TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass

By: Syntyche

chapter eight: a jedi and a girl like me

Her thoughts, she was chagrined to admit, had taken an unexpectedly philosophical turn, and that disturbed her. Still, she mulled them over distractedly and tried to discover exactly what it was that was plaguing her. After all, she had more credits than she could realistically spend in her lifetime. She had all the swoops, speeders, and racers her little heart desired, and the time to play with them all. She lived by her own schedule, did what she wanted, saw who she wanted, and pissed off who she wanted. She should have been content.

… She was content, wasn't she?

Delian Ani-Suru bit her lip in momentary thought as she pondered. Was there something missing in her life, some deep, essential factor that would make her complete, whole, happy?

"I'd be much happier if you kept your eyes on the road, you know."

Obi-Wan Kenobi's eyes were closed, his head tipped back against the passenger seat's headrest. His breathing was deep and even and she'd thought he was asleep. She had enjoyed stealing glances at his serene features and the thought that he'd been awake the entire time rankled her.

"Delian?"

Somehow, he managed to convey a very calm sense of urgency; she wondered if the ability was Jedi, or just Obi-Wan. Delian glanced out the speeder window, muttered a startled curse, and jerked the steering wheel hard to the right to keep from smashing into a slow-moving, heavy-laden skiff that lumbered along in front of her.

I meant to do that, she thought automatically, Corellian pride kicking in. "I thrive on near-death experiences," she informed her passenger loftily – but making it a point to keep a closer eye on the road even as she grumbled under her breath about stodgy Jedi who couldn't take a few risks.

"That's good," Obi-Wan replied calmly, despite the fact that his side of the speeder had come quite close to missing a considerable amount of paint. "Considering the way you drive. I could drive, you know."

"You can drive me – " Delian started to say, but at his sharply raised eyebrow she sighed and cut her intended double entendre. "Oh, come on," she breathed out a frustrated sigh. "You're so … so sour. And you were right – you are stodgy."

He actually had the nerve to look a little wounded at that. "I'm not always stodgy," he protested, straightening up in his seat. "Just … um, most of the time," he confessed with a slight smile.

"Well, I look forward to seeing your unstodgy side," Delian mumbled wryly, and a wide, mischievous grin spread across her tanned face as she lifted bright eyes to him, the corner of her mouth curling upward in her most enticing come-hither-baby smirk. "Or anything else you feel like showing," she purred, a touch over-dramatically and fighting a laugh that was abruptly cut short by Kenobi's reaction.

"Your eyes are going to roll out of your head if you keep that up!" she snapped irritably.

Wounded, the Corellian turned back to her driving, sighing crossly at herself for somehow allowing the growing desire hidden untidily behind her humorously-proffered proposition.

"It wouldn't be that bad, would it?" she questioned herself softly, trying to squelch the quiet longing she heard in her voice. "A Jedi and a girl like me … ?"

OOOOOOOOOO

As the small town of Mos Espa faded into the sandblown horizon behind them, Obi-Wan tried to keep his mind from wandering the well-worn paths that he'd been over time and again since he'd struck a deal with Watto and Qui-Gon had signed on the line and sold his freedom away.

His heart was heavy and he could sense the way before him growing darker and more confusing with every passing moment, but in this moment, with the wind whistling past his face as Delian careened down the barely distinguishable packed-down sand that passed for a small settlement's travel corridor, he simply wanted to enjoy the feel of the sun on his face and forget that he was, at the moment, tired, dirty, and unshaven; wanted to ignore the continued faint itch of the transmitter embedded in his thigh; and wanted to forget that Qui-Gon hadn't returned yet – though he couldn't forget that Anakin's freedom to stay with his mother rested with him, or that there was that odd fuzziness in the Force that wasn't quite right. It was like a touch of artificial light in place of the warm, Unifying Light he was accustomed to knowing, as if he stood inside a dark room with a dim lamp on instead of bathing his weary soul in the suns' glorious warmth.

But maybe he was just tired. Maybe it was because things hadn't turned out quite as he'd expected them to. Obi-Wan considered. Perhaps when Qui-Gon returned, he would tell him that he actually understood a little better now how quickly plans could change, and he'd apologize. After all, it wasn't really his place to disagree with his Master.

"What are you thinking about?" Delian called over the roar of the wind. Apparently she'd gotten bored and decided to quit ignoring him.

They'd made it past the outskirts of the settlement and she'd opened the throttle on the tiny speeder. Obi-Wan watched scenery whip by at an alarming rate. I'm going to die, he thought calmly. I'm going to die smeared on the side of some sand dune. It wasn't really a bad way to go, all things considered, but somehow it wasn't quite what he'd pictured his death would be like. He'd really hoped it would be a little more noble.

"Getting out of this speeder so I can live to see tomorrow," he called back, squinting against the wind. "Any chance of that?"

Delian laughed, but the sound was stolen away by the roar of the wind. "Now, why would you want to do that?" she asked, pulling her eyes from the road to glance at him questioningly, although, if actually possible, Obi-Wan thought he felt the speeder accelerate.

This is suicide, he thought. Of all the bad decisions I've made lately, going with her was the worst. Never mind that he hadn't much of a choice in the matter. "Get out of the speeder?" he shouted.

"Nah," she replied flippantly, "see tomorrow. Your life is miserable; face it. Well, except for the fact that you're mine now – "

"Temporarily," he interrupted firmly as the speeder swerved suddenly for no apparent reason. I'm going to die. "Really, I could drive – "

"But why?" Delian pressed, ignoring his repeated offer to pilot the tiny speeder. "What would you do tomorrow that you haven't already done in your life? Besides, you're a Jedi."

Obi-Wan was growing increasingly nervous of the way she kept moving her eyes from the sandy 'road' to glance at him. He wasn't opposed to their speed – just the fact that he wasn't in control. And neither, it seemed alarmingly to him, was Delian.

"Isn't it your lot in life to suffer, suffer some more, and then die gallantly in battle somewhere?" she added knowingly.

"No," Obi-Wan retorted, "I think you left out a couple of 'suffer's; besides, I'll never make it that far: I'm going to die in this speeder today."

"But, Kenobi," Delian persisted, "that's it, isn't it? That's what you're expected to do as a Jedi."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "It could be worse."

Delian groaned. "Oh, Kest, you said it. You're in trouble now."

Obi-Wan was confused. "Said what?"

Delian didn't reply, but he did notice that she was now keeping a closer watch on her driving. Bemused, he repeated his words to himself softly – "it could be worse," – but couldn't fathom any reason for her reaction. Eventually he shrugged it off.

Must be a Corellian thing.

OOOOOOOOOO

"What's this?"

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, a warm crimson flush crawling across his cheekbones. He had to fight the desire to drop his eyes to the floor in embarrassment, and he felt his shoulders tense in sudden shamed tightness.

He reached hesitantly out to touch the Force, encountered nothing, and felt more alone than before. He wanted nothing so much as to run, away from this horrid, hated place, into the desert, just to run and hide. To find the Force, his Master, and the scattered pieces of his life. To piece back together the shards that had developed in just a few short weeks – how had all of his careful training and studies, years and years, gone to hell after so soon a time alone?

Why, he asked himself again, am I so empty?

His manacled wrists bumped together as he unconsciously tried to hide them from view. Do not forsake the Force, whether it is silent or no. He lifted his eyes and began to respond to the disgusted question – but the Corellian by his side beat him to it.

"This is our new mechanic, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Delian informed the man standing before them haughtily. "And he's racing for me in the Games."

Dirak Biggs eyed Obi-Wan disdainfully. Though he was not by nature unkind, something about the young man standing next to Delian immediately sparked his distrust. It may have been nothing more than the way she looked at Kenobi, but Biggs was an insecure man, and the thought of the woman he openly adored so obviously taken by this …. this slave, lent a roughness to his usually calm voice.

"Is he any good?" he questioned brusquely, realizing at once that he should have known better than to put such a question to his Corellian business partner. She took a certain delight in teasing him and though he knew this, he could never stem his immediate, envious reaction.

She didn't disappoint, of course.

"He's very good," Delian emphasized, with a smirk in her voice that made Obi-Wan uncomfortable and – despite himself – Dirak felt his skin warm with anger and a flash of jealousy. Delian seemed pleased with their mutual discomfiture, and her smile widened.

"You just worry about yourself, sweetness, and I'll handle this," she told Dirak in a sugary voice, grinning all the while.

"Yes, I bet you will," he muttered, glaring daggers at Obi-Wan, who pointedly ignored him. "Slave slime," he snorted softly, brushing past them brusquely. "I'll see you tomorrow, Delian."

"Good night, Dirak," she said so mock sweetly that he actually turned to throw Obi-Wan a final glare before stalking off.

Obi-Wan was left with the impression that Biggs would have spat on him if Delian weren't standing there. He willed down the shame he felt, slowly reminding himself that he was above this, that it wouldn't be much longer before Qui-Gon would come back and this bizarre ordeal would be over.

It will all be over, he repeated to himself, and wondered why he felt a cold, prescient shiver race up his spine uncomfortably.

"Friend?" he asked the Corellian in an undertone, trying to shake off the sudden chill that had settled over him gloomily.

She shrugged. "Business partner."

Obi-Wan's eyebrow lifted. "Pleasant," he commented offhandedly.

Delian frowned thoughtfully. "Usually," she agreed. "Maybe you just have that effect on people, Kenobi. They're not sure if they hate you or love you."

Her tone struck him as odd when she said this, and he glanced down at her. She was looking at him closely, her eyes traveling over his face; as she did this, her head tilted slightly and she leaned closer to him, close enough that he caught sight of something unusually sad warring with the wanting in her dark eyes.

Then she blinked a couple of times and seemed to shake off whatever mood had taken her. With a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder, Delian maneuvered him into a midsize garage lined with row upon row of swoops and speeders. At any other time, he might have been thrilled and eager to look around, but now his stomach burned in a tight knot.

Over …

The word echoed in his mind, and he couldn't get away from the deep, hate-filled voice that seemed to be whispering in his head. It sounded familiar but different, and he puzzled at it.

"Hey," Delian's voice shattered his reverie as she jabbed him sharply in the ribs. "Are you with me, or what?"

Obi-Wan blinked owlishly, shaking off the phantom voice and trying to focus on the woman. "What … ?"

"Never mind," Delian said shortly, sounding annoyed – with him or herself, he wasn't sure. "Follow me."

His transmitter controls jangled on her belt as she led him up a narrow staircase at the back of the garage. With a flourish, she pressed the button to open the door at the top; Obi-Wan could see over her shoulder a small lounge with a table in the center and a few doors leading to other rooms beyond. The space was spartan but clean.

"This is where the mechanics stay," Delian explained quickly. "And where you can sleep for as long you're here." She gestured inside. "There's a fresher, first door to the left. We have a little bit of work to do with what's left of the day; you can get cleaned up when we're finished. For now, toss your bag onto an empty bunk and come down to the garage so you can get acquainted with your new lady."

Obi-Wan nodded his gratitude. "Thank you."

Delian snorted as she fumbled with the binders on his wrists, finally snapping them open and sighing softly at the marks where the binders had chafed against his skin. "Don't thank me yet. You mess up in the Games and I'll have you sleeping with the neks, sweetheart."

He grinned at her wryly. "Couldn't be much worse than my accommodations at the junk shop – and probably cleaner, too."

He heard her laugh as she made her way back down the stairs, and then the door slid closed, leaving him alone for the first time in what seemed like weeks. Had it been weeks? Force, he didn't even know anymore. It couldn't have been more than, what, one week, maybe two since he'd started working for Watto? What was it he'd heard Qui-Gon say time and again with that particularly wry look on his face?

"Time flies when you're having fun," he murmured quietly, and smiled at the thought of Qui-Gon. I miss you, Master. We're not as close as we once were …too many differing opinions … yet I miss you nonetheless. I wish that I knew where you were—I wish I had your connection to the Living Force so I might be able to find you. I should be able to reach you ….

"Kenobi?" Delian's questioning voice rang up the stairwell. "You're not getting away from me that easily! We've got work to do!"

Obi-Wan sighed.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Delian?"

Oh, what now?

All right, maybe she shouldn't have teased Biggs so, but that was no reason for him to come back and bother her tonight when she had so much to do. Unless he was keeping secrets about his past life, Delian was pretty sure that Kenobi had no idea what to expect from the Demolition Games, and she had less than two days to get him ready.

Besides, she was still feeling a little in the wrong for 'leasing' him. She really didn't need her backwater business partner lecturing her on her apparent leap to the Dark Side.

The Dark Side, she intoned menacingly, and felt a little guilty about that, too.

"Yes, Dirak?" she mumbled, moving to the workbench to collect one of her toolboxes so she wouldn't have to meet the accusation in his flashing brown eyes. Anytime, Obi-Wan, she directed the thought toward the stairway. Not to drag him into the middle of their personal dispute, but maybe Dirak would drop his silly display of envy if Obi-Wan entered.

Thinking back on the way Dirak had acted when she'd first brought Obi-Wan in, however, she doubted it.

Biggs didn't bother with a preamble. "What are you doing? Why did you bring him here?"

Delian fell back on her earlier excuse. "I need a mechanic, I told you – "

"Please," Dirak snorted. "We have an entire staff of mechanics, Del. I don't think that's it at all." His eyes were cold and she could see the jealousy that burned within them, stabbing her with icy tendrils of anger and suspicion as his voice dropped to a snarl. Surprising herself, Delian felt her hand involuntarily tighten around the heavy hydrospanner in her fist. "Do you have to pay for someone to warm your bed, Delian? You had to buy yourself a pretty little manslave for these cold desert nights?"

Delian made what she felt was a heroic attempt to keep her temper in check as her cheeks heated and her eyes blazed in anger. "Dirak, that's enough." She leveled her chin at him, glaring. "Jealousy doesn't become you."

"If I'm jealous it's your fault!" he spat back, turning away from her and pacing in angry short circles. "You bring him here – parade him around! Who are you toying with, him or me?" He abruptly stopped pacing, turning smartly to face her. "I took you in when you had nothing, Delian, nothing! I would think that would at least earn me the right to be treated with some respect," he hissed in irritation.

Delian glowered, her ire up. "I've repaid you time and again, Biggs, for everything. Don't give me this tired bullshit about what I owe you, because it's nothing! I don't owe you a damn credit and if you think I'm suddenly gonna behave and treat you all proper 'cause you're feeling jealous of Kenobi, I'm sorry, hon', you're wrong," she growled, shaking the hydrospanner at him as she emphasized her words.

"Damn you stubborn Corellian!" Biggs swore, now sounding more frustrated than angry. "What the hell is wrong with you, Delian? A slave? Since when is that okay by you?" Finally coming to the crux of the issue, Biggs' agitation increased tenfold. "Since he's got a pretty face and a Core world accent? Are we feeling just a bit lonely, 'cause I sure as hell can't think of any other reason you would need a slave – or a mechanic for that matter," he declared smartly.

"I … " …can't think of anything to say. Damn it! Delian thought snarkily, more pissed off about lacking a retort than Biggs' harsh comments. "Go away, Dirak," she snapped. "I've got work to do!"

"Yeah, I'll bet you two do," he shot back snidely, with a leer. "Good night, then."

She didn't bother to reply. Fuming, Delian threw the hydrospanner she'd been gripping at the far wall, barely missing Kenobi as he entered. Her encounter with Biggs left her feeling even more guilty, which in turn made her angrier.

"Never mind!" she practically shouted at Kenobi's inquisitive look.

Kenobi regarded her curiously, ignoring her ire. "I didn't say anything."

"Just never mind!" she shot back irritably. "We'll make this brief and then you can get cleaned up." She thought he seemed warily pleased by that, but it did little to assuage her angry petulance.

She worked to focus on the Games as Obi-Wan prowled around the garage under her watchful eye, examining curiously the many swoops, speeders, and assorted vehicles the Corellian had amassed during her illustrious and successful career. He stopped briefly in front of her new Z-95, glancing into the open cockpit long enough to verify there indeed were not any signs of functioning long-range equipment before moving on to the bike that had initially caught his captivated eye – a glossy black one-man speeder.

"The object, as with nearly all competitive games, is to win," Delian mumbled, trying to ignore her guilt, irritation – and that damned desire to be right next to Kenobi, "preferably by cheating, but only if you can do so without getting caught." She pulled up maps of the arena, which was actually nothing more than a large expanse of territory cordoned off near the Dune Sea. Delian tried to focus on the various scenarios Obi-Wan would encounter in the arena without getting distracted. Come on, she implored herself, focus, damn it!

Obi-Wan looked intrigued as he glanced up from the speeder. "You're an expert at this, I take it?"

Delian pulled a face. "I didn't make my fortune by selling Wookiee cookies, sweetheart."

Obi-Wan wasn't quite certain he got the analogy, but he shrugged anyway. It was far easier to just nod than to attempt any actual sort of logic with Delian. It was an amusing and maddeningly irritating trait she possessed, insanity.

Delian forgot her annoyance for one moment as she regarded him thoughtfully, watching him admire the bike. "You like?"

"It's gorgeous," Obi-Wan admitted freely, one long-fingered hand reaching out to gently stroke the sleek body as frank appreciation shone in his tired eyes.

Delian swallowed hard, unsure of why, but decided that being angry was a much safer place to be and tried to retain her ill-humor. "Indeed she is," she agreed, "but I need you to redirect your attention this way, Mighty Jedi, and check out these quicksand pits that're gonna be all over the course…. Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan's attention was still on the speeder. "I'll know where they are," he murmured, peering into the open engine compartment.

"Really?" Delian bit out skeptically, her gaze involuntarily arrested to his movements.

"Mmhm."

"What about the Tusken sharpshooters? I'm not sure what the hell they think they're doing, but they're a damned nuisance."

"I'll know where they are," Obi-Wan repeated distractedly, grey eyes skimming over the dials and gauges.

"How?" Delian asked flatly, wondering if he was just trying to blow her off. The thought annoyed her, adding to the frustration which was rapidly coming to a head. She had leased him, for Kest's sake – he'd damned well better pay attention to her! And while she was at it, damn Biggs and his damn condescending attitude and damn Kenobi for being so damn unattainable! She wanted to hurt him, wanted to bring him to her level, just … wanted him and that alone made her angrier than she could remember being in a long time; and it felt in the back of her mind like something was fueling her on, driving and feeding her ire, sharpening her words to wound as bitterly as she could.

"Listen, Kenobi," she said softly, dangerously, "for the next few days, you're mine. That means that from now on you'll do as I tell you, and damn it, you'll pay attention when I'm talking to you. So tell me, how in hell are you gonna know about these things? Some Jedi trick, or are you just that damned cocky? I certainly hope it's the latter," she sneered, "because I sure as hell haven't seen anything Jedi-like about you yet – maybe it abandoned you too, Kenobi, so damned high and mighty you think you are, above all of this! You're no better than any of us – hell, you'll probably rot in this place as a damned slave!" Delian gasped as her tirade ended, hating the words that had slipped from her mouth. Obi-Wan stared at her, shock written across every centimeter of his face. For a long moment, they simply looked at the other, then Delian's eyes closed in sudden revulsion. What the hell was wrong with her?

"Get out," she whispered.

"Delian – "

"Get the hell out, Kenobi!" she ground out. Bitterly, she unhooked from her belt the transmitter Watto had given her to control the Jedi, snapped the device off, and flung it angrily into a corner.

OOOOOOOOOO