FLAWED 5/43 PG-13: Anakin, Obi-Wan, Siri, Ferus, Others
Disclaimer: nope, I don't own Star Wars. I'm not even getting paid for this bit of fanfiction.
CHAPTER FIVE
Anakin lay still and felt the others drifting off to sleep, one by one. There were only four bunks, and he had volunteered for the couch when they first came aboard; he didn’t really like confined spaces, anyway. And on the couch his own troubled sleep was less likely to disrupt everyone else.
The only one still awake was Ryn. Long after the other three had settled into the rhythms of deep sleep, her mind remained alert and focused.
And unhappy, Anakin realized with a pang of guilt. And whose fault is that?
He tried to send her a pulse of comfort in the Force, but he knew he’d bungled it when he sensed confusion in Ryn’s mind.
A few minutes later he felt her slip silently from her bunk and cross the little compartment toward him, her bare feet noiseless on the carpeted floor, even to Jedi ears.
He felt it when she sank to her knees beside his couch.
“Anakin?”
He remained stubbornly silent, facing the wall, overwhelmed by the enormity of everything he couldn’t say to her.
She touched his shoulder lightly. “Please, can I just ... sit with you, for a minute? I can’t sleep.”
Reluctantly Anakin rolled over and swung his feet to the floor, holding his cloak open so Ryn could crawl under it, too.
“Thank you,” she murmured softly, and settled against him with her arms wrapped around her updrawn knees. In the compartment’s dim nighttime illumination, she looked very young and vulnerable. It was hard to see in her the same girl who had charged armed guards bare-handed.
He didn’t ask her why she couldn’t sleep, because he was afraid he knew the answer. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t lead them into untenable territory. Ryn didn’t say anything, either, and the awkward silence dragged on for minutes, fading away into the darkness.
Maybe a quarter of an hour had passed when Ryn shifted slightly and then turned into him and laid her head on his shoulder, still not speaking.
Something tight and awful in Anakin’s chest eased, just a little, and he stirred and put one arm around her shoulders. “You okay?” he asked softly.
Against his shoulder, Ryn nodded. “I’m fine. Worried about you.”
Anakin felt the scowl forming on his face and smoothed it away. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”
He couldn’t see Ryn’s expression from this angle, but she felt skeptical.
“I’m just ... confused. It kind of seemed like the holos triggered some bad memories. And I always thought, you know, that you had mostly good memories of Podracing.”
There were so many reasons why Ryn would never understand, but ... she’d earned the right to some kind of an explanation. A piece of a truth that you could never really know until you’d lived it. He took her hand in his and stroked his thumb across her calloused palm. “At the podracing arena in Mos Espa,” he said slowly, “just behind the pit, there was this space where girls would gather and wave at the racers. They would get all dressed up ... usually without much actual clothing ... and they would compete for attention from the racers. I’m not sure what they were hoping for, exactly. Recognition, maybe. A hot meal and a cool drink, for sure. A lot of the racers ignored them. But usually at least two or three of the survivors would end up with an entourage, after the race was over. What happened after that ... it wasn’t always pretty.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I knew a few of them. Amee had a sister who ... well, she left with Sebulba one time. She would never tell anybody exactly what happened, but she was ... different, after that. I don’t ... Ryn, I can’t stand it when I think of you ... hurt, or ... I ... I ...”
“Sh,” Ryn said, squeezing his hand. “I’m all right. Nothing bad happened to me on Malastare. Some of the afterparties were pretty wild, but Evinne and I started cage-fighting our first week there and I think that made us unlikely targets for ... the kind of thing you’re talking about. We didn’t read like easy marks, and for the most part we were left alone.” She lifted her head, the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I met Sebulba there, did I tell you that?”
Anakin’s mouth tightened. “No.”
The smile deepened. “Well, it wasn’t much of a meeting. But it did leave me with a story that might make you feel better.”
Anakin frowned. “What’s that?”
Ryn made a soft little noise in the back of her throat. “Well, like I said, I ran into Sebulba. But what’s really interesting is that Evinne met him, too. And I don’t know what he said to her -- I was standing too far away to hear at the time, and she never would tell me afterward -- but the next thing I know, she was asking me if I’d be her second, and they were setting up a fight.
“Sebulba was a typical Podracer: aggressive, profligate, determined to have his way no matter what.” Anakin snorted at the obvious dig, but Ryn grinned and elbowed him and kept going. “We’d been on Malastare just over a week and already I was sick of them. But none was worse than Sebulba, and we all knew it.
“He came in swaggering and asking Evinne if she wouldn’t like to change her mind. She grinned and said she’d offer him the same chance.
“He laughed at that, and then the fight was on, and I want you to know, Evinne cooked his ass and fed it to him. She mopped the floor with him in under five minutes, and it was a beautiful sight. The crowd was wild.
“So of course Sebulba’s second, his son Hekkula, cried foul and rushed the cage.
“Hekkula has more strength than skill. He fights fast but not smart. So I was able to snap his arm and catch the vibro-knife he’d been about to toss to his father.” She grinned. “Evinne has the knife now, and as far as I know they’re both of them, father and son, just as disreputable as they ever were. But it was nice to make them eat dirt, just once.”
Anakin smirked at the image, then frowned uncertainly. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because now is when you seemed to need it.” Ryn paused. “I don’t especially like to talk about the time I spent on Malastare. It’s always seemed strange, like it was part of another life. I suppose part of that is because I was half-drunk most of the time I was there.”
Anakin drew back before he could stop himself, feeling a surge of distaste.
Of course Ryn felt it. She smiled wryly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say,” she said, even though in the strictest sense he hadn’t said anything. “If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t crazy about it myself. But the publicity company kept spiking my drinks every time I turned around. Apparently I wasn’t smiling enough and they thought it would help.”
Anakin tried to breathe. Not her fault, he reminded himself. “At least they didn’t give you anything worse,” he said.
“Death sticks,” Ryn said gloomily. “But they made you throw up.”
“That’s --” Anakin felt like crying “-- Ryn that’s awful.”
“It wasn’t so bad once they found out I could fight as well as dance,” Ryn said. “They still dumped alcohol in my drinks whenever they get the chance, but they left off the other stuff, and they hassled me about my smile much less. And they let me pick my own cosmetics if we weren’t filming.” She made an odd, uncomfortable little gesture. “Actually, I thought some of those holos turned out pretty good.” Her voice dropped as she looked down at her lap. “I’m sorry you didn’t like them.”
She was being overly dramatic, but Anakin didn’t need the Force to tell him that while she might be sorry, she was also deeply disappointed, and trying -- not very well -- to hide it. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing her hand. “You looked great, Ryn. I should have --” not freaked out “-- should have said.” There. That sounded good.
Ryn shook her head. “It’s okay. You’re not under some obligation to like them just because we’re friends.”
Oh, Ryn. How could she not know she was gorgeous? But that wasn’t quite it, he realized. She didn’t need to know she was beautiful; she needed to know that he thought so.
That, at least, was something he could fix. “You looked amazing,” Anakin said firmly. “I just ... had other things on my mind.” He ran his thumb over her palm again and found a smile, somewhere inside. “Besides, I like you better without all the cosmetics and the fancy costumes. I think you’re beautiful, just the way you are.”
It didn’t make up for his reaction to the holos, and he knew it, but Ryn smiled her appreciation anyway. She’s so easy to please -- so ready to be pleased. She always sees the good in everybody.
“Thanks,” she said, her green eyes twinkling with humor. “I like you, too.”
*~*~*
Ferus left his post by the doorframe as Ryn stood up and hurried back to to his bunk. He slid his partition shut just in time to hear hers opening; Ryn herself made no noise at all, moving about the compartment, but the door did make a soft scraping sound, plastoid-on-plastoid. He listening to it slide shut behind her and then opened his own slightly, giving into an irrational desire to look at the focus of his thoughts.
And found Ryn standing between the bunks, staring down at him with one hand braced on her hip. He glanced up at the door, at her fingers still curling around the handle, and realized she’d slid it twice to make him think she was going back to bed.
Which meant she knew he’d been eavesdropping.
Oh.
In the dim glow of the nightlight, Ferus could see that her eyebrows were raised, her expression expectant, clearly waiting for ... something.
Sorry,” Ferus whispered.
“Why did you do it?” Ryn asked, her voice equally soft.
Because he was jealous. Because he wanted to know what friendship looked like. Because he had no idea what it would mean to be that close to another being. “I don’t know.”
But Ryn must have sensed what he couldn’t say, because something flickered in her eyes and her expression softened, just a little. “We are not done discussing this,” she warned him, and slid back the door to her bunk, climbing in for real this time.
Ferus swallowed. “Okay,” he whispered, and watched the flimsy door slam shut.
CHAPTER FIVE
Anakin lay still and felt the others drifting off to sleep, one by one. There were only four bunks, and he had volunteered for the couch when they first came aboard; he didn’t really like confined spaces, anyway. And on the couch his own troubled sleep was less likely to disrupt everyone else.
The only one still awake was Ryn. Long after the other three had settled into the rhythms of deep sleep, her mind remained alert and focused.
And unhappy, Anakin realized with a pang of guilt. And whose fault is that?
He tried to send her a pulse of comfort in the Force, but he knew he’d bungled it when he sensed confusion in Ryn’s mind.
A few minutes later he felt her slip silently from her bunk and cross the little compartment toward him, her bare feet noiseless on the carpeted floor, even to Jedi ears.
He felt it when she sank to her knees beside his couch.
“Anakin?”
He remained stubbornly silent, facing the wall, overwhelmed by the enormity of everything he couldn’t say to her.
She touched his shoulder lightly. “Please, can I just ... sit with you, for a minute? I can’t sleep.”
Reluctantly Anakin rolled over and swung his feet to the floor, holding his cloak open so Ryn could crawl under it, too.
“Thank you,” she murmured softly, and settled against him with her arms wrapped around her updrawn knees. In the compartment’s dim nighttime illumination, she looked very young and vulnerable. It was hard to see in her the same girl who had charged armed guards bare-handed.
He didn’t ask her why she couldn’t sleep, because he was afraid he knew the answer. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t lead them into untenable territory. Ryn didn’t say anything, either, and the awkward silence dragged on for minutes, fading away into the darkness.
Maybe a quarter of an hour had passed when Ryn shifted slightly and then turned into him and laid her head on his shoulder, still not speaking.
Something tight and awful in Anakin’s chest eased, just a little, and he stirred and put one arm around her shoulders. “You okay?” he asked softly.
Against his shoulder, Ryn nodded. “I’m fine. Worried about you.”
Anakin felt the scowl forming on his face and smoothed it away. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”
He couldn’t see Ryn’s expression from this angle, but she felt skeptical.
“I’m just ... confused. It kind of seemed like the holos triggered some bad memories. And I always thought, you know, that you had mostly good memories of Podracing.”
There were so many reasons why Ryn would never understand, but ... she’d earned the right to some kind of an explanation. A piece of a truth that you could never really know until you’d lived it. He took her hand in his and stroked his thumb across her calloused palm. “At the podracing arena in Mos Espa,” he said slowly, “just behind the pit, there was this space where girls would gather and wave at the racers. They would get all dressed up ... usually without much actual clothing ... and they would compete for attention from the racers. I’m not sure what they were hoping for, exactly. Recognition, maybe. A hot meal and a cool drink, for sure. A lot of the racers ignored them. But usually at least two or three of the survivors would end up with an entourage, after the race was over. What happened after that ... it wasn’t always pretty.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I knew a few of them. Amee had a sister who ... well, she left with Sebulba one time. She would never tell anybody exactly what happened, but she was ... different, after that. I don’t ... Ryn, I can’t stand it when I think of you ... hurt, or ... I ... I ...”
“Sh,” Ryn said, squeezing his hand. “I’m all right. Nothing bad happened to me on Malastare. Some of the afterparties were pretty wild, but Evinne and I started cage-fighting our first week there and I think that made us unlikely targets for ... the kind of thing you’re talking about. We didn’t read like easy marks, and for the most part we were left alone.” She lifted her head, the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I met Sebulba there, did I tell you that?”
Anakin’s mouth tightened. “No.”
The smile deepened. “Well, it wasn’t much of a meeting. But it did leave me with a story that might make you feel better.”
Anakin frowned. “What’s that?”
Ryn made a soft little noise in the back of her throat. “Well, like I said, I ran into Sebulba. But what’s really interesting is that Evinne met him, too. And I don’t know what he said to her -- I was standing too far away to hear at the time, and she never would tell me afterward -- but the next thing I know, she was asking me if I’d be her second, and they were setting up a fight.
“Sebulba was a typical Podracer: aggressive, profligate, determined to have his way no matter what.” Anakin snorted at the obvious dig, but Ryn grinned and elbowed him and kept going. “We’d been on Malastare just over a week and already I was sick of them. But none was worse than Sebulba, and we all knew it.
“He came in swaggering and asking Evinne if she wouldn’t like to change her mind. She grinned and said she’d offer him the same chance.
“He laughed at that, and then the fight was on, and I want you to know, Evinne cooked his ass and fed it to him. She mopped the floor with him in under five minutes, and it was a beautiful sight. The crowd was wild.
“So of course Sebulba’s second, his son Hekkula, cried foul and rushed the cage.
“Hekkula has more strength than skill. He fights fast but not smart. So I was able to snap his arm and catch the vibro-knife he’d been about to toss to his father.” She grinned. “Evinne has the knife now, and as far as I know they’re both of them, father and son, just as disreputable as they ever were. But it was nice to make them eat dirt, just once.”
Anakin smirked at the image, then frowned uncertainly. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because now is when you seemed to need it.” Ryn paused. “I don’t especially like to talk about the time I spent on Malastare. It’s always seemed strange, like it was part of another life. I suppose part of that is because I was half-drunk most of the time I was there.”
Anakin drew back before he could stop himself, feeling a surge of distaste.
Of course Ryn felt it. She smiled wryly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say,” she said, even though in the strictest sense he hadn’t said anything. “If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t crazy about it myself. But the publicity company kept spiking my drinks every time I turned around. Apparently I wasn’t smiling enough and they thought it would help.”
Anakin tried to breathe. Not her fault, he reminded himself. “At least they didn’t give you anything worse,” he said.
“Death sticks,” Ryn said gloomily. “But they made you throw up.”
“That’s --” Anakin felt like crying “-- Ryn that’s awful.”
“It wasn’t so bad once they found out I could fight as well as dance,” Ryn said. “They still dumped alcohol in my drinks whenever they get the chance, but they left off the other stuff, and they hassled me about my smile much less. And they let me pick my own cosmetics if we weren’t filming.” She made an odd, uncomfortable little gesture. “Actually, I thought some of those holos turned out pretty good.” Her voice dropped as she looked down at her lap. “I’m sorry you didn’t like them.”
She was being overly dramatic, but Anakin didn’t need the Force to tell him that while she might be sorry, she was also deeply disappointed, and trying -- not very well -- to hide it. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing her hand. “You looked great, Ryn. I should have --” not freaked out “-- should have said.” There. That sounded good.
Ryn shook her head. “It’s okay. You’re not under some obligation to like them just because we’re friends.”
Oh, Ryn. How could she not know she was gorgeous? But that wasn’t quite it, he realized. She didn’t need to know she was beautiful; she needed to know that he thought so.
That, at least, was something he could fix. “You looked amazing,” Anakin said firmly. “I just ... had other things on my mind.” He ran his thumb over her palm again and found a smile, somewhere inside. “Besides, I like you better without all the cosmetics and the fancy costumes. I think you’re beautiful, just the way you are.”
It didn’t make up for his reaction to the holos, and he knew it, but Ryn smiled her appreciation anyway. She’s so easy to please -- so ready to be pleased. She always sees the good in everybody.
“Thanks,” she said, her green eyes twinkling with humor. “I like you, too.”
*~*~*
Ferus left his post by the doorframe as Ryn stood up and hurried back to to his bunk. He slid his partition shut just in time to hear hers opening; Ryn herself made no noise at all, moving about the compartment, but the door did make a soft scraping sound, plastoid-on-plastoid. He listening to it slide shut behind her and then opened his own slightly, giving into an irrational desire to look at the focus of his thoughts.
And found Ryn standing between the bunks, staring down at him with one hand braced on her hip. He glanced up at the door, at her fingers still curling around the handle, and realized she’d slid it twice to make him think she was going back to bed.
Which meant she knew he’d been eavesdropping.
Oh.
In the dim glow of the nightlight, Ferus could see that her eyebrows were raised, her expression expectant, clearly waiting for ... something.
Sorry,” Ferus whispered.
“Why did you do it?” Ryn asked, her voice equally soft.
Because he was jealous. Because he wanted to know what friendship looked like. Because he had no idea what it would mean to be that close to another being. “I don’t know.”
But Ryn must have sensed what he couldn’t say, because something flickered in her eyes and her expression softened, just a little. “We are not done discussing this,” she warned him, and slid back the door to her bunk, climbing in for real this time.
Ferus swallowed. “Okay,” he whispered, and watched the flimsy door slam shut.