Chapter Nineteen: S
S is for Speaking
Obi-Wan Kenobi is so nervous that he can hardly go through with speaking.
He came home to find Elanor lying on her bed, her hands behind her head, her eyes closed, her mind wandering in recollection of memories. She was ready for sleep, so her long hair streamed out over the pillow and she was clad in her sleep clothes – the ones that are looser and yet at the same time accentuate her figure a lot more than her Jedi uniform.
At the sight of her, his determination fled again. With a sigh, he turned to leave. How could he, in good conscience, tell a girl who was entrusted to his care – his former Padawan – that he now had fallen in with her?
But as he turned to leave, he hears a rustle of cloth – and then her soft voice says his name.
He stops abruptly, but doesn't turn around. He can't look at her. He just can't.
He senses her confusion, but does not acknowledge it and nor does she. She merely asks him what is wrong.
He tersely replies that nothing is.
She snorts at his words, and he turns, surprised at her reaction. Normally, she respects his boundaries and reticence a lot more than that.
She is propped up on her elbow, her emerald eyes fixed on his.
He swallows hard as he meets her eyes. Her emerald eyes have always been expressive, and they have always demanded his attention – and the truth. And now they do so even more.
She slips off the bed and walks right up in front of him. She repeats her question – or tries to – as he brushes past her to stand by the window, not facing her, putting his hands on the ledge to stop them from shaking.
He can feel her confusion, which is now mixed with hurt, and a pang goes through him. He knows that he has hurt her by brushing her off, and it pains him.
She asks him yet again what is wrong.
He repeats that it is nothing.
This time, she does more than snort – the Force ripples with power, and suddenly the bond hums to life as she reaches for it. Caught off-guard, he is unable to do anything as her mind suddenly touches his own.
But he is not a Jedi Master for nothing.
The second her thoughts brush against his, he slams his shields up, blocking her entrance into the deep recesses of his mind and forcing her out from his end of the bond entirely.
He hears her inhale sharply as she senses it, and the touch retreats instantly. He hears a creak as she sinks back down on her bed, and sadness suddenly engulfs her.
His heart cringes.
Finally, he turns around to face her – but she is no longer looking at him.
Her eyes are downcast, fixed on the floor, and they are lacking the normal brilliance he is accustomed to seeing. He can sense that she is fighting back something, but what he does not know.
Then she looks up, although not without effort, and asks him quietly if he wants her to leave – if that is because he is pushing her away.
His eyes go wide. He never expected her to come up with something so . . . so far-fetched from the simple thing of pushing her away. But then he realizes that by shutting her out, she thinks he wants to dissolve the bond between them – only he doesn't.
With a few quick steps, he is by her side. But she looks away, and he can sense the fear that he will tell her to go away.
So he sits beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder while using his other to turn her head back to face him. She turns to face him, but when she keeps her eyes downcast, he tilts her head upwards.
In her eyes, he can see her fear of rejection – and a strange, simmering emotion that perfectly matches the fire in his chest.
It is only then that he realizes that whatever his own feelings towards her are, she feels the same.
So, in a soft tone that matches her own, he finally tells her what is wrong.
Obi-Wan Kenobi has never been more reluctant to do something like this – speaking his mind.
S is for Sleep
Elanor was nearly ready to go to sleep when Master Kenobi returned, but no longer.
Now, with his revelation hanging on the air between them, every trace of sleep and rest flees from her mind.
Her head comes up instantly at his words, and confusion takes over.
She can't have heard that right.
She cannot have heard that right.
He did not just say what she thought he said . . . did he?
She meets his blue-green eyes at the same time that a gentle smile curves his lips. She knows that he can sense her confusion at his words, and she knows now that it was his own fear of rejection that lead him to be so nervous beforehand.
But now the roles have changed – she is now the nervous one and he is the calm one.
She opens her mouth but no words, no sound comes out. She wants desperately to ask him – to ask him how, why.
He seems to understand, because he repeats the statement. But oh so softly – so softly that if she didn't sense his emotions in the Force, she wouldn't have known that he had spoken.
She pulls away. This has to be a hoax – a joke – a dream. This can't be happening.
It is not because she doesn't want it to happen – in fact, she very much has dreamed for something like this, ever since she realized that her affection for him was somewhat deeper and more complex than anything she has ever felt before.
But it is because of that she thinks that this can't be right.
She wants it so badly – to accept, to know it's real – that she is afraid it's just a dream and she'll wake up and nothing will have changed.
Maybe he senses that or maybe he just knows, but in any case, moments later she feels his arms slip around her waist from behind and he gently pulls her against him, his hold strong yet gentle, so if she chose to pull away, she could. He is only using a fraction of his true strength, after all.
She trembles as her back comes in to contact with his chest and his warm breath brushes her hair, but not out of fear.
Well, out of fear, but not the fear of men. Not the fear of him either.
Just the plain fear that she is merely dreaming and that this isn't real.
He asks her what is wrong, his voice low – but she has no trouble hearing that warm, deep voice. Not when it is so close to her ear. Not when it is the voice of the one she likes so much.
No, not likes.
Loves.
She tells him, in words that fly from her lips so quickly she worries he won't hear.
He pauses as she finishes, and his hold around her waist loosens ever so slightly. She can sense him thinking, sense him processing her words carefully.
And then his arms drop from her waist.
She starts, but only for a second.
Because then he is in front of her, his arms sliding around her, pulling her against his chest again. This time, though, his grip is strong and unyielding as he crushes her against him. She is too startled to do anything but go with it and lift her head to look at his smoldering blue-green eyes.
And then he kisses her.
The kiss is something new to her, something she has never experienced – but oh is it addicting. To feel his arms tight around her, his lips on hers, his emotions flooding their bond with power – all of it is enough to make her head spin as if she'd just drowned a whole gallon of alcohol.
It hits her then, with the power of a laser blast.
This is real. He really does love her, as she loves him.
This is real.
If sleep ever was on Elanor's mind, now it has fled completely.