Title: Desperate Measures
Author: Emmy
Rating: WHADDA YOU THINK??
Disclaimer: George would never claim this. And I will never get paid for it. Sound fair? NOT!
Archive: You betcha!
Summary: It's Die's and Jael's birthday!! Die request Dom General.and Jael likes that brooding factor. So here ya go!
Notes: This is what you would call Angsty General. He doesn't want to be nice, but he sorta can't help it. He's conflicted! He needs comfort, but he's afraid to get close to anyone! It's every woman's worst nightmare!! LOL! Sorry, this was only supposed to be about 10 pages long. I'm a little loopy after page 28! ?

You clasp your hand over your mouth to keep your nervous exhalations from giving you away. You curl up into a ball against the dank, warm stone wall of the building, willing yourself to disappear into the darkness of the alleyway. The shouting of your pursuers has endedyou think. Still, you are a mere civilian and for all you know the police could be standing out on the sidewalk waiting for you. You hug your bent legs tightly to your chest, pressing you nose against your knees in an attempt to mask the stench of the garbage dumpster you've wedged yourself behind.

~*~

Several hours have passedat least it feels that way. Although you can't see anything but the dingy metal wall of the dumpster, your senses tell you that night has fallen. If you are going to make a move, now is the time. You nudge your body over slightly, your legs and buttocks sharply tingling from being confined to such a tiny space. Once you clear the dumpster, you slowly stand on wobbly legs, shifting back and forth to get your circulation going.

As the feeling returns to your feet, you step forward, wincing as the weight of your body shifts to your injured leg, a result of a fall during your escape. You gingerly walk around the dumpster, both to ease the pain on your leg and for fear of being captured. You look down the length of the alley, seeing nothing but people out enjoying the evening.

With your heart pounding in your ears and your hands clenched in fists to defy your terrified shaking, you walk out of the alley to the sidewalk, trying to appear as casual and relaxed as possible.

~*~

You thank the gods above as you step off the transport shuttle and into the heart of the capitol city. How you made it this far is nothing short of a miracle. Through the good fortune of actually putting money in your pocket instead of carrying your wallet when you went downstairs for lunch from your workstation, you had just enough to buy a transport ticket and somehow avoided being spotted at the station. The stares from fellow passengers regarding your disheveled appearance were the least of your worries. All that matters is that you made it to the city, a bustling metropolitan area that will make blending in very easy. Now you just have to figure out what to do.

You walk down a crowded sidewalk attempting to gain your bearings. Your previous vacation and business excursions to the city did not prepare you to survive without money and on the lam. You try not to think too much about the fact that in the course of a few hours you have gone from concerned citizen to hunted fugitive. Right now you need to remain calm and keep your wits about you in order to keep yourself discreet and well hidden. The busy looking shopping complex looks like just the place to disappear for a few hours.

~*~

Again, you wait for nightfall. Whether it really is a good plan or a cliché from watching too many movies is inconsequential at this point. Having a plan, even a sketchy one, helps you feel more in control of this madness in which you now find yourself.

You try to walk slowly past the stores, keeping your eyes open for a restroom. Once found, you quickly step through the door and gaze at your startling reflection. You are a mess.

You do the best you can to clean yourself up, at least washing your dirty face and arms, trying to avoid the offended stares from the wealthy mall-going types. You can't do much about the grime on your clothes, but thankfully the colors are dark enough to hide the dirt from a casual observer.

You walk into a stall and pull up your pant leg to get a good look at your injury. The skin under your knee is an ugly shade of purple. Minor abrasions mark the rest of your calf. You are surprised it doesn't hurt more, but the rush of adrenaline probably has something to do with that.

You then pat your hand against your buttocks, checking once more to make sure the disk is still in your pocket. It is the only card you hold, but you are not exactly sure how to play it.

~*~

Night again. Time to find someplace else to hide. You ignore the loud growl of your stomach, having not eaten since the previous morning. But you can't afford to spend your change on anything yet. You consider finding an embassy, but damned if you know who is merely friendly to your government or who is actually conspiring with them.

The streets aren't nearly as busy as you would like, and now you begin to worry about your safety being a woman alone at night. You wrack your brain trying to think of anyone you know who could give you shelter. But endangering a friend is the last thing you want.

As you walk on, the streets become more and more deserted.but you don't entirely realize it as your mind races for a solution. It is not until you turn a corner and wander down a dark street do you realize the possible danger.

You stop under a lone street lamp, wrapping your hand around the cool, metal post to steady yourself. Your body is drained from hunger and panic. You sigh and swallow down the lump in your throat as desperation sinks in.

Then suddenly, the air is knocked out of your lungs as a solid form makes contact with your back. Your brain finally registers what is happening as an arm wraps around your waist. Terror floods your senses, and you open your mouth to scream. But before you can make a sound, a firm hand covers your mouth.

You begin to flail madly against your attacker.

“Stop,” he growls, squeezing his arm around you to try and still your frantic resistance.

The screams rise out of you anyway, despite being muffled by his hand. You try to move your arms, but they are trapped under his arm as well.

You struggle with every ounce of determination you have. And then you feel a last shudder of fear as everything goes black.

~*~

You awaken slowly, your body aching in an uncomfortable posture. As your senses return, you realize you are tied to a soft chair, your wrists bound by a thin rope. You flex your arms up and find that the rope is tied around your ankles as well, making it impossible for you to stand, although you are not actually tied to the chair. You raise your head slowly, your neck popping as you stretch the muscles. You try to swallow and find that you are gagged, too.

If walking is impossible, maybe you can slide out of the chair and roll on the floor. Anything but waiting for your kidnapper to return. You turn your head to examine your surroundings. It looks like a small apartment or hotel room.

You shiver. At least in a police station, you might have had a chance.

You attempt to scoot forward but find that you are frozen against the back of the chair. You look down to confirm once again that there are no ropes or binds strapped around you. So you attempt to move once more.

“Don't even try.”

You gasp loudly and turn your head in the direction of the voice. Through the darkness you see a man sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you intently. He is dressed all in black, as best as your eyes can tell. His face is expressionless, the shadows in the dimly lit room affording him a menacing edge. But his eyes are what startle you the most. An unrelenting icy teal stare that tell you there is no way out of this.

You look at him for a few more moments and then relax into the chair, lowering your head in defeat and looking regretfully at your bound wrists.

You hear the bed creak and can feel his movement toward you. Keeping your head down so as not to anger him, you close your eyes and await your fate, the glint of his black leather boots catching your attention as your eyelids fall shut.

He stops directly in front of you, and you hold your breath, expecting the worst. The slight crinkling sound of leather and the shift in the air tell you he has bent down to your level.

You jump with surprise as you feel a hand on either side of your head. Your eyelids involuntarily flip open, and you are now granted a clearer view of your captor.

“I'm going to remove the gag, but if you scream.”

You shake your head to indicate your compliance, not looking too long into those intimidating eyes. The rich tone of his voice confuses your expectations of a renegade bounty hunter, which he most certainly must be given his lack of police uniform. His face is not quite so threatening in the brighter light where you sityou might even consider him handsome under different circumstances.

You open your mouth wide as the gag slips away, stretching your jaw muscles. He regards you in a moment of hesitation, his eyebrow quirking up slightly. You close your mouth, and he backs away from you and stands.

It is then that you see the glistening silver swaying on his thigh. “Jedi,” you gasp with surprise.

He barely nods in response. And now you know why you can't move even though nothing binds you to the chair. Your mind races for several moments in an attempt to evaluate your options. A Jedi might be able to help you. Although, since you are obviously his prisoner, there is no telling how involved he is. For all you know, he has already notified the police.

“Your government requested assistance in apprehending a spy,” he says, folding his arms as he stares down at you with accusation in his eyes. “So I will contact your police force and return to my shore leave.” His words are clipped and tinged with annoyance.

“No, pleaseI—“

“Quiet,” he snaps.

“But you don't understand.”

Suddenly, he is in your face, crouched down in front of you, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. “I don't want to hear it,” he says slowly through clenched teeth.

“I haven't done anything,” you whisper, afraid to speak any louder.

“Then where did this come from?” he asks, pointedly showing you the disk that was in your pocket.

“I.” You want to explain everything to tell him that you came across these files by accident while cleaning up the mainframe. That they explain in detail how funds and munitions were being covertly transferred to an unknown source. That you were working on breaking the code to decipher these documents, and that you were going to turn over the information once you figured out who to talk tothat you are just an average person who stumbled into something you didn't know how to get out of. All these panicked thoughts run through your head, but the angry look he gives you simply causes you to shift your eyes downward as your fight back tears, suddenly realizing that your humdrum, beloved life is over.

“You should have thought about that before you started playing this game,” he scolds you.

So much for Jedi compassion, you think to yourself. In the next instant, your head is forced upward as strong fingers clench your face. His eyes are fiery green, his brow scrunched down to show his displeasure. He says nothing but simply intimidates you with the strength of his presence.

“Please,” you whisper. “Help me.”

His lips curl down, and he roughly releases your face with a huff. He stands quickly and strides to the window, looking up at the night sky.

~*~

The tiny clock next to the bed tells you that nearly an hour has passed. And he has not moved from his position in front of the window, nor has he spoken to you or called the police. You test the hold he has on you by trying to move your shoulders forward...but you are still trapped by the invisible bindings.

“I told you not to do that,” he says quietly but firmly.

“I. I'm sorry,” you stammer softly. “I don't want to cause any trouble, I—“

“I believe it's too late for that sentiment.”

“No, I didn't mean.” You sigh. “It's just that.I.I have to use the restroom,” you say as quietly as you can.

His head turns toward you. He looks at you for a moment. “Very well, get up.”

You are finally able to move again, and you scoot forward in the chair. You await him for a moment. “Um. I can't stand like this,” you say, your wrists and ankles still connected by the short length of rope.

He sighs and walks over to you, bending down to untie your ankles. “Stand up,” he orders, but his tone is not as aggressive as it was before.

You do as he says, standing slowly and putting most of your weight on your uninjured leg. He quickly wraps the loose end of the rope around your waist and ties your bound wrists against your stomach, leaving just enough slack for you to move your hands in tandem a couple of inches.

He walks away from you and turns on the light in the small bathroom. He takes a moment to inspect the area. “Go ahead,” he says, stepping back toward the window.

You take a quick step forward, and a sharp pain shoot up your injured leg, causing your knee to buckle under your weight. You try to break your fall, but your hands cannot move far enough away from your body. You yelp as your shoulder and head crash against the hard floor.

A moment later your body rises off the floor, supported by two strong arms that seat you on the bed.

“You are hurt,” he says, his eyes quickly scanning your body.

“I am fine,” you say, noticing that his eyes are a touch softer than they were before.

His fingers gingerly wrap around your ankle. “Your leg,” he says, his voice sounding tired and somewhat indifferent.

“It's fine,” you say a little louder, pulling back from him. Although you can't determine his immediate intentions, it is quite obvious to you that he is not on your side. “I'm just tired.” You stand up very slowly. “Excuse me.”

He steps out of your way, and you take great care to walk slowly, trying to hide your limp the best that you can. You wince with each step as the pain intensifies, but you know you have to maintain your strength in order to get through this, whatever is going to happen.

~*~

He takes a step toward you as you open the bathroom door and hobble back toward your chair.

“Let me have a look at your injury,” he says, walking toward you as you sit.

“Just call the police and get this over with, Jedi,” you snap, somewhat startled at yourself once the words come out.

He stops moving, his face tightening up once more. “Fine.” He turns and picks up the comlink on the desk.

“Sadistic bastard,” you say under your breath, his inaction and cold resistance causing the anger to rise up in you.

His eyes bore into you. “What did you say?”

You drop your head without responding, staring at your hands once again.

“You would do well not to antagonize me,” he says. “I am the only thing that stands between you and a death sentence.”

You choke on the shock that his words cause. Then you heave out a sob, as much as you hate yourself for doing it. You hear his heavy sigh followed by the clink of his comlink being tossed back on to the desk. You lift your head slightly to see him turn back toward the window.

You struggle to get your breathing under control as tears threaten to completely undo you. “Why are you doing this?” you finally ask. “Do you enjoy tormenting me like this? Threatening me with the police and then backing down again? How long are you going to keep this up?”

He looks toward you and then back out the window again.

“I haven't done anything wrong! I was trying to do something right!”

“Quiet,” he snaps.

“What kind of Jedi are you anyway?” you retort, your voice rising in anger. “You should be able to damn well know everything about me and know that I am telling you the truth.”

“I have no interest in examining the mind of a criminal.”

“If you really are a Jedi, you would know that I am not! And you would actually care.”

He turns quickly and marches toward you, bending down again to look you straight in the eye. “Do not presume to know anything about me,” he growls. “I have no interest in rescuing a criminal ­ which you are, as I believe copying these files was a criminal act ­ and the only reason I am involved here is because I was ordered to do so. That is the extent of my involvement, and that is all you will get from me.”

“Then. Turn. Me. In.”

He darts back over to the desk and picks up his comlink. “Colonel,” he says into it.

“General Kenobi.”

“I have apprehended the suspect as the government requested. Would you please inform the police of my location.”

Your entire body begins to shake, even your teeth are chattering, as he reveals the address of the building and the room number. His form and the wall he stands next to begin to vibrate in your eyes as the tremors climb up your body all the way to the top of your head. You notice him glance at you with visible discomfort, although you cannot ascertain the cause as your mind begins to go numb.

You nearly jump out of your skin as a loud banging comes from the hallway.

“Wait, Colonel,” he says.

“What is it, General?”

“Hold on those orders. Do nothing until you hear back from me. Do not contact the police or anyone. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do not divulge my location until you have my order to proceed.”

“I understand, sir. This conversation never took place until you say it did.”

You notice the faintest hint of a smile, something you have not yet seen. “Very good, Colonel. Kenobi out.” He strides over toward you, his face falling dead serious again. “Not a word.” Then he makes his way to the door, stopping before he gets to it and turning back toward you.

“What is it?” you whisper.

“I said, quiet,” he says through his teeth. “Get up.” He bends down to hasten your movements and then suddenly sweeps you off the floor, tossing you quickly onto the bed, positioning you to sit with your back against the headboard and quickly unwrapping the rope from your body. He stands straight and then points his index finger at you. “Not a word. You sit there and you don't make a sound.”

You feel your body once again frozen in place by an invisible weight as he reaches out to turn off all the lights as someone in the hall bangs on the door again. Then your eyes grow wide as you see him remove his shirt and weapon in the shadows. You watch him with confusion and rising fear as he tosses his shirt aside.

He stops suddenly and looks at you. He puts his hand up in a calming gesture. “Just stay quiet,” he says with less edge this time. Then he walks to the door and slowly opens it, taking on an annoyed stance, his hips shifting and his hand landing on his waist.

“Oh.” It's a man's voice. “Sorry to, uh, disturb you, but.”

“What is it?”

“Well.” He tries to look into the dark room. “Wife tells me you have a guest.”

“What of it?”

“Well. We don't allow parties here.”

“I'm not having one.”

“Or none of them drugs or anything.”

“I don't need them.”

“Right,” the man laughs nervously. “You being a Jedi and all.”

“If you will excuse me then.”

“Um.you'll have to pay.”

“What?”

“Guests are extra. You are renting this room with a single rate.”

You hear the General sigh ­ surprised as you are that he is a General. “Very well.” He walks over to another chair in the corner, and the man wanders into the room.and walks to straight to the bed to size you up.

The man snorts. “She sure don't look like a whore.” You gasp as he reaches forward and grabs your chin, lifting your head up to give him a better view of your face. Then he makes a startled noise as a strong hand takes hold of his wrist and pushes him back.

“She is not a whore, and you will not touch her.”

And in that moment something changes. You suddenly realize that you need to be on the good side of this strange Jedi. Whether that is because he truly intends to help you, or simply because you are succumbing to the instinct to appease your captor doesn't really make a difference. All you know is that you are filled with the need to please him. You have seen his anger, his strength, and now his protection. It never occurs to you that he is trying to maintain a cover and is simply playing a role in order to get rid of this man.

“Here's your money. You never saw her. Now leave.”

The man's eyes glaze over, and with that he turns and walks out the door, closing it behind him. The General locks it and then turns back toward you. As he does so, you feel the weight lift from your body. You sit forward, now much more relaxed in his company.

“I told you not to move,” he says, walking swiftly to the side of the bed to pick up his shirt.

“But I—“

“And I told you not to speak.” His voice is cold as he slips his arms into the sleeves, pulling the shirt up over his shoulders.

“I'm sorry. I was uncomfortable, and—“ You stop speaking when you raise your eyes and see his sharp glare.

He suddenly moves with startling speed, swooping down to pick up the rope and grabbing your hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Quiet,” he says, wrapping the rope around your wrist.

“No, please. I promise, I won't move.”

He grabs your face. “Do you want me to gag you again?”

You shake your head no.

“Then. Be. Quiet.” He stares into your eyes to make his point.

And it is all you can do to keep breathing as his face lingers just inches from yours. You can't quite figure out what is happening here.and, frankly, you don't quite care.

He looks quickly over his shoulder toward the window and then down at the chair you were sitting in. And then he suddenly pushes you back down to the mattress, grabbing one wrist and tying it to the headboard as you struggle slightly.

“Stop,” he says. “This is for your safety.” He roughly takes hold of your face to get your attention. “Would you like to be shot through the window while sitting in that chair?”

Your breathing is staggered as fear catches up to you again. He loosens his grip on your face and grabs the other hand and ties it to the headboard. As he moves forward to tighten the rope, his unbuttoned shirt falls open, the fabric brushing the sides of your head, trapping his scent and his heat between your face and his chest. Your lungs hitch as desire unexpectedly sparks through your body. How you have fallen from strength to submission so quickly astounds your mind. But your only reality at the moment are his muscles shifting above you. And without thought, running only on instinct, you arch your back up and caress his neck with your lips.

You hear his startled gasp, and he moves back quickly, burning you with angry eyes, his face tight and hostile. He grabs your chin again. “Do not play games with me,” he growls harshly. “Do you understand?”

Confusion floods your mind, the impulses of your body betraying your own safety. You nod quickly, unsure exactly how to respond.

He lunges to the end of the bed, still glaring at you. He reaches for your ankle and pulls your leg straight, and you cry out as the pain seems to fire up all the way to your head, tears springing out of your eyes as your try to shut yourself up. He swiftly releases your ankle with a muffled curse.

Your breath wheezes as you try to calm yourself and will the pain away, blinking tears down your temples as the back of your head digs into the mattress.

“I'm sorry,” he says quietly, rubbing his forehead. “It's alright,” he says when you flinch as he takes hold of your ankle again. “I'm just going to look at it.”

You stare at the ceiling as he proceeds to examine your injury, your now bare foot and calf feeling the extent of the chill in the room. But mostly you stare at a fixed point above you because his fingers are lightly running the length of your calf, from your ankle to your knee.

“You fell,” he says disturbing your effort to ignore his touch.

“Yes.” You gasp and jerk your leg as he presses into your knee.

“It's not broken,” he says. “Just a bit banged up and twisted.”

You smile slightly at that rather apt description of you. You then clench the ropes that tie you to the headboard as his hand runs up the back of your calf, stopping at the delicate skin behind your knee. His other hand gently grasps your ankle, and he bends your leg.

“Ow!”

He sighs and lowers your leg back down to the bed. “Your knee is rather swollen.”

You lift your head up the best you can and strain to look down at your leg, which appears much more bruised than it did before. “I tripped down some stairs while they were chasing me,” you say, dropping your head back to the mattress. You close your eyes and hold your breath when his fingers skate back down to your ankle as he lowers your pant leg.and then you suddenly find your mind wandering to the idea of his fingers running across the rest of your bare skin. Your eyes snap back open as he moves quickly forward, the mattress depressing on either side of your head.

“I told you not to play games with me,” he says, his voice low in his throat.

“I'm not—“

“You think you can seduce your captor, is that it? That I will somehow save you if you sigh and moan for me?”

“No,” you say, too confused by his rapidly shifting attitude toward you to say anything remotely intelligent.

“I am simply following orders,” he says. “I was ordered to help apprehend you, and I did. I was ordered to turn you in if I found you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say. “So why haven't you called the police?”

His eyes widen and his lips purse together in response. Then he pushes your head slightly, his palm resting under your chin and his fingers and thumb gripping your cheeks. “Is this want you want?” he growls. “To be tied to the bed and buy your life this way?” His body lowers against yours, his thigh pressing between your legs. “Do you think me the kind of man who would demand such a thing?” he asks roughly.

“No,” you say quickly.

“I am not,” he says definitively as his breathing becomes more labored.

“I know.”

“If I don't turn you over to the police, it is because it is the right thing to do,” he lectures you defensively.

You nod your understanding.

“And a Jedi would never take such advantage.”

“I know.”

“So do not insult me by acting otherwise,” he growls.

“I'm not, I—“

“Enough,” he says, pushing himself upward until he seated next to you. He stares at you for several moments and then stands. “I'm going out for a little while.”

“Why?”

“Never mind that,” he says. “Do I need to gag you?”

“No,” you say quietly.

“Be very quiet.” He looks down at the floor and sighs. “I am going to help you. But you have to do exactly as I tell you.”

“Alright.”

“Not a sound. If someone knocks at the door, not a word.”

“I understand.” You watch him as he buttons his shirt and attaches his saber to his belt.

“Could.” You stop when his head turns, afraid to anger him out of his generous mood.

“What is it?” he asks, softening his visage a bit.

“Could you untie my hands?”

“No,” he says sharply.

You exhale loudly and wiggle your fingers trying to keep them from going numb. The floor creaks beneath his feet as he walks over to the bed. You feel his warm fingers against your palm as he unties the rope on one hand and then the other.

“Thank you,” you say softly, rubbing your sore wrists.

“Do not move from the bed,” he says. “I mean that. Not until I return.”

“I promise,” you say, suddenly struck by sleep deprivation now that the air between the two of you has calmed somewhat.

“I won't be long,” he says, walking swiftly to the door and exited the room, locking the door behind him.

You are barely able to register his footsteps in the hallway as you snuggle into a pillow and quickly fall asleep.

~*~

You are lulled out of heavy slumber by a nudge to your shoulder. You roll over onto your back slowly, rubbing your eyes and stretching like this were just any other day in your own bed. Then reality hits you. You gasp and sit up suddenly.

“Calm down,” he says. “Eat this and then I want you to get cleaned up.” He tosses something that resembles a sandwich wrapped in cellophane onto the bed next to you.

“Thank you. I haven't eaten in a while,” you say, reaching down with shaky fingers to unwrap it.

“I know,” he says as he looks away from you and reaches into the bag he's placed on the chair. He pulls something out and unceremoniously tosses it at you. “Take a shower and put that on,” he says with no interest.

You reach forward and hold it up. You almost ask why you have to wear this long knit sack of a dress that probably cost less than the sandwich you're eating.

“We are getting out here,” he says. “And with these plastered all over the city,” he grabs yet another item out of the bag and tosses it at you, “you need all the help you can get.”

You pick up the piece of paper that has fluttered to your knees and gasp when you see your picture in full color, sitting at your workstation, from four different angleswearing exactly what you have on now. “Surveillance,” you say quietly.

“Yes,” he says. “Probably taken the day they came to arrest you.”

You swallow the last bite of your sandwich with some difficulty. “So what's the plan?”

“Let me worry about that.” He looks up at you and holds out his hand. “I'll help you up.”

You scoot to the edge of the bed and stand without taking his hand. So he grabs your arm and hoists you to your feet. You turn and take the dress and hobble into the bathroom.

~*~

As soon as the delightfully warm water in the shower hits your head and begins to wash two days of grime from your body, you begin to cry. You try to quietly sob into the streaming water, but as you think about how rapidly your life has changed and realize that you will probably never again see the all those ordinary things about your life that you took for granted, the tightness in your chest snaps and you give over to your fear, sorrow, and the unknown that awaits you.

You hope he can't hear you, realizing he probably can. But you need to do this before being able to face whatever else that is coming your way. For all you know you could be dead in a few hours if the police find you before he can take you wherever it is he's planned to go.

You feel a strange calm as you finally shut off the water, having purged practically every emotion from your being. You dry off quickly as the cool air makes your teeth chatter. You get dressed, stuffing your old clothes into the tiny wastebasket. The dress looks like something nobody you know would wear, the fabric hanging with no commitment or compliment to your form, aside from the fact it is a couple sizes too big.

But right now it is the only thing that will get you out of this.

You scrub your hair with the towel, trying to remove as much moisture as you can, and then you open the bathroom door. He looks up at you, his face still showing minimal expression. As you limp over toward the bed, he stands up to meet you.

“Sit down,” he says. “I want to try something.” As you sit he kneels down in front of you, taking hold of your foot and placing it on his thigh. He lifts the skirt of your dress, and you try to remain as emotionless to him as he is to you as his fingers trace the bruise on your leg. “I want to try and heal this as best as I can before we go. Your limping will draw attention.”

“I see,” is all you say. You begin to feel a warmth under your skin, the dull throbbing pain receding somewhat.

After several minutes, his hands leave your leg. He sets your foot on the floor and stands up. “Try that,” he says, helping you to stand.

You carefully put weight on the leg. “It's not as bad,” you say as you slowly step forward.

“Good. We don't have much time. My ship is scheduled to leave in three hours. Your government might get suspicious if we don't leave on time.”

“Well then, let's go,” you say as enthusiastically as you can muster.

He moves to stand directly in front of you. “Let me make something very clear to you. I cannot, will not, start a war over you. If the police find us before we reach my ship, I will let them arrest you. I will not resist them, and I will turn you over. Do you understand that?”

Your face falls serious, and you nod quickly.

“I will do what I can for you in the here and now, but I cannot promise you anything beyond that. If we make it to my ship, we will take you to Coruscant, and you will be turned over to the authorities there along with the disk you made. If we don't make it to my ship, there is not much else I can do for you. I will take the disk myself and see what can be done with it in your defense, but that is all. I just want that to be clear right now.”

“I understand,” you say quietly. “I thank you for risking yourself on my behalf.”

He nods. “Let's go.”

~*~

He holds your hand as you walk down the street trying to look relaxed and carefree. Your leg is holding up fairly well, but you still are not able to walk without a slight limp. Ahead of you there is a large crowd gathered in an open square and a band playing on a stage. Your mind makes a quick calculation that it must be the weekend by now.

“That must be why there are no taxis running down here,” he says. “We'll have to walk through there to the other side of the square.”

“Alright.” You swallow hard, recalling the picture of you on the wanted flyer. How many of those people have seen your face in the past two days?

He releases your hand and winds his arm around your back, his hand holding tight to your side. “Just play along and look happy,” he says, his face suddenly brightening like you've never seen it before, your body held to his making your limp less obvious as you walk into the crowd.

“Okay,” you say, slipping your arm around his back and putting a soft smile on your face as your heart pounds with fear. There would have to be police in a crowd like this. But you take a deep breath and focus on following his lead.

Halfway through the crowd he stops. The smile falling off your face, you look up at him. You find him smiling down at you. “The music isn't that bad, love,” he chuckles before placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

You gasp in surprise at him. Despite his jovial expression, his eyes are commanding, so you then give all you've got to the performance as you see two police officers a few yards away. You smile back at him. “Well, alright,” you drawl as you reach up to tweak his chin. “I suppose it won't kill me to indulge you for a minute or two.”

“Hmmm,” he replies, shifting to face you. “I like the sound of that,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

“I'll bet you do,” you smirk, trying to hide the fact that you really don't mind being held so close to him. And then in your peripheral vision you see the policemen move forward. Something in the way his arm pulls you closer tells you he won't just hand you over like he claimed he would.

The smile fades from his face. “I'm sorry,” he says softly.

You gasp as you suddenly fear you were wrong.

“I have to do this,” he whispers as his forehead rests against yours. “Please forgive me.”

“It's alright,” you say rather unconvincingly.

And then your mind spins as his lips suddenly descend to yours. Never have you been so happy to be so wrong, and you freeze for a moment with surprise. His hand grabs the back of your head and pulls you into the kiss. Your mind tells you that this is all a cover as your body enthusiastically plays along. But as his lips slide along yours, you hear a quiet sigh from him and begin to feel an unmistakable heat increasing between you. You whimper quietly into his mouth, and then your body begins to tremble when his tongue gently slides along yours.

If this is merely cover, he is one hell of an actor.

And then too soon it ends, his lips lingering for a moment and then pulling away. His cheek slides against yours as his hand still holds the back of your head. He pants into your hair for a few moments and then steps back. The needy expression on his face suddenly changes back to his painted on smile. “I guess I'd better take you home,” he purrs.

“Yes,” you whisper.

He leans in for one brief, tantalizing kiss and then turns you to walk in front of him, gently pushing on your shoulders to guide you out of the crowd. You are relieved to see that the police have moved on, taking little notice of you.

Once out of the crowd, he takes your hand and walks quickly down the sidewalk toward a main thoroughfare. As you turn the corner, you are faced with two police transports on the opposite side of the street.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on your arm and walking to the edge of the sidewalk. And there you stand to await a taxi to flag down.

You have to force yourself not to stare at the police across the street. And you wonder if they have recognized you yet as you look up to see your face plastered in a store window.

“Stop that, they don't see you,” he whispers as he smiles down at you.

And then, thank the gods, a taxi pulls up. He practically throws you inside, his hands wrapping around your waist to hurry you along. As he closes the door behind him, sitting next to you, you look up to see the driver eyeing you in his rear view mirror.

Kenobi puts his arm around your shoulders and grins. “Driver, take us to the north landing platform. My girl wants to see my shipamong other things,” he says patting the driver on the shoulder.

The driver's face breaks into a smile as you attempt to giggle. “I hear ya, pal! Just hold on, we'll be there in no time.”

Kenobi pulls out his comlink and switches it on. “Kenobi to bridge.”

“General.” It's the same voice you heard before.

“Is everyone on board, Colonel?”

“Yes, General.”

“I'll be there shortly. Kenobi out.”

~*~

Safety is practically surreal to you now. Here you are flying through space laying quietly in the ship's infirmary and still you cannot let go of the agitation. Of course, that could be attributed to the fact that there are two guards outside the door. You are under arrest by Republic officers, but that's a far cry better than being in the same situation on your home planet.

“How are you feeling?”

You look over at the kind face of the healer who stands over you. “Better,” you say. “Stronger.”

“Good,” she replies with a smile. “We've given you some nutrients and your leg is healed.”

You lift your head to see perfectly unblemished skin on your leg. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” She looks up toward the door. “Now I am afraid that you will have to go with them. The General wants to see you.”

You sit up slowly as the healer helps you off of the small bed. “Here are your clothes,” she says, handing you the dress and boots. “If you have any pain for any reason, tell one of the guards and they will bring you back here.”

“I will do that.”

“And when your business is finished with the General, I want you to eat something,” she says.

“I don't think that will be a problem,” you say as your stomach growls.

~*~

The guards walk you slowly down one long corridor after another. Your mind can't help but wonder what happens now and why the General wishes to see you. Given everything that's happened, not to mention that kiss, your powers of reason keep running into dead ends.

Finally you come to a stop, the door sliding open a moment after one of the guards presses a chime. You walk into the room toward a functional looking desk where the General sits. He looks up at you, his eyebrow arching slightly, his face that familiar mask of indifference.

“Have a seat,” he says.

You do as he says and await his next words.

“Intelligence officers have decoded that disk of yours.”

“Oh?”

“And they have found the information very useful,” he says blankly.

You nod. “What was it?”

“I cannot say.”

Your mouth drops open slightly. You risked your life for this and now they're not going to tell you what you could have been killed for?

“I am sorry,” he says, stoic as ever.

“I suppose that's the military, huh?”

“Yes, you might say that.”

“Sooo. What now?”

“Well, this means that you are free to do whatever you wish. There will be a debriefing once we reach Coruscant and after that, you will be released.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“But. Where. I.”

“They will assist you in finding a place to live and employment if that is what you are concerned about.”

You nod. “But won't my—“

“And certain protection from your government. You will be granted asylum, so to speak.”

“I see.” You decide to give yourself some time to let this all sink in. “My family—“

“They have been contacted. They know you are well.”

“But I can never go back to see them, can I?”

“It would not be advisable in the immediate future. But all have been granted leave to visit you.”

“Spin control?”

“That could be the case,” he says. “Do you have any questions?”

“Um. No, not now.”

“Very well, the guards will show you to your quarters and then they will leave you. I will have someone check in on you later to make sure you are comfortable,” he says very diplomatically.

“Thank you,” you say.

“You are welcome,” he says, still giving you that disinterested look. “That is all.”

You nod, feeling yourself sink a little. You stand and look at him for a moment. When he says nothing you turn and follow the guards back into the hallway.

~*~

“And so it is all forgotten,” you say to yourself as you sit alone in the small room they have given you, a tray of food on the table in front of you. You begin to eat and focus on being thankful that you came out of this alive.and try not to think about the family and friends you left behind. There will be time to let that sink in once you are feeling stronger.

You push the tray away when you have had your fill, which was most of what was prepared for you. Having nothing else to occupy yourself with, you decide to take a shower and then call it a night. Whether it is actually night or not, you're not entirely sure. One never can tell during space travel.

You linger in the tiny shower, simply appreciating the warmth and relaxing massage of the water. Your mind is far too tired to deal with all the implications of the past two days, so you simply close your eyes and let your thoughts drift where they may.

And they don't drift too far, only to a few hours before. You remove the crowd, the police, the fearand all you are left with are his lips against yours. You tilt your head back as you savor the memory of his tongue twining with yours. And then you take it even further, imagining his lips on your neck, his hands on your bare skin, roaming over your breasts.

All he would have to do is. You stop your thoughts when you know that he won't approach you. The interchange in his office proved that. You would have given yourself to him in that hotel room. And now that the danger is over and you've regained a good measure of your sanity, you would still give yourself to him.

You sigh and turn to rinse your hair, realizing that in real life a man like this General would be way out of your league anyway. So, instead, you aim your thoughts toward the future. A whole new life awaits you, scary as that seems right now. You always daydreamed about running away from it all and starting over. Somehow the reality is more frightening than adventurous.

And then you jump as the shower curtain flies open. “General,” you choke, absently holding your arms in front of you as if you could hide.

He stares, immobile, his shoulders rising and falling with rapid breaths. His neck and the skin of his chest visible where his shirt is unbuttoned are glistening from the heat of the shower steam. His eyes hungrily take you in as your back falls against the opposite wall, your legs suddenly weakening under you. Your arms reach out to your sides, your hands splaying across the cool tile wall, revealing everything to his dangerous gaze.

Then his arm punches through the water stream, his hand curling around the back of your neck. And then he pulls you forward, your wet body soaking his clothes as his mouth claims you, uninhibited and desperate as his tongue slips into your mouth.

Your moans mingle together, your bodies pressing into each other. And then he steps into the shower, seemingly ignorant of the water pouring down on his clothed form, pushing you into the wall and delving deeper into the kiss.

You reach up and rip his shirt open as buttons softly ping against the walls, yanking it swiftly off his arms and tossing it out into the bathroom. His kiss takes you higher, and you slide your hand up through his hair and wrap your arm around his back, pulling his bare chest against you, the wet friction of skin on skin making you sigh as his hand kneads your hip.

You shiver as his lips slide from your face down to your neck, and his breathy moan fills your ear. “Gods, I need you,” he sighs. “I never would have.let them take you.” He suckles at the tender skin below your ear. “Never.you know that.”

“Yes,” you whimper.

“I couldn't.say anything earlier.I.I.”

“I understand,” you say in a throaty whisper. “You're the General.”

His head rises, and his hand caresses your cheek. “Obi-Wan.”

“What?”

“Enough of duty,” he says. “My name is Obi-Wan.” His voice trails off to a whisper as he kisses you again. With each pull of his lips, you sink deeper into him. His hands grab your waist and then slowly slide upward, tracing the curves of your breasts. You break from the kiss and moan against his lips as his thumbs find your hardened nipples, lightly teasing them as your back arches away from the wall. Your head rolls back against the tile wall, and he takes advantage of the open expanse of your neck, his mouth tasting your wet skin and his heated breath sending shivers down your spine.

You bite your lips as his head moves down, a squeak slipping out of your throat as his tongue flicks at a nipple, his lips then closing around it and sucking gently. His fingers play at your other breast and then slowly make their way down your stomach. You clutch his head to you and gasp as his fingers slide between your legs. Whimpers spill out of you as his fingers caress your clit with long, slow circles, just enough to take you higher but not enough to send you over the edge.

You whine as his hand moves away but then struggle to catch your breath as he lowers to his knees. Wasting no time, he moves your thigh to the side and then leans in to run his tongue along your slick folds. You grab the back of his head and cry out as your own head hits the wall. Your hips press forward as the very tip of his tongue gently plays at your swollen nub. You almost lose yourself to his warm, wet tongue, but as your leg begins to shake you push him back. He looks at you with a moment of confusion and then stand as he picks up your thoughts. Your hands immediately work at unfastening his trousers, which are now thoroughly soaked from the water that continues to stream down from the showerhead.

You kneel down, tugging his pants off his hips and licking your lips as his erection springs forth. You thank the gods he had the wherewithal to actually remove his boots before invading your shower as you yank the drenched material off one leg and then the other.

You look up at him, lightly running your fingertips up his thighs, his cock twitching as your hands move toward it. You lean forward and barely lick the tip of it, his hips jutting forward as you do so. You smile and then place slow, sweet kisses from the head to the base, delighting in his gasps.

And then his loud groan echoes off the walls as you take him into your mouth. You moan in the back of your throat as you slowly take his length in and out, pressing your tongue against the underside of his erection. Staggered moans sound from him with every thrust of his hips forward into your mouth. Your hands clamp at his hips as you tighten your mouth around him, wanting nothing more than to give him pleasure.

You barely notice that the water is starting to turn cold until he pushes your head away, his breathing shallow as he stares down at you with wild eyes. He grabs your arms and pulls you to your feet and then reaches over to shut the water off. With his arm around your back, you stumble out of the shower in tandem, water dripping everywhere as you stop along every few inches of wall space for a good round of tongue twining and hip grinding.

By the time you make it out to the bedroom, your bodies have practically drip dried, your hair a tousled, damp mess.as if you cared.

“Do you know what I wanted to do to you in that room?” he growls, nipping gently at your kiss-swollen lower lip.

“Show me,” you say, your voice full and deep. You take a few steps back from him and sit on the edge of the bed, your legs spread wantonly.

He sinks to his knees, spreading your legs wider as he pulls one leg over his shoulder. He looks up at you for a moment as your fingers gently stroke his cheek and hair. And then his tongue finds your center again, making deliberate, encouraging circles around your clit as you moan and flex your fingers in his hair.

He takes his time, sweeping through every treasured, secret place, his expert tongue eliciting cries from you that you can't recall any other man inspiring. He moans against your tender flesh as he pleasures you, seeming to take as much enjoyment from your response as you are in receiving his lavish attentions.

You lean back on one arm, digging your fingers into the bedspread and rolling your hips forward as you press his head closer to your center. As much as you want him burning inside you, you cannot stop this momentum, the pleasure building too high and promising too much for you to stop now. Nothing has ever felt like this, all the focus and power of this man set and determined on the singular goal of bringing you pleasure in the most intense manner imaginable.

You try to say his name as you feel the tremors begin, but all words stick in your throat as his tongue begins to move in time with the approaching crest. Your mouth drops open and your head lulls to one side as your hips move with greater precision catching the rhythm of his tongue and of your body's signal, all three moving faster and faster to a single point of convergence.

Finally your pleasure is given voice as series of grateful moans spill out of you, your orgasm ripping through your body with an intensity you've never known before. Your hips jerk with each wave that wracks your senses, his tongue taking you through each sweet crest until you have no other choice but to collapse back onto the bed.

Before you can even catch your breath, you are being pulled down to the floor, his hand grabbing your head and kissing you deeply, demanding you give him everything and more. You reach down and wrap your fingers around his hard cock. His head leans back and his eyelids flutter shut as you slowly stroke him and tease his parted lips with the tip of your tongue.

“Anything you want,” you whisper. “Tell me.” He groans as you nibble at his ear, tightening your grip on his erection. “I want you inside me,” you purr as he groans again. “Show me how you want it.”

He pulls your hand away from his body and slowly opens his heavy eyelids. “Stand up,” he says rather seriously.

You do the best you can to raise yourself on your trembling legs, and he follows you. He stands directly in front of you with remarkable control, the only sign of his arousal being the erection that juts forth from his body. He places his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them lightly and then bringing his hands up your neck and to your face. He steps forward and kisses you in a way that you know will make you forget your name if he does it too much longer.

You feel your back make contact with the wall, having not been entirely cognizant that you were even moving across the floor. You feel his erection pressing insistently into your stomach and then he bends his knees slightly until it rubs teasingly between your legs. Your head falls back against the wall. “Take me, Obi-Wan,” you sigh. “Please.”

In one swift movement your feet leave the ground as you are hoisted up against the walland in the next moment you are filled with him, his head leaning back with a groan as he thrusts all the way inside you. His hips begin a steady pace, his cock moving in and out of you with long sweeps across that hungry spot inside you. Your legs wrap completely around his waist, your thighs clenching his hips as you move into him, your bodies moving in fluid motion with each other.

A low growl vibrates across his chest as the muscles in his thighs and ass tighten with raw energy as he thrusts faster into you, a glistening sheen of sweat breaking out across his face and shoulders.

And you begin to feel the delicious coil winding tighter and tighter once again, his cock swelling inside you and his hips angling to ensure he leaves no part of you neglected. And you know for a fact that this man was born to do two simple things: save the galaxy and fuck like a god.

Your fingers dig into his solid shoulders, your lungs making random keening noises as his hips move faster, his groans accenting every thrust and buzzing across your skin as he buries his face against your neck. Then you feel his mouth open wide and his body tighten before a loud, deep moan unleashes from his throat. His hips pound into you for several frantic thrusts, the last of which slides across that perfect spot inside you, releasing your climax as he erupts inside of you, his orgasm slickening his cock all the more to allow his shaft to glide even more enticingly across your inner bundle of nerves, drawing out your own pleasure beyond what you ever thought possible. You hold onto him for dear life, moaning his name as he encourages ever last ounce of ecstasy out of you.

You finally slump against him, completely spent and certain you will be unable to move for quite a long whilenot that you would actually want to leave this embrace.

“The bed is probably more comfortable, though,” he says, pulling you away from the wall, your legs still wrapped around him. It is a quick step to the bed, and he lowers you down, reluctantly sliding out of your tight, warm body.

“Hmmm. I guess I should be careful what I think with you around.”

“Why?” he says with a tired, but devilish, grin as he lowers himself next to you on the mattress.

“Well, I might have some incriminating, highly lacivious thought,” you say.

“Promise?” he says, as he pulls your body into his, your shoulders settling against his chest.

You smile for a moment. “Thank you.” You pause, not quite certain how to put everything into words. “For everything. If you hadn't—“

“Shhhh.” His fingers soothingly stroke through your still damp hair. “You need to sleep. Everything always works itself out. This will as well.”

“It's just that—“

“Go. To. Sleep.” He playfully pokes at your shoulder to enunciate each word.

“Alright,” you chuckle.

“Wait,” he says, rising up to rest his head on his hand, his elbow sinking into the mattress.

“What?”

He turns your head until he can see your face. “Smile for me.”

You scrunch your face at him and then laugh as he gives you a stern look.

“That's good,” he says with a smile. Then he leans down and kisses you softly. “Now you can sleep.” He lowers himself back down and snuggles against your body. “And then when you wake up, I'll tie you to the bed.”

“Oooohh, promise?”

“Only if you sleep first.”

“Yes, General.”

“I told you to call me Obi-Wan.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan.”

“You're very obedient.”

“No, not really.”

“But you've done just about everything I told you.”

“Except for that part where I kissed your neck when you were tying me to the bed.”

“Oh, right. You are very disobedient. I think I may have to punish you.”

“By tying me to the bed?”

“Something like that, yes.” He leans forward and kisses your shoulder. “Now sleep.”

“Will you wear black and let me call you General?”

You feel his smile against your arm. “You are a strange woman.”

You laugh. “You just noticed this?”

“Well, no. I was trying to be polite before now,” he sighs drowsily.

“All that growling and barking was you being polite, huh?” you tease.

He is quiet for several moments and then his arm hugs you tighter to him. “I know how upsetting this has been for you, and I am sorry that I mistreated you. Many things have happened lately.I—“

“Shhhh,” you reply, lightly rubbing his arm. “All that matters is right now. I owe you my life.”

“You don't owe me anything.”

“All I meant is that you don't have to apologize for a thing.”

“Alright.”

“Except maybe for that dress you made me wear.” You smile as you hear his soft chuckle.

“Sweet dreams,” he says pressing forward to kiss your ear.

“And to you, General.”

He sighs. “Obi—“

“Humor me.”

“Very well,” he says. “I just don't understand why you insist on calling me that.”

“You will. I promise,” you say with an evil grin.

He is, after all, The General.

Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! I gave you nekkid Obi! Now gimme some o'dat, too!