Title: Resurrection
Authors: Darry & Dorotea
Rating: TF- Totally f*cked. (What were you thinking I'd say?)
Disclaimer: Believe me, if I could really do this shit, I would NOT be sitting here. George, Ridley, Jude, I'd say sorry, but I'm not. Sorry to Python for the quote for Xani.
Apologies: we usually try to write everyone into our fics, but this bunny needed a lot of space. Please forgive us for stealing the spotlight this time.
Timeline: After Crazy Little Thing...

"No, Dorotea, I'm not going to reconsider. You keep making these jokes, you keep losing EA's; it's that simple."

"Well, what about your little catnip prank? I know you have a tiger in here, and I know you just ordered a ton of catnip."

"What tiger?" A roar came from behind the exam table. Both grrls turned and looked.

"Wasn't me," the smooth-talking Greysider said. "I'm just sitting here minding my own business." Xani was sitting at Darry's desk in the Clinic, handcuffed to an IV stand. It didn't restrict his movement around the building, but it did make him move a whole lot slower and also ruined his street cred.

"OK, so I help you with this little resurrection plan of yours, and then you reinstate my Xani EA status?"

"I've missed ya, baby." Xani leered at the Librarian.

"Shut up or I handcuff you to Mr. Vocab."

"Oh, yeah...Tasha's a bit off alright."

"I give up."

"Roar!!!"

The loudspeaker crackled.

"NurseDarry, you are wanted in the Mediator's office immediately. Bring medical stuff."

~*~*~*~*~

Dorotea paced around the library, setting things up. Book? Check. Tarp on floor? Check. Goat somewhere around here?

"Get away, you damned hoofed devil; I am trying to read that!"

Check.

"Dorotea," a soft ethereal voice caused the Librarian to turn from her work.

"Qui-Gon!" She looked furtively toward the back of the library where much clanking could be heard.

"Qui-Gon, you say? You used to call me Mastah. Dorotea, why have you not come to me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"There was a stirring in the Collective. Did you not feel it when I regained corporeal form?"

She had felt something, but thought it might have been that curry she'd eaten for dinner that night.

"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon, I'm not longer part of the Collective."

"No longer part of the Collective? Little One, you wound me!"

A vexed voice shouted from the stacks. "I am going to sacrifice you to the god of cashmere if you do not let go of this book, instantly!"

Qui-Gon turned and looked around the room. "What's happening here?"

"Well, I thought I wanted you back and tried to resurrect you, but it didn't work, and it was then that I realised, that you're not 'all that'."

"I don't understand." Qui-Gon put on his most patient and knowing expression. "How could you not want me. I am the Mastah."

"Well, you're not a master of everything Qui-Gon. You're cute and all, and the hair is nice, but I've found others..."

"What others? How could there be others?" Qui-Gon looked into the shadowy depths of the room where it sounded like a drawerful of cutlery had just crashed to the floor.

Dorotea considered for a long moment. Maybe it was a good thing her Xani EA form had been shredded. Qui-Gon would have a hard enough time understanding her attraction to the General.

"It's the General, Qui-Gon. I love him."

Qui-Gon, surprised at first, seemed to regain his calm and moved closer, looming over her, a condescending smile plastered across his serene features. "Come now, you are mistaken."

Dorotea leapt onto a nearby chair, thus bringing herself almost to his height. "No more intimidation, no more "Little One", no more patronizing Jedi master tone, and definitely no more grapes!"

"I don't understand? Did I not take care of my wenches? Did I not tell them what they needed to live a happy life with their Mastah?"

"That's just it, Qui," Dorotea explained, jabbing her finger into his chest. "I got tired of being told what to do. I know; a Wench should not care. It is an honour to serve her Mastah, and it isn't supposed to be a task, it's supposed to be a joy. It's supposed to be a moment of bliss. Well, the moment's over."

"But you can relearn the ways of the Wench side. You can once again be enfolded back into the Collective."

"That's as it may be, but there's one constant in the universe that's not gonna change, no matter how Wenchie I could be."

"And what is that, Little One?"

"The General's a much better fuck than you are."

~*~*~*~*~

"There, I've sedated her slightly. She should be able to speak and behave normally, for awhile, at least. Long enough to return her to the smiling Geek Art Goddess we all know and love."

"I need you to get Xani's midichlorians out of Jael's bloodstream before I can even try therapy," Laure said to the Nurse.

"Oh, that's no problem. Why didn't anyone say something sooner? I forgot to mention the midochlorian screening at the hospital. No wonder she was freakin'."

"How could you forget something so important? You of all people should know what Xanatos' blood could do to her." Laure's tone was harsh.

"Look, Max was with me at the time. It's a wonder I was thinking at all. If this hadn't been an emergency, I'm sure I would have found myself on the floor, crying. I passed on her vitals to the hospital staff, what more do you want?"

"Well, okay. I guess I can understand your momentary lapse of protocol. I know how difficult it is to be hopelessly in love with a dead person, or rather, an undead person."

"But that's the problem. He isn't undead. He's just dead. Max was dead, now he's not. The RB was dead, now he's not. The Moose was dead, for crying out loud, and now he's back to his vacuous muscled-bound self. How come my boy is still dead and everyone makes fun of that?"

"You set them up so nicely, for one thing." Laure explained.

The sound of a throat clearing brought the two friends to the present. "Here," said Darry, handing Jael a bottle of Zima. "Drink this and no more midichlorians."

"Good lord!" Laure exclaimed. "Does that effect anyone with midichlorians?"

"Well, I shouldn't really be telling you this, but, yes. With Jedi, light or dark, it renders their Force perception and skills null for 24 hours. But for everyone else, it just cleans out the system. Don't tell Caeryn, okay. But she's spent a fortune trying to import creatures that can have the same effect, when all she needed to do was run down to Circle K."

"Interesting," Laure mused, filing away that little tidbit of information.

"Well, I gotta go check on Xani. Last time I handcuffed him in the Clinic, he almost sterilized himself with the X-ray machine."

~*~*~*~*

"Oh yes, my master," Xani sneered. "It's real. And hungry."

Qui-Gon eyed the tiger warily. Although Xanatos was attached to the drip stand, the tiger he was lazily petting wasn't attached to shit.

The day was not going well for Qui-Gon. First Dorotea had dissed him and now he discovered his fallen apprentice in the clinic. All he wanted was an aspirin. Dande should have raced to his side with two Tylenol and a cool glass of water, but the Ho-ness of this building seemed to be impeding his Mastah-Wench bond.

"Xanatos, I am sorry about our past...difficulties..."

"Difficulties!" Xani exclaimed, his dark blue eyes flashing with anger and the scar on his cheek beginning to throb. He leapt from behind the desk and rounded on Qui-Gon. The stand followed like a recalcitrant puppy. "You killed my father in front of my eyes. And you call this a 'difficulty'?"

"Roar!!!!"

"Xanatos, I was only working for peace and justice..."

"Oh you Jedi are soooo superior. None have you have got any balls. Peace and bloody justice! What about justice for me? You left me fatherless, alone; you never cared about me. All you cared about was your duty, your image, and having great hair. Well, I have great hair now too, Qui-Gon, so you can just-"

"Roarrrr!!!!!"

Darry calmly walked in on this tableau. She stepped by the angry-eyed master and former apprentice and walked into the back of the clinic. She returned carrying two Tylenol, a cup of water, and an economy- sized can of Friskeys.

"Here," she said to the tiger, placing the can on the floor. The tiger bit through the metal and began noisily eating.

"Here," she said to the Jedi master, handing him the pills and water.

Darry then walked over to a flustered and furious-looking Xani and took him in her arms, where he rested his head against her breast, tears of frustration falling on his cheeks. He clutched Darry like a lost child.

"I think you should leave now." The Nurse said to Qui-Gon. She smoothed down Xani's hair and made "shhushhing" noises.

"I..uh..thank you..." Qui-Gon began.

Darry stopped him, raising her arm. "Talk to the hand."

~*~*~*~

"And your name is...?" Laurie prompted.

"Jael, Geek Art Goddess." Jael lay on Laure's comfy sofa in the almost pristine office.

"Good," Laure said in a non-threatening tone and pressed a buzzer under her desk. "You don't feel the need to conquer the world and stomp out democracy wherever you see it?"

"Uh...no. Why?" Jael let out a little lady-like burp and polished off the Zima.

"No reason." There was a knock at the door. "Are you ready for visitors?"

"Sure."

Laure stood and walked to the door. "Well, here are a couple folks who are happy to see you." She opened the door.

A man in a tunica and a dog raced to Jael's side. There was much panting and lapping of faces. Space Dog just wagged her tail a lot.

~*~*~*~

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Remember, I get Xani back if this works, right?"

"Dorotea, if this works, I'm closing the Clinic for a week and not looking at anyone except my beautiful Servant."

"You might try to fix his face while you're there."

"Shut up!"

"Sorry, sorry; it just slipped out."

"Come on, you know this has to be solemn."

"Yeah, I know. We've done this before."

"With disastrous results. Where are the boys?"

"Xani, Tarkin, and the RB are in the media room of the library listening to Wagner; they won't bother us."

"Okay, where's the goat?"

"Naaaahhhaaaaaaaa."

"Right behind you, chewing on the cuff of your Calvin Klein overalls."

"Shit!" Darry whirled around just in time to see the goat rip off a piece of her $500.00 outfit. She yanked the denim out of the goat's mouth. "Well, it's covered in goat spit. This should do." She tossed the rag into the center of the tarp. "Ready?"

"Let's see, candles, goat-like substance, book of Roman history, hey, ya wanna throw a piece of rope on there just to be sure?"

"Dorotea...."

"Okay, okay."

"Right, say the words, and don't screw it up this time."

Dorotea began chanting in Latin. A low humming filled the room, followed by a cloud of noxious green smoke and a then a thunderclap.

"Cough, cough. There wasn't this much smoke before..." Darry waved her arms around, her eyes stinging. "Oh, farkin' hell!"

"What, what?"

Before them stood a middle-aged man in a business suit, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a lighter up to the Morely brand cigarette in his mouth. He took a long puff and surveyed the room.

"That isn't Cicero, is it?" Dorotea pondered.

"Of course it isn't Cicero, you dumbshit!"

The man looked at the two women and then spoke. "May I use your phone?"

Dorotea began to point to her desk, when Darry reached out her arm and stopped her. The Nurse pulled her cell phone from the front pocket of the bib overalls and handed it to the Cigarette Smoking Man.

"Press the pound key and then number one."

End.