raises hands defensively and backs away. Don't pin this one on me; my muse came back from playing strip poker with my creativity and my health and whacked me over the head with this ficlet. The ending was all her - I didn't even know what was going to happen until I got to it. Then even I raised an eyebrow and said "Whaaaa?"
So direct any complaints to her, please. (And any compliments to me! )
Lyrics are from Jekyll and Hyde, though my personal soundtrack that started this fic was "Crazy For this Girl" by Evan and Jaron.
Not mine, would that they were. I would cuddle with the boys all day if that were so, and never get any writing done... so I suppose it's all for the best...
In His Eyes.
"In his eyes I can see where my heart longs to be.
In his eyes, I see a gentle glow; and that's where I'll be safe, I know…."
From Jekyll and Hyde
He turns my way, and I instantly know what he's thinking. That smile, those blue eyes, the fine lines that crinkle the corners of his lids and the edges of his mouth. He's gotten older over the past few years together. Older, but wiser. Stronger. More perfect.
As if he wasn't already perfect….
The party is in full swing around me as I stare at him, smiling as he catches my eye and winks. He knows I've been watching him, standing in the corner like a shadow all dressed in black. He knows that I've been standing back to force him into the spotlight that he so emphatically detests; I can see it in the bemused quirk of his eyebrows as his gaze passes over my face. The people love him; worship him as a paragon of virtue and nobility. Of modesty and self-deprecation – the model Jedi.
A reputation he honestly doesn't think he deserves.
He shines in the crowd, and he doesn't even realize it. Brilliant light fills his every gesture with power, with sensuality. The Force gathers around him, bright and welcoming, wrapping like a blanket of pure radiance around its chosen son. I envy it the close, intimate grasp it has on him, wishing that I could wrap myself around that keen mind and that perfect body, fitting together seamlessly. Perfection.
Obi-Wan Kenobi.
He glances at me, and my heart skips a beat. My hand clenches convulsively on the single glass of Nubian wine that I've been nursing for well over two hours now. I see the faint flush on his cheeks, and know that he's been drinking more than I. A past-time that my perfect Master rarely engages in - he's using it as a buffer between himself and the anxious, scrabbling HoloNet reporters. His crimson blush darkens suddenly, he ducks his head with a small smile, and I know he's just been complimented. Obi-Wan always gets embarrassed when people praise him. Passes it off with a dismissive shrug and a sheepish smile as though he doesn't deserve it.
I love to tease him, dancing impudently in his footsteps and parroting the words of a thousand women – and men - on a thousand worlds back to him: 'Such beautiful eyes!' 'Show me your lightsabre, Jedi boy!' 'As pretty as a pleasure slave! I would add him to my collection!'. With a wicked grin and a mock-swoon in his path, until his face is as brilliant red as a Sith's 'sabre.
He's even more handsome when he blushes. But there's a silent plea in his eyes as he catches a glimpse of me through the shifting crowd yet again. He looks at me, and I know what he's thinking.
Time to rescue my Master once again. Of course, it means putting myself in the line of blaster-fire, so to speak… but I'm not at all adverse to rescuing him; seeing that heart-warming look of gratitude on his serene features, feeling the momentary warm grasp of his hand on my arm. On top of that, Obi-Wan looks almost as gorgeous when he's relieved as he does when he's under siege.
Would that I were the one to be mounting the attack….
The faces swirl around me, blurring, melding together in a riot of colour and noise that fades into a quiet buzz as I see his face. The only still point in the room, his eyes twin pools of serenity that draw me in, drowning me in their unfathomable depths. The voices fade out like a broken comlink as he says my name. There is no beauty in the galaxy that can compare to the sound of that voice. It fills my heart, making an irrepressible smile bloom on my face.
The vultures circle, seeing the two of us together, all arched eyebrows and knowing smiles concealed behind elegant, grasping hands. There are whispers, rumours, and tales about the true nature of the Kenobi/Skywalker partnership. Obi-Wan laughs them off; I long for them to be realized. I see every handshake that sends tingles down my spine dissected by our fans, every affectionate embrace and warm welcome plastered over tabloids and holonet fansites.
And I don't care. I find those clips and play them and pretend. Pretend that his arm comfortably around my waist, head resting securely against my shoulder was more than just exhaustion after a mission. I peer at the grainy holos, and try to see what every female in the galaxy seems to know. I try to see the depth of feeling there that is taken as a matter of course.
Obi-Wan loves me. He does, I know this to be a fact. But there is a difference between loving and being in love.
But when his eyes light up at my approach, the way they do tonight, I feel the faintest flicker of hope stir in my heart. Those eyes meet mine and I know what he's thinking, knows that he wants to leave the glitter and glamour behind to retreat to the upper levels of the Temple. Away from the party, away from the celebration that echoes across the galaxy.
Because the Sith have finally been defeated today. The death of Dooku at Obi-Wan's hand in the skies above Coruscant was only the beginning; now the Master has been found and destroyed.
It still hurts that Palpatine was a traitor… he was my mentor and my friend; I can't hate him, not completely. But I miss his advice nevertheless, needing it already though not one standard day has passed since Obi-Wan and I were sent to remove the Sith threat. I wonder what he would have said about my Padawan crush, which I never quite grew out of.
Then I look into Obi-Wan's eyes… and I know that it doesn't matter that Palpatine is gone. I have a far stronger, far wiser friend, mentor, and brother. One who is still with me, one who would never betray me.
One whom I love.
And suddenly it doesn't matter about the crowds of gossips, reporters, and onlookers whose presence is blaspheming the Temple. There isn't anyone there except the two of us, Obi-Wan's blue eyes the only points of colour in a room that has faded into monochrome monotony. The glass shatters at my feet as I let it slip from my hands, a sparkling, twinkling chime like a crystal bell as I seize his face in my palms and crush his lips against mine.
I break away reluctantly as sound comes rushing back to fill the void; a rousing cheer and applause to drown out the pounding of my nervous heart. Obi-Wan's eyes are still closed, lips slowly curving into a smile as he exhales slowly, sensuously.
Then his eyes open into slits, contented like a lazy nexu. They raise almost shyly to meet my own, and I know what he's thinking. The gaze travels the length of my spine to explode at my groin, and then he's in my arms again.
Obi-Wan.
His cheeks are flushed slightly again, and I trace its path with the back of my hand. But it's not a result of wine or embarrassment. Not this time. My own heated blush can undoubtedly be seen all the way from Tatooine as he gently takes my hand and tugs me away from the stunned reporters - both those who look disgusted and those who seem envious and pleased – before they can recover.
We'll be the main story on many a HoloNet broadcast tomorrow, and it won't be for defeating two Sith lords.
Obi-Wan grins back at me over his shoulder as he pulls me along, and I wonder if he knows what I'm thinking. Has he always been able to see my thoughts as easily as I can read him?
We don't reach our apartments. There's an alcove along the side of the Grand Gallery that sweeps through the Temple, and Obi-Wan shoves me into it, until I'm wedged between a pillar and a wall, with a window at my back. But he meets my eyes and smiles seductively, and my body instantly forgets any discomfort aside from the tightness of my pants.
He meets my eyes and I know what he's thinking; it makes me tremble, melting under the heat of his gaze like a Hothian snowflake under a Tatooine sun. I shiver as he touches my cheek tenderly, as his lips slowly graze mine, his eyes open and full of promise.
I whimper as he pushes his body closer to mine, as his other hand slides over my chest, tugging aside tunics easily.
I gasp as the lightsabre pierces my heart.
His eyes meet mine, and they're yellow and cruel as I'm allowed to slide bonelessly to the floor.
And I wonder, briefly, sluggishly, if I ever really knew his thoughts… if I ever really knew him at all.
He turns my way, and I instantly know what he's thinking….
Too late.
In his eyes I can see where my heart longs to be.
In his eyes I see a gentle glow, and that's where I'll be safe, I know.
Safe in his arms, close to his heart, but I don't know quite where to start...
By looking in his eyes, will I see beyond tomorrow?
By looking in his eyes, will I see beyond the sorrow that I feel?
Will his eyes reveal to me promises or lies?
But he can't conceal from me the love in his eyes!
I know their every look, his eyes!
They're like an open book, his eyes!
But most of all; the look that hypnotized me!
If I'm wise, I will walk away and gladly.
But sadly I'm not wise; it's hard to talk away the memories that you prize!
Love is worth forgiving for, now I realize –
Everything worth living for is there: in his eyes.
Love is worth forgiving for, now I realize –
Everything worth living for is there, in his eyes!
January 20, 2006
Please don't hate me. It was the Muse's fault. Not mine. (laughs). But feel free to leave a review! It'll make Anakin's Force ghost feel better, at least.
Xtine