#rc-8015

The last tunes of the Dha Werda Verda have long since faded away. Kal went outside for some airing, Niner resumed his game of knife-throwing with the Deltas, much to the service droid's chagrin. Atin and Darman are nowhere to be seen and Ordo… maybe he should take a picture of that scene. As evidence.

Fi decides against it.

He shouldn’t begrudge his brother the pleasure of having someone who cares for him so deeply. Still - it hurts. It’s getting worse lately. His longing for some tenderness or even just a little of that human touch he gets to glimpse at is becoming harder and harder to ignore. Every time he sees civilians walk hand in hand on one of the brightly illuminated boulevards of Galactic City or that blissful smile on Darman’s or Atin’s face whenever they come back to the barracks after a date it feels as if his armor is getting a little tighter around his chest and squeezing the air out of his lungs. At first he thought that he might just be jealous but the longer he thought about it… no. Jealousy is when you are consumed with anger about another person’s fortune - and that he is definitely not. He rejoices in his brothers' happiness, and as a clone he is even somehow connected to their emotions in a way that civilians and natborns would never understand. What he feels is desolation. Emptiness. Plain and simple. Caused by the inevitable way his life will turn out. Of all the things the kaminiise took from them, humanity and need for affection were not among them. Maybe the fact has a purpose or maybe it is just another cruelty they are making them endure. He shouldn’t think about it for the sake of his own sanity.

Taking a sip of his drink, juice not beer, he turns his head to look at a group of three girls sitting at the bar only a little away. They giggle and point at him, putting their heads together to chat, no doubt still amused by his earlier explanation of how easy the armor is to take off. He winks and basks in the glances he gets from them. Now it would be so easy to just walk over and start another trivial conversation. If he only intended to, he could hook up with one of them. Probably all of them - at once. He swallows at the sinful thought, hazy pictures of him on a bed with these women surrounding him flash through his mind. And for a second he contemplates… Fi feels a flare of arousal as he thinks of them rubbing up against cold, unyielding Katarn, taking his... ohhh fierfek. Absent-mindedly, he licks his lips which makes the girls gazing at him with darkening eyes. Sure, lust is an alluring prospect.

And still it feels - wrong. Kal’buir gave them enough credits so that he could ask one of the girls out, pay for her drinks and see how the evening would turn out, happy ending included. Or he could easily spend a night in a brothel or whatever ridiculous code names these places are called. But if he’s honest with himself that’s not what he wants. No matter how many times he grates on Niner’s nerves with remarks about his peerless charisma and the kind of pleasures the ladies miss out on when they neglect him, all he wants is someone to truly see him, to hold him, to give him arms to rest in. Somehow he doubts that those girls would be the kind of woman he’s longing for. There’s something else they see in him. Something more carnal. Again he feels like he’s separated from the world by an enormous transparisteel window and this time he’s the exhibit. Somehow it’s even worse than being neglected. Shaking his head with a sad smile, he tilts his head downwards to let his gaze rest on the almost empty glass in his hand.

“Fi! Exactly the man I was looking for!” Jaller Obrim’s voice catches his ear.

Oh no. Fi can’t stand another conversation about all the iniquities the clones have to face. He wanted an easy-going evening, a drink with friends - he got another display of how different his own life is from any other. His heart can’t cope with the blatant injustice even less than his mind. But it's too late for him to hide, and so he does what he always does: he obeys.

“At your service.” He doesn’t even bother to look up from his glass.

“Good. Cause I need a hero.”

Jaller Obrim pats his hand on Fi’s shoulder as soon as he’s standing next to him and if it weren’t for the pauldron, the commando could feel him squeeze amicably. Fi wishes the captain would stop calling him that. At first it was nice, a boost for his ego, now it only feels like a burden. He did his job.The whole move was a shabla trained reaction with an immodest amount of luck. Nothing less… yet also nothing more. Ordo understands. He considers Obrim as a friend. But that lie stands between them, and Fi isn’t brave enough to sort things out. Not after all this time. Not when he hears the girls snicker.

“You’re lucky I’m available, Sir.”

Eventually, Fi turns his head to face the older man - and then all of a sudden freezes as his eyes fall on you. And for what is probably the first time in his life, he can’t think of something witty to say. Not at all. His mind - blank. Oh great!

“Uhm… hi.”

Osik! Dar would laugh his shebs off if he would get to witness this astounding display of perplexity and Niner would be polite enough to keep silent and then smirk and commit this moment to memory - forever.

“May I introduce you to my sister-in-law?” Jaller says and then tells him your name.

Fi has to swallow, his mouth suddenly very dry before he manages to answer that his name is Fi and that he’s pleased to meet you. His palms sweaty inside as he reaches out to take your hand that you politely extend to him. Good thing he’s wearing his gloves.

“Jaller already told me so much about you, Fi. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

Have you been there all evening? And if so… why didn’t he see you sooner? But then it dawns on him what you just have said, namely that Obrim was talking about him and his brothers at home. He's already told him before during their unpleasant conversation. But… with you? About him? What did he tell you? Hopefully not again the heroic story from the spaceport and the taking of hostages. One more person for whom he has to maintain the myth of the hero. Somehow the whole thing is weighing heavily on him.

“Hopefully only the good things,” he manages to answer.

“Mh-hmmm. Would be much better to hear the bad things from you, anyway. If there are any.”

Then you smile at him, sweetly and mischievously alike, with that almost imperceptible lasciviousness and something he can’t comprehend just yet. Not at all as obvious as the girls still sitting at the bar and watching the show with idle curiosity. It’s making his cheeks prickle with a pleasant warmth and he blushes slightly.

“I see you already get along. That is nice,” Jaller interrupts his thoughts. “Now let’s get to my request, Fi.” He straightens his posture and puts on that air of importance. All-captain. “ Would you please be so kind as to escort her home. It’s already late and I don't feel comfortable with the thought of letting her walk home alone.”

He doesn’t know how it happened and he can’t remember what he said, but only ten minutes later Fi is standing outside the CSF staff and social club with you next to him and has a hard time breathing.

“Lead the way, ma’am. I follow.”

As soon as he says the words, he curses himself for his own stupidity. But luckily you only smile and intend him to come along with a gentle tilt of your head.

“Oh please, Fi! Don’t call me ma’am. It only makes me feel old and… prim.” No. ‘Prim’ is a word he definitely would use in a sentence along with your name.

“My apologies m-… mesh’la.” Fierfek. That’s even worse! And no, you don’t do him the favor and fail to hear what he just said… or ignore it.

“Mesh’la?” You turn around enough to face him, and suddenly Fi finds his own boots very interesting. “What does it mean? You don’t call me ‘ma’am’ just in another language - sir?!” You chuckle.

Truth or a white lie? In a split second, Fi makes his decision. It’s not that he’s going to see you again anyway. He raises his head to look back at you, his expression something between genuine and shy. Dar would say embarrassed.

“No. It means beautiful.”

While he still ponders if he should apologize for his cheekiness, you hesitate in your tracks. He didn’t expect you to glow… but you do as you smile at him, and he swallows when he realizes it’s because of him. And then you nudge his arm with your shoulder before you resume your walk home.

“Thank you.”

By his standards he’s remarkably quiet on the walk. Should he offer you an arm or should he clasp his hands behind his back? Just doing nothing with his hands right now seems incredibly difficult and wrong and… why didn’t Kal’buir prepare them for a moment like that? Right… because it was never supposed to happen and there’s probably no point in worrying what you might think of him.

“Are you okay, Fi? You look pretty sad. I noticed that you already looked like that back in the club while the others seemed more cheerful.”

Now, he probably shouldn’t bother you with his troubles or the kind of thoughts that haunt him day in and day out since he came to Coruscant. But whenever he tries to speak about it with his brothers they either react - in Dar’s and Atin’s case - abashed, or - as Sev or Niner - try to play down the issue and tell him that he shouldn’t worry too much as their life’s already short enough to chase desires beyond their reach.

“It’s nothing. Coruscant just doesn’t seem to be my favorite place. Too much clutter.”

Again, another lie. Fi does like Coruscant. He actually loves the place. The lights. The life. He just doesn't like the fact that no matter how much he longs for it or how hard he tries, he will never be a part of it, and just remains a distant side note that will fade away sooner or later.

“And I’d say it’s the other way round too.” Fi gives you what he hopes is a confident smile before he adds: “Won’t recommend the planet for the Kaminoan guidebook for clones. Only one star for the view.”

In the remaining minutes on the walk from the club to your apartment, you listen to him talking about his past days and some of the tricky situations he’s been through. Jaller already told you a little at home, but without details of course. His stories were still what made you curious - and finally you asked the captain if he could take you with him to the club. But then, when you saw Fi for the first time in the flesh, you were too shy to talk to him with all the girls swarming around him like bees around a honeypot. He seemed to enjoy all the attention and you were smitten by his easy-going demeanor, the shifts and expressions on his handsome face. If you had known that he only hid behind a cheerful facade, you would have joined him much sooner and not only when you witnessed the shadow creeping into his gaze.

But now you walk alongside him, chuckle, and are all eyes at the all too vivid narration of a hazardous taxi ride through Galactic City with a jedi out of control and two commandos somehow scared to death. You feel the ache in your heart when you read between the lines and listen to the things he doesn’t say. Doesn’t he see? He’s right in the middle of this beehive of a planet, not alone at all… but with you… and…

Your apartment complex comes into view. Much too soon.

“This is where I live. Thank you for escorting me.”

“You’re welcome, mesh’la.”

You stop walking and then stand in front of him, turning towards the commando to look at him for a last goodbye. But then words fail you and you nervously chew on your bottom lip. The warm glow of Coruscant’s street lights reflect on his armor and his black hair, making Fi shine and look fairly desirable. Even more than you already thought. His eyes rest on you and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do. Neither do you.

But in a brief moment of daring, you stand on tiptoes and lean forward… and you press a gentle kiss on the soft spot below his ear. You close your eyes while you let your lips linger just a little longer and your warm breath fans over his skin. All of a sudden, you forget the world around you and all you can sense is his masculine scent and how his pulse is pounding under your lips. His short hair tickling on your forehead. His warmth. You feel dizzy and as if you lose the ground under your feet. When you pull back with a breathy sigh, you still taste his sweat and your hands tremble.

“Good night, Fi. And please take care!”

You turn around to go inside just as you hear him whisper: “Good night…”

His hand is raised as if he wanted to hold you, but then decided otherwise at the very last moment. The surrounding noises swallow his last word - something that sounds like ‘shareeka’. You let out a breath that you weren’t aware of holding as the door closes behind you. He knows how to find you…

Please! Please don’t let this be the last time you saw him.

Stunned and left speechless, Fi is standing in front of your closed door. His eyes are still closed and your kiss still tingles on his skin. His soul left his body the moment when you parted your lips just enough to nibble on his neck. If only he tries hard enough he still can feel your breath on him and hold you tight. If only he doesn’t open his eyes you are still here with him.

Moments pass in which he stays silent. Seconds, minutes… Who cares?

Fi grabs his helmet tied to his belt and dons it. And then he’s screaming at the top of his lungs while the city around doesn’t hear him.