thefinaljedi | Appointments

[The mental image hits him, and it hits him like a raging Gundark. Then her words slam into him, driving that vision home. They weren't just a bad dream, they were something that had been driven into Adele. For a moment, he could faintly feel the anguish of a young, dark haired girl, a psychic impression left by the nature of the shared mental picture]

Who? Who could do such a thing?

[Luke squeezes right back and moves closer, giving her a shoulder to lean on. She needs all the support she can get.]

I don't know.

[She sags against him, one hand curled tight around the charm, the other shaking in his.]

I don't know- all I know is it happens here. In the village. And it's not the Malnosso- there's no point in it, there's nothing to be learned from it or gained from it so it cannot be them but I don't know-

[That was the worst of it. Not knowing. Uncertainty has ever left her uncomfortable and this. Not knowing enough of this leaves her ill, twitchy. Irritable. Liable to say unkind things to those that don't deserve it by any means.]

[Luke wraps an arm around her, giving her a gentle squeeze. This is a new level of disturbing for him. Not even Palpatine was fond of...whatever it was he'd seen in Adele's mind. Something that the wrinkled Sith Lord had always insisted on was that the Dark Side was not something for mindless thugs and pointless sadism. And when one finds oneself thinking that the Dark Lord of the Sith is a classier form of villain...then you know you're in trouble.]

Adele, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. You know that, don't you? If it makes you feel more secure, you can even move in with Anakin, Obi-Wan, and I for a time.

[Luke reaches out, this time with the Force, and pulls out a bottle of wine, a gift from Sabriel. He's trying to get her to relax.]

I don't know about you, but I think I could use a drink.

[She doesn't know why it feels so inevitable. She doesn't believe in fate, in a predetermined course of events- and yet was that not all Anakin, all Obi-Wan had to return to?

It leaves her shaken, frustrated, and terrified. Dying is one thing. Dying she can accept. But the utter ruin of what she needs to function as a surgeon, as a human being? She honestly doesn't know how she'd ever begin to recover. How she could handle herself, how she could remain sane. She simply couldn't.

Tired and trembling she leans against Luke and tries to put it from her mind. She has the charm. She has powerful friends- though she had never thought of them as such until very recently.]

I. I may very well do so, Luke. I cannot put enough locks on the house without causing trouble for Helios or Sabriel, I have not trained enough with what weapons I've earned here to defend myself and I still do not have my gun.

[She buries her face in her hands. Takes a slow, deep breath in time with the waves. Then another. Centers herself, or at least tries to.]

...that is an excellent idea.

[Luke nods, taking out a pair of glasses. The bottle hovers over them, pouring out two rather full cups of sparkling white wine. One levitates to Adele, the other to him. Taking a sip, the Jedi pauses a moment before responding, mulling it all over in his head.

That charm gave off a small aura of power, and she was right. He could feel the gears turning in her head. Almost like it was finally starting to sink in just who he, Obi-Wan, and Anakin were. Guardians of peace, heroes from her childhood given flesh by some strange twist of fate. More than that, Doctor Law, Sailor Mercury, and a host of other strange and powerful beings all bent on ensuring the safety of their friends. She may liken herself to an ant, but to Luke she was more like a very wise old soldier.]

If its a gun you want, that's not a problem. I've found a small assortment of blasters, mostly Czerka stuff but its small enough for you if you want. I'll make arrangements for you to move tomorrow. Tony and I have managed to rig up some repulser-sleds, so that'll make it easy.

[Another ponderous sip as he squeezes her hand]

Don't worry so much. You know what Master Yoda would say.

[Despite everything? This frivolous display of his prowess with the Force pulls a snorted laugh out of Adele. After that it was like a dam had broken.

The laugh becomes a giggle and grows until her arms are wrapped around her middle and there are tears of hysterical mirth pouring from her eyes. This is her life. Sharing wine with Luke Skywalker on a beach in a world where she has wings; where a priestess has a vision and gives her a charm, where she has hope. Faith. Friends. Where she dares to be optimistic.

Where terrible things can happen and people help one another through it without any ulterior motive. Where promises are kept.

She laughs for awhile longer before she can reign it in. Wipe her cheeks dry and stare back out at the ocean.]

This just...everything I feared in my own world. Everything I endured. This makes all of that seem so. So very small. Insignificant.

[Settled, more or less, she accepts the floating glass and takes a sip. Sighs. Something crisp, a little sweet. A good bottle, really.]

Mn. It's not just that it's a gun. It is my father's gun; one I am accustomed to using and maintaining. The weight of it, the recoil is as familiar to me as your lightsaber is to you. It is not the same by any means but...

[She shakes her head and has another small sip of wine. Squeezes Luke's hand back.]

Thank you. Truly, Luke. Thank you.

[For a long moment, Luke remained quite silent, sipping his wine and smiling around the edge of the glass. He couldn't begin to fathom what what so funny, so he chalked it up to the abject...strangeness of their entire situation. A world of wizards and dragons, where men could eat fruit and teleport, and where gods walked among men.

It was bizarre, yes, even for a man who'd traveled the cosmos, battled with dark forces beyond most men's comprehension, and was connected to the very essence of the universe. He pushed the images he'd borrowed from her aside, making a note of them for later.]

Don't worry about it. You know me, Mr. Helpful. I've got all the fun toys, so I may as well share. Guns, space ships, energy swords, robots.

[He sips again, not at all bothered by the strength of the drink. Its good, its not Corusca White, but its a far cry from Hutt-Swill]

Seriously, you've got nothing to worry about. We're in for rough times with the Malnosso, but honestly I'm sure it'll turn out alright.

A blaster I'll take. A lightsaber? I'll cut my self on accident- I still hit my shins during the defensive maneuvers Ben has been walking me through. It's frustrating- I do not know if it is the difference in the forms or if it is my own lack of familiarity with the art in general.

[Because it was an artform. A graceful, useful, deadly artform. She chuckles a bit to herself. The horror pushed from her mind for now. They'll be alright. Somehow. She hopes, at least but.

There was the time to consider. The Malnosso. That should be her primary concern.]

I've never been one for optimism. For hope. But damn you and damn Ben, I am beginning to become optimistic.

I agree. You are not ready for a lightsaber, and won't be for some time. A blaster you can handle.

[Luke sips again]

When did optimism mean something bad? I thought it was something that people who were comfortable and well adjusted felt. Not just Jedi. You seem pretty well adjusted to me.

Don't sweat it. Just...be careful. I'll make the arrangements to move you in for a time tomorrow, alright?

Optimism isn't bad- not when tempered with realism. I'm simply...not accustomed to looking on the brighter side of things. I prepare myself for the worst, brace myself for it, and live every day expecting some mode of crisis. In Paris? It made sense; I was a surgeon in a trauma ward. Something always went wrong, there was always a crisis.

Here...I do not need that wariness, yet I keep it because it is comfortable. But knowing you and Ben. Makes me think there is a better way.

[She shrugs. Takes another long sip of the wine.]

I will. I don't have much to move, honestly.

Perhaps here you can finally learn to accept it and let go. I think all things considered, you're a brighter more cheerful person than when we first met.

[He laughs into his cup again]

And there is nothing wrong with being wary, but too much of it? That goes into paranoia. Remember that.

I've had more reason to smile in my six months here than I had in the past three years back home. The company I've come to keep and the friends I have made have helped enormously in this.

[She turns to face him with a half smile.]

Luke, I'm not certain that you're aware of this- but I am terribly paranoid. I'm unarmed now, but usually I'm carrying at least three small knives, two lock picks, and six throwing knives.

I am aware, Adele. It always struck me as odd, though. There aren't too many people who'd wish you harm here from what I've seen. Those that would are intelligent enough to realize that you are well protected. But I never really wondered why you are so paranoid.

Why is that, my dear friend? You've said that you are going home to die, but what has made you so afraid that you feel the need to carry knives at all times?

[He squeezes her into a one armed hug again, almost like he would Mara or Jan, a trusted friend.]

I'm not accustomed to having protection. For years I have had no one but myself to rely upon when it comes to my safety. I could not always carry a gun- knives are easily hidden. When one works with criminals? It pays to be paranoid. To expect an attack. And I have been working with them for the better part of the past seven years. Such habits do not change quickly or easily simply because I am here.

[She scrubs her face and sags against Luke.]

For a time I was more comfortable, but. As much as I trust you, and trust Ben, Lupin, Rems- those I live with? I do not trust the Malnosso, or those that would work with them.

I am in complete agreement with you, Adele. The Malnosso are not our friends. I agree with Ami's assessment, that they are our enemies.

But, if I may ask, what honestly is going on at your home? Why do you choose to work with criminals? With your skill and intelligence you seem like you could work anywhere on Earth.

...It is a very long, very drawn out string of events that I, honestly, do not want to go into at the moment in great detail. But. I will give you the short version, yes?

[For that? She'll need another glass of wine. This one was empty. She reaches over and pours herself another, stares out at the shore. Sorts her thoughts, pares everything down to the barest skeleton before speaking.]

My ex-husband was a gambler. I wasn't aware until he'd already put the both of us into very steep debt with men that have...particular reputations. Without means to pay it off with what I earned as a legitimate surgeon, a mentor and trusted associate of mine offered me an opportunity for extra money on the side.

Not everyone that needs a surgeon is able to go to a hospital for whatever reason. Usually because they are...criminals.

That sounds most...unfortunate, Adele.

[He pours another glass himself, staring out at the sea as he does so.]

The underworld on Earth sounds every bit as seedy as on Nar Shaddaa. Why is it that wounded men can't visit a hospital though? It seems strange to think of men being unable to go to a house of healing for...healing.

They would go straight from the ER into custody of the authorities. If they wish treatment, and to remain under the radar of the local police force- they call me.

[She snorts a laugh and shakes her head.]

They dial the 'Curator', Bartholomew, to make an appointment. He checks their backgrounds and makes certain we're not keeping serial murderers alive. Then he sends one of a few under the table surgeons. I have never met them, and I only know them by their handle. Mine is. Well. Angel.

That is a most curious arrangement, Adele. Truthfully, I know little of the underworld back home, but I know most criminal rings keep doctors and medical droids on hand. Though, having bacta around makes treatment a lot easier.

[He sighs as he sips more wine, then laughs a bit]

I suppose you got into a bit of trouble, then?

Luke, need I remind you of what waits for me upon my return to my world?

[It's not spoken unkindly. Honestly, it's almost funny at this point.]

'A bit.' of trouble is something of an understatement.

You don't, but you know something? I don't entirely believe that its true. Something...doesn't feel quite finished with you, Nomi tells me.

[Luke smiles mysteriously now]

You've got a thread of destiny that neither one of us feels is...quite complete.

Perhaps I've important work yet ahead of me here. I doubt anyone will find me in time to prevent my dying, Luke.

[She shrugs and looks back out to the ocean. Pours a glass from the bottle of brandy and offers it to him.]

Who knows? I may yet learn to hope to return to something. Perhaps not. But while I am here? [She pours herself a glass.] I will make the most of it.

That's what I'm saying. Your thread is far too long to be cut so young. At home, or here. Though nothing is final here.

[Luke takes her glass and takes a sip. Its good. Strong and sweet, and he's beginning to feel a little warm inside. Not drunk, or even wobbly, as he's constantly suppressing the aftereffects with little effort]

This is good. What...is this?

Wouldn't that just be the thing they'd do to punish us. Stop reviving the dead.

[She doubts it'll ever come to pass, but. Adele shrugs off the morbid line of thought in favor of the nostalgic.]

Apple Brandy. It was my father's favorite. If he ever made a promise between friends or a deal between business associates, they were sealed with a glass of this. I thought it might be appropriate.

I gather that they don't have much control over the cycle of rebirth. There were points where dead people appeared outside the enclosure, so I think that theory is correct.

[Luke sniffs the brandy approvingly]

Your father was a man of good taste.

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