DISCLAIMER: I'm not George Lucas. I don't own these characters. Please don't sue me.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
She irritates you. It's one of the thoughts that tends to sneak up on you when you're a thousand light years away. But once it's there you can't shake it out. She irritates you and you want to kiss her.
The Jedi don't believe in love. Love is a gateway drug, like death sticks and Kessel-mined spice. Frankly you're not sure you disagree. And who says it's love, anyway? Wanting to kiss her doesn't mean you love her. Not yet, anyway, and that's something that worries you. You could love her. Maybe. If she'd stop being so high-and-mighty.
You laugh to yourself. Like that would ever happen.
"What are you laughing about?" Your heart starts to hammer triple-time as she comes up behind you. The Ebon Hawk doesn't have a large cockpit so she's closer than you'd rather. You don't say anything for a beat too long and without looking at her you just know she's raising her eyebrow. "Well?"
"Uh, nothing." You spin around slowly. Nonchalantly. You try to wipe the terror off your face. "Just, you know, thinking."
Bastila is clearly unimpressed. Her hair is immaculate in a way that gives rise to your more petty urges. How you'd love to pull some of it down into her face so she'd look more normal. Her eyes regard you solemnly for a moment before flicking to the display panels. "We're several hours from Manaan, yet. Best get some rest before we land."
You shake your head slightly. "Can't. My bunk shakes when we're in hyperspace."
"Meditate then. We can't afford to have you make any mistakes. This is too important." The way she says "we" clearly means "I" and if she weren't walking away you'd slap her for it.
Sighing, you spin back around to look out at a blurred star field. She irritates you.
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