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The lights of the seedy bars in the lower levels of Coruscant flickered intermittently in the solemn darkness. She dared to pause to stare at her reflection in the grimy windows. Beneath the hood of her dark cloak, her white markings contrasted starkly to her burned orange skin. She shook her head, reminding herself to stay focused on the mission. It was a kill-or-be-killed world (and she was not even sixteen). She slipped through alleyways until she reached her position. A ledge crammed between two buildings. Their objective was a nondescript building reported to have a fence around it, illegal… things. A little bit of Force-supported acrobatics, and she settled into a crouch to wait. She checked the time on her wrist comm – it’d be a while before the fun part begins. Careful to keep her wrist comm out of public view, she turned on the holoprojector to see a blinking dot on a rudimentary map. (A fun little feature installed by her master, who was currently represented by the blinking dot). She smiled ever so slightly as the luminescent dot appeared to dance in the empty darkness until it remained stationary. The holoprojector flickered off, and she slipped into a light meditative state. Her battle mode. The Force whispered the presence of only her master and nothing else. Then, with a silent battle cry, the two Jedi sprang into action.
Several hours later, the pair slipped away from the raucous mess they made of the illicit warehouse for the other Jedi and the planet’s peacemakers to clean up. Of course, it was not that simple as slipping away. It always included being followed by someone or something. A nod betwixt the two, and they separated to find their way back to the Temple on their own.
Not surprisingly, she made it back before him. Subtly was never his strength – and he always made a stop on his way. The blinking dot resting over the Senator’s residence was proof of it. After a shower and a change into clean clothes, she sighed as she landed heavily on his bed. Sure, she had her own room, but she liked his better. No matter how many times the cleaning droids cleaned his room, they never could get rid of his scent. A strange mix of engine oil, salt, and spice. To most, it was probably not the most pleasant of odors, but to her, it had grown to be rather comforting. Her stomach protested its emptiness, but she ignored it. (The Temple cooks usually didn’t serve the foods with all the right nutrients for her species.) Instead, she gave in to the heaviness of her tired limbs and drifted off to the dreamworld.
Her wrist comm buzzed incessantly, pulling her from her slumber. She groggily tapped a few buttons, and the holoprojector appeared. This time, it showed her master, who looked rather frazzled. If that was the right word.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, the concern leaking heavily in his tone. “I’ve been up and down Coruscant.”
“Apparently, your rendezvous point was not the same as mine,” she answered peevishly as she got up to check the day’s menu for the Temple on a data pad. “Where have you been?”
“Looking for you,” was the reply. A lie, they both knew (but he didn’t know that she knew). He could have checked her location just as well as she could him.
She only shrugged in response. “Since you’re still out, could you pick something up for me to eat?” She cut their connection before he could answer. She knew he’d do that for her. And this was their…tradition whenever they were on Coruscant. They’d get a planet-side mission that always starts as simple, blow up in some way (totally because her master, and not her), and them in two different locations at the end. Her always waiting, him always wandering.
Several months later, something happened. He was quiet. It was not the silence of someone who was exhausted to the very dregs of his being, but of one who would explode if a word passed his lips. They were back on the planet, and of course they received an order to provide surveillance support. She was fully prepared to jump in because that’s what she and her master always did.
“It’s all clear from here,” she commented from her vantage point on a rooftop, “we probably could even do the investigation ourselves.”
Below her on a balcony, her master only shrugged. He wasn’t even looking at her or where they were supposed to be watching.
She flipped to land beside. She’d never had to do this before, but today she will. She grabbed his flesh hand and began pulling one of his fingers back on itself.
“Oww! What was that for?” he snapped. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Keeping my promise,” she answered nonchalantly. “You said that I could break your finger if you weren’t keeping your word of…I don’t know…being my master while we are on mission.”
He rubbed his finger while staring at her sourly, “Fine, I apologize. I’m paying attention now.”
She stared at him, not in the casually inquisitive way, but in the soul-searching way. Then, she understood. A broken tie hurts, but for him, it was everything. Whoever that tie was (she knows it was the Senator) was everything. There was nothing for her to say that’d help him. But maybe there was something she could do. She was old enough; she’s been old enough for a while now. If she could physically fight a war at fourteen (she was basically a couple of months away from that, but she wasn’t going to tell him), then she’d been fine now since she was practically seventeen (it’s weird how war makes everyone older).
She reached up, standing on her toes because he still had to be a couple of inches taller than her. And kissed him.
At first, he did nothing, only stood there frozen. But then, as she pulled away, he pulled her in. The mechanical hand gripping her waist tightly, probably leaving bruises, and the flesh hand cradling her face. And he kissed her with all the roughness and ferocity of a sandstorm. And she accepted it, participated in it, matching him with the patience and intensity of a huntress.
He broke the kiss for oxygen and, staring into her blue eyes, whispered hoarsely, “What are we?”
“Whatever you want,” she answered equally quietly.
He nodded slowly, then stared at the city, forever bustling below and around them. “They don’t need us,” he murmured, “let’s just take a walk.”
And so, they did, walking aimlessly through the sector. Neither said anything, but it was a comfortable silence. Sometimes, he held her hand, gripping like he was afraid of losing her too. Sometimes, he released his hold on her, walking just a bit behind or in front of her. And eventually, somehow, they made it back to the Temple, to their quarters.
She kicked off her boots and made a move towards her room, but his hand on his shoulder gave her pause.
“Stay with me,” he said, and the look in his eyes was that of a man stripped to emptiness.
And she did, she probably shouldn’t have, but it felt wrong to leave him. And somehow, they ended up lying together on his bed, which wasn't meant to fit two. Doing nothing but breathing in sync and staring at the ceiling as memories and musing filled their heads until slumber took them.
She woke up first, and she couldn’t help but watch him. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the messy mop of curls crowning him, and the salt-stained lines from silent tears on his face. Then he opened his eyes. A hazy blue with ever the slightest streak of gold.
“What are we?” she whispered as he took her hand and interlocked their fingers.
He slowly answered, “Whatever you want.”
She had no response to that, for what could they be now? And such was the way for the following months. They danced between the dotted lines, moving with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine when leading their missions, holding their broken parts together in the silence of respite. It was a strange arrangement, unspoken but agreed upon.
But she’d whisper as he lay sleeping (she didn’t know he could hear her), “Say I’m yours. Even if you lie, I won’t mind as long as you love me alone.”
“It’s always been you at the end of the night,” he’d answer in his heart, he’d murmur when he thought she was asleep.
And together, in their thoughts, in their hearts, they’d say, “Call it whatever you want.”