"I heard you," you try to say nicely to the George-Kostanza-gone-pseudo-alpha loitering at the entrance of your cubicle. If he had half an ounce of cordiality you'd actually do him the favor of turning in your chair to face him. But when he dumps a pile of work on your desk like you're his Kelly girl, all he gets to look at is the back of your head.

"I told the client this would be ready by four o'clock," he says.

You glance at the clock on the bottom of your computer screen. It reads 2:37. You sigh and finally turn to face him. "Good luck," you say dryly.

"Excuse me?"

"You see these two stacks?" You point to the equally large piles of paperwork sitting next to his. "Got these this morning."

"But I promised the client that--"

"Sorry," you say. "We're short staffed, as you well know. If you can get these other two guys to give up their deadlines, then fine. Otherwise, I have to take these according to the time they are given to me."

George's twin makes a pinched up face, the top of his bald head turns red, and then he turns on his heel and marches away.

You sigh and roll your eyes as you turn back to your computer and try to pay attention to the work you are supposed to be doing while checking your Hotmail inbox on the sly.

~*~

"Ugh," you groan as you step outside at 5:00 and feel the heat hit you, the sharp contrast between the air conditioned office and the hot afternoon sun causing prickly sensations to creep up and down your skin.

You start up the car, and the vents blast molten air at you. "Bah," you snarl as you shift the vents away from you, your casual day jeans feeling like wool sausage casing. God forbid they actually let you wear shorts when it gets this hot.

As you sit in gridlock traffic, you pray that your engine will hold out as you take sideways glances at the overheated cars left on the side of the road. You slowly inch forward to the intersection and finally have the opportunity to turn off onto side streets, picking up speed as you wind around the backroads on your way home.

You pull into the driveway of your complex and give yourself a small cheer for being the first one home in your building, as you pull into the primo parking space right in front.

You jump out of the car, grab your bag, and hurry to your apartment. You smile as you hear the whimpering from the other side of the door, and the instant you open it you are greeted by the most emotional homecoming a girl could ask for.

"Who'sa g'boy? Such a g'boy!" you coo at the trembling, whimpering, dancing, four-legged bundle of joy. "Jack's a g'boy," you drawl, getting down on your knees and hugging your loveable mutt. "Do you wanna gooooo...." Jack sits perfectly still, except for the shaking, the picture of perfect canine obedience. "Outside?!"

He barks and leaps for joy, having believed all day that you would never come home again and that he'd have to lay in the apartment forever with his legs crossed.

"Okay!" you say enthusiastically, reaching for the door. And then you remember how hot it is. "Wait, Jack, hold on. I gotta change."

He remains by the door, giving you that where-there-hell-are-you-going look as you walk into your bedroom to put some shorts on. You change quickly, hearing his nails impatiently click against the tile entryway.

"Okay, let's go!" you say, clapping your hands to get him even more wound up than he already is. You grab your keys, put on your sunglasses and your Birks, attach his leash, and open the door to be dragged outside, happy that it is finally Friday and you can have the weekend all to yourself.

~*~

"You know what, Jack?" you say as you finish off your dinner of popcorn and iced tea.

Jack lifts his head from his reclined position and slightly raises his eyebrow.

"We need to go get a movie," you say as you stand up from the couch.

Jack, clever dog that he is, knows that the word 'movie' is code for car ride. He scrambles to his feet and trots over to the front door while you waste his time fixing your ponytail, finding your purse, and putting on your shoes.

"Okay, okay," you say as you reach for the door. "Let's go."

~*~

After a good, long perusal of the video store shelves and the obligatory stop at the local dairy freeze where you and Jack ponder life while eating a sundae under the stars, you drive back toward your apartment, enjoying the evening air with the windows rolled down.

As you approach an intersection on a rather deserted and heavily forested backroad, Jack begins to bark rather insistently.

"Calm down," you say as you pat his back. "It's probably just a squirrel."

But as you slow to follow the bend in the road, Jack suddenly shimmies out the window.

"Jack!" you yell, your heart racing as you slam on the brakes, checking your rear view mirror quickly to make sure no one is coming up behind you who might not see him. You kill the engine, turn on your hazard lights, and jump out of the car. "Jack!" you call as he stops, barks at you, and then runs a little further into the trees. "Jack! You come back here right this minute!" He barks again and then retreats behind some more trees.

"Shit," you say, knowing damn well you'd have to be an idiot to go wandering in the woods by yourself at night. "JACK!" Now you're starting to get nervous as you can hear him rustling in the trees a distance beyond you but getting the sense he's not going to come back unless you drag him out. "Dammit," you growl, opening the passenger door and grabbing the flashlight out of your glovebox.

You jump over the drainage ditch and make your way through the trees. "No cookies for you for a month!" you yell.

Jack runs out from a thick grove of trees and looks at you.

"Come here!" you say, stomping toward him and reaching for his collar. But before you can grab him, he takes off again back into the trees. You pick up your pace, swearing at him for this stupid game.

As you move through a circle of trees, you slow down as the smell of burning wood hits you. But you don't see any glow of fire or sense any smoke in the air. You point your flashlight toward the sound of Jack's barking.

"Oh my God," you gasp, seeing a body laying next to him. Your first response is one of fear, imagining that this is just some passed out drunk who stumbled into the woods for lack of anyplace else to go. But an examination of his clothing indicates something else, although you can't quite say what it is.

You point the flashlight to the surrounding trees, the dark making it difficult to discern, but it seems as though the bark is scorched in spots. But there is nothing else that you can see to give you any clue to this man's identity. There are no vehicles on the ground and no traces of any gear, although it would be unlikely for any hikers to be overnighting in this area.

You take a couple steps forward as the man remains immobile on his back. The boots he wears strike you as odd. The closest thing you can think of is that they are riding boots, although they are far sturdier than anything you have ever seen.

His pants are black, as is his jacket, and he wears some sort of utility belt around his waist, and the jacket has an insignia that you don't recognize. You gain a little more courage and step to his side. You raise your flashlight to get a look at his face.

And his eyes suddenly pop open.

"Oh, Jesus," you gasp, dropping the flashlight and stumbling back.

Jack looks up at you and wags his tail as the flashlight lands on the ground, rolls a bit, and shines in the man's face.

He turns his head and rubs his eyes, groaning slightly as he tries to move.

"Are you alright," you ask, pulling Jack close to you as you grab the flashlight off the ground.

"I...where...." he says, his voice scratchy.

"Are you hurt?" you ask, leaning closer. "I have a phone in my car. I'll go call 911."

"What?" he says, his hands still covering his face as he rubs his forehead and temples.

"You seem to be hurt," you say, assuming he must be in his state of confusion. "I'll call for help."

"No," he says, slowly sitting up. "I'm alright. If you could just tell me--"

"Oh my God," you say, clenching the flashlight in your hand as you finally get a good look at his face. Your eyes fall to his waist as he slowly rises to his feet, the silver and black cylinder at his hip reflecting the beam of your flashlight.

He pulls something out of his belt and presses a button, his brow furrowing as he looks at the device. "No signal," he says. "What is this forest? The Calamids?"

"The wha?" you say, your chest rising and falling quickly with every shallow breath, your mind beginning to stall out as his voice hits your ears. You know that voice. The only problem being, the man who speaks that way doesn't really exist.

"This forest," he says. "I assume we are south of the city."

"Wh-which city?" you sputter as you continue to examine him and try to find some explanation.

He focuses on you. "Which forest is this?"

"Ummm.... These are just some trees off of 195th. It doesn't have a name." You take a deep breath as the corners of his mouth turn down in a thoughtful frown. "How did you get here?"

"Well, I'm not entirely certain," he says. "Perhaps you could help me figure that out. If you could tell me how far we are from Ralynin."

"Ralynin?"

"Yes," he says, "the city. We have been tracking the energy fluxes around this planet, and I have a suspicion that may have something to do with my being here instead of on my ship."

You look at him, wide-eyed. "Jack," you say, reaching down and tugging on his collar. "Let's go."

"Wait," he says. "Please, just tell me--"

"Look," you say, turning around and making your tone as aggressive as possible. "You are starting to freak me out. If you would like me to call an ambulance for you, I can do that. But if you're going to sputter around pretending to be a Jedi, I'd rather not witness it."

"Oh, this?" he asks, removing the silver and black handle from his belt.

"Nice prop," you say, turning around and walking away.

"Wait," he says again. "I am a Jedi, despite my military uniform."

"Leave me alone," you say, picking up your pace as you stumble through the trees.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," he says, following close behind. "Whatever it was that I did, I apologize. My name is Obi-Wan Ke--"

"Shut up!" you say, breaking into a run.

"Please," he says, never falling more than a couple paces behind. "I am a General in the Republic army. And a Jedi, as I said. I mean you no harm, I am simply trying to sort this out."

"Just stay away from me!"

"I need your help. And it may not be safe for you out here alone," he says, his voice breaking as he runs after you.

"You need your fucking head examined," you snap.

"No. Just stop. I'll show you my identification," he says, reaching out to grab your arm.

"Back off!" you yell, trying to yank your arm away from him as Jack growls and snaps at his boot-covered leg.

"I need your help," he says emphatically. "I don't understand myself what is happening here, and--" Your loud cry for help cuts off his words. He moves more quickly than you can compensate for, placing his hand over your mouth and wrapping his other arm around your torso, holding your arms firmly against you as you struggle, the panic surging through you.

"Don't fight," he says, his voice surprisingly calm. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Suddenly, the panic begins to recede, your thoughts of anger toward him turning more charitable than what is rationally possible given his current role as your attacker. Your eyes dart over to Jack, who is sitting happily watching you.

"Now," he says, his arms still tight around you as he lowers both of you to sit on the ground, "you're not going to scream, and you're not going to run. Right?"

You nod as his hand loosens its grip over your mouth. As soon as he lets go of you, you turn quickly to face him.

He is holding his hands up in a calming gesture. "It's alright," he says, nodding slowly. "Can I show you something?"

You nod, unable to speak in your slightly stunned and woozy state.

He reaches into a pouch on his belt and pulls something out that you can't quite see in the dark. You realize that you're still clenching the flashlight in your hand, and you point it toward him. He is holding something that resembles a thick palm pilot in his hand. He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a small card and slips it into the end of the device in his hand.

"Look," he says, holding it out to you.

You lean forward and look at the small screen. What looks like an identification card is shown on the display. There is his picture. And then his name: Kenobi, Obi-Wan. It also shows his rank of General, his classification as a Jedi, and some other data that doesn't make any sense to you. You swallow hard and gently push his hand away.

You think of all the ways that could be faked. You certainly don't know that much about computers or techno gadgets, but you know how easy it is for your eyes to be deceived in this day and age.

"What is it?" he asks. "Why do you not want to believe the truth? Do I have to lift your dog in the air and read your mind before you'll believe I am a Jedi." His face changes to a more thoughtful expression. "Or do you not care for Jedi? Or the army, perhaps?"

"Stop," you say quietly, something in you preventing any fight or strong resistance. "Jedi are fiction. They're not real. Please, just let me go."

He gives you a somewhat silly grin. "Of course Jedi are real. I am one."

"Please, stop," you say.

"Alright, I can see we're going to have to do this the hard way," he says in a very cordial tone. "Now, you are thinking that I am insane. And you are wishing that you had just stayed home this evening instead of going out to get a movie. And you're mad at yourself for having stopped for ice cream and wasting so much time, which brought you right here at just the right moment when Jack here jumped out of the window."

"You...you followed me," you gasp.

"No," he says, shaking his head with a slight smile. "How could I have followed you when I was laying in the middle of those trees?"

"Well...you could have....um...." Your mind tries to comprehend the confusion that isn't accompanied by the fear you would expect. And you also can't figure out why your limbs feel too heavy to move in order to get away from him.

"You think this is all fake, don't you?" he says, sounding rather intrigued. "My identification, my uniform, even my sabre," he says, removing it from his belt. He stands up, reaches down, takes hold of your arm, and pulls you to your feet. "Now, watch."

You gasp and step back as the sabre ignites into a deeper shade blue than you would have expected...were any of this real. The blade hums as he moves it through the air, the scent of ozone wafting toward you. "How?" you ask, breathless and dumfounded. You step forward and extend your arm, reaching toward the blade of light.

"No, don´t do that," he says, grabbing your wrist as your fingers get too close to the blade.

You rub your fingers, the heat from the sabre enough to lightly burn your skin.

"It's very real," he says, bending down and picking up a large limb that appears to be several inches in diameter. He slices through the limb with his sabre, the end of the limb falling to the ground and rolling toward you.

You bend down and pick up the smoldering piece of wood, the smoke that rises from it assaulting your lungs. You immediately drop it and crouch down on the ground, rubbing your head as Jack walks over to sniff at you lovingly.

"I do admit I am a bit confused about this situation as well," he says moving toward you and sitting back down on the ground. "Your manner of dress is very unfamiliar to me."

You look down at your purple T-shirt and denim shorts.

"As is your mode of transport."

You smile slightly as you glance over to your trusty ol' Honda.

"You don't look anything like the natives of this planet, so I suppose it is understandable that you are not easily convinced of my identity."

You sigh and look up at him. "This is planet Earth. And you are not real." You shake your head. "I can't even believe I just said any of that," you whisper defeatedly as you feel your perceptions turned upside-down.

He freezes momentarily at your words. "Earth?"

"Yeah. You heard of us?" you say, chuckling weakly.

"Vaguely," he says. "You are far beyond the reach of the Republic. This planet is too great a distance from any of the known settlements in inhabited solar systems."

"You know what?" you say, standing slowly on weak legs. "This is too weird. I can't explain what you've shown me. But I can't discuss it, either."

"But you know of Jedi," he says. "How?"

"It is fiction!" you exclaim. "Entertainment and fantasy, NOT reality." You take a deep breath. "And you are part of that fiction."

"Me?"

"Obi-Wan is a character played on film. By an actor who looks kinda like you. And...and the General...he's the stuff of imagination at this point. Of course, it's all imagination, and.... Oh, God," you sigh rubbing your head, realizing how really crazy you sound.

"I don't understand what you are saying," he says.

"Neither do I."

"But I do sense your confusion."

"If you tell me this has anything to do with the Force, I'm going to walk away, get into my car with Jack, and pretend that all of this never happened," you say.

He bites his lower lip and looks at you a bit sheepishly.

"Oh, God," you say for probably the hundredth time.

"What do I have to do for you to believe me?" he asks.

"Nothing," you say, holding up your hands.

"I am telling you the truth," he says. "I am not crazy. I was on my ship, in command of my ship, when--"

"Stop," you say. "Just stop." And then you put your hands over your ears when he calls you by name, tells you your address, and what you had for breakfast.

"Do we have to play more mind tricks for you to believe me?" he asks.

"I don't know what to believe," you whisper.

"I know," he says.

You look at him for several moments, nothing in your instincts telling you to fear him. On the contrary, you feel an inexplicable reassurance. You look over his shoulder to the darkness where you found him. You look at his face, his patient and kind expression convincing you to finally make a decision.

"We need to figure this out," you say, confident only in the clarity of your mind regarding this goal. "C'mon." You turn around and walk carefully through the brambles and jump back over the drainage ditch. "Jack!" you call without looking back as you get into your car and await your new guest.

TBC