"It's so beautiful," Lorna said, her voice full of wonder.

Bathed in the green glow of the meteors, the lines of her features were the only thing he saw in that moment. His eyes glided over her freckled cheeks, the fullness of her lips, the line of her jaw. Then lower. The smooth skin of her neck, the soft places on her body that were pressed against him.

"Beautiful," he whispered, not trusting his voice to mask his hunger.

When she looked at him, the expression she wore was bright with desire. Her mental barriers slid away, letting him sense what she wanted. Everything she wanted. His control vaporized.

His mouth claimed hers, fierce and urgent. Her hands snaked around his neck, pulling him in deeper, her lips soft and yielding. Palms sliding up her waist, he drew her in until there was no space left between them.

She sighed against his mouth, the small sound sweetly insistent. He pushed her until the back of her legs hit the edge of flat stone. With a hand clenched in the collar of his tunic, she lowered herself onto it, bringing him with her. Her head tilted back, offering the sensitive hollow of her throat to his lips. One of her hands slid under his tunic, fingers trailing fire across his chest–

Obi-Wan jerked awake, his heart hammering against his ribs. The dream's effect on his body lingered painfully, his skin hot and his tunic damp with sweat. It took every last drop of will power within him not to follow the dream's trajectory, not to let his waking mind find the conclusion that his dreaming one had been hurtling towards with reckless abandon.

He sat up on his bedroll, hands gripping the solid stone floor, trying to anchor himself back to reality. The predawn light cast a gray pall over the interior of his cave as he called on the Force, desperate to banish the arresting images of Lorna still playing in his mind like a holovid.

But his connection felt murky, clouded. Much as it had the night before when he'd meditated. He'd once again tried to connect with his former Master, more desperate than ever for his sage advice. Unsurprisingly, his attempts had failed.

He raked a hand through his hair and forced the chilly air into his lungs until his heart calmed. Though the dream's heat cooled, his shame burned as fierce as ever.

The harp, the dancing, the kiss. All of it had been him. His weakness. His mistake. The desire to witness the light in her eyes at the gift, to hear her uninhibited laughter, to sense her ardent responses to his touch—he'd been too caught up in it for rational thought. And deep down, he knew it was because it was likely the last chance he'd have to do so.

He remembered the night he and Satine had stopped fighting against their feelings. It was the night before his mission on Mandalore would end, he and Qui-Gon to depart with no plans of returning. A night of clumsy passion fueled by youthful naivety and the knowledge that there would be no future opportunities.

Well, he certainly could not blame naivety this time. Yet here he was, traveling down the same road.

The fact that he'd run away only made the guilt worse. She had welcomed his affections, opened herself up to him, only to have him pull away, retreating like a coward in the night.

Cursing under his breath, he got up and started packing away his bedroll. He did still intend to fulfill his promise. But first, he needed to carry out his other obligation.

He held his binoculars up to his eyes and turned toward the Lars homestead. Owen was already outside checking his vaporators in the early morning light, and before long, Beru joined him, Luke balanced on her hip. Owen wrapped his arm around his wife and child.

Even from here, Obi-Wan could see the affection in the gaze they exchanged. Owen leaned in to kiss Beru–then caught Luke off-guard, tickling his tiny round belly. The boy's head fell back as he laughed, then Beru finally got her kiss before Owen sent her off with a playful pat on the bottom.

The pang of longing that hit him was so fierce he held out a hand to steady himself on the rock of the cave mouth. These past weeks with Lorna had shown him how naturally she fit into the rhythms of his life, given him a taste of what it meant to share that life with another.

Stars, he'd been living in a fantasy. It was nothing more than a beautiful illusion. Jedi did not have such comforts, did not build such lives. And the very fact that he craved them proved how far he had strayed.

There'd been a time when he dared to imagine a life like that with Satine. And look where that kind of attachment had gotten him. Look where it had gotten Anakin.

As much as it pained him, he had to release Lorna to the Force. There was no alternative. Their fates lay on different paths, his anchored here to watch over Luke, hers to seek out Jabiim. Though the Order was gone, they both remained loyal to its teachings. Neither of them could afford to be led astray, especially in these dark times.

His own words of wisdom to Lorna weeks ago came back to him as he lifted his pack onto his shoulders. Part of letting go of attachment is recognizing when we have formed one. He could not run from this anymore.

—

Since he'd left the eopie with Lorna, he had to make the entire journey on foot. His cave was closer to Mos Eisley than his homestead was, but it was still mid-day before he arrived at the Comet. He didn't want to imagine what he looked like, sweaty and sleep-deprived, as he approached.

Lorna stood hunched over a makeshift table, her dark waves falling forward as she studied a schematic spread across its surface. Next to her, a stocky woman he assumed was the mechanic traced a grease-stained finger along the diagram, their heads bent together in concentration.

Lorna didn't even spare him a glance. Her Force presence was a wall of cold duracrete. Only the slight relaxation of her shoulders betrayed her relief at his arrival.

Barqul lounged against the landing strut of his own ship, a YV-666 freighter which he'd parked right beside the Comet. "Look who finally decided to show up," he drawled, taking a long drag from a death stick.

"My apologies for the delay," Obi-Wan replied dryly. He set down his pack and removed his cloak before approaching the table.

"Oh, good, finally another set of hands. The name's Marda." Obi-Wan opened his mouth to introduce himself but the woman ploughed onward. "This one—"she jabbed a gnarled thumb in Barqul's direction—"says he's only paid to watch, so he ain't helpin'. Peli!" Her last word came out in a commanding screech.

When no one responded, Marda harrumphed and headed for her loaded cargo speeder.

"You came." Lorna stated it simply, her eyes still fixed on the diagram as she pretended to study something there.

Had she thought he wouldn't? The unspoken accusation caused another spasm of guilt.

"I promised." He tried to meet her eyes but she focused instead on Marda, who was again shouting for someone named Peli.

A young girl, around the age of a new Padawan, came bounding down the ramp of the Comet, a cloud of tight brown curls springing with each step. "Yes, Mama?"

"You two can start unloading," Marda called. "Show beardy here where to put all the parts we brought."

"Ben will do just fine," Obi-Wan corrected with a strained smile, but before he could say more, the girl was tugging him by the hand towards the cargo speeder.

"Come on, mister!"

He shook his head in defeat. This was going to be a long day.

Peli helped him lift a pair of laser cannons out of the speeder onto a waiting hovercart. "Boy, them Jawa's sure did a number on your ship, mister. It was easier to figure out what they didn't take, am I right?"

Obi-Wan could only grunt in response. The petite teenager's strength contributed little as they maneuvered the heavy cannons.

"Well, don't you worry, Mama's the best in town. She'll have ya up and runnin' faster than a fathier!"

The bounty hunter had found a seat on a storage crate, datapad in one hand and death stick in the other. To an untrained eye, he probably looked bored, absorbed in whatever was on his screen. But Obi-Wan noticed the watchfulness in his gaze when it flicked up from the datapad every so often.

Something about it set him on edge. The bounty hunter's role was to ensure they didn't flee with the Comet–and Usto's credits. Why so attentive when they still didn't have a working ship to escape with? Whatever the reason, his constant surveillance made it impossible for Obi-Wan to speak freely with Lorna.

The rest of the day dissolved into a blur of repairs. Peli's incessant chatter filled the silence as she passed tools and parts, punctuated by Marda's steady stream of instructions. Their constant noise filled what would have been unbearable silence between him and Lorna, but it did little to quiet his troubled thoughts.

By nightfall the repairs were just shy of halfway done. Marda and Peli promised to return in the morning to continue, then rode their speeder back into Mos Eisley.

Obi-Wan followed Lorna into the Comet's crew quarters and slid the door shut behind him. She ignored him, selecting a bunk and tossing her pack on the ground next to it.

"Our bounty hunter friend seems especially observant today," he said.

"I know." She began pulling the bedding off the bunk, yanking the fabric with a bit more force than was necessary.

"I don't like it," he said, fingers tugging absently on his beard. "There's something about his attention that seems... excessive." He scanned the bunks lining the walls of the crew quarters. Though there were several to choose from, they were all crowded in the tight space. His throat inexplicably tightened.

"I'm still not sure what the droid might have overheard that morning in Mos Eisley. We're always careful about what we discuss but…" she methodically stripped the musty sheets from the thin mattress.

"You think he knows more than he's letting on?"

"I dont know. But we should make sure we have our stories straight. He asked me few things this morning, when you didn't show up right away." The edge that crept into her voice almost made him wince. "He asked how I knew you were trustworthy enough for this job, if I'd only just met you here on Tatooine. I covered by telling him that I ran into you here, but that I know you well from working with you on jobs before."

"That was good thinking. I will remember if he questions me similarly."

She rifled through cabinets until she found clean sheets. He watched as she snapped them open with sharp movements, trying to find the right words. Words to address what had transpired between them, to explain his abrupt departure. His hands suddenly felt wobbly, and he folded his arms to steady them.

It was almost comical. He had fought countless battles, faced Sith Lords in combat, yet the prospect of talking to Lorna about his feelings left him scrambling like a droid with crossed circuits.

"Lorna—"

"Perhaps one of us should keep watch outside the Comet tonight. To make sure there are no more issues with scavengers." She tucked the fresh sheets around the corners of the mattress and spread out the blanket. He guessed that meant him.

He had no right to feel as relieved as he did. "That is… probably wise." Nevermind that Barqul's droid was already out there keeping watch, or that either of them would sense Jawas stripping the ship even in the depths of sleep. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Obi-Wan grabbed a few extra blankets for himself then arranged his bedroll outside on the ground close to the Comet's ramp. As he sat down, the sight of golden light illuminating green skin caught his eye. Barqul lit up another death stick, lounging against the storage crate, one leg propped carelessly on its edge.

The Falleen snickered when he saw Obi-Wan, a dark, saturated sound from somewhere deep in his chest. "Last time I checked there were plenty of bunks on board. You piss her off?" He came closer in long, leisurely strides.

"Just giving my partner some privacy." Weariness weighed heavy in his tone. The bounty hunter's probing questions were the last thing he needed right now.

Barqul stopped, examining a streak of laser canon scoring on the underside of the Comet's hull. "And here I thought you were thinking of making a move into Niko's territory."

"What gave you that idea?"

"I seem to recall you had a certain amount of appreciation for Niko's trust in her."

"Anyone can see she is attractive," Obi-Wan said evenly.

"Come on, how long have you known her? You've never thought about trying your luck?"

So, the Falleen was probing him separately about their history. "We worked together years ago. We have a good professional relationship. That is all."

"Ah, but it does seem like you two are pretty familiar," Barqul mused, exhaling smoke. "The way you look at each other sometimes—it's almost like you can read each other's minds or something."

Barqul chuckled with an air of indifference but the Force prickled in warning. Unease crawled up Obi-Wan's spine as he considered the implications behind the Falleen's words.

"You pick up on things when you work with someone for a long time," he said with a shrug.

Barqul's eyes narrowed before a calculating smile spread across his features. "Maybe you've already…" He made a vulgar gesture with his hips, his skin flushing orange, making Obi-Wan's face go hot. The thought of Lorna putting up with men like this for an entire year in the Underworld, the thought of anyone else looking at her that way, thinking of her as an object—

He'd had enough of this conversation and Barqul's clear attempts at provocation and manipulation.

In one fluid motion, Obi-Wan rose to his feet, planting his boots firmly in the sand and his hands on his hips.

"I suggest you show the young lady more respect. We have a job to complete, and I'd hate for any... unpleasantness to interfere with that." He eyed the death stick smoldering between Barqul's fingers. "Those are terrible for your health, by the way."

Barqul stood his ground, glaring as his lips curved into a sneer. But then the sneer morphed into a capitulating smile.

"Hey relax, didn't mean to hit a nerve." He backed away, his arms spread in mock surrender. "No need to be so uptight." He flicked the butt of his death stick into the sand and twisted the toe of his boot into it.

Obi-Wan said nothing, but he refused to abandon his vigilant stance until the ramp to Barqul's ship closed.