The Music of the Night

[Rugs]

Locke led Lidah by the hand through the crowded street. A giddiness rose in his chest as they walked along through the entertainment district. A thousand pulsating lights from as many bars, casinos, gambling dens, hotels and more, bright and vibrant and each warring for attention over the next surely contributed to the feeling. Or maybe it was the gentle buzz that warmed his head, now that they’d split off after a few drinks from the rest of the crew’s drinking adventure.

Or maybe — just maybe — it was the company.

“They’re here somewhere,” Locke said, grinning like a schoolboy. He and Lidah were on the way to some fancy hotel he couldn’t remember of the name of, to spend an evening together. Away from the Eye, away from their friends even. Away from the worries and troubles lurked above everything like a storm soon to come ashore.

Just the two of them, to enjoy some quiet time and each other.

“The problem is,” added, scanning the crowded streets around them, “that I was in a hurry on the way here and didn’t take notes and I might be a little lost.” There was another grin, flashed at Lidah as he turned back to her. There was that boyish mirth in his thunderhead-grey eyes as he looked at her until a sweet sound hanging on the air caught his attention.

“There it is!” he exclaimed as he urged her on. “This way!”

The thing he was looking for wasn’t so hard to find, in the end. It was a plaza, a dotted with trees and grassy areas to make a small park space among Nar Shaddaa’s endless urban sprawl. In its center, a modest amphitheater fanned out from a stage. A music troupe played atop the stage, currently in the middle of some slow, hauntingly-beautiful piece Locke didn’t recognize.

A few onlookers milled about. Tiny lanterns, propelled by miniature repulsors, drifted lazily through the air. Their lights changed slowly from one color to the next, keeping pace with the music.

“Here it is,” Locke said. He let Lidah’s hand go as he smiled at her. “Now this is the part where I say I planned this out all along and sweep you off your feet.” He laughed. “But the truth is I stumbled across it cause I got lost on the way to the bar.”

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

”Lost. Really?” Lidah echoed, skeptical but indulgent, and squeezed Locke’s hand. She was pretty sure Master Jedi didn’t get lost – or, if they did, that they should insist such things were the will of the Force regardless. She opened her mouth to say as much and then stopped, immediately thinking better of it. Years of secret meetings, fake names, excuses of all kinds – those habits added up until something as simple as holding hands on the street felt indisputably daring. Hypervigilence was a hard thing to turn off, she found. But Locke seemed in such good spirits that Lidah felt her own lifted by proxy. There was always so little time and she didn’t want to spend tonight absorbed by danger and dread. ”You don’t feel even a little bad, do you? For leaving Thel back there while we go off to have fun.” She hoped Vance would go home and sleep. He seemed to have taken the recent troubles very hard, working nonstop on restructuring their operations from the bottom up. Beyond even the point where she would seriously consider throwing up her hands and leaving it all to the Force. ”Speaking with some authority on the matter, I declare the moral corruption of Tyrvast Ricost complete and irrevocable. Better throw the whole man out.” Perhaps starting to believe that they actually were lost, Lidah fiddled with her commlink in her free hand. Surely he remembered the name of the hotel, amusing as it would be to turn out his pockets for a receipt. The yelp that escaped her lips as Locke suddenly pulled her along at a faster pace was less dignified than she would have hoped. The gasp that followed it was quite genuine as they rounded a corner and were greeted with a new sight. Music and dancing fairy lights. Even better, real grass and real trees, the warm humid breath of growing things combining strangely with the city’s less pleasant aromas. She stared at Locke for a moment as though he’d conjured a minor miracle, then threw her arms around his neck. ”Shh, don’t. Consider me swept, accident or not. You remembered!” Lidah pulled away after a moment and peered around, apologetically embarrassed. ”I’ve lived nearby for years and never knew … Can we stay a little while?”

[Rugs]

“Good thing you have a friend with the investigative talents of good ol’ Tyrvast then, hm?” Locke’s eyes seemed to positively twinkle as he hugged Lidah. “What was you had said? ’Better throw the whole man out,’ I think it was? Good thing he found this completely on purpose.” He gave Lidah a kiss on the forehead as she pulled away and sighed contentedly, taking in the dazzling view before them.

Applause rippled through the small crowd before them as the performers finished their song. They transitioned to another, sultry and altogether different from what they'd just played.

“Staying a little while sounds just fine to me,” he said quietly, taking Lidah’s hand in his again and nudging her to their left, toward a nearby tree. It was a willow of some sort, with a gentle bend in its trunk near the base. Locke took a spot in the grass nearby, leaving a space for Lidah beside him. He inhaled deeply as he leaned against the tree, feeling the ever-so-slightly rough bark behind him.

“I guess you never know the amazing things life can hide,” he said, smiling warmly at her as a lamp drifted lazily overhead. “Sometimes even right under your nose.

“I read that in a book once,” he added quickly, sheepishly. “You know, one of those self-help books they have at spaceports? Years ago. Was heading back to Coruscant after some work and my damn ship got delayed, so there I was, with nothing but a shitty little book — paperbound and all — to keep me company.”

Locke laughed, watching the music. It seemed a strange thing, to remember that moment from the war’s waning years, now — and so vividly, so suddenly. But a few years ago, it seemed strange to even consider that he might spend an evening with Lidah Faine — no, Darth Novus, it had been — and count it a blessing.

Nor would he have imagined that the knowledge that he’d leave with next morning, flying back off to Coruscant, would create a pang of sorrow and longing as real as any he’d ever felt.

Yet here he was.

“But,” he said, flashing a wry grin, “maybe those little things aren’t so bad all the time.”

[Neology]

Lidah settled gingerly down on the grass, glad that she’d dressed for the bar crawl. Function over ornamentation; she didn’t think Locke would mind. When was the last time she’d done this? Sat on the actual ground, heedless of insignificant things likes clothes and shoes. There had to be dozens of examples, wild places she’d seen in her travels. None came to mind now, of course. Except … Maybe that temple on Vendaxa? Her free hand feathered over the grass at her side, cool and a little spiny as it brushed her palm. Lidah remembered cursed stones and a very different Jedi come to kill her. No, Vendaxa didn’t count. ”Hmm?” Casting a sideways glance, Lidah quirked a brow up at the mention of the self-help book. It was hard to imagine Locke reading for pleasure – she squeezed his hand, coveting those stupid, idle moments. ”You’re not just talking about the park now, are you?” Hidden. Overlooked. Put like that, it made it sound as though they’d arrived here by accident and good fortune. Lidah rested her head on his shoulder, chuckling. ”I don’t know. You were always kind of important to me … I think I wanted to be you, for a while. That’s weird, I guess? Uhm.” Beyond the veil of trailing willow branches, the music swelled, strange but beautiful to her uninitiated ear. The kind of frivolous luxury that even a Jedi might enjoy, guilt free because it could not be possessed. She, of course, couldn’t carry a tune were it shackled to both her wrists. ”I just mean … It wasn’t easy to get here, and I’m glad we are. I’m sorry that it’s been hectic this time.” It generally was. She preferred it that way, if she was being honest. Too busy to let any old or future demons in. Stars knew she had a lot of them. ”Anyway. How long do we have? Before I need to return you.” Lidah climbed to her feet, the spell temporarily broken.

[Rugs]

“Don’t worry about it,” Locke said with a wave. “‘Hectic’ is how I prefer things, most of the time. And usually how I get them, regardless of my preferences.” True, the weeks’ events had left little space for downtime with Lidah, but there wasn’t much to do for it.

“Besides,” he added with a coy grin, “maybe it just means I get to put a little extra thought into these outings, hm?”

Locke raised a brow slightly as Lidah stood, eyes following the motion. “My flight out isn’t til the mid-morning, and I’ve made sure to keep my schedule clear until then.” He stood smoothly, stepping slightly aside to avoid a tree branch. “So unless some Hutt decides to make a mess of things, I’m yours for the rest of my time here.”

On the stage, the music swelled again and fell suddenly quiet with a sole instrument lingering on a high, haunting note. Another smattering of applause rippled through the crowd as the group’s director announced a brief intermission.

“You are right, though,” he said, watching the stage. “It wasn’t easy to get here, but Force was it worth it.” Locke chuckled, recalling the endless frustration Lidah Faine used to cause him. “You used to drive me up the wall, back in the old days, you know. To my wit’s end and beyond.” But her cunning, for all its irritation during the war, had sparked a latent interest beneath Locke’s duty-driven contempt.

But Lidah’s change in allegiances and a chance encounter inside that Unseen base presented an opportunity to look beyond the hatred and ire, and Locke was thankful for it. Ironically, it had been Tekt, of all people, who drew them together.

“Funnily enough, none of this would’ve happened without that early tough sledding,” he said as he hooked an arm around Lidah’s waist. One of the floating lamps wandered in front of them. Locke plucked it from the air as its color slowly changed from a vibrant red to a rich, deep violet. He held it out for her, even as its tiny motors whined in rebellion against his grip. “But I’d do it again, knowing where it leads.”

[Neology]

”You can make up your sleep on the ship, right?” Midmorning was just about when she made it to bed, most days. Lidah glanced at her wristcomm. The rest of Locke’s time looked to be about eight to ten hours, depending. Generous really, all things considered. ”Well, I promise to get you back to your first love before you turn into a pumpkin. For all that she doesn’t deserve you.” It never felt like enough time. She never had a fair chance to get really, truly sick of his company. That probably wasn’t fair to everyone else. ”Any more interruptions like Botto and I will literally kill somebody.” Lidah groused, shielding her face as they made their way away from the extraordinary willow's circle of branches. That she’d since killed Botto the Hutt, with Liviana’s help … Added to the effect, or took away from it? She couldn’t decide. ”Those days weren’t all bad. ‘Driving you up the wall’ was fun. Annnd well … It did help, I think. You couldn’t save me then, of course, but you really saw who and what I was. And even though you had fun too, you still did the right thing.” She took the lamp, nudging him with her hip as they walked. Some things, it was better not dwell on them too long, Nex Humas and a gravely mistaken attempt at kindness, for example. The fear in Locke's face, that time after Tekt. ”Let mercy be the word of the day, decade, fucking century. Never justice.” She let the little droid go at the outskirts of the plaza, lingering a moment to watch it rejoin the others. Lucky find or no, the hotel was only a few blocks down. The foyer was furnished in dark wood and stormy gray marble, streaked with gold. Security was subtle – for Nar Shaddaa – and music drifted invitingly from further in. ”I’ll get the drinks? ...” Lidah offered, summoning her most ingratiating smile for the zabrak in a cheap suit, looming by the bar entrance. What would Locke’s expense reports look like, anyway? Herself so entailed: MS. FAINE, 37. CRIMINAL INFORMANT. SOMEWHAT DAMAGED IN SHIPPING. But not, perhaps, without some hope of repair. She ordered a bottle of dessert wine and found a booth with a decent view of the door, ever a creature of habit. The music’s source was the bar’s central feature, art and entertainment both. A piano a little too big for the space, played by a remarkably beautiful droid whose upper body transitioned seamlessly into a bench that might also sit a redundant humanoid player.

[Rugs]

“There was a sort of sport to it, wasn’t there?” Locke couldn’t help but smile. The bumps and bruises had been infuriating in the heat of the moment. Looking back, their rivalry-of-sorts seemed almost a strange sort of courtship, in the midst of all that fighting and killing. Perhaps it had been, in a way. Neither could claim to be normal, so why should anything about their relationship be?

Locke liked to imagine the little lamp smiling as it zipped from Lidah’s hand to its fellows. Of course, it was just a droid — probably a relatively stupid one at that. But why not afford it some mirth, even if only imaginary, on this night?

“I’d agree to that,” he said, hurrying to catch up with Lidah after the droid had drifted on its way. As much as he could. Mercy was a concept the Jedi should, in theory, embrace. Justice was one Locke’s job often revolved around. The two diverged more often than he’d like.

He let a happy quiet take them as they walked to the hotel, through the sights and sounds of whichever of the Smuggler’s Moon’s countless districts they wandered through. They arrived to a fine-looking foyer, where Lidah suggested — with easy agreement from Locke — to pick up some drinks.

A few moments later he was seated across from her in a cozy booth, pouring her selected wine for the two of them as the piano-bot played beautifully away in the bar’s center.

“You know,” Locke said as he set the bottle down, “I once wanted to play music when I was young. I mean, maybe 10 or so.” He smiled, picking up his glass and raising it toward her in a toast of sorts. He lifted it to his lips for a long, thoughtful moment.

“Problem was I’ve got the musical talent of a deaf dog, and you know, Youngling classes didn’t leave a lot of time to properly ply my craft.” A spark of mischief played across Locke’s face as he looked from Lidah to the droid. It was tempting to take a seat at the big piano, to loose his “talents” for all to hear. But even heartfelt efforts were sure to have their limits, and he didn’t quite feel like getting kicked out on his ass for tormenting the hotel’s other guests.

“But,” he said, reaching a hand across the table for hers, “I still wonder what it’d be like, sometimes.” A smile split his face. “Just imagine! You could prop me up on a pedestal on the middle of the game floor in the Eye once a night and I’d just play the most beautiful music you’ve ever heard. You’d be swimming in creds.”

“The people would love it. I’d be a star.” Locke put his hand up, imitating sings lining music halls as he winked at Lidah. “But the secret? Every song would be for you.”

[Neology]

”Really? Ten, huh.” It was difficult to imagine Locke at that age, though Lidah squinted at him through the gold in her wine glass in exaggerated effort. She must have been twelve, then. A gloomy year for her child-self. A shame they hadn’t known each other then, Lidah thought. Peace and comfort had a terrible habit of turning her mind inward and wistful. Might one good, true friend have changed the course of her life? … Or would it have all gone disastrous and strange anyway, with an extra measure of personal betrayal thrown in? Greatly or subtly altered, humph. Impossible too, and thus very easy to let go of. There were better things to wonder about. Locke-the-Muscian’s hands, for example. Would they be less or differently marked? She brushed the pad of her thumb against each familiar callus, a constellation of downplayed but lethal competence. Her own were similarly marked, though fading. Lidah-the-Compeer was behind in her saber practice, for lack of new and interesting sparring partners. ”I’d like to see that, you know. And maybe I will, in a glass or two more.” The chilled wine was coating and sweet, thick with the mingled taste of honeyed fruit, ginger, and spice. The taste likely covered a high alcohol by volume … Lidah restrained herself enough not to check. ”Hungry? You should pick.” The stout she’d ordered at the Drunken Rancor was a distant memory, along with lunch before that. Drinking with anyone could be a frustrating ordeal, but trying to keep pace with Locke was just unfair. Her pleasantly muddled would be his dead sober. ”Let’s see ...” If it was to be sharing this, this thwarting of youthful ambitions, surely she could find something. Perhaps nothing so romantic as every song would be for you, however. ”No, at ten or twelve I still wanted to be a Jedi Knight more than anything else. But, much later, I met this professor. A xenoarchaeologist. He’d have a season of lectures and writing papers and all that – then hare off some adventure the next. I think something like that may have suited me.” Poor Dr. Hyul, she’d disappeared on him rather cruelly, almost eight years ago now. His hands had been quite different, softer and ink-stained. Lidah did not regret the end, she had long come to realize, only the manner. And perhaps the unfortunate title of that book. ”So.” Lidah leaned forward suddenly, bringing Locke’s hand to her lips and brushing a dry kiss on the back of his knuckles. ”Thel and Iris, have we noticed and where do we stand? ‘Do as I say, not as I do?’ Or something else?”

[Rugs]

“Maybe you will,” Locke said, laughing. “Though I warn you, be ready to fight to stay in this hotel or get thrown out with me if I start.” His smile held no shortage of mischief. Hutt world or no, he doubted public torture was high on the list of allowable offenses.

He studied the menu at Lidah’s suggestion. The server had provided them with a short listing of the bar’s most popular offerings and the night’s specials. Locke’s attention drifted from the food selection as he listened to Lidah tell her tale of possibly-wanted-but-out-of-reach exploits or ambitions.

A pang of regret touched his heart as she started. What would happen if Lidah Faine had never drifted away from the Jedi Order? Was Darth Novus always destined to rise or if a few choices, a few circumstances in her life had turned out differently, would they be working together as partners now?

But I guess we already do, he mulled. In our own way. And — selfishly, the Council would no doubt say — he wasn’t sure whether either of them would trade their current relationship for a more professional one.

“Lidah the professor,” he said with some amusement. “You know,” he said as he waved a passing waiter over, “I think you could make it work. Part-time gig. But only if I get to see the students’ faces at some of your stories.”

He could only imagine, as he ordered some sort of meat kebabs with a sweet glaze, the reactions to the “And that was how I released a rakghoul horde on Taris” lecture or the “How to fake your death to the entire Galaxy,” section of the course. Assuming, of course, those particular aspects of her past wouldn’t matter to her working in the role in the first place, in that fantasy existence.

As the waiter hurried way with their order, Lidah leaned forward abruptly, brushing his hand to her lips. Locke grinned as he drank again from his wine, thinking of something clever and romantic to say...

...and coughing as he nearly choked on his wine at Lidah’s question. “Those two? I don’t know what you mean,” he said quickly as he tried to gather his thoughts. He looked surreptitiously around. It seemed his sudden coughing fit hadn’t drawn any more attention.

“Yea, I think we have,” he said thoughtfully. The rest was more complicated. Locke the person, free of any ties to any particular group or monastic order, was happy the two seemed to share some mutual interest.

Locke the Jedi should, in theory, oppose it and had spent the better part of his time with Jazen trying to dissuade the Padawan from romantic endeavours — thought Jazen had his own struggles and inner demons that needed more attention than either of them would’ve liked.

But Locke was breaking the same rules he’d be trying to enforce on Moonfire if he followed what he should do. Though Locke Nemsee could endure many things, he hated to be a hypocrite.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he said after a long moment of thinking. “In a vacuum, I think they could be good for each other. But you and I both know life isn’t that cut and dry. I think that might make the most sense.” He rubbed her hand with his, putting his other to his chin he so often did when deep in thought. “I think we maybe watch and see for now, though, unless one of them says something to us about it.”

[Neology]

Lidah ducked her head at Locke’s coughing fit and knee jerk denial, hiding a grin. Noting his furtive glance around, she sobered immediately and wondered who or what he feared to see. Elder Jedi boogeymen sitting at the next table? She thought that unlikely. Attachment would not topple Locke’s duty – or his discretion. That said, she was rather invested in making sure that it never came to a choice. For one reason or another, either result would surely break her heart. ”Is it really that surprising, that I’d ask? He was ready to lie to me, which is certainly a new one.” Lidah’s voice didn’t betray her, at least no more than her words did on their own. Iris – Moonfire – still had much to prove, in her eyes. She took a masking sip from her glass, listening and eventually nodding reluctant agreement. Wait and see. Lidah had deep patience for some things, yet found it hard to stomach here. If youthful romantic blunders triggered an attack of guilt or conscience … Well, all their lives would swiftly become much more complicated, to be sure. But she sensed Locke was right in this, and that a soft touch would likely work better than a firm one. He surely knew more about safeguarding frustrating young people, having guided Jazen to knighthood. Vance had been so easy, by comparison. Though not so all the things she had done for Vance, alas. Palazzo di Luce, Taris, various other horrors … All inspired by fear for him that she had not, until after, felt for herself. From such a vantage, once could almost understand Jedi proscriptions against love and other intensities of feeling. Perhaps that was even the intended message, rather than how she’d seen it most of her life: an especially cynical way of protecting the Republic from Force dynasties, least they become more like the Sith-ruled Empire. ”They will say something. Or I hope they will, anyway. They’d be fools not to, with all our hard won mistakes and not-mistakes to draw upon.” Lidah let her hand rest, palm up, enjoying the idle return of affection. It was still deliciously novel, though she did repossess her limb when their food arrived. ”And I’m sure they’ll compare notes, so we must try not to embarrass ourselves by giving different answers, eh?” The fragrant dish reminded her of her appetite; Lidah dug in for several moments. When the waitstaff was well clear again, she stopped, set down her fork, and regarded Locke with abashed seriousness. His gray eyes were very dark in this dim light. ”While Tyrvast must perforce receive my credits and favor for all that’s happened lately … I wanted to get you something that Locke might keep. Turns out he’s still hard to shop for.” Shifting in her seat, Lidah produced from one over sized pocket a steel flask in a tooled leather sheath. The design was a twisting one of scales and lyrebird tail feathers, picked out by a darker reddish stain, sealed and weatherproofed beneath a slightly glossy lacquer. It was, she thought, pretty enough without being truly beautiful and, importantly, mostly free of secret meaning. All that went rather against her initial impulses, the honors and prizes she could afford to heap upon him as Compeer. But then, none of those things could a Jedi actually accept. ”My bar staff tell me this whiskey is one of the best, but you’ll have to let me know. I never taste much but the alcohol.” There, a private indulgence she could get away with for lack of a label. ”And come back, of course, if you ever want the rest of the bottle. I’ll be looking forward to Ylesia.”

[Rugs]

“I’m sure they will,” Locke said. “And even if they don’t, if they keep this up, it’s inevitable that some circumstance where its obvious will come up.” He glanced sideways as Lidah pulled her hand away and the server arrived. The food smelled wonderful, simply put. His stomach rumbled. He’d avoided eating before joining the gang earlier in anticipation of food along the way.

Locke waited until the waiter retreated back to the kitchen before flashing a grin at Lidah as he lifted a kebab. “I don’t think two kids could hide that long from a former spymaster and detective,” he said, lowering his voice.

And what would they do once that obvious situation arose, or if Moonfire or Vance raised the issue of their own volition? With Moonfire specifically, would he play the role of a good Jedi mentor and admonish her for forming an attachment he had held onto for years?

No. That didn’t sit right with him, he decided as he chewed thoughtfully at the savory meat. “When the time comes, I think it’s best to guide them, however best we can,” he said. “It’s a prickly thing, loving as a Jedi, but if it’s going to happen, better with advice than trying to dodge all of forced secrecy’s landmines.”

His smiled ruefully, an expression that lingered perhaps a moment too long. What would have been like, to not have to hide his own feelings for Lidah from his Jedi fellows? But even if the attachment itself weren’t an issue for the Order, her past would complicate things beyond any comparison to what Moonfire and Vance might share.

Not that Locke would trade it for anything. But shoulders to lean on were never a bad thing, should Vance and Moonfire decide to use them.

His attention turned outward again as Lidah spoke. “Oh?” he blinked, surprised. “Something for lil’ ol’ me?” He wondered what she could have come up with. He never asked for much of anything, beyond information and affection, and they both knew taking gifts wasn’t quite in the Jedi job description.

But a warm, earnest smile spread across his face as she produced the flask. It was beautiful — much more so than the rudimentary steel containers he’d used to smuggle around alcohol as an older Padawan. Force, had avoiding Master Tiino’s attention been an exercise in frustration, only to learn the old Iktotchi didn’t actually care if Locke drank or not.

But only once he was Knighted, of course.

“Lidah, I...” Locke searched fruitlessly for words, unsure that anything could truly convey how he felt about her gift. He accepted it, from her hand, tracing a finger along a lyrebird feather. He smiled, chuckling to himself. That’s so you, he thought with a smile, wondering further if it was from one of the lyrebirds that flitted around her residence in the Eye. “Thank you,” he said, looking up to her again. His half-eaten kebab lay on the plate, momentarily forgotten.

“I’ll cherish it,” he said. “And you can bet your ass I’ll be back for the rest of that bottle.” Locke fell quiet a moment longer, wondering how he could ever repay her.

“I wish that I had something I could give you in return,” he said. “But, when we got to Ylesia, there’s a special place there. It’s a bar tucked away on a riverbank a few miles outside of Peace City — place called T’hiti. They’ve got little rafts you can rent out and float down the river on.” He grinned at her. “Drinks on me. Don’t ask how. Just you, me, and the river.”

[Neology]

”Well good. You’re welcome.” Lidah’s smile was private and enormously pleased at the same time. It had been an interesting puzzle, commissioning a gift that was meant to have no inherent value. Though this musical interest of his, unknown to her before tonight, gave her further ideas. Even temple-issue datapads had chipslots, and you could fit quite a library on one of the larger capacity memory sticks ... Something to arrange for another time, along with the yearly barrage of anonymous Life Day cards. Ah. Gifts in return – a slight hiccup, which she had perhaps not given enough thought. There was nothing Lidah wanted that could be bought, though the words stuck in her throat unspoken. The instinct to reassure, to ignore a happy moment’s tarnish, felt slightly dishonest to her. What Locke actually felt was more fascinating than any pretend. And more precious. He got there on his own anyway, brightening again after a beat and painting quite the word picture. Nar Shaddaa had thousands of bars but no rivers. If she closed her eyes, perhaps she could see this one, sluggish and green-smelling and warm beneath Ylesia’s tropical sun. ”I’ll make sure to pack something to wear – and sunscreen. But see? You’re giving me a whole planet.” She wasn’t just speaking poetically; the Ylesia job was meant to displace its current lord, Dova the Hutt, in favor of someone less hostile to the Republic. She did not think it was any casual act of service, to involve the Exchange when some more biddable puppet might have been installed. To Locke’s masters, her past and identity were vague by necessity, her loyalties always particular when they were not merely selfish. Far from a safe bet by anyone else’s judgment. ”It’ll be fun. Get out from under this sky for a bit.” Not to mention it could take quite some time to root out a planetary government, even if only on an underpopulated spice world. Depending on how they went about things. Stolen days by the river might be stretched into stolen weeks with the right sort of encouragement. Lidah picked at her food and wine for a few minutes more, aiming for comfortable and pleasantly tingly with an eye toward indulging other appetites. She slotted her credstick, paying for the meal, and waited on Locke with exaggerated impatience for at least thirty seconds. Until mock sternness gave way to muffled laughter. The suite was nice, as far as upscale lodging on Nar Shaddaa went. Only a little bit tacky instead of a lot, and clean with no off putting reminders of previous tenants. Just Locke’s things, packed for the morning. Lidah spared that reminder a reluctant glance and made all further assessments with her arms tucked in, hands in her pockets. Searching for hidden surveillance would be unforgivably rude at this point – which was not to say it had never happened before. Five years was a long time and neither of them had been quick to trust. She searched out the remote, channel surfing until she found something dumb to put on. Reruns of Sweet Sixteen Hundred, perfect. Then she put the volume down to a very low murmur, just enough to cover the ambient sounds of the unfamiliar place. While undeniably a practical choice for a bar crawl, her jumpsuit left something to be desired in presentation. All or nothing, right. Her fingers lingered on the buttons a moment, then fell away as she reached some internal decision. On for now, I think. ”So … Want some help with those boots?”

[Rugs]

An alarm, ringing sudden and severe stirred Locke from his slumber. He lay sprawled across a portion of the bed, one leg hanging out from under the cover and off the side. A lazy wave of the hand silenced the beeping clock and returned the room to blessed silence. He inhaled deeply, rolling over to his side and draping an arm over Lidah as he pulled the cover up to his head. He muttered something about it being ‘too damn early’ and started to drift back to sleep.

Until the alarm pierced his attempts at sleep again five minutes later. Locke resisted — with some difficulty — the urge to throw the damn clock against the wall. It wouldn’t be very Jedi-like, and he doubted Lidah would appreciate that particular expense added to her bill.

The prior evening, now passed in a blur of loving pleasure and warmth, lingered in his memory as he admitted defeat and gently sat up without trying to disturb Lidah too much. He loved those moments, those rare times when they could simply be themselves and bask in the other’s company. All too rare, he thought with some silent regret as he flicked at a switch on the clock’s back face to disable the alarm, and gone too soon. He shivered slightly. The cooling in the room worked perhaps a bit too well, and he’d not slept with a shirt on.

What little light filtered in around or through the closed curtain from outside their room was still much the same as it had been when they arrived. Days and nights moved slowly on Nar Shaddaa, tidally-locked to Nal Hutta as it was. “Well, I guess it’s about that time,” he said quietly. “Should’ve gotten an afternoon flight.”

He turned to Lidah, still laying in bed as she was. He smiled and, as he stood, pulled the sheets up around her and left her with a kiss on the cheek.

---

A short while later, Locke emerged again, more or less dressed, save for his coat and boots. The latter were still on the floor at the foot of the bed, where they’d come off shortly after they arrived at the room. His flask lay on the kitchenette’s counter. “Sleep well?” he asked Lidah as he fumbled around in his bags, making sure he had everything.

Locke flipped through the cabinets and refrigerator, searching for food. It’d come stocked with basic items. Anything more than rudimentary would require external supplies that he found himself lacking. Besides, he didn’t cook often anyway.

“Figure we can pick up something on the way?” he asked. “Not much to choose from here.”

[Neology]

Sleep had found her, reluctantly. It was the sort of shallow catnap that owed its existence to the extreme comfort of the bed, the excellent company, and the replete drowsy weight of her limbs. The shrill alarm brought her awake with flinch. Lidah was sure that she’d never understand the purpose of snooze buttons, but the prison made by Locke’s arm was too lovely to contemplate escape. She made a vague, affirmative noise in her throat, stretched, and listened to his breathing slow. The alarm, again. Rolling onto her side, she watched him. ”Mmm. Why not evening while you’re at it?” A few hours, a few days … It didn’t matter. This part was always the hardest. Bookends, seasonal shift, the laws of physics. The other always had to leave eventually – and these days it was mostly Locke. She’d built too nice a nest here, perhaps, and it made her greedy and stupid. Before, during the war, things had been more … Fraught. She heard the shower come on, real water rushing through old pipes. Something of a novelty on Nar Shaddaa, but one luxury she insisted on having. She’d had quite enough of sonic showers in her life, between Jedi austerity and spacer pragmatism. Thoughts wandering increasingly far afield, she must have drifted off. Locke rummaged around in the background, not quietly. His question made her frown up at the ceiling, making mental account of last night’s pockets. A single tube of lipstick seemed thin armor against saying her goodbyes in public. ”Oh, I’m not fit to be seen. Let’s order in.” Finally slipping out of bed, Lidah hunted around for her clothes and piled them on the bed. She retrieved her wrist comm and double checked that the broadcast was audio only. ”Lovelace? Hi. One of your outer perimeter folks is from around here, yeah? Ms. … ? I want breakfast brought up. For two. Whatever is supposed to be good, and uh, tea if they have it.” Some complaint on the other end. Lidah shrugged and smiled wolfishly. ”Yeah, yeah. I know they don’t like to be noticed, but if Ms. Jolliet wants to know how and when I clocked her, then she’ll just have to do it.” Bundling her clothes under one arm, Lidah waved her fingers at Locke and retreated into the bathroom for her turn in the shower.

[Rugs]

Ordering in was, Locke had to admit, a much better call than making a rushed stop at some grease pit on the way to the spaceport. Some egg-based concoction that was fluffy and light, but filling, along with airy biscuits and a dark imported from elsewhere. Locke poured the latter into a traveling mug as they readied to depart — he couldn’t down the stuff as magma-hot as Lidah seemed to like it.

As they exited the room, Locke turned and paused, finger lingering near the light switch, to take a final parting look at the place. Here comes the hard part, he thought, as the light dimmed and the door slid shut behind him.

The precious moments always came to an end. Why couldn’t they simply stay?

---

Nar Shaddaa’s spaceports never really slept, no matter the place or the hour. Even the smaller one where Tyrvast was supposed to set off to the stars once more buzzed with throngs of people coming and going from the Smuggler’s Moon.

The crowds at least died down as they approached Locke’s landing pad, which had--with some nudging — been given a private designation for a brief window around his flight. It was a short hop to Prazhi from the Smuggler’s moon, where he’d catch a more official Republic-charted ride back to Coruscant.

“Gonna miss this place,” Locke remarked as they emerged into the small landing bay that housed his shuttle. The captain was off in the pilot’s lounge, affording them a few moments of solitude for their parting. “Would that I could just stay in the Eye.” He smiled warmly at Lidah and pulled her close for a hug and a parting kiss.

A selfish fantasy — an impossibility. Duty, no matter how often it brought him home, to Nar Shaddaa, would always call him elsewhere.

“I’ll try to take care of myself best I can and try not to get into too many damn fool adventures, don’t worry,” he said. “And of course I’ll write you.” He picked his bags off the ground and turned to board the ship. “Tell Thel not go making a habit of punching random Zeltrons,” he said, pausing halfway up the ramp. “And tell Forte it’s okay to show his face sometimes.”

He grinned wryly. “I’m sure it won’t be long before I’m back. Remember — you and me, Ylesia. Just the two of us. Gonna be great.”

Some minutes later, the boarding ramp slid shut behind as the shuttle captain emerged from the lounge and set off to the stars.