where's your old man?" the lesser of the two drunks called to her. "Sending you out to do his leg work now is he?"

Her hands went automatically back up to her hips. "Maybe I'm working on a project of my own," she called back.

That put the men into peals of laughter. "Yeah, right."

"Good one, Darrow," the other added.

Linn turned her back to them. "Look," she said softly to the other woman, "there's fifty credits in it if you tell me where I can find Bela." She pulled a credit piece out of one her pockets, and slid it toward her.

The blue woman peered around furtively, and snatched the credit chip away. Linn couldn't begin to fathom where she'd hide it, but it was gone before she could even blink.

She leaned close, whispering in Linn's ear. "Things got a little hot around here for her after Sly got whacked. She decided to jump planet to wait it out."

"Where?" Linn breathed holding out another fifty-credit piece and hoping it wasn't home to Ryloth.

The woman looked around again before grabbing the additional chip, "Sacorria. She's working at a bar called The Dancing Drall."

"Thank you." Linn turned to go, only to be stopped by the taunts of the men nearby.

"Give our best to Dar," one called.

Linn put on her hardest face. "I would," she said, evenly. "But he's dead." With that, she turned on her heel and left, leaving the two in stunned silence.

It was barely a block before the tears came, and another three before she willed them to stop. Who was she kidding? She couldn't run this business. Not without her father.

She wrapped her arms about her, trying to find comfort in the oversized bulk of her father's clothing. She was his daughter. She'd always be Dar's girl. But would anyone ever think of her as anything but that? Could she be anything except his little girl?

With those sobering questions still ringing in her mind, she shoved her hands into her pockets and headed off to meet Ben and Annie.

***

"I'm buying dinner," Annie announced triumphantly when she joined him and Ben at Jor's. "Look Linn, I won!" His little palms were full of credit pieces.

"Wow," Linn said, suitably impressed. "You certainly did. Thank you, Annie, that would be lovely."

She turned her attention to Ben, who was eyeing her impatiently.

"So?" he asked.

"We leave for Sacorria in the morning."

Before Ben could ask her any further questions, the host approached and addressed Anakin. "Excuse me, Master Skywalker. If you'll follow me, your table is ready."

* * *

Anakin was having a marvelous time with his dinner of quick-fried crustaceans and vegetables over noodles. The dish was traditionally eaten with a thin pair of 18-centimeter sticks. Only a license to eat with his hands could have been more fun for Annie. Having never seen such utensils, let alone seafood of any sort, as much food spilled around his plate as into his mouth in his efforts to scoop it all up.

"Chupa!" he exclaimed as a large morsel escaped his tenuous grasp and plunged to the floor.

"Anakin!" Ben scolded. "What have we discussed about using that sort of language?"

Linn couldn't hold back her laughter. "**You speak Huttese**, Annie?" she asked.

"**All my life**," Annie replied easily, stuffing noodles from around the side of his plate into his mouth with his fingers. He slurped them up, sending bits of sauce splattering all over his face. "**It's the language of commerce on Tatooine. Who taught you**?"

"Annie," Ben sighed. "I know you possess better table manners than you are currently displaying."

His Huttese speaking companions ignored him.

"**My father. You can't work on the fringe and not know it**," Linn replied, and held out a piece of her fish between her sticks for him to sample. "**Here, try this**."

Annie chomped down on the morsel enthusiastically. His eyes lit up. "**That's good! Can I have another bite**?"

Linn nodded and slid a couple of chunks on to his plate. "**Don't hold your sticks so tightly**," she explained. "**You'll have more control that way**."

Annie tried again and failed to snare up the piece of fish that Linn had placed on his plate. It landed in a pool of salty sauce, causing a loud and messy slash.

"**Don't worry, it takes practice**," Linn assured him.

Ben drew his eyebrows together, eyes darting between them nervously.

"**He doesn't speak Huttese**?" Linn asked, enjoying his discomfort.

"**Only Basic as far as I know**," the boy replied, going after and spearing a pesky, but particularly appealing chunk of fish with the end of his stick and stuffing it into his mouth.

"Do you think perhaps we could speak Basic now?" Ben asked, his annoyance at being left out clear.

"**He's afraid I'm going to tell you that he thinks you're pretty**," Annie explained, through a mouthful of fish.

"**Is that right**?" Linn asked, glancing at a very peeved Ben.

Annie nodded, still poking at his food. "**But he's shy and doesn't know much about girls. I tried to help him out, you know. But I don't think he got it. So, if you want him to kiss you, you might have to make the first move**."

Linn laughed out loud. "**Who says I want him to kiss me**?"

"**You do**," Annie assured her.

"All right, what is so amusing?" Ben demanded.

"Nothing," Linn and Annie insisted at the same time.

"Right." Ben looked back down at his food. "Hurry up and finish, Annie, it's almost your bed time."

***

Linn wrung her hands and paced the small confines of her room as she wondered alternately if he'd come to her, if she wanted him to, and then, finally, what she'd do if he didn't. She could, of course, go to him. But, no, she realized, there was Annie to think about. And besides, she exhaled in frustration, her making the first move was about as likely as the Republic collapsing.

No, Ben would have to come to her.

She stopped in front of the mirror and considered herself for the second time in a week. Was she becoming narcissistic? She snorted at the irony. For that to be the case, wouldn't she have to like what she saw or do something about it? Instead, the same non-descript face stared back at her. Should she apply some color just in case? Change into something more alluring? Space, whom was she kidding? Everything she owned was a cast-off of Dar's, or something she could easily exchange with Annie. She wouldn't even know where to begin.

Linn moved her face closer to the mirror. Had she changed, she wondered since the night before? Had anything happened to transform Dar's little girl? Linn scoffed at the notion. She had changed all right. In the time since she last looked in a mirror, she had gained deep circles under her eyes, and dropped a kilo or three from the stress. It had everything to do with the loss of her father, and nothing to do with finding a lover. Still, she studied the reflected image closely, looking for any sign of a change. After a couple of moments she stuck her tongue out at her reflection and turned away to continue pacing.

She needed someone to talk to before she wore a hole in this carpet. She ached for Dar, and would have traded her soul for just five minutes with him. She angrily pushed back the tears that threatened to fall at the thought.

Besides, if her father had known about last night, Ben wouldn't have survived the day. In a flash of insight, she wondered if Dar had purposely kept her in men's clothes and shielded precisely to avoid situations like this. It seemed likely and frankly like a good course of action about now.

Was this something you talked about with your female friends, she wondered. Like that was going to be even remotely useful, she realized. Linn couldn't remember when she had last had a conversation with a female she hadn't had to pay for the information received. Linn sighed in frustration and flopped down on her bed. "Ugh!" she exclaimed.

It was the worst thing she could have done. Sinking into the soft mattress only brought back how Ben had joined her there -- the way his lips had felt as they trailed their way down her neck, how his hands had felt on her, and how they had made her feel, the weight of his body on hers.

Just what the hell was going on with her anyway? Was she turning into some sort of wanton sicko? She was horrified by what she had felt at the beach today. When Ben had popped up out of the sea, water streaming down his body in rivlets, she'd felt an overwhelming current of desire rush through her that had nothing to do with conscious thought. If Annie hadn't been there, she was fairly certain that she would have ripped what little clothes he'd been wearing off and had her way with him right there in the water. Yeah, right, she snorted, rejecting the ridiculous self-image. Then other thoughts intruded... Maybe... A very frustrated groan escaped.

That does it, she thought, hopping to her feet. She was both pathetic and a pervert. And he wasn't going to show. She'd just try to get some sleep. But, she thought, glancing at the bed, probably in a chair.

The soft rapping on her window alarmed her, with near catastrophic results. She whipped around, yanking her blaster from its holster on her side, and brought it to bear on the unseen threat.

Ben was standing precariously on the ledge, and nearly fell backwards when he saw the weapon in her hand. Somehow he managed to regain his balance, smile, and put his hands up to indicate he wasn't packing.

He'd come after all. Linn fought the urge to be thankful. She tossed the blaster on a chair, and moved toward the window.

"Hello," she said shyly, sliding the glass apart.

"Hello," Ben replied, looking down at his feet. "I just thought I'd stop by and say goodnight."

"Most people use the door to do that. It's what halls were created for," Linn explained in a voice usually reserved for small children or animals.

"This way seemed more dashing."

"Is that what it is?" she asked.

"I have it on good authority that women look for that in a man."

"I think you should look to someone other than a nine-year-old for advice in such matters," Linn responded.

Ben seemed downcast. "And I thought it seemed like a good idea at the time. Perhaps I should try a podracer next time."

Linn grabbed the front of his shirt. She wasn't quite ready to let him into the room, and the truth of the matter was that Ben really did look pretty good perched at her window. "Do you want to know what a woman looks for in a man?"

Ben wrapped an arm around her waist. "Please. Do tell." He teased a kiss out of her, but then eased down to sit on the sill. "And I assume that you mean something other than the superb balance to sit on a window ledge two floors off the ground?"

"Balance is important," she conceded. But another was higher on the list, and wondrously on display before her. "I'll also include the quality of a rogue, the hint of bad within mostly good."

"I'm not bad," he replied, feigning indignation.

"Yes, you are. There's... something, just under the surface," she assured him.

"I'll show you what's under the surface," he promised, pulling her into a rough kiss and then as quickly, releasing her. He rocked back again onto the ledge, evidently prepared to await further enlightenment.

"You prove my point," she said, slightly dazed.

"I see. And I would have thought that 'looks good when wet,' was your highest priority."

"I think we established that this afternoon," she laughed.

"Right. Anything else?"

"A woman always likes to see a man in a cape."

Ben made as if he would rise and leave the ledge. "I think I left a robe in my room. Let me go get it."

Linn halted his retreat, pulling him back to her. "Lastly, women like a dramatic entrance."

As she drew a willing Ben through the window, it was, unfortunately, another splendid idea spoiled by intruding furniture. Their fall to the carpeted floor had been Linn's intention. The fall of the credenza next to the window which toppled over when they did, was not.

Linn slid to the floor, Ben landed neatly on top of her, and the table landed on him.

"Oof!" Linn exclaimed under the combined weight.

Ben impatiently pushed the table aside.

"If we break anything," she scolded, "it goes on your expense report."

"Put it on the card," he ordered catching her face between his palms. Linn burst out laughing through the kiss Ben tried planting on her mouth.

"I suggest we table the topic for further discussion," Linn giggled.

Ben's eyes flitted to the upended credenza. "I would not attempt tabling of anything with you unless there was a bacta tank close by."

"That's not very nice. I demand that you apologize."

And what an apology it was -- a lazy kiss of gentle testing and exploration. Unhurried, thorough, and filled with the promise of more to come. Linn sighed, closing her eyes and melting into the sensation. The night before had been a frenzied melding of pain and passion. But this. This languor was so much better. She could stay here all night.

Except...

"What's wrong?" Ben murmured.

"Unless we find that bacta tank, in the interest of avoiding rug burns, I move for a change of location."

"I second that. The motion is carried." Illustrating the point, Ben once again attempted what Linn was beginning to realize was a favorite ploy of his -- picking her up bodily and depositing her in the locale of his choice.

"Point of order," she insisted, as Ben hoisted her up. "This motion will not be carried **anywhere** unless that bacta is located first."

The motion was carried, even if Linn was not. Ben gently set her down.

If he negotiated the room a bit cautiously to sit at the edge of the bed, Linn could not blame him. She watched as he struggled to remove his boots. After a few moments of fumbling, she took pity and went to his aid. Linn knelt and helped him tug the right one off. "Have you ever noticed that in the holovids, everyone always wears boots, but you never see them actually come off?"

She tossed the boot over her shoulder, and noticed with amusement that Ben winced. Fortunately, there was no crash. She began pulling on the left one. "How do you get these off by yourself?"

"Normally it's not a problem," he replied wryly, "but then usually I'm not nearly as anxious to be rid of them."

Linn threw the second boot almost aiming for, and missing, a lamp. Ben probably knew she was doing it deliberately. She was trying to provoke a particular sardonic reaction of his.

"Your turn, now," Ben said ambiguously, and pulled her up. He obviously had something in mind. As Linn rose to her feet, Ben remained sitting. Setting his hands on her hips, he moved her about, just so, until Linn was standing between his legs, in front of him.

Linn rested her hands on his shoulders. "Now wha..." She choked back the inquiry with a gasp as Ben slowly slid his hands down her right leg.

"If you don't mind," he asked, in a tone that had nothing to with politeness, "I prefer you without weaponry." Ben began working her holster with one hand. With the other...

"No, not at all," Linn breathed. She closed her eyes, and felt him manipulate the cord at her knee, then slide his fingers back up her leg to the clasp at her hips. The holster slid down and clattered to the floor. "Too bad I can't return the favor," she rasped.

"I've never needed a blaster," Ben observed. "And now..."

Linn tried pushing him back into the bed, but Ben resisted. "No, not quite yet, Linn. We're in no hurry tonight."

He squinted into the glare of the overhead light, then at her. Ben called, "Illumination down...." He looked at her inquiringly.

"50 percent," Linn ordered. The room dimmed slightly. She shrugged and smiled. "It's simply that at the beach today I realized that I missed certain... uh," she searched for the right word, and settled on, "features last night."

"I had the same thought," Ben said.

It had seemed to be innocent enough, at first. Having relieved her of the holster, Ben began casually moving his hands over her flightsuit, up, down, and around. He didn't actually touch her body, but only the worn fabric which covered it. He fingered her wrists, and throat, lightly caressing the exposed skin he found there, but then moved on. The stroking was thorough, slow, ever so slow, up her front, down her sides and back, up the insides of her legs.

Linn didn't know that such an ache for physical contact was even possible. Clutching at his shoulders, standing before him, Linn felt she was writhing in a prison, trapped between his caressing hands and the confines of her clothing.

"Have I mentioned, Linn," he said quietly, "how much I like you in this?" Ben pressed his fingers around her waist, sliding the fabric up under her breasts, then letting it fall as his hands continued their journey across her body. "You're like a secret package, under wraps, and only I know what's inside."

Polite conversation seemed star systems away. "I thought I should have found something else..." she managed to exhale.

"No. Don't change a thing." Ben bent over her hands, mouthing the exposed skin at her wrists. "I told you before, you're perfect."

How did he do it, she wondered. How did he always know what to say? What to do?

"Is that what a man wants in woman, then? An oversized flightsuit?" she asked running her hands through the hair at the back of his neck.

"Among other things," he replied, falling back on the bed and dragging her down on top of him.

"Like what?" she pushed, working to pull his shirt over his head. She began running her hands slowly over his chest.

Ben's eyes slid shut, his hands moving through her hair. "What a man wants most is a woman who wants him."

Linn seized the opportunity. She grabbed his roaming hands. "There's one other thing a woman looks for in a man."

Ben looked up at her, eyes glittering, a questioning and very satisfied smirk resting in his expression. "And that is?

Linn took his hands and brought them to the top clasps of her flightsuit. "A woman looks for a man who knows when he should stop talking and just take her clothes off."

Ben fingered the tie at her breast. "Unfortunately, Linn, we may have a problem there." Before her frown could deepen into a full panic, he explained, "As delighted as I am in your unusual choice in seductive clothing, I have no idea how to get it off of you."

"That," she assured him, "I can help you with."

***

Linn woke slowly and found herself securely wrapped in Ben's arms. She lay there a long time, relishing his feel and the slow, even breathing that told her he was still sound asleep.

She was loath to move, but a chilly breeze biting into her bare skin reminded her of why she had awoken. In her eagerness for his dramatic entrance, neither of them had thought to actually shut the window. Ben was comfortable enough; he had taken the blanket and did not seem inclined to relinquish it with a gentle tug.

She slipped out of the bed, and cast about for her robe, but came across Ben's discarded shirt first and quickly pulled it over her head. As she wriggled into its voluptuous folds, Linn could just catch the scent of him mingling with the tang of the sea.

Padding to the window, she almost tripped over the upturned credenza still on the floor - another bit of detritus from the evening. Linn glanced back at the bed, but Ben seemed oblivious. She quietly righted the table then went to the window and slid it shut.

It was a breathtakingly beautiful night. Corellia's two moons hung heavy and low in the sky. Linn wrapped her arms about her, inhaling deeply of the fragrance clinging to the fiber of his shirt. How was it possible that in a week since Dar's death she could find a measure of contentedness? She missed him horribly, still, and would for a long time. But Ben... To have someone with whom she could share her grief and a sliver of happiness had made the aching loss bearable.

Linn had never met anyone like him. He always knew what she was thinking, always had just the right thing to say. And, she thought a bit smugly, he certainly seemed to know the right things to do.

She reached out with her fingers and placed them against one of the moons on the chilled glass of the window, and started a tiny bit when another hand joined hers there, his warm fingers entwining hers. "Ben," she sighed.

His other hand slid around her waist and pulled back against him. "It's cold without you," he whispered against her ear, his voice still rough with slumber.

He brought their hands down from the window, turning them so that he could kiss his way up her arm, starting at the inside of her wrist. Tenderly, he worked past the delicate skin on the inside of her elbow, skipping over the fabric covering her arm to the place where her shoulder met her throat. "This shirt looks far better on you than it does on me," he said softly, tugging it to expose more.

Linn turned into his arms. "We left the window open." She couldn't entirely stifle the giggle and slid her hands down his back, noting a critical omission, and enjoying the feel of it. "At least I had the decency to put something on before I did something about it."

Ben didn't seem overly troubled. It didn't stop his forward march across her shoulder. "You've my shirt."

"But not your pants."

He pulled her closer, shifting slightly to one side and finding another perfect fit, hip to hip, the line of his thigh aligned with hers. Linn pushed her hands around his neck, remembering to be more mindful this time of just how lethal a wrist chron could be. Under her kisses, Ben stretched his neck and Linn began working from his ear to shoulder. And stopped. Her lips had encountered an odd patch of skin. She'd noticed it earlier, and thought it was a scar. But inspecting it more closely now, she could see that it looked more like a burn -- a particularly nasty and partially healed burn.

She'd never seen anything quite like it. It almost seemed more like a cut, but the edges were clean, so it couldn't have been a vibroknife."Ben?" she questioned, looking up at him.

"Naboo," he replied simply.

Linn's attention turned back to the wound. "It doesn't look like blast burn," she said, running her fingers softly over it. "I've never seen..."

"Destroyer," Ben said, running his fingers down her back. "The Federation armed its battle droids with some pretty heavy weaponry."

She looked at him with sad eyes. "Yes, but..."

"It's fine, really," he said, smoothing his lips over the place right behind her ear.

"So close," Linn whispered, and kissed the scorched skin. "Too close."

"I told you I have a problem with burns and short outs."

Ben paused, and Linn glanced up to see what had caught his attention. "What?"

He was looking over her shoulder. With a nod, he indicated the courtyard below. Linn rotated again in his arms to look out the darkly tinted window. She could just make out a figure moving stealthily below. Toward the musical fountain.

"I suspect malicious intent," he said wryly.

Linn smiled. She had been too ... occupied to hear it this evening.

Repeating her thought, Ben said, "The fountain hasn't bothered me at all tonight."

Linn leaned into him, savoring the unusual feel of her back to his chest. "We've been distracted, I think."

"Is that what it is?" Ben whispered at her neck. "Distraction?" Linn felt his hand slip quietly under her shirt, his shirt, to caress what he found there. "Distraction doesn't quite seem to cover it all." Under the touch, her skin puckered and pulled on itself. She shivered.

"Are you cold?" he breathed in her ear. His left hand joined the right one, gliding across her skin.

"No," Linn managed. Not cold. Not. Not like anything. As one of his hands drifted passed her breast, she halted its further travels, catching it there. She tried stammering an explanation, "It just..."

"Seems like it belongs there?"

"Yes." She trembled again as his lips nipped at her throat.

Suddenly, she sensed his hesitation, a slowing. Linn felt her body murmur a protest. "What's wrong?"

Ben untangled one hand, and brought it to her chin, tilting it up so she looked ahead. "Oh!" she exclaimed.

He hid his face at her neck. "It was a bit surprising."

Linn stared at their dim reflection in the window. The woman she saw was a stranger. Who was this person? Disheveled. Barely clothed. Wrapped in a man's arms, eager, wanting. She saw a ripple under the oversized shirt, and realized, with a profound sense of dislocation that it was Ben's own hand that she could both feel, and see.

She could no more look on it then Ben could. "We won't look then," she said, turning slightly away from the unfamiliar reflections.

She felt him sigh. "I just hadn't realized how beautiful you are."

"How do you always do that?" she marveled. Linn captured his hands, and brought them back under his shirt to continue where they had left off.

It began slowly, a testing, gentle fondling. Linn felt her breathing begin to quicken, in time with the meter of his caresses. One hand still working her breast, Ben grabbed at her waist, pulling her tighter against him. An unconscious need, one she never even knew she had, warred with modest restraint. Need won. Linn pushed her hips against him; she felt him respond, and heard Ben's low moan in her ear.

She brought her arms up, finding Ben's neck to tangle her fingers in his hair. As Linn moved her hands back, she felt one of his move slowly down. She started when when his fingers gently brushed a particularly sensitive spot. "Sorry," Ben whispered, loosening his grip on her as she went suddenly rigid in his arms.

Linn quickly halted his retreat, catching his wrist and feeling a throbbing pulse there. Gods, what was she doing. She had no idea, only the sense that something was as it should be. "No, it..."

Ben allowed her to guide his hand back. "Seems right?"

Linn could barely nod, lost in the feelings that had somehow came alive with the touch. His fingers somehow found the same instinctive rhythm that she felt coursing through her. Her eyes slipped shut, blood rushing to her brain, ears pounding. She struggled against him, trying to control her gasping breath. Ben was driving her closer, propelling her to what she didn't know. It was terrifying, trying to hold out against the force of a current so foreign and wondrous. Finally, she succumbed, and with a final cry of surrender, flew apart in his arms.

Her knees buckled and she sagged against him, limp. Ben gently eased her to floor and sank beside her. "Linn," she heard him groan. "I..."

Linn pried her eyes open and exhaled the breath she had been holding for an age. She might have laughed if she had been able, for Ben certainly looked as stunned as she felt.

Ben tried again. "I can't bel..."

"Shhhh," she managed to blurt out. She couldn't say it. There weren't words in any language. Linn did the only she thing she could under the circumstances. She wrapped her hands about his neck and pulled him to her. Kissing him. Hard. Long enough to silence him. Long enough to tell him what they both now desperately wanted. Who cared about rug burns, anyway?

Evidently Ben did. He suddenly rolled over, pulling her on top of him. The sudden movement sent the table crashing to the floor. Again.

And again, it seemed to Linn, that somehow, they found the right fit, the right place. As Ben held her tightly about the waist, taking her now where he wanted to go, she caught their reflection in the window. And closed her eyes to the strangers she saw there.