Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or anything related to Star Wars. Nothing. Nada.

AN: Okay, this chapter has a few references to another story I wrote, which deals with Obi-wan's family. I haven't published it and don't plan on it bc honestly, it's rough and I've got plenty to keep me busy right now. It's mostly toss away stuff that has no bearing on this story, and I feel like it makes the story a little richer and builds a background, so I left it in. Plus it's only a small bit. Also, don't hate Sach too much, she's an overprotective sister and she's just scared. She can remember a lot more about their life before their grandmother took them in than even she knows and it affects her more than she realizes.

Chapter 6

"Ah, my two favorite words: Open. Bar"

Saché holds up a glass and inspects it against the light, and deciding it's sufficiently mixed, takes a drink.

She smiles over at a Togruta and then winks at a Sullustan before turning back to her sister.

"Padmé needs to up our pay grade. Coming to these Congressional parties is akin to torture. Here, take another drink."

Sabé declines with a roll of her eyes.

"I've had enough. Who do I look like? Keli Cato?"

Shrugging, Saché sets the second drink down.

Sabé titters, supports herself with a chair, as Saché forces a smile and tells a Rodian representative she's too tired to dance. A lie if she's ever heard one. Saché could dance until the core imploded.

She's just drunk, and getting meaner by the minute.

"We need to escape," she finally whispers, linking her arm with Sabé's. "You're gonna fall over. Maybe Aisha is on planet, she'll pick us up."

Sabé almost points out that Saché has drank twice what she has, but trips over her own feet and decides not to goad her. Saché has the tolerance of a Hutt for drink, but also their labile mood. There's no telling what she'll do if they don't leave soon. Tell off the entire Senate or propose to the handsome Senator from Glee Anselm. She's either the sweetest or the meanest drunk, there is no in between.

They scan the room, eager to find a secluded corner where they can hide for the remainder of the night, finally agreeing on a spot.

"Behind that bunch of plants over there?" Sabé asks.

Saché nods in the affirmative and they quickly take off for what they hope is their sanctuary, shaking off prying eyes and ducking around conversations with increasing clumsiness. They then swiftly slip behind the several lush green plants and sit at a small, and thankfully well hidden, bench.

"And to think we actually thought these were fun when we first started," Saché huffs as she downs the last of her drink, tossing the plastic cup into the plants.

Sabé chuckles, shaking her head. "Did we?"

"I don't remember," Saché admits, collapsing back and sighing. "Do think we'd get in trouble if we left early?"

"Probably," Sabé mutters, closing her eyes, the lights are too much, as Saché begins humming.

It's an old song, maybe from when they'd been little, and it lulls Sabé into a stupor.

After several minutes of lounging in their secluded corner, Sabé floating between sleep and wake, a flustered woman with dark red hair stumbles through the foliage and into the wall.

She doesn't notice them at first, ducks under one of the large dark leaved plants and makes sure she hasn't been followed before straightening up. Sighing, she turns and spots the sisters, sheepishly grins and shrugs.

"Ah, sorry girls," her voice is light but heavily accented, clearly from a farming planet without much polish. She jerks her head toward the dance floor. "Making a hasty retreat. Not much to be had there."

Saché nods solemnly. "We know. Think you can smuggle us out with you?"

The woman's grin broadens and she gestures for them to follow her.

She leads them down the tapestry covered wall, then stops and looks at them for a beat before ducking behind the hanging, into a hidden passage.

They travel for several meters, then reach a set of stairs. Down, right, left, seemingly endlessly going until the girl stops and the sisters collide with her back.

Sabé giggles as Saché nearly topples over trying to stop.

Pressing a finger to her lips, she then holds it up to them, mouths the word 'wait' and then pushes the wall in front of her.

It silently moves and she peeks around the corner. For a moment she's quiet, then she sighs.

"All clear."

Stepping out, Sabé sees a wall of glass, the shimmering lights of Coruscant beyond it. It would be beautiful, if not for the smog of industry and speeders hanging around it.

The party's lackluster music is still audible, droning dimly behind them, but they had apparently made their way to an outside hall and hopefully an easy escape.

"Where are we?" Sabé looks around, spotting several ornate paintings from a Core Worlds hung beside delicate tapestries.

They're not originals but very good knock offs, even drunk she can tell, but from the care and prestige they're clearly given, someone doesn't know it. She giggles at the thought of some rich Senator dishing out absurd amounts of money to a forger.

"One of the side halls. It leads to the far end of the main entrance, then all we have to do is enter the passcode and we're home free," the woman cheerfully answers, paying the well-made fraudulent paintings no mind.

Saché arches an eyebrow. "How do you know all this?"

She's suspicious, but not worried. They can both tell the girl isn't a threat. She's not as drunk as they are, but she's got the simple, open body language of someone with nothing to hide even if she weren't. She's just friendly.

The woman grins. "I use to date one of the architects."

Both girls snort. Judging by her step, she'd done more than date the architect.

They follow her silently for several moments before she gives them a curious once over. "You two are aides, yeah?"

Sabé nods.

"What planet?"

"Naboo," Saché answers, nose scrunched up, irked at the prodding. "Sorry, but, who are you?"

They both have terrific memories and she isn't a senator or a fellow aide. She is familiar though, but their drink fogged minds are blurring her name and position.

Pushing her dark red hair back over her shoulder Natalie Mattani. I'm here as a general ambassador for my mother to see how things are faring. Our Senator has been giving us rather worrisome reports."

Sabé frowns, thinking for a moment before realizing who the girl is.

"As in Dorian Mattani? The president of Stewjon?" Saché asks before Sabé can fully form a thought.

They had often heard of the formidable President Mattani, now serving her third and final term, but had never had the occasion to meet her. Padmé had of course, years before, when she had visited the Senate. The stately woman had come to the Coruscant to make a plea for increased aid on behalf of Stewjon's smaller neighbors during a devastating drought.

President Mattani and Stewjon's Senator Larribi had quietly been making it known to certain others that they are very unhappy with the direction the Republic is going, and though Padmé doubts they'll ever join the Seperatists, it's clear that they will leave the Republic if it comes to it. The fact that the president has sent her daughter is a troubling sign.

Natalie raises an eyebrow. "Aye, that she is. She's met your Senator Amidala. Said she's one of the few not in someone's pocket."

Sabé tries her best to sober up, smiling and nodding a bit too enthusiastically. "The Senator is very dedicated to the preservation of the Republic. I'm certain if you need anything while you're here she would be very happy to assist you."

Smiling brightly, Natalie reaches up and punches in the code to get them out of the building.

When they stepped out into the warm Coruscant night, Sabé feels she can breath for the first time.

"What are your names?" Natalie finally asks as they make their way around the front of the building, down a dimly lit alley.

"Saché," Saché answers, her words a little slurred, gestures first to herself and then to Sabé, "and Sabé Lindzee."

"Good to know you," Natalie replies. She stops dead in her tracks seconds later, after looking further down the alley.

"What?" Saché cranes her neck, trying to seen the cause of their abrupt stop.

"Jedi," Natalie answers, looking annoyed. Glancing around, she begins to push the other two back. "We'll go the other way 'round."

Sabé's breathe catches in her throat as she spots the pair of Jedi up ahead, instantly recognizing one as Obi-wan.

Saché's nose wrinkles up in dislike. "Ugh, they're the worst."

"It's Obi-wan," Sabé giggles, trying to push past Natalie and Saché. Obi-wan will want to see her…

Natalie snorts. "What did you say?"

Saché shoves Sabé and Natalie back down the alley, staying to the shadows. However, sensing a presence, or perhaps hearing their less than stealthy getaway, the Jedi turn to the source.

Suddenly, one of them uses the force to fling a trash can into their path.

"Sneaking off?" the unknown man asks.

"Aye. Now I see we should have run," Natalie grumbles.

Saché nods, clearly agreeing, before crossing her arms and setting the pair in a glare.

Obi-wan sighs, then frowns. "Sabé?"

"Hello," she squeaks, raising a hand in a tiny wave.

"What are you doing down here?" He asks, looking between the girls.

"We could ask the same of you," Natalie tells him, her chin rising slightly as she mimics Saché's glare.

"We asked first," the unknown man chuckles, apparently amused by the exchange.

"Are we twelve?" Saché snaps, rolling her eyes, whatever was left of her good mood evaporating. "We're skipping out. Keep it quiet and get out of our way."

She links her arm with Sabé's and pulls her, trying to push past the Jedi as she does.

Obi-Wan catching her by the elbow before she can get away. "You have transport?"

Saché yanks her arm away, pulls a set of speeder keys from her purse. "I have someone's transport, Kenobi."

Sabé groans. "Who did you steal those from?"

They're going to have to fill out a form. This is just like when they'd been kicked off the Wheel…

Shrugging, Saché tosses the keys back in her purse and looks like she's considering answering, but gets cut off.

"Obi-Wan? Kenobi?" Natalie snickers. "Poor thing. Who did that to you?"

Obi-wan pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Who are you?"

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Natalie presses her hand to her chest. "Natalie Mattani. I'm from Stewjon," her smile broadens, "and judging by your name I'd say you are too."

Obi-wan looks anything but thrilled. "Fantastic."

"My cousin is married to a Kenobi. Kiel. Cute boy." Her head tilts and she regards him with interest. "Kenobi isn't a very common name, even on Stewjon. Must be family, yeah?"

"Must be," he answers, looking only mildly interested in what she has to say.

Saché, however, is now listening intently.

"Is there something wrong with that?" She grins wickedly, certain she's about to get a treat. "You said, 'who did that to you?' What did you mean?"

"Ben is my birth name," Obi-wan quickly interjects. "Obi-Wan is a…nickname, sort of."

Natalie laughs. "Nickname, yeah?"

"Can we call you Ben then?" Saché asks, looking wonderfully amused.

Obi-wan grimaces. "No."

The other Jedi's booming laughter cuts across the conversation.

"If you girls are sneaking out we'll help. Force knows I don't want to go back in there." He offers his arm to Natalie. "I'll escort you back to your place Ms. Mattani, I don't know that it would be safe to let Ben take you with those looks he's shooting your way. Plus, I doubt he'd trust me with his little friends there."

Obi-wan runs a hand over his face, looking exhausted. "Mas Mattani would be perfectly safe whoever she goes with, but no, I wouldn't trust either Miss Lindzee with you."

"It's Tan Mas actually," Natalia corrects him, looking impressed. "I'll allow him to escort me home."

She gives the sisters a little nod. "I may be contacting you soon. Good to know you, go safely."

Taking the other Jedi's arm, she leads him down the alley, out onto the well-lit street at the ends.

"Let's go then, before someone comes out and drags us back in," Saché grumbles, stomping off toward in the direction the other two had gone.

Sabé shoots Obi-wan an apologetic look.

"So," she finally begins, not really sure what to say, her mind is fuzzy, "Why were you and your friend at the party? And why didn't I see you earlier?"

"We were representing the Jedi, keeping up appearances as it were-," he explains, receiving a soft scoffing noise from Saché at this, "-and we made ourselves scarce early on."

They reach the end of the alley and find themselves facing an open thoroughfare. Saché begins flagging down an air taxi and resolutely ignoring Obi-wan.

"Perhaps we should walk up a block? It might be busier," Obi-wan suggests.

Saché looks ready to ready to argue, but then stops, sighs, and nods.

As they walk, Sabé and Obi-wan stay a few steps behind, and Sabé takes the opportunity to ask another question, "Are you from Stewjon?"

Obi-wan's face is blank for a moment, very obviously considering lying to her, then he smiles ever so slightly. "Yes."

"Is there something peculiar about your name?"

Because judging by his and Natalie's reaction, there is. If her head were clearer she'd be able to work it out.

He shakes his head.

"It's…not a standard name. As I said, Ben is my birth name. Obi-wan is a...nickname of sorts from Stewjon. Apparently it accidently was taken to be my actual name and I was far too old and far too stubborn to change it when I found out."

Sabé hiccups. "Why can't we call you 'Ben' then?"

He laughs. "You may call me Ben, if you must. Saché however…may not."

"Why not? She'd be so pleased," Sabé giggles, trying and failing not to let the drinks from earlier make her stupid.

Obi-wan frowns. "Because…it's a private name."

Sabé wrinkles her nose in confusion. "I'm not sure I understand."

He glances up at Saché, a safe distance away, marching toward the end of the block.

"My mother calls me Ben. One of only a few who do."

Sabé trips and he catches her by the arm.

"I thought you didn't know your family?" She asks as he's still righting her.

He wags a finger at her. "I never said that. You misinterpreted."

Scowling, Sabé huffs. She wishes she weren't too stupid with drink to argue. He's twisting her and Saché's omissions to his own purposes and she doesn't like it.

"But...I only met them a few years before I met you," he adds, prompting her to walk again.

Her annoyance ebbing, Sabé lets her questions ramble out. "Really? What are they like? Do you have brothers and sisters?"

Chuckling, he leads her on down the sidewalk as he answers. "They're very interesting. I have three brothers and a sister, and, last I knew, a nephew and two nieces."

"Well that's very nice," Sabé tells him, almost tripping on the hem of her dress. "Do you talk with them much?"

He shakes his head, genuinely disappointed.

"My mother and Jane, my sister, send me messages fairly regularly. Once a month at least, they know I'm busy and don't really expect me to write back. Saché actually reminds me of Jane."

Leans into him, probably too close. "She's irritable and overprotective too?"

He takes a step back, still smiling. "Not irritable, a bit extreme at times, and definitely overprotective."

Sabé's mind is so preoccupied with conjuring up Obi-wan's family, creating faces to the siblings he has, that she doesn't notice Saché has stopped to glare up at the empty sky. There isn't an air taxi in sight.

"Can't you just," she waves her hands like a magician while looking at Obi-wan, "and get us one?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that," he tells her, wry smile hanging on his lips.

Saché huffs in irritation. "What good is it having some damn fool wizard with us if he can't even conjure up transport?"

"Saché," Sabé rubs her eyes in embarrassment at her sister's behavior, "let's just walk back to the apartment. It's nice out and between the two of you I doubt anyone will try anything. It won't take long."

Sighing, Saché pulls her hair up and takes off for the apartment, slowing her steps enough to fall in line with Sabé and Obi-wan. An ominous sign.

"Enjoy the party, Kenobi?"

"I can't say that I didn't," he answers, forcing a pleasant expression.

"Why not?"

His expression tightens in agitation, then he forces a smile.

"It wasn't unpleasant," he finally answers.

"For as little as the Jedi are said to like politicians, the whole mess of you are quite the little diplomats. You'd all do well in the political arena."

This causes Obi-wan to frown deeply. "I don't see how."

"You've got your fingers in the pie, Beardie. You have for millennia. If you didn't want to be part of the mess that is the Senate, you'd keep out."

He considers her for a moment, clearly taken aback by her tone. She's been curt with him before, but the night's drinking had clearly removed whatever small bit of reserve she had left.

"Saché, may I ask you what I have done to cause you such animosity towards me?"

Stopping, Saché jabs him the chest with a finger and grinds her teeth.

"I don't trust you. I don't trust any of you Jedi. You're cold…and all this nonsense about not becoming attached just makes me trust you less. I don't care that you all are supposedly some great saviors of the universe. What good are you to the universe if you don't care about anything in it? That makes you the worst guardians ever. What if you up and decide we aren't worth it? What if you wake up and decide it's the 'will of the force' we all be allowed to suffer? What could we do about that? We haven't got the powers you do, how would we protect ourselves?"

Sabé is too horrified to speak. Her mouth hangs open, voice caught in her throat. She half thinks she's having a very vivid nightmare.

Obi-wan takes a breath, his brow creasing. "Jedi protect those around them, we would never decide anyone wasn't worth it or let them suffer. We are willing to die for our causes."

Saché huffs. "You might believe that, but it isn't true."

"Oh?" Obi-wan frowns. "Would you care to enlighten me as to how that is?"

"No." Sabé manages to say, grabs Saché and tries to pull her away, but she wiggles away.

"People believe a lot of things that aren't necessarily true." She tells him, keeping Sabé at arm's length, hand in her face. "You don't know any better. You live in a fantasy that-that there is a definite good and bad, black and white, but there isn't. Every one of you is willing to die for some higher ideal that you don't understand, you can't. You have no investment in us, in this galaxy. And what's to keep you from this supposed 'dark side'? Mantras and good will?"

He starts to counter her, but she rambles on, her tongue loose with drink.

"What do you care what happens to us? What does your 'force' care? We aren't important." She jabs him in the chest with her finger again. "And that is why I don't like you, Kenobi, or the others for that matter. We don't matter. When all is said and done we aren't any more important than anyone else to you. My sister isn't any more important to you than anyone else and she deserves to be. Do you see why that bothers me?"

His brow creases deeper with his frown. "I'm not sure I do actually."

She rolls her eyes, ignoring Sabé's frantic mute attempts to silence her.

"Of course not, because you have the emotional depth of a fungi. You can't see what's right in front of you." She shakes her head, loose hair falling around her face.

Sabé knows what's coming, but she can't stop it. Her sister is drunk and angry. The stars are aligned for a meltdown.

"She loves you, you idiot. I thought it was just some childish infatuation for the longest time, but it isn't. She loves you. She's in love with you-you idiot. Can you not see that?"

The answer, if Obi-wan's stunned expression is any indication, is no.

"This is the Jedis problem," Saché carries on, oblivious to anything but her rant. "You can sense things, but you're blind to what everyone else can see, what's right in front of you."

"Saché!" Sabé finally shouts, her heart pounding.

What's just happened?

For the first time since she'd started her diatribe against Obi-wan and the Jedi, Saché seems to be back in her mind.

Mouth dropping open, she steps back, hands jumping to her chest as she looks at Sabé.

"Sabé…"

She instantly knows she's gone too far, but there's no way to reel back in her words. The damage is done, no matter what she says next.

Not waiting for an apology, Sabé takes off for the apartment and doesn't look back.

########

Sabé has never in her life been so utterly and completely furious with her sister.

She hadn't meant to be cruel, but still she had, and now Sabé will never be able to look Obi-wan in the eye again.

He's going to hate her, be embarrassed by her and her stupid crush, and it's all her stupid sister's fault.

It was bound to happen eventually, she supposes, but the drinking and the stress of the night, worry for her sister had finally boiled it over, pushing Saché over the line she was always toeing.

Running through the apartment, Sabé stumbles into her and Saché's bedroom and locks the door, sliding down the wall beside it.

Clutching her hands to her mouth she stifles a small sob.

Her chest hurts. Betrayal and embarrassment melting together, suffocating her.

How could Saché do this to her?

"Sabé?" Saché's voice drifts softly under the door. "Sabé-Sabé, I'm sorry! I was just-just stupid first and foremost, and drunk, very drunk, but-I'm sorry! I swear."

Sabé feels her throat constrict. Saché's voice is thick. She's been crying too, probably run the entire way to the apartment.

"Go away, Saché," Sabé tries to shout, but it only comes out as a croak. Her voice has no strength. "I don't want to talk."

Something rustles on the other side of the door, and Sabé knows Saché has slid down it and is now sitting just on the other side of the door. She's a heartbeat away, but unreachable.