Title: HSU Fic: The Twelve Days After Thanksgiving
Author: Laure
Rating: HLGHSB (How Laure Got Her Sobriety Back)
Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Poor, very poor. Own my sweet fallen emperor again, but he's not for sale.
Timeline: After Emmy's Day after Thanksgiving fic.
Author's Note: No offense intended towards anyone who has/had an addiction problem. This is all for fun.

On the first day after Thanksgiving, my true love gave to me, the Look and the Stance all wrapped up in one...

~*~

"Laure, dear, please sit down."

Laure gave the General a suspicious look, but settled on the couch, an Irish coffee in one hand.

He turned the Look on her, and she narrowed her eyes.

He assumed the Stance, and she wavered a moment, then took a deep sip of her drink.

Obi-Wan sighed and sank down next to her. "I think you have a problem, dearest."

"Yeah, this is the cheapest Irish I've ever tasted." Laure rose and headed for the bar.

Obi-Wan sighed again.

~*~

On the second day after Thanksgiving, my true love gave to me, an hour long version of the Look.

~*~

After nearly an hour, Laure rose from her bed and strolled past The General into her bathroom. A few moments later she emerged wrapped in a white silk robe.

"If you want to stare at something, stare at this." And with that, she pulled her robe open and struck her own stance.

Obi-Wan pounced.

~*~

On the third day after Thanksgiving, my true love gave to me, an invitation to an AA meeting.

~*~

"Obi-Wan, dear, do I look like the kind of person who would enjoy sitting in a circle on little folding chairs, talking about problems I don't have with a bunch of complete strangers?"

Laure sailed past him to her limousine for the ride back to HSU.

~*~

On the fourth day after Thanksgiving, my other love gave to me, a membership in triple A.

~*~

"Lady Kymira has expressed to me that you desperately need this organization's help, my beloved. Is there something wrong with your automobile?" Commo asked.

Laure blinked and stared at the documents he had presented her on a silver tray. "Ky, you're dead," she growled under her breath, then grabbed the front of Commo's pajama top and dragged him back to bed.

~*~

On the fifth day after Thanksgiving, my true love gave to me, five gold rings.

~*~

Why mess with perfection.

~*~

On the sixth day after Thanksgiving, my true love gave to me, a lecture from da Mastah.

~*~

"Little One," said Qui-Gon, "Obi-Wan is concerned about you and the amount of alcohol you have taken to consuming on a daily basis."

Laure looked up at him towering over her and frowned. "Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan is always concerned about something around this place. He's a worrier. I think it has something to do with being abandoned by his Master at too early of an age."

Qui-Gon frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

Laure tapped her pen on her desk. "The amount of alcohol I consume doesn't interfere with my job or my life, and is frankly none of your business. Isn't it time to go rub your Wishpuff's feet?"

~*~

On the seventh day after Thanksgiving, the Wench gave to me, an ambush over tea.

~*~

Laure sat on a chintz sofa in the warmth of the sun shining through the picture window, watching a pink silk clad Dande pour tea from a delicate china teapot, as soothing music filled the air.

"Laure, dear, everyone is concerned about the amount of alcohol you seem to be drinking these days." The Wench handed her friend a cup and saucer.

Laure stared at Dande, then reached into her purse for her flask, and poured a dollop of rum into her Earl Grey. "Dande, this place is built on mega margaritas and Corellian ale. Everyone here, outside of you, drinks. My drinking isn't to excess. I have no problem." She took a deep sip and crossed one slender leg over the other. "Your concern is unnecessary, but thank you. Now, how do we get Dor to dump Xani?" she asked a bit gleefully.

The Wench stared at the Mediator and blinked a few times.

~*~

On the eighth day after Thanksgiving, my true love gave to me, an alcoholic intervention.

~*~

Laure stared at the group sitting in the conference room, and crossed her arms over her chest, as Obi-Wan's words, 'alcoholic intervention', rang in her ears.

"I thought we were having a board meeting."

"We are," the General replied, trying to guide her to a seat at the head of the table. "There's nothing more important than your health."

Darry snorted, Emmy rolled her eyes, and Dorotea surreptitiously played Elf Bowling Two on her gameboy underneath the table.

Laure crossed her arms over her chest and said, "No," in a very firm voice, before turning on her heel and striding out the door.

~*~

On the ninth day after Thanksgiving, my true love gave to me, a second alcoholic intervention.

~*~

"Laure, you really need to talk about your problem," Obi-Wan said, his voice gentle and conciliatory.

"Obi-Wan, I don't have a problem, this is getting very tedious, and don't we have finals or something coming up that should be much more important than dragging the Board in here every five seconds?"

Turning on her new and very expensive heels, the Mediator walked out the door.

~*~

On the tenth day after Thanksgiving, the Nurse gave to me, a friendly warning.

~*~

"Listen, we're having another one of these stupid interventions tomorrow, and if you walk out on this one, I'm going to kill you," Darry threatened.

Noticing the strain around the Nurse's eyes, the tightness of her lips pressed together, and the tremors in her hands--obviously all caused by interrupted servant boinking--Laure believed every word.

~*~

On the eleventh day after Thanksgiving, my true love gave to me, a third and hopefully final alcoholic intervention.

~*~

Pouting, Laure sat down at the head of the table, and stared blankly at the floral centerpiece.

"Now, Laure, my dear, it's time to face your demons," Obi-Wan said, taking her hand and stroking it gently.

"Are we going to Sunnydale?" she asked facetiously.

He frowned and gestured to Judy who pulled a pile of paper out of a notebook.

"Your bar tab."

"Booze is free here."

"I still keep track," the Bartender said, handing Laure several pages.

Laure shrugged. "Well, I've been here for six months."

"That's the last two weeks."

"...Oh."

~*~

On the twelfth day after Thanksgiving, my true love gave to me, a hearty round of *censoring*.

~*~

Obi-Wan cradled Laure in his arms and gently stroked her hair along her naked her shoulder, as they lay replete in his large and comfortable bed.

"It's been twenty-four hours, my love, how are you doing?"

"Fine. The world isn't quite as fun." Laure grinned against his chest. "I'm not giving it up all together, remember. I'm going to cut back and only have a glass of wine or a margarita on occasion, at dinner and at parties. No more drinking when I'm upset or lonely or sad. Just on social occasions."

Nine hours of talking and yelling had accomplished only that, but Obi-Wan knew it was a start. "And if that fails..." he began softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Betty Ford," Laure sighed heavily. "I know. Darry's threatened me with it every time I've seen her since last evening."

Lifting her head, she moved to straddle his hips and grinned down on him. "You know, a lot of my excess drinking was caused by unhappiness. You prepared to keep me happy?"

The General grinned up at her and wrapped his strong arms around her waist. "Oh, I think I'm up to the challenge."

*censored*

The End