FLAWED 13/43 PG-13: Anakin, Obi-Wan, Others
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.
Author's note: I almost deleted this chapter for the lj repost ... I was never really happy with it ... but in the end I didn't have any better ideas. Here it is, in all its over-angsty glory. Try to remember they're teens.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ferus Olin watched Evinne Ardel hit on him with bemused detachment, trying to figure out what her game was. He didn’t think she expected him to respond -- he’d heard her promise Ryn that she wouldn’t try to seduce any Padawans, so unless she had somehow persuaded Ryn to release her from that pledge -- unlikely -- she probably wasn’t trying to steer him toward a night of sweaty fun.
Ferus shook his head and tried to steer his own mind away from sweaty fun. If he just kept nodding and listening, she was bound to get to the point eventually. In the meantime, while he wasn’t used to the invasion of personal space that Evinne’s tendency to drape herself on him represented, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience in itself. It also wasn’t something that was likely to happen to him often -- the life of a Jedi being what it was -- so for the moment, it seemed reasonable to simply wait and enjoy the moment.
Then he felt a disturbance -- a slight shift in the energy of the room -- and looked up to see Anakin and Ryn headed in his direction, looking purposeful.
Uh-oh. Ferus doubted that Ryn was going to be impressed by the older girl’s loose interpretation of their agreement to stay away from Padawans, and Skywalker ... well, Skywalker was a loose canon. Who knew how he was going to react?
Trouble loomed darkly just this side of the horizon -- but fast approaching -- as Ferus tried (without noticeable success) to disentangle himself from Evinne’s gentle but surprisingly difficult-to-evade clutches.
“Evinne,” Ryn said, her voice tight. “Didn’t we talk about this? Padawans are off-limits. So go crawl all over Obi-Wan.” She frowned as an alternative possibility evidently struck her. “Or Siri.”
Siri? Ferus thought, disturbed by the image. That wasn’t going to go well. He looked at Anakin for help, but Anakin was hanging back, hovering with his arms folded behind Ryn’s shoulder, apparently willing to let her take the lead. That seemed a little out of character, to Ferus -- he had butted heads with the Chosen One enough times to know that Anakin Skywalker didn’t follow easily. Well, maybe he followed Master Kenobi; but it wasn’t like he had a choice there. This thing with Ryn was harder to figure out.
Ferus didn’t have much time to think about it, anyway, because the situation was rapidly deteriorating.
“Looks like Padawans for you,” Evinne said easily, raking an assessing stare over Anakin. “Or was I wrong about your motivations for wearing the kyril?”
Ryn’s outfit? Ferus frowned at her, trying to find something provocative in her choice of clothes, but except for a small slice of bare skin at the waist, she was pretty well covered up. The clothes were more feminine than anything he’d seen her wear so far, but they were hardly indecent.
He was distracted from his study by the fact that he could practically hear Ryn grinding her teeth. “You were misguided,” she said to Evinne. “I am not going to seduce anybody, least of all a Jedi Padawan.”
“Oh, so you don’t want to sleep with Skywalker,” Evinne said. In contrast to Ryn, she seemed to feel pretty cheerful about the conversation they were having. In fact, Ferus was almost certain that she was baiting Ryn, and enjoying it ... but why, he couldn’t guess.
Or maybe she was just enjoying the look on Ryn’s face.
The younger Lorethan’s mouth worked for a moment, emitting strange croaking sounds. Ferus thought for a minute that she was trying to deny Evinne’s suggestion -- not that it would do her much good, as probably no one would believe it -- but then she finally managed to speak, in a strangled little voice that did not sound at all like her usual husky tones. “What I want is irrelevant,” she said, gaining a little firmness as she went on. “I am not trying to seduce anyone.” When Evinne raised her eyebrows, she added, “I swear.” Taking a deep breath, she soldiered on. “Evinne, you have to understand. Jedi in general are not very comfortable with the sort of thing you’re doing, all that touching and teasing. Master Tachi may not take it very well when she finds you canoodling with Ferus. We are outsiders here. We have to adapt to the customs of the Jedi.”
“Oh, come on,” Evinne said, wrapping one arm around Ferus’s shoulders and sliding the other hand down his chest. It would have felt good, except that his Bad Feeling was growing at an alarming rate. “I’ve seen the way you look at Skywalker. You can’t tell me you don’t want him to take you to bed. Tonight, if possible.” Ryn’s pale skin turned vermillion at the thought, but her emotions were such a tangle that Ferus couldn’t tell whether her cheeks were stained with embarrassment, anger, or desire. “Or better yet -- since we already know you do want him -- are you suggesting that you would say no, given the opportunity?”
“I --” Ryn began uncomfortably, looking desperate.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Evinne said. Her Force presence carried a gleam of triumph that didn’t seem to match the situation, but Ferus couldn’t figure out why. “So how is that any different from what I’m doing?” she went on. Ferus thought she might be trying to sound innocent, but it was hard to be sure. She was back to stroking his chest, but Ferus had long since given up the delusion that this had anything to do with him. “We both want to spend some time with an attractive young man, don’t we?” Evinne was saying now. “Why should it be good for you, and bad for me? What’s the difference?”
“Love,” Ryn said, fairly spitting now. Bright spots of color burned in her cheeks, and her eyes looked almost feverish. “Love is the difference. Because falling in love is a far cry from using another being for your own selfish --”
“Aha!” Evinne exclaimed, pouncing like a cat on its prey, and Ryn broke off, presumably as baffled by her friend’s reaction as Ferus was.
“What?” she said, startled, and Evinne straightened away from Ferus with a last pat, looking smug.
This can’t be good.
“There you go,” Evinne said blithely. “Now your true feelings are out in the open. I knew if I just gave you a little push --”
“A little push?” Ryn demanded, plainly aghast. Ferus didn’t dare look at Anakin to see how he was taking this. “What the hell is wrong with you? Half the Temple knows my true feelings. If they were any more clear, they’d be on a HoloNet banner. What in the blazes made you think this was a good idea?”
Ferus had heard of teenage girls going into hysterics, but life in the Jedi Temple had never given him much of an opportunity to learn what that meant. His bad feeling was now quickly solidifying into a dark suspicion that he was about to witness just such a meltdown firsthand. And it was worse because it was Ryn, and he’d never seen her flustered. Not even when she’d been poisoned. Not even when they were escaping Ziro the Hutt’s palace. Nothing shook her -- except, apparently, this.
“Ryn,” he said uncertainly, reaching for her arm, “maybe if we all just calm down ...”
Ryn whirled on him, burning with pain and fury. “No!” she spat. “I’ve had enough! Every woman has her limit, and this is mine.” She heaved a deep breath, giving Ferus a glimpse of her modest cleavage that he would have appreciated more if she hadn’t been so upset, and turned back to Evinne. Her voice was a little steadier, so maybe she was calming down, at least a little. “A poet once said that unrequited love is a special kind of hell. He was wrong. A special kind of hell is when everyone knows. The Younglings whisper about it, Evinne. You haven’t known true humiliation until your love life is such an obvious disaster that Yoda offers you his sympathy.” Another deep breath, tears spilling over onto her paling cheeks, and then she whispered something in a language that Ferus didn’t recognize, but Evinne must have understood, because the older girl reached out and tried to draw Ryn into a hug.
Ryn shook her off, but there wasn’t much force behind it, and she wasn’t radiating anger any more. “I can’t,” she said softly, though what it was she couldn’t do, Ferus didn’t know. “And you owe Ferus an apology.” She lowered her head and walked away, leaving a moment of aching silence in her wake.
Anakin spoke first. “What was in those painkillers?” he asked Evinne.
Evinne looked guilty. “Not much. She really did need something for her head. I just thought, if I could get her to loosen up a little ... she’d tell you how she felt, and then the two of you could ... work it out.”
“I’m a Jedi,” Anakin bit out, clearly frustrated by Evinne’s determined ignoring of the Code. “And Ryn is my friend.”
Ferus wasn’t sure what exactly that meant to him, but it made Evinne wince, even more guiltily.
“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry, Sky -- Anakin. Really sorry. I screwed everything up, I know I did. It just ... seemed so simple. I mean, what man could resist being wanted like that?” She gave him a look, faintly tinged with exasperation despite her obvious contrition. “Besides you, that is.”
Anakin closed his eyes, and for a moment Ferus felt sorry for him. He’d just been put in a very awkward position, after all. “I don’t think I’m following you,” he said, opening his eyes and refocusing them on Evinne. “How did you think attacking Ferus was going to help with your matchmaking plans?”
Evinne shrugged. “I figured Ryn would come and rescue him,” she said, as though it were obvious. “And since the two of you are inseparable, you’d be there for the compare-and-contrast exercise, so you’d hear her declare her feelings.” She brightened marginally. “And it did work, at least that part did.”
Anakin shook his head, disgusted. “Right. I’m going to go check on Ryn and make sure she’s not dying of a drug overdose from whatever you gave her. Try not to have any more bright ideas tonight, okay?”
Evinne sighed as she watched him leave. “Well, they’re ending up together, sort of.” She looked over at Ferus, still watching her with what he was sure was an expression of total confusion. “Sorry about all that, Olin. At least it was in a good cause.”
“Sure,” Ferus agreed. “Your altruism is undermined only by the fact that its object fled the scene in tears.”
Evinne flinched, and for a second Ferus caught a glimpse of real chagrin. “I know,” she admitted miserably. She pushed golden hair back from her face with a hand that, for the first time since he’d known her, wasn’t quite steady. “I really kriffed this one. Force, Shorty’s never going to forgive me. Skywalker might be a lost cause, too.”
“Well, he is a Jedi,” Ferus reminded her. “They probably weren’t destined for a happy ending.”
Evinne sighed, looking suddenly older, even though she must have been about his age. “Maybe none of us are.” Her gaze drifted to Terch, who was trying ineffectually to flirt with Siri. “It’s a tough galaxy out there.”
*~*~*
Ryn slammed the ‘fresher door shut behind her and dropped to the floor beside the white-tiled bathtub. Tears leaked silently down her cheeks, but she felt too exhausted to give herself over to what her mother -- when she was alive, a lifetime ago -- would have called “a good cry.” Crying wouldn’t fix this, anyway. The tears would run out, eventually -- there were physiological reasons for that, as if anyone cared -- and the pain and the sick feeling of humiliation would still be there.
If she was being honest -- and she was trying -- it wasn’t entirely Evinne’s fault. Evinne’s plan had been ill-conceived, but well-intentioned; and nobody had forced Ryn to fly into a rage, or to say things aloud that were best left silent. No, Ryn did that all on her own.
She wasn’t sure exactly why it was so much worse this time. She and Anakin had skirted the issue of her feelings for him countless times before, sometimes with more grace than others. She’d told him she loved him; they’d even talked, often uncomfortably -- especially if Obi-Wan was probing -- about her feelings of attraction. But somehow that had been different. Until now, she’d never asked for anything. (In fact, she’d told him in the Temple gardens that she never would.) Until now, somehow, she’d always had her pride. They both knew what she felt and what he didn’t, and while they weren’t hiding from that knowledge, they had tried hard to work around it, and mostly they had done well enough. Their friendship was more important, to both of them.
Of course, until now, I never had to discuss my damn feelings under the influence of these blasted kriffing painkillers, Ryn thought, with an irrational bitterness toward the pills that had been making her head spin for the last hour and even more toward the woman who had given them to her.
That’s not fair, she admitted miserably. Evinne had an awfully skewed picture of how to do it, but she really was just trying to help. Damn it.
Someone tapped on the door and called her name softly, and Ryn could sense that it was the last person she wanted to see right now. She buried her face in her knees, curled to her chest, and waited for him to leave.
*~*~*
Anakin wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, but he was positive he didn’t like it.
He had tracked Ryn down in the ‘fresher by her Force signature, and when she refused to answer his quiet “Ryn?” he’d taken a chance and slid the door open anyway, seized with the fear of every story he ever heard about accidental drug overdoses.
He’d found her sitting in the floor with her back against the side of the tub and her arms wrapped around she updrawn knees, and when the door opened she’d leaned over and buried her face in the folds of her skirt, leaking misery like tears into the Force.
“Hey,” he said, gently.
“Go away,” Ryn answered, her voice muffled by the skirt.
Anakin stepped inside and let the door slide shut behind him as he dropped to sit next to Ryn on the cold white tile. “What was that? Come in? Okay, sure.”
Ryn still wouldn’t look at him.
Anakin had the dismal feeling that he was ill-equipped to handle this situation, but he had to try.
“Are you okay?” he asked now, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.
“No,” Ryn said, still talking into her skirt. “I’m embarrassed beyond belief.”
Embarrassed? “I thought you were angry,” Anakin said, baffled.
“I was angry,” Ryn admitted, finally lifting her tearful gaze. “Then I realized it was all my fault, for overreacting.” She wiped her nose on the back of her hand, not the most attractive thing Anakin had ever seen, but sort of endearing in its total lack of self-consciousness. “I mean, if you look at it the right way, Evinne’s idea of matchmaking is pretty funny.”
Anakin must have been looking at it the wrong way, because he didn’t quite see the joke, but it had earned a watery smile from Ryn, so he wasn’t going to argue. “I don’t know whether you overreacted back there,” he said carefully. Probably because I’m not really clear on what that was all about. Something about her skirt ... I think? “But I’m pretty sure you’re overreacting now. There’s no need to feel embarrassed.”
Evidently that was the wrong thing to say, because Ryn’s tears returned in full force and she pressed her face back into her knees.
What? What did I say?
Because of interference from the skirt, it took Anakin a few tries to get what she was saying. “Wait -- what? No! Hold on. Ryn. I’m not ... I’m not mad at you. Listen to me. It is not your fault. That wasn’t you. That was the painkillers talking. Evinne gave you something that she knew would loosen you up -- she said so, she admitted it -- and you weren’t thinking clearly.”
“But it was me, Anakin!” Ryn wailed, lifting her face again and looking at him with misery in her eyes. “I mean, it was me on drugs -- evidently more than I knew -- but it was still me. Nobody made me say those things. Nobody could. I did this.”
“I think you might be missing the point here,” Anakin said. Keeping up with this conversation is like trying to find your way in a sandstorm. Every time he thought he knew what they were talking about, the topic shifted without warning and he found himself floundering through uncharted territory. “Your friend drugged you. You’ve got a right to be upset.”
“I can’t blame anyone else for my problems,” Ryn insisted stubbornly; but under the circumstances, Anakin thought that might be taking personal responsibility a little too far. “I’m such a fool. You’re the last person I want to see right now, I can’t believe you’re even talking to me, Evinne said I was trying to seduce you, but I wouldn’t -- Anakin, I would never -- except it’s all true, I do want you, and I know I shouldn’t, you’re my best friend, I feel so awful for even thinking that way, and I can’t -- I can’t ...” Her torrent of words trailed off into incoherent sobbing and snuffling sounds, which was bad because Ryn was crying, but also a relief because Anakin had never felt so overwhelmed by a stream of words in his life. He’d pretty much been lost since blame anyone else.
“Uh,” he said, patting her shoulder ineffectually as he stalled for time, trying to figure out what the gist of her speech might have been. He was pretty sure she’d said something about him not talking to her anymore, which was absurd, but she seemed to be worried that she’d wronged him somehow, as though the news that she was in love with him -- not much of a revelation, really, given their history together; if she thought he hadn’t noticed that, she must think he was dumb as dirt and twice as dull -- might somehow be so devastating that it would drive him to sever their friendship.
Okay. How about this? “Ryn, hang -- just hang on a minute.” He turned her to face him, wiping the tears awkwardly from her cheeks with his fingers as her sobs quieted, waiting for whatever he had to say.
Get this right, Skywalker. She needs you.
“Do you remember how you told me once that you would love me and be my friend forever, and never ask for anything in return? That it was your choice to make, and no one could stop you?” Ryn nodded slowly. Such a gift, to a Jedi. Just for that, I’ll owe you forever. “At the time, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think I could make you the same promise, because of the Code ...”
“Jedi. Attachment,” Ryn said tersely. “I remember.”
“Right. But now there is something I can give you. A promise of my own.” He took her hand in his, threading their fingers together. “You’ve never going to drive me away, Ryn. Not even if you tried. You can’t scare me off, no matter what. Not today, not ever. I promise.” He grinned and squeezed her hand, trying to get a smile out of her. “Not even if you love me way too much.”
Ryn sniffled, but she was smiling through the tears, and Anakin could feel the tight knot of misery inside her beginning to dissolve. “You’re awful,” she said, but there was no bite in her voice.
“See, that’s one of the things you can say to me that won’t make any difference,” Anakin said cheerfully. “I’ll still be here.”
“You make it sound like a threat,” Ryn pointed out.
“Aggressive negotiations.” Anakin stood up, hauling Ryn to her feet with him. “Come on. You need to sleep off those painkillers. And the headache. We’ve got a galaxy to save tomorrow.”
“No pressure, then,” Ryn said. But she didn’t protest when Anakin swept an arm behind her knees and lifted her into his arms, cradling her gently as he hit the stairs to the sleeping quarters.
She was half-asleep when he laid her down on the bed -- the one Evinne had assigned to him, since he had no idea where Ryn’s might be. “Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?”
Ryn shook her head drowsily. “No, I want you to go find out what’s going on with the local update to the mission briefing and make sure Evinne isn’t torturing Ferus.” She blinked at him. “Really. What the hell was she thinking?”
Anakin smiled down at her and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. “I think she’s just crazy, but you can try to figure her out tomorrow if you want to.”
“Tomorrow we have to go be heroes,” she reminded him.
He touched her tear-stained cheek with the backs of his fingers. “After we save the galaxy, then.”
“Never a dull moment,” Ryn murmured, and closed her eyes.
Anakin watched her for a moment as she drifted off to sleep, exhausted by emotional upheavals, a firefight, and a couple of nights without sleep. And too many painkillers, don’t forget that. He’d sort out the local brief, and he’d learn what he could about the political situation on Borsana Prime -- which was definitely tangled up with the problems in her erstwhile colonies -- but first, he had a bone to pick with Evinne Ardel.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.
Author's note: I almost deleted this chapter for the lj repost ... I was never really happy with it ... but in the end I didn't have any better ideas. Here it is, in all its over-angsty glory. Try to remember they're teens.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ferus Olin watched Evinne Ardel hit on him with bemused detachment, trying to figure out what her game was. He didn’t think she expected him to respond -- he’d heard her promise Ryn that she wouldn’t try to seduce any Padawans, so unless she had somehow persuaded Ryn to release her from that pledge -- unlikely -- she probably wasn’t trying to steer him toward a night of sweaty fun.
Ferus shook his head and tried to steer his own mind away from sweaty fun. If he just kept nodding and listening, she was bound to get to the point eventually. In the meantime, while he wasn’t used to the invasion of personal space that Evinne’s tendency to drape herself on him represented, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience in itself. It also wasn’t something that was likely to happen to him often -- the life of a Jedi being what it was -- so for the moment, it seemed reasonable to simply wait and enjoy the moment.
Then he felt a disturbance -- a slight shift in the energy of the room -- and looked up to see Anakin and Ryn headed in his direction, looking purposeful.
Uh-oh. Ferus doubted that Ryn was going to be impressed by the older girl’s loose interpretation of their agreement to stay away from Padawans, and Skywalker ... well, Skywalker was a loose canon. Who knew how he was going to react?
Trouble loomed darkly just this side of the horizon -- but fast approaching -- as Ferus tried (without noticeable success) to disentangle himself from Evinne’s gentle but surprisingly difficult-to-evade clutches.
“Evinne,” Ryn said, her voice tight. “Didn’t we talk about this? Padawans are off-limits. So go crawl all over Obi-Wan.” She frowned as an alternative possibility evidently struck her. “Or Siri.”
Siri? Ferus thought, disturbed by the image. That wasn’t going to go well. He looked at Anakin for help, but Anakin was hanging back, hovering with his arms folded behind Ryn’s shoulder, apparently willing to let her take the lead. That seemed a little out of character, to Ferus -- he had butted heads with the Chosen One enough times to know that Anakin Skywalker didn’t follow easily. Well, maybe he followed Master Kenobi; but it wasn’t like he had a choice there. This thing with Ryn was harder to figure out.
Ferus didn’t have much time to think about it, anyway, because the situation was rapidly deteriorating.
“Looks like Padawans for you,” Evinne said easily, raking an assessing stare over Anakin. “Or was I wrong about your motivations for wearing the kyril?”
Ryn’s outfit? Ferus frowned at her, trying to find something provocative in her choice of clothes, but except for a small slice of bare skin at the waist, she was pretty well covered up. The clothes were more feminine than anything he’d seen her wear so far, but they were hardly indecent.
He was distracted from his study by the fact that he could practically hear Ryn grinding her teeth. “You were misguided,” she said to Evinne. “I am not going to seduce anybody, least of all a Jedi Padawan.”
“Oh, so you don’t want to sleep with Skywalker,” Evinne said. In contrast to Ryn, she seemed to feel pretty cheerful about the conversation they were having. In fact, Ferus was almost certain that she was baiting Ryn, and enjoying it ... but why, he couldn’t guess.
Or maybe she was just enjoying the look on Ryn’s face.
The younger Lorethan’s mouth worked for a moment, emitting strange croaking sounds. Ferus thought for a minute that she was trying to deny Evinne’s suggestion -- not that it would do her much good, as probably no one would believe it -- but then she finally managed to speak, in a strangled little voice that did not sound at all like her usual husky tones. “What I want is irrelevant,” she said, gaining a little firmness as she went on. “I am not trying to seduce anyone.” When Evinne raised her eyebrows, she added, “I swear.” Taking a deep breath, she soldiered on. “Evinne, you have to understand. Jedi in general are not very comfortable with the sort of thing you’re doing, all that touching and teasing. Master Tachi may not take it very well when she finds you canoodling with Ferus. We are outsiders here. We have to adapt to the customs of the Jedi.”
“Oh, come on,” Evinne said, wrapping one arm around Ferus’s shoulders and sliding the other hand down his chest. It would have felt good, except that his Bad Feeling was growing at an alarming rate. “I’ve seen the way you look at Skywalker. You can’t tell me you don’t want him to take you to bed. Tonight, if possible.” Ryn’s pale skin turned vermillion at the thought, but her emotions were such a tangle that Ferus couldn’t tell whether her cheeks were stained with embarrassment, anger, or desire. “Or better yet -- since we already know you do want him -- are you suggesting that you would say no, given the opportunity?”
“I --” Ryn began uncomfortably, looking desperate.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Evinne said. Her Force presence carried a gleam of triumph that didn’t seem to match the situation, but Ferus couldn’t figure out why. “So how is that any different from what I’m doing?” she went on. Ferus thought she might be trying to sound innocent, but it was hard to be sure. She was back to stroking his chest, but Ferus had long since given up the delusion that this had anything to do with him. “We both want to spend some time with an attractive young man, don’t we?” Evinne was saying now. “Why should it be good for you, and bad for me? What’s the difference?”
“Love,” Ryn said, fairly spitting now. Bright spots of color burned in her cheeks, and her eyes looked almost feverish. “Love is the difference. Because falling in love is a far cry from using another being for your own selfish --”
“Aha!” Evinne exclaimed, pouncing like a cat on its prey, and Ryn broke off, presumably as baffled by her friend’s reaction as Ferus was.
“What?” she said, startled, and Evinne straightened away from Ferus with a last pat, looking smug.
This can’t be good.
“There you go,” Evinne said blithely. “Now your true feelings are out in the open. I knew if I just gave you a little push --”
“A little push?” Ryn demanded, plainly aghast. Ferus didn’t dare look at Anakin to see how he was taking this. “What the hell is wrong with you? Half the Temple knows my true feelings. If they were any more clear, they’d be on a HoloNet banner. What in the blazes made you think this was a good idea?”
Ferus had heard of teenage girls going into hysterics, but life in the Jedi Temple had never given him much of an opportunity to learn what that meant. His bad feeling was now quickly solidifying into a dark suspicion that he was about to witness just such a meltdown firsthand. And it was worse because it was Ryn, and he’d never seen her flustered. Not even when she’d been poisoned. Not even when they were escaping Ziro the Hutt’s palace. Nothing shook her -- except, apparently, this.
“Ryn,” he said uncertainly, reaching for her arm, “maybe if we all just calm down ...”
Ryn whirled on him, burning with pain and fury. “No!” she spat. “I’ve had enough! Every woman has her limit, and this is mine.” She heaved a deep breath, giving Ferus a glimpse of her modest cleavage that he would have appreciated more if she hadn’t been so upset, and turned back to Evinne. Her voice was a little steadier, so maybe she was calming down, at least a little. “A poet once said that unrequited love is a special kind of hell. He was wrong. A special kind of hell is when everyone knows. The Younglings whisper about it, Evinne. You haven’t known true humiliation until your love life is such an obvious disaster that Yoda offers you his sympathy.” Another deep breath, tears spilling over onto her paling cheeks, and then she whispered something in a language that Ferus didn’t recognize, but Evinne must have understood, because the older girl reached out and tried to draw Ryn into a hug.
Ryn shook her off, but there wasn’t much force behind it, and she wasn’t radiating anger any more. “I can’t,” she said softly, though what it was she couldn’t do, Ferus didn’t know. “And you owe Ferus an apology.” She lowered her head and walked away, leaving a moment of aching silence in her wake.
Anakin spoke first. “What was in those painkillers?” he asked Evinne.
Evinne looked guilty. “Not much. She really did need something for her head. I just thought, if I could get her to loosen up a little ... she’d tell you how she felt, and then the two of you could ... work it out.”
“I’m a Jedi,” Anakin bit out, clearly frustrated by Evinne’s determined ignoring of the Code. “And Ryn is my friend.”
Ferus wasn’t sure what exactly that meant to him, but it made Evinne wince, even more guiltily.
“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry, Sky -- Anakin. Really sorry. I screwed everything up, I know I did. It just ... seemed so simple. I mean, what man could resist being wanted like that?” She gave him a look, faintly tinged with exasperation despite her obvious contrition. “Besides you, that is.”
Anakin closed his eyes, and for a moment Ferus felt sorry for him. He’d just been put in a very awkward position, after all. “I don’t think I’m following you,” he said, opening his eyes and refocusing them on Evinne. “How did you think attacking Ferus was going to help with your matchmaking plans?”
Evinne shrugged. “I figured Ryn would come and rescue him,” she said, as though it were obvious. “And since the two of you are inseparable, you’d be there for the compare-and-contrast exercise, so you’d hear her declare her feelings.” She brightened marginally. “And it did work, at least that part did.”
Anakin shook his head, disgusted. “Right. I’m going to go check on Ryn and make sure she’s not dying of a drug overdose from whatever you gave her. Try not to have any more bright ideas tonight, okay?”
Evinne sighed as she watched him leave. “Well, they’re ending up together, sort of.” She looked over at Ferus, still watching her with what he was sure was an expression of total confusion. “Sorry about all that, Olin. At least it was in a good cause.”
“Sure,” Ferus agreed. “Your altruism is undermined only by the fact that its object fled the scene in tears.”
Evinne flinched, and for a second Ferus caught a glimpse of real chagrin. “I know,” she admitted miserably. She pushed golden hair back from her face with a hand that, for the first time since he’d known her, wasn’t quite steady. “I really kriffed this one. Force, Shorty’s never going to forgive me. Skywalker might be a lost cause, too.”
“Well, he is a Jedi,” Ferus reminded her. “They probably weren’t destined for a happy ending.”
Evinne sighed, looking suddenly older, even though she must have been about his age. “Maybe none of us are.” Her gaze drifted to Terch, who was trying ineffectually to flirt with Siri. “It’s a tough galaxy out there.”
*~*~*
Ryn slammed the ‘fresher door shut behind her and dropped to the floor beside the white-tiled bathtub. Tears leaked silently down her cheeks, but she felt too exhausted to give herself over to what her mother -- when she was alive, a lifetime ago -- would have called “a good cry.” Crying wouldn’t fix this, anyway. The tears would run out, eventually -- there were physiological reasons for that, as if anyone cared -- and the pain and the sick feeling of humiliation would still be there.
If she was being honest -- and she was trying -- it wasn’t entirely Evinne’s fault. Evinne’s plan had been ill-conceived, but well-intentioned; and nobody had forced Ryn to fly into a rage, or to say things aloud that were best left silent. No, Ryn did that all on her own.
She wasn’t sure exactly why it was so much worse this time. She and Anakin had skirted the issue of her feelings for him countless times before, sometimes with more grace than others. She’d told him she loved him; they’d even talked, often uncomfortably -- especially if Obi-Wan was probing -- about her feelings of attraction. But somehow that had been different. Until now, she’d never asked for anything. (In fact, she’d told him in the Temple gardens that she never would.) Until now, somehow, she’d always had her pride. They both knew what she felt and what he didn’t, and while they weren’t hiding from that knowledge, they had tried hard to work around it, and mostly they had done well enough. Their friendship was more important, to both of them.
Of course, until now, I never had to discuss my damn feelings under the influence of these blasted kriffing painkillers, Ryn thought, with an irrational bitterness toward the pills that had been making her head spin for the last hour and even more toward the woman who had given them to her.
That’s not fair, she admitted miserably. Evinne had an awfully skewed picture of how to do it, but she really was just trying to help. Damn it.
Someone tapped on the door and called her name softly, and Ryn could sense that it was the last person she wanted to see right now. She buried her face in her knees, curled to her chest, and waited for him to leave.
*~*~*
Anakin wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, but he was positive he didn’t like it.
He had tracked Ryn down in the ‘fresher by her Force signature, and when she refused to answer his quiet “Ryn?” he’d taken a chance and slid the door open anyway, seized with the fear of every story he ever heard about accidental drug overdoses.
He’d found her sitting in the floor with her back against the side of the tub and her arms wrapped around she updrawn knees, and when the door opened she’d leaned over and buried her face in the folds of her skirt, leaking misery like tears into the Force.
“Hey,” he said, gently.
“Go away,” Ryn answered, her voice muffled by the skirt.
Anakin stepped inside and let the door slide shut behind him as he dropped to sit next to Ryn on the cold white tile. “What was that? Come in? Okay, sure.”
Ryn still wouldn’t look at him.
Anakin had the dismal feeling that he was ill-equipped to handle this situation, but he had to try.
“Are you okay?” he asked now, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.
“No,” Ryn said, still talking into her skirt. “I’m embarrassed beyond belief.”
Embarrassed? “I thought you were angry,” Anakin said, baffled.
“I was angry,” Ryn admitted, finally lifting her tearful gaze. “Then I realized it was all my fault, for overreacting.” She wiped her nose on the back of her hand, not the most attractive thing Anakin had ever seen, but sort of endearing in its total lack of self-consciousness. “I mean, if you look at it the right way, Evinne’s idea of matchmaking is pretty funny.”
Anakin must have been looking at it the wrong way, because he didn’t quite see the joke, but it had earned a watery smile from Ryn, so he wasn’t going to argue. “I don’t know whether you overreacted back there,” he said carefully. Probably because I’m not really clear on what that was all about. Something about her skirt ... I think? “But I’m pretty sure you’re overreacting now. There’s no need to feel embarrassed.”
Evidently that was the wrong thing to say, because Ryn’s tears returned in full force and she pressed her face back into her knees.
What? What did I say?
Because of interference from the skirt, it took Anakin a few tries to get what she was saying. “Wait -- what? No! Hold on. Ryn. I’m not ... I’m not mad at you. Listen to me. It is not your fault. That wasn’t you. That was the painkillers talking. Evinne gave you something that she knew would loosen you up -- she said so, she admitted it -- and you weren’t thinking clearly.”
“But it was me, Anakin!” Ryn wailed, lifting her face again and looking at him with misery in her eyes. “I mean, it was me on drugs -- evidently more than I knew -- but it was still me. Nobody made me say those things. Nobody could. I did this.”
“I think you might be missing the point here,” Anakin said. Keeping up with this conversation is like trying to find your way in a sandstorm. Every time he thought he knew what they were talking about, the topic shifted without warning and he found himself floundering through uncharted territory. “Your friend drugged you. You’ve got a right to be upset.”
“I can’t blame anyone else for my problems,” Ryn insisted stubbornly; but under the circumstances, Anakin thought that might be taking personal responsibility a little too far. “I’m such a fool. You’re the last person I want to see right now, I can’t believe you’re even talking to me, Evinne said I was trying to seduce you, but I wouldn’t -- Anakin, I would never -- except it’s all true, I do want you, and I know I shouldn’t, you’re my best friend, I feel so awful for even thinking that way, and I can’t -- I can’t ...” Her torrent of words trailed off into incoherent sobbing and snuffling sounds, which was bad because Ryn was crying, but also a relief because Anakin had never felt so overwhelmed by a stream of words in his life. He’d pretty much been lost since blame anyone else.
“Uh,” he said, patting her shoulder ineffectually as he stalled for time, trying to figure out what the gist of her speech might have been. He was pretty sure she’d said something about him not talking to her anymore, which was absurd, but she seemed to be worried that she’d wronged him somehow, as though the news that she was in love with him -- not much of a revelation, really, given their history together; if she thought he hadn’t noticed that, she must think he was dumb as dirt and twice as dull -- might somehow be so devastating that it would drive him to sever their friendship.
Okay. How about this? “Ryn, hang -- just hang on a minute.” He turned her to face him, wiping the tears awkwardly from her cheeks with his fingers as her sobs quieted, waiting for whatever he had to say.
Get this right, Skywalker. She needs you.
“Do you remember how you told me once that you would love me and be my friend forever, and never ask for anything in return? That it was your choice to make, and no one could stop you?” Ryn nodded slowly. Such a gift, to a Jedi. Just for that, I’ll owe you forever. “At the time, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think I could make you the same promise, because of the Code ...”
“Jedi. Attachment,” Ryn said tersely. “I remember.”
“Right. But now there is something I can give you. A promise of my own.” He took her hand in his, threading their fingers together. “You’ve never going to drive me away, Ryn. Not even if you tried. You can’t scare me off, no matter what. Not today, not ever. I promise.” He grinned and squeezed her hand, trying to get a smile out of her. “Not even if you love me way too much.”
Ryn sniffled, but she was smiling through the tears, and Anakin could feel the tight knot of misery inside her beginning to dissolve. “You’re awful,” she said, but there was no bite in her voice.
“See, that’s one of the things you can say to me that won’t make any difference,” Anakin said cheerfully. “I’ll still be here.”
“You make it sound like a threat,” Ryn pointed out.
“Aggressive negotiations.” Anakin stood up, hauling Ryn to her feet with him. “Come on. You need to sleep off those painkillers. And the headache. We’ve got a galaxy to save tomorrow.”
“No pressure, then,” Ryn said. But she didn’t protest when Anakin swept an arm behind her knees and lifted her into his arms, cradling her gently as he hit the stairs to the sleeping quarters.
She was half-asleep when he laid her down on the bed -- the one Evinne had assigned to him, since he had no idea where Ryn’s might be. “Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?”
Ryn shook her head drowsily. “No, I want you to go find out what’s going on with the local update to the mission briefing and make sure Evinne isn’t torturing Ferus.” She blinked at him. “Really. What the hell was she thinking?”
Anakin smiled down at her and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. “I think she’s just crazy, but you can try to figure her out tomorrow if you want to.”
“Tomorrow we have to go be heroes,” she reminded him.
He touched her tear-stained cheek with the backs of his fingers. “After we save the galaxy, then.”
“Never a dull moment,” Ryn murmured, and closed her eyes.
Anakin watched her for a moment as she drifted off to sleep, exhausted by emotional upheavals, a firefight, and a couple of nights without sleep. And too many painkillers, don’t forget that. He’d sort out the local brief, and he’d learn what he could about the political situation on Borsana Prime -- which was definitely tangled up with the problems in her erstwhile colonies -- but first, he had a bone to pick with Evinne Ardel.