Fic: "Fast As I Can" (9/? J/Z AU) - NEW
So. After two years a...while, NEW FAIC. This chapter has actually been lingering on my laptop/in my notebook for--oh--maybe a year? But I never followed it up with anything else, so I didn't post it. So it's more in the story's original writing style, a little random, and sort of fitting between old and new. So it sort of looks *really* random, in the greater scheme of the fic's plotting. But, well. I kind of like it anyway.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight
Day 148
She sat down while his back was turned. Zekk had been preparing a brandy in anticipation of her arrival. Despite that, he startled when he turned and saw her.
“Wes Janson made his squadron colours yellow and black.” Jaina stared blankly past him. If asked, he would have guessed that she had wandered into the Flash with the expression pinned to her face for hours already. “Yellow and black. They look like a hoard of giant bumblebees. Who picks such awful colours for their squadron?”
“Wes Janson?” Zekk repeated, belatedly giving Jaina her drink. “The fighter pilot?”
She took the brandy, but barely seemed to notice it. “Somebody gave him a squadron, and now he’s a fighter pilot colonel.” She gave him a look that was slightly wild. “It hurts my head. Wes as an authority figure. Force.”
He frowned. “Isn’t he - I’d heard he was a good pilot….”
Jaina started to give him a look, then seemed to remember something. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you don’t know…. Yeah, he’s a good pilot. He’s just got the maturity of a six-year-old. No,” she added thoughtfully. “That might be insulting. To six-year-olds.”
Zekk didn’t remark on her casual opinion of a famous Rebel pilot. He would react later, the way he usually did.
He said only, “Jealous much?”
She made a face, and threw a nut at him.
x-x-x
Day 166
Zekk didn’t frequent clubs that much. Several disastrous blind dates, one ugly break-up, and enough nights being a third wheel had ruined the experience for him. Despite that, he had managed to be roped into going to Revashed with Mique, Cel and Dalan. Mique could, unfortunately, be rather persuasive, especially when it came to treating his cousins to a night out.
Even with the disorientation of returning to the club scene, Revashed was strange. It secretly catered to a certain group. Known for its discretion, and for intentionally excluding any members of the press, it frequently drew the slightly more famous than average. Not the holo-stars or political celebrities, exactly, but more often the family members hoping to make a name for themselves outside of the tabloids.
Mique, his cousin, and Cel were soon swallowed by the bustling crowd. Zekk watched them go; he really should have expected this abandonment, despite Mique’s demands that he come along. At least, he thought, it hadn’t turned out to be a blind date. He had a bad record with clubs; he had an even worse one with blind dates at clubs.
Something caught his attention, drew him in. A laugh and an exuberant voice, which he almost heard in snatches over the chaos. The owner had to be close for him to hear that much. Lost in the crowd, it took him at extra moment to realize why the sound tugged at him.
Jaina. Jaina’s laugh, Jaina’s enthusiasm. He turned around and used his height advantage to see over the crowd. The strobe lights made it more difficult. The music pounded against his skull. Beings of all species bristled against him - dancing, coming, going, living. When he had almost given up on that girl, she bumped into him - Hurricaine Jaina domesticated for an upcity club. She almost knocked him over.
“Hey, sorry,” she spluttered, laughing. “People really like pushing - Zekk?” Jaina finally looked at him, her eyes wide.
“You don’t miss a thing,” he yelled over the crowd.
She grinned then, her eyes sparkling. “That’s why I’m a Jedi,” she agreed. Her eyes slid around him. “Are you here with someone?”
The crowd swelled around them, causing Jaina to stumble into him. She really was quite small, despite her presence. He caught her when she tripped; he tipped his head to the left. She nodded, and followed him to the wall.
“My friends are around here somewhere,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “I’m not much of a…” He trailed off, really looking at her for the first time. Clearly, Jaina was a club type. Her hair was pinned up, though a third of it was in the process of falling down. It looked as glossy as her makeup: cherry red lips, and a shimmer across her cheeks. Her top was conservative compared to some, but he was pretty sure it showed more than a little of her bare back. In retrospect, he could feel the warmth of her skin against his hand. And he was certain that none of her parents (real, foster, or surrogate) knew she owned a skirt that short.
“Obviously you are,” he finished.
She shrugged. “I like dancing. And the others wanted to come. Oh, hey, you can finally meet them.” She looked very pleased.
Before he realized it, she had grabbed his hand and was dragging him into the eye of the storm. Before he could blink, Zekk was shaking the hands of Raynar Thul, Jacen Solo, and Jag Fel - Jaina’s pilot boyfriend. He didn’t really look like he fit in, either. He introduced himself with his rank: “Colonel Jagged Fel.”
Jaina playfully elbowed her boyfriend. “Okay, Jag, enough with the first-impression-for-the-Chiss. If I’m wearing a skirt, then you can relax.” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Jag’s shoulders did seem to relax as he smiled at her.
The music faded briefly before switching to a song only slightly different. Jaina brightened. “Excellent. Zekk - you, me, dance floor, now. I love this song, and Jag only knows ballroom.”
Jag rolled his eyes, but seemed more amused than anything. “I prefer a civilized form of dancing. Is that so wrong?”
Zekk was pretty sure the colonel was kidding. It was difficult to tell. “I don’t really dance, either,” he tried to protest. Jaina either didn’t hear him, or had decided to ignore him. She grabbed both Zekk’s hands and pulled him into the fray. It reminded him of when she had brought him blindfolded to the landing bay. Except he really couldn’t dance.
Jaina grinned at his awkward movements, and stepped closer. “Try to feel the beat, first,” she told him. She wasn’t laughing out loud, but he could see it in her eyes. Strange, now, how he had thought her only passably, averagely pretty when they first met. Her eyes were -
Maybe it was the dark, or the erratic lights, or Jaina’s own force of will, but Zekk felt the music’s beat.
Part 10
-
Well? Comments of any kind?
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight
Day 148
She sat down while his back was turned. Zekk had been preparing a brandy in anticipation of her arrival. Despite that, he startled when he turned and saw her.
“Wes Janson made his squadron colours yellow and black.” Jaina stared blankly past him. If asked, he would have guessed that she had wandered into the Flash with the expression pinned to her face for hours already. “Yellow and black. They look like a hoard of giant bumblebees. Who picks such awful colours for their squadron?”
“Wes Janson?” Zekk repeated, belatedly giving Jaina her drink. “The fighter pilot?”
She took the brandy, but barely seemed to notice it. “Somebody gave him a squadron, and now he’s a fighter pilot colonel.” She gave him a look that was slightly wild. “It hurts my head. Wes as an authority figure. Force.”
He frowned. “Isn’t he - I’d heard he was a good pilot….”
Jaina started to give him a look, then seemed to remember something. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you don’t know…. Yeah, he’s a good pilot. He’s just got the maturity of a six-year-old. No,” she added thoughtfully. “That might be insulting. To six-year-olds.”
Zekk didn’t remark on her casual opinion of a famous Rebel pilot. He would react later, the way he usually did.
He said only, “Jealous much?”
She made a face, and threw a nut at him.
x-x-x
Day 166
Zekk didn’t frequent clubs that much. Several disastrous blind dates, one ugly break-up, and enough nights being a third wheel had ruined the experience for him. Despite that, he had managed to be roped into going to Revashed with Mique, Cel and Dalan. Mique could, unfortunately, be rather persuasive, especially when it came to treating his cousins to a night out.
Even with the disorientation of returning to the club scene, Revashed was strange. It secretly catered to a certain group. Known for its discretion, and for intentionally excluding any members of the press, it frequently drew the slightly more famous than average. Not the holo-stars or political celebrities, exactly, but more often the family members hoping to make a name for themselves outside of the tabloids.
Mique, his cousin, and Cel were soon swallowed by the bustling crowd. Zekk watched them go; he really should have expected this abandonment, despite Mique’s demands that he come along. At least, he thought, it hadn’t turned out to be a blind date. He had a bad record with clubs; he had an even worse one with blind dates at clubs.
Something caught his attention, drew him in. A laugh and an exuberant voice, which he almost heard in snatches over the chaos. The owner had to be close for him to hear that much. Lost in the crowd, it took him at extra moment to realize why the sound tugged at him.
Jaina. Jaina’s laugh, Jaina’s enthusiasm. He turned around and used his height advantage to see over the crowd. The strobe lights made it more difficult. The music pounded against his skull. Beings of all species bristled against him - dancing, coming, going, living. When he had almost given up on that girl, she bumped into him - Hurricaine Jaina domesticated for an upcity club. She almost knocked him over.
“Hey, sorry,” she spluttered, laughing. “People really like pushing - Zekk?” Jaina finally looked at him, her eyes wide.
“You don’t miss a thing,” he yelled over the crowd.
She grinned then, her eyes sparkling. “That’s why I’m a Jedi,” she agreed. Her eyes slid around him. “Are you here with someone?”
The crowd swelled around them, causing Jaina to stumble into him. She really was quite small, despite her presence. He caught her when she tripped; he tipped his head to the left. She nodded, and followed him to the wall.
“My friends are around here somewhere,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “I’m not much of a…” He trailed off, really looking at her for the first time. Clearly, Jaina was a club type. Her hair was pinned up, though a third of it was in the process of falling down. It looked as glossy as her makeup: cherry red lips, and a shimmer across her cheeks. Her top was conservative compared to some, but he was pretty sure it showed more than a little of her bare back. In retrospect, he could feel the warmth of her skin against his hand. And he was certain that none of her parents (real, foster, or surrogate) knew she owned a skirt that short.
“Obviously you are,” he finished.
She shrugged. “I like dancing. And the others wanted to come. Oh, hey, you can finally meet them.” She looked very pleased.
Before he realized it, she had grabbed his hand and was dragging him into the eye of the storm. Before he could blink, Zekk was shaking the hands of Raynar Thul, Jacen Solo, and Jag Fel - Jaina’s pilot boyfriend. He didn’t really look like he fit in, either. He introduced himself with his rank: “Colonel Jagged Fel.”
Jaina playfully elbowed her boyfriend. “Okay, Jag, enough with the first-impression-for-the-Chiss. If I’m wearing a skirt, then you can relax.” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Jag’s shoulders did seem to relax as he smiled at her.
The music faded briefly before switching to a song only slightly different. Jaina brightened. “Excellent. Zekk - you, me, dance floor, now. I love this song, and Jag only knows ballroom.”
Jag rolled his eyes, but seemed more amused than anything. “I prefer a civilized form of dancing. Is that so wrong?”
Zekk was pretty sure the colonel was kidding. It was difficult to tell. “I don’t really dance, either,” he tried to protest. Jaina either didn’t hear him, or had decided to ignore him. She grabbed both Zekk’s hands and pulled him into the fray. It reminded him of when she had brought him blindfolded to the landing bay. Except he really couldn’t dance.
Jaina grinned at his awkward movements, and stepped closer. “Try to feel the beat, first,” she told him. She wasn’t laughing out loud, but he could see it in her eyes. Strange, now, how he had thought her only passably, averagely pretty when they first met. Her eyes were -
Maybe it was the dark, or the erratic lights, or Jaina’s own force of will, but Zekk felt the music’s beat.
Part 10
-
Well? Comments of any kind?