Falling from Grace 13/16

by Christina, kenobijedione@yahoo.com

Rating: this chapter PG

Warnings, disclaimers, etc. in part 1

Chapter 13: Shmi Skywalker

"Anakin, send a message to the Masters. Tell them we are safe, and to relay to the Queen that as long as the Princess is not on Courscant, her land will be unharmed." Obi-Wan stopped and looked briefly at Kalyia. "Tell her her daughter is well and will remain that way. Promise her."

Anakin nodded and stepped away, closing his eyes and allowing the Force to flow through him. Prince Daman looked at him strangely, then addressed the other Jedi.

"I have a comm link--" He flipped it open and Obi-Wan's Jedi reflexes snapped it shut. The Prince looked about ready to punch him when Kalyia stepped in.

"Tracers," she explained quietly, running a hand over the slight red mark on her throat where the creature had held her. Obi-Wan followed her hand with his eyes, concern clouding his face.

"Does it hurt?"

Kalyia looked away from him and shook her head quickly. She dropped her hand and attempted to smooth her ruined dress.

Obi-Wan stepped forward again, placing a gentle hand on her neck. "I could--"

Kalyia jumped back as though he had bit her. Tears burned behind her eyes but she rapidly blinked them back. "No!" she said, a little too forcefully than she'd meant to. She lowered her eyes and turned. "I'm fine," she said quietly, taking several steps away from them and crossing her arms over her chest. She looked out across the vast desert expanse, her hair blowing in the harsh, hot desert wind. This was way harder than she'd expected. He looked battle scarred and weary, and she only wanted to hug him forever. That was all.

The Prince narrowed his eyes at Kenobi and studied him for a long time. Obi-Wan stared back, sinking his stare into him like a knife, reaching deep down, all the way into his soul. He felt guilty after a while, finding concern and care for the Princess, and a fierce protectiveness. The Jedi couldn't fault the Prince for that. He felt the same way.

"I don't know what you did to her, Jedi," the Prince finally hissed through clenched teeth, "but don't even think of hurting her again. In fact, the farther away you stay, the better. She doesn't want you around if you haven't noticed."

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. He wanted to reel back and punch the guy, but only knew he was speaking the truth. It wasn't the Prince's fault if Obi-Wan didn't like what he was hearing. Instead, he turned away, stepping toward his former Padawan.

Anakin looked up at the other Jedi. "They want to know our location."

Obi-Wan shook his head. He looked around, eyes squinting in the harsh desert sun. "No, we won't be staying her longer than tonight. Let them know that when we get somewhere more permanent, we'll let them know. Most likely there are trackers on these ships--it won't take long to be found."

Kalyia's voice so close behind him startled Kenobi. "If there are trackers, couldn't they be landing here any minute?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Kenobi spoke softly. "I scrambled their signals soon after they took off at Courscant. It will delay them a day or two, but no more. I think we can seek shelter with Shmi for tonight, sell these X-Wings and obtain an unmarked ship tomorrow."

The Princess felt a course of jealousy flow through her. She tried desperately to push it away but was unsuccessful. Finally, she cocked her head and asked, "Shmi?"

Anakin smiled. "My mother," he revealed. "I am from Tatooine."

***

Shmi had once been a stunning woman. Enduring years of slavery then giving her child up to become a Jedi had placed years of wear on the woman. Nearing sixty, her black hair was streaked with gray, pulled tightly from her scalp into a bun at the base of her neck. She undoubtedly revered her son, always seeming to touch him somewhere; his hair, his cheeks, his ear, as though unsure if he were actually real. As Anakin began to introduce Kalyia as a Princess, she stopped him, smiling sheepishly and extending her hand for the woman to shake.

"Kalyia Amaya," she simply revealed.

The woman made no move of recognition, and Kalyia was slightly glad. She smiled warmly at the girl, regarding her with slight curiosity. Kalyia was suddenly aware of her appearance, of all of their appearances; dressed to the nines yet torn and dirty, shaking and frightened--at least she was--obviously in some sort of trouble. Pushing these thoughts aside with the assurance that the woman's son would explain in time, the Princess gestured toward Daman.

"This is Daman Britaina."

The Prince took Shmi's hand in an exaggerated gesture, bowing deeply and kissing it. A blush colored her cheeks. It deepened as he revealed, "Prince Daman Britaina of Alderaan."

The Lady Skywalker gasped, taking her hand from his as though she wasn't sure if he was supposed to be touching it. She wasn't merely a commoner, she was a slave. Obi-Wan threw a look at his former Padawan who merely smirked and shrugged. But the Prince wasn't done. He slipped a hand around Kalyia's waist, possessively or proudly or both, Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure, and shoved her forward slightly.

"This is Princess Kalyia Amaya of Courscant," he clarified.

Shmi looked at the other woman in surprise, perhaps less in wonderment rather than disbelief, and a small oh escaped her lips. She didn't seem to know what to do with this information and Kalyia smiled at her apologetically. Shmi seemed to relax with this gesture, smiled back gratefully, and turned to go into the kitchen. She announced that she was preparing food that they all looked like they could use.

Daman stared after the slave woman, his eyes wide with surprise. "She doesn't deal with royalty very often does she?" he observed crassly under his breath.

Kalyia heard and threw him a glare. It was times like these that she didn't merely tolerate the good Prince, she detested him. As her suitor, she could dismiss him if she chose, but never had the heart to do that; especially with Daman who had known the family for years. Her mother would have her head.

Apparently, Anakin's Jedi senses were up, because he heard too and stalked toward Daman. "Watch it, your Worship," he muttered, blue eyes flashing. "You may find yourself camping in the desert with the bantha if you're not careful. They eat Princes like you for breakfast."

Kalyia snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, following Shmi's path into the kitchen to assist the woman with her preparations.

***

Obi-Wan stared down at his plate, listening to his counterpart tell his mother of their recent adventures, and what had brought them to Tatooine for a single night. He wasn't meditating, but almost seemed like it, so unwilling to cast his gaze on the Princess he was taking shyness to new heights.

Kalyia ignored him, it was easier that way, keeping her gaze focused on Anakin and his mother, her thoughts geared toward her current disaster at hand. It sounded like she could be on the run for some time, longer a time than she cared to think about. It was a matter of finding the leader and executor of the plan to kidnap the Princess. And leaders of the Dark Side usually remained well-hidden until a major war. She sighed and pushed her hair off of her forehead that was still smudged with dirt from the earlier skirmish at the party.

Shmi leaned forward and put a callused hand over the Princess' well-manicured one; work weathered skin against soft, pampered ones, the distinction so pronounced that Kalyia felt a heat creep into her cheeks and she dipped her head, hoping no one else noticed the obvious class distinction around the table. When Shmi spoke, her voice was soft, bearing an accent the Princess couldn't quite place and she could only assume it was gained in her years on this desert planet.

"You seem tired, my dear. If you would like to bathe and freshen up, I can allow you to borrow a robe to cover yourself for sleep while I try to clean your dress."

Kalyia smiled gratefully at the woman. "That would be great," she began. Obi-Wan's gruff voice startled her and cut through the room like a low growl.

"Anakin and I shall head into Mos Eisley before nightfall and purchase some clothing for our journey. We will obviously need items more practical than our party dress," he said.

Cocking a half-smile at the Jedi, Kalyia sighed and pushed herself away from the table. "I think I will take that shower," she informed Shmi. "I'll help you with the dishes when I'm done."

Anakin's mom shook her head and looked gratefully at the girl. "No need my darling. Just relax your tired muscles, you look positively worn."

Kalyia nodded and smiled down at the Lady Skywalker. She was as kind and caring as her son, differing from him only in her demureness. Turning her eyes to the young Jedi, she addressed them. "Could you remember to get me some boots as well?" she asked, casting her eyes down to her heels.

Obi-Wan nodded. He would not need to ask her size--somehow he knew. As the Jedi prepared to leave, Kalyia ticked off a list of items in her mind.

"And a coat," she called after them as they headed for the door. Heads nodded but no response. Kalyia sighed and watched them exit. She suddenly jumped up and ran after them, catching the door before it slid shut and calling after them into the dusk. "And a hair tie! Get me a hair tie!"

The Jedi turned and both smiled, regarding her curiously. Anakin crossed his arms over his chest. "Anything else your Highness?" he asked teasingly, drawing a chuckle from his former Master. "Obi-Wan and I could bake you a pie, perhaps?"

The girl rolled her eyes and turned back into the house. She slumped back into her dining chair, crossing her arms over her chest and muttering under her breath, "it's not like I had time to pack a suitcase."

***

When Anakin and Obi-Wan finally returned, laden down with clothes and accessories, they found Prince Daman assisting Shmi with the dishes. Anakin raised his eyebrows in surprise but did not comment. Kalyia was lying on the couch, a small frown creasing her beautiful face as she slept.

Obi-Wan stood and stared at the girl for several moments, his eyes skimming slowly over her damp tangled hair. It reminded him of the last night he'd seen her, the last night he'd loved her with his entire being. He sighed. She was wrapped tightly in a terry cloth robe, it's largeness engulfing her tiny body. She looked young, innocent and fragile in that moment; a dark bruise coloring her cheek where she'd been struck with the butt of a blaster, the red marks on her neck seeming to glow darker against her freshly scrubbed skin.

The Jedi saw her tremble slightly in her sleep, and he instantly pushed off his robe and used it to cover her, ignoring the blanket that rested on the arm of the couch. The wool of his cloak would be warmer, Obi-Wan surmised, and the desert tended to get unbearably cool when the suns dipped below the horizon. Kneeling before the girl, proximity closer than he had been since that night at the summer cottage, Kenobi found himself unable to pull away. He ran a hand lightly over the bruise, sending a healing force into her body and the wound faded slightly. His entire body tingled as he touched her. He heard her moan softly in the back of her throat and she turned slightly, tipping her face further up toward his, unknowingly reaching for him in her sleep.

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath as her arms flailed then settled. Her lips parted slightly and a breath escaped, a breath, Obi-Wan thought, that carried his name. It was so soft and brief, it was entirely possible that the Jedi could have imagined it. But he was pretty sure he hadn't. What he did wonder was whether or not she was dreaming about him, or somehow knew he was there. It didn't matter anyway, he supposed, for if she was fully conscious, she'd surely scream at him to leave her alone.

The thought brought a sad sigh to his lips. Deciding not to push his luck, he leaned forward, intent on brushing a feather light kiss on her forehead. Instead, it landed on her cheek, closer to her lips than he'd realized. And it lasted longer than he'd meant, somehow the in-control Jedi unable to pull himself away. His Padawan's voice drew him a much needed distraction.

"Master."

Obi-Wan leaned away, his hand involuntarily flying to his mouth, as though he was burned where he'd touched the Princess' soft skin. Anakin looked at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, casting his eyes downward.

The older Jedi shook his head, watching as his former Padawan crossed the room and kneeled next to him, bringing himself face to face with both the Jedi and the Princess. He stared at his former Master for some time, almost reading his conflicting emotions before casting eyes to the Princess and tracing a finger, unknowingly just as his Master had, down her bruised cheek.

"Is she okay?" Anakin asked, his voice sounding small, frightened; a far cry from the battle ready fighter Obi-Wan had found on the launching pad.

It was then that Obi-Wan realized the depth of his former Padawan's feelings for the girl. They'd grown, even in the last eight months, or perhaps because of the last eight months, to love and trust each other in an almost brotherly/sisterly bond.

He spoke surely. "Yes, my friend. She is fine. She is strong, you know that. Somehow we will protect her through this."