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Fallen	By : serendip Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 3106 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No infringement of rights is intended. I do not make any profit from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Fallen
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-the end...
- 6
- 7
- 8
Aala lounged across her sister’s perfectly made bed, her head propped on her hand, while she skimmed over messages on her datapad. The afternoon sun threw a rectangle of warm light through the window and across the floor. Padmé was packing, her traveling case perched at the end of the bed, and they were having a disjointed conversation as she moved back and forth from her closet to her room.

“You should come with me,” Padmé offered, folding a dress and placing it neatly inside her case.

Aala arched one eyebrow, a disbelieving look on her face.

“I’m going to Naboo first.” She explained. “It would be good – all of us together. It’s been too long.”

“I have to work, Padmé.” Aala said flatly, her attention returning to her datapad.

“I’m sure Bail won’t mind if you’re gone for a day or two.”

“Padmé,” she said, slightly exasperated, “I don’t just work for Bail, anymore, you know that. I think... I can’t just leave Coruscant on a whim.” She was protesting, but already was starting to consider the idea. How long had it been since her family had sat down together at one dinner table? Longer than she’d like to admit. She didn’t regret leaving her family to go to Alderaan, but she knew she should’ve come home to visit more often. As she grew older, she was starting to realize how important that really was to her.

“Sorry!” Padmé called from the closet, but she was smiling when she emerged.

Frowning, Aala sat up. “And why does everything always have to be on your schedule?”

“Calm down, Aala,” she teased. “I just thought it would be nice.” And she disappeared again.

Aala sighed. “I’ll have to check. But I could probably work something out.”

“Oh, good. I’ve missed you.” Padmé smiled warmly coming back into the room with a pile of clothes draped over her arm.

Pensive, Aala watched her fold and pack. “I’ve been talking to Sola a lot, lately.”

“Oh?” Padmé said. “What about?”

Aala thought for a moment. She’d never felt loneliness like she had when she’d walked out of that stupid diner a few weeks ago. She’d sabotaged one relationship – despite the fact that young man had turned out to be a jerk, if she’d been more mature, honest with him, it would not have played out the way it had. She hadn’t told him, because she had wanted to pretend it never happened. But that was no way to deal with life.

Now she had an inkling she had struck again. She just hadn’t realized there had been a relationship to ruin until it was too late.

Her answer to Padmé, however, was purposely vague. “Everything...” she trailed off.

Padmé gave her a questioning look.

“Big sister’s are good for that, you know,” she hinted cheerfully.

Padmé smiled back. “I know,” she replied. Sitting down across from her, she must have sensed Aala wanted to talk, but she didn’t take advantage of the offer to go first.

Time to up the ante. “I guess I’ve been a little lonely, lately,” Aala admitted, tracing the pattern on the coverlet with her finger.

“You’re always welcome here.” Concern shone clearly on Padmé’s face. “I thought you liked being alone?”

“I do... What about you? I know you’ve always wanted a family.” Aala had meant to have this conversation with her sister a long time ago, but she hated to pry, and she could never quite figure out how to bring it up. Maybe this was her opportunity.

“The war makes it hard.” Padmé said a little sadly, but then she smiled. “Besides you need a husband for that.”

“Not necessarily... you just need – some sort of male.”

Padmé laughed, her eyes shining with amusement. “Aala, you’re so odd.” She shook her head. “I want children, and a home, and a husband.”

“Okay, but that all starts with a man.”

“And the war makes it hard.” She repeated.

They were arguing in circles, not unusual for them. Instead, Aala decided to try a direct approach. “What about Anakin?” she asked. “You two seem close.”

Padmé seemed to think about it. Was she contemplating how close they were or how close she should tell her they were? “We are, I suppose. We’re friends. But he’s a Jedi.”

“Maybe things will be different when this war ends,” Aala said it softly, suddenly wondering to herself if that were a real possibility.

“Maybe.” Padmé stared out the window for a moment. “You’re a friend of Obi-Wan’s. I wonder what he’d say... I consider him a friend, but he’s so disciplined. I can’t imagine him wanting to change anything. He’s always so ordered, in control.”

Padmé spoke of him like he didn’t have feelings. Was that how Aala had perceived him? Treated him? Why else would she have been so caught off guard by his grief? “Not always...”

Padmé looked at her curiously. “You know from experience...”

Aala hesitated. If she was open it might encourage Padmé to reciprocate. Then again, if she knew they were close, she might not want to confide in her at all. It suddenly seemed immensely important she say the right thing. Aala did not like to gamble, but she was left with no choice.

“Yes,” she answered finally.

Padmé smiled teasingly, unaware of Aala’s internal struggles. “So, you have a vested interest in things changing?”

“Of course not,” Aala answered too quickly, and she chided herself for always being so defensive. “I never wanted to raise a family.” She clarified. “I enjoy being an Aunt. Anyway, Obi-Wan and I didn’t part on the best of terms last time we saw each other.”

“Does that account for this bout of loneliness?”

“I suppose it does.” She studied her sister. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“If things changed tomorrow, would you marry Anakin?”

Padmé paled. “I –,” she pressed her hand to her cheek slowly. “I don’t feel well,” and then she was rushing to the ‘fresher.

“Padmé!” Aala exclaimed, surprised. “Are you alright?” she asked when her sister came back in the room.

“I’ll be okay,” Looking tired, Padmé sat back down on the bed.

“I’ll go,” gathering her things, Aala glanced worriedly at Padmé. “I”ll call you later?” she asked as she headed for the door.

“Sure, I’m fine. I just need to rest.”

***

He had only wanted to rest. Instead, Obi-Wan found himself sitting alone at a table in the back. Again. Having been coerced into coming to this Force forsaken hole in the wall by Anakin, he was now rather annoyed Anakin was across the room in deep conversation with Rex instead.

He took a long pull from his bottle of ale and seriously considered slipping out while Anakin was otherwise occupied.

That was exactly when Anakin chose to look up at him and he gave him a knowing stare.

Well, so much for that.

Sitting alone in the dim amber light, with no chance of escape, Obi-Wan allowed himself a rare moment of becoming lost in thought. A certain blue-eyed woman crossed his mind. Which prompted the thought of another.

He was going to call her; he had meant to weeks ago, but then he had been called away. Anyway, it never seemed to go well when one of them sought the other out. It was better to wait for their paths to cross of their own accord, naturally. And cross they did. Once, she had literally tripped over him in the plaza. He recalled her shocked expression when she had ended up sprawled in his arms after she had fallen, and he hadn’t been able to help the affectionate laugh that escaped as color blossomed high on her cheeks. Ah, before the war. Such a long time ago.

This thing between them, whatever it was, had truly snuck up on him. He had never planned to forge a relationship with her. It had been so easy -- always there, unreserved and accessible. Listening unwaveringly to the Living Force, he had made one single judicious decision at a time and somehow found himself repeatedly back in her arms.

There had been no moment of fiery passion to warn him, no final ultimatum or declaration of undeniable love.

At the time – times – he had only been temporarily seeking solace with an enigmatic, caring young woman. Sharing a brief pleasure with a dear friend. Accepting comfort, in a time of war, with an equal partner. ‘Excuses or reasons?,’ he wondered.

But only now he realized, somewhere along the way, she had become so much more. Something unexplainable. It was as if recent events had awoken a part of him he had forgotten was there.

And on a dark night, he had come to her, needing her, but he’d asked for a great deal and offered very little in return. It was unfair of him to expect her to help carry that particular burden.

In truth, he had called her because he needed to know where they stood – face her forthrightly and see what he felt, but it had been much harder than he anticipated to open up and he’d alienated her in the process. When she had walked in that door, she had looked exhausted and irritated and beautiful. And he couldn’t think.

He had purposefully avoided her lingering gaze, keeping his thoughts to himself and yet his curiosity about her own complicated feelings had compelled him to press her for answers she didn’t have. He had let himself question something he had decided a long time ago didn’t matter – she was free to make her own decisions, if she decided to be with him and not with someone else, that was her prerogative and it should be of no bother to him.

But he had forgotten that, and so he’d practically forced her to share something immensely private, dredging up old wounds. ‘Worthless,’ she’d told him. The word rung in his head, like the clang of a sword.

And the pain written clearly in her eyes, combined with his own heartache, had caused him to loose control of his emotions and he had likely scared her away but good. He was afraid he had asked far too much of her.

Two things were plainly clear to him now, weeks later. He cared deeply for her and he had hurt her. But there wasn’t much he could do about it from the Outer Rim.

Breaking him from his thoughts, Anakin slid into the booth across from him, a cheeky grin on his face. “Want to talk about it?”

Obi-Wan shot him a stern, unpleasant look. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Anakin chuckled.

“I thought not.” Obi-Wan said irritably.

“Look, I only came over here because you looked lonely. If you don’t want my company, I’ll leave. You’re no fun anyway, Master.”

Had he really become that surly and unpleasant to be around? ‘Yes,’ said the voice in the back of his head. “I’m sorry, Anakin. I have a few things on my mind.”

“So, it is trouble with a girl.”

“Hardly.” Obi-Wan muttered. “You have a lot of experience with that?”

“Not as much as you it seems,” Anakin smirked.

“A friend,” Obi-Wan replied vaguely. “I’m afraid I’ve hurt her.” Anakin didn’t need to know any of the details of his personal life – he didn’t think he would want to know the details of his.

“Trail of broken hearts, huh?” Anakin asked.

“Not exactly.” He couldn’t break something that was already broken. But despite her broken heart, he was irrevocably certain... he loved her. Sadly, it was irrelevant if she didn’t return the sentiment. And it was only the truth of the matter that allowed him to admit it in the first place – if the Force asked him to let her go, he now knew for certain, from experience, he could.

The sound of Anakin’s voice brought him back from his thoughts. “Master Qui-Gon told me something once...” he started.

“Oh?”

“He said ‘Stay in that cockpit.’” Anakin paused dramatically, light dancing in his eyes, then he smiled. “And I did, sort of. The point is – perspective is everything.”

Well, that made no sense. Maybe he was rubbing off on him after all.

And Anakin was still grinning, apparently very pleased with himself. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want another?”

“No, thank you. I think I’ll just sit here and ponder the importance of perspective.”

“Alright then.” Anakin stood up. After he ordered his drink he fell into another conversation with a pilot at the bar. He wasn’t coming back. Obi-Wan sighed quietly. ‘I’d rather be alone, anyway.’

***

Aala Naberrie loved the freedom of being alone. It had always meant she did what she wanted, when and how she wanted. She loved her father dearly, and he and her mother had parented with great love and affection, and with strict rules and high expectations. Sola and Padmé had flourished. Aala had always felt different.

So, under the guise of chasing lofty dreams, Aala left for Alderaan. Beneath the bright blue skies of the liberal-minded planet, she had the freedom to grow into her own. She studied and worked and read and thought.

Then on her way to a symposium in another city the shuttle she was in crashed and she didn’t remember anything for a long time after that. Suddenly, she had felt very vulnerable and very alone.

So, with her body broken, craving stability, she had sought out the one stuffy, conservative young man on the planet. And she had played the part, been exactly who he wanted her to be, until she couldn’t pretend anymore.

And so, with her heart broken, she found herself back at square one. Different. Alone in a crowd. Not good enough.

With a steely resolve, she decided fickle, unpredictable love was not for her. She didn’t want a family. She didn’t want a husband. She would be successful on her own terms. She would do what she wanted, when she wanted and the rest be damned.

And then she’d almost lost her life again in an entirely different way – her sister, her family, her home – and her world was spinning out of control. Desperately, she had grabbed on to the first solid thing that had crossed her path. And made the same mistake a second time. Because as strong and independent as she was trying to be, sex still wasn’t meaningless to her. So, she’d entered into another intimate relationship without being honest up front.

But Obi-Wan was different. Obi-Wan was caring and compassionate and understanding.

Aala lay in bed, alone, in her quiet apartment. She liked the freedom of being alone. It meant she could go to bed when she wanted without being woken by someone coming in later – only she couldn’t seem to fall asleep.

It meant she could stretch out and have all the space she wanted – except she hadn’t been able to bring herself to sleep in the middle of the bed since the war had begun.

It meant she could have the blankets to herself, without having to share. It was just – nothing could keep her quite as warm in her chilly apartment, in the middle of the night as Obi-Wan’s warm, solid body wrapped tightly around her own.

Obi-Wan.

Lying on her side, Aala smoothed her hand across the cool sheet next to her where Obi-Wan was not.

That miserable night he had come to her, as a friend, expecting kindness and compassion and understanding in return. But she had been ill-prepared because of her own selfishness, her own short-sightedness. She had never considered he had loved, never imagined he could hurt that absolutely.

But it wasn’t his feelings she couldn’t deal with, it was her own. So, regrettably, she had left, because she knew he was stronger than her, that he could do it alone.

The burn of her mistake could be felt even now, hot and shameful. She had no idea how to make this right. It would likely be ages before she had the chance, anyway. He hadn’t called, and she was sure he had no desire to see her. But now she knew she did care about him. More than she ever could have imagined, more than anyone else.

Alone in her empty apartment, she resolutely decided she would face her fears and insecurities head on. And she would be whatever he needed her to be.

Aala closed her eyes, sighing softly to herself. She was pretty sure that would entail very little, for quite awhile.

*

Sitting at her small desk at SBI, Aala poured over endless intelligence reports. She read through every report she could get her hands on looking for anything, everything, reading between the lines and searching for the impossible – a clue, an answer.

When she wasn’t working on something specific, when Bail didn’t need her, this was what she did. She sat in this claustrophobic room, with bad lighting and read reports. Sometimes for hours.

The door opened suddenly and she started, letting out an undignified squeak in surprise.

“Sorry,” Captain Dyne apologized. “I uploaded new reports to your file. Brilam, Outer Rim. The Assistant Prime Minister is defecting. I”ll brief you in the morning and you can leave right after that.”

“Fine,” she answered shortly, trying to regain her sense of professionalism. “Who’s leading?”

He checked the card in his hand. “General Kenobi.”

“Of course.” Aala cursed under her breath, her shoulders slumping. Thankfully, Dyne hadn’t heard her as the door slid shut behind him.

She felt like banging her head on the desk, but somehow found the strength to restrain herself. Sighing deeply, she shut down her terminal, deciding to call it a night. The Galaxy, it seemed, had its own plan.

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!
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