The Color Series

Summary: A series of loosely related, loosely chronicled vignettes revolving around Luke and Mara, with each vignette based on a color. Presented here in VERY loose chronological order. Please let me know what you think...

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. I'm just playing in the universe.

If I could laugh, I would. But there's nothing funny in this. I am short—again.

I stare at my last remaining clenched in my sweaty hand. No. There has to be another way. Another way to get me past this point. I sigh.

The bell tinkles over the door as I enter. There is no turning back.

"Buying or selling today?" the Toydarian says as I enter.

"Depends," I reply with my best smile.

He looks me over. I have to resist the urge to pop that bulbous nose.

"You could sell, bring in lotsa money," he says. "Whatsa your name, lady?"

"Celine," I reply. "In advance. You provide the room, I'll give you 10."

"Twenty," he says.

"Fifteen."

"Done."

The Toydarian tosses me a key. I'm so angry with myself that I don't bother with anything as trivial as a thank you. I hoist my satchel over my shoulder and make my way through the crowded hall and to my room.

Once I'm there, I know I can't stay. I may be beautiful, but that does have limits. This place is a pit.

I'm going to stay for just one night. Just one. Just enough to get some undisturbed sleep. And then I'll leave—the back way. The Toydarian can keep his filthy room. I won't make it any filthier than it already is.

Looking unhappily at the soiled bed, I decide that even if I did do any business, any mess made wouldn't be noticed.

And I can't sleep. I find myself staring at the wall, listening to the screams and laughter of other guests, watching the flashing red light coming through my window. After a while, I can't take that flashing red anymore. I get up and look out the window—it's the sign of a bar across the street.

And there's the Toydarian, chatting up some blond guy.
I don't like where this is going. Sure, I need credits, but suddenly—I can't breathe. Have I really lowered myself to this? What would my master say?

I grab my satchel. I can hear footsteps on the landing. I won't make it out the window fast enough. Sucking in a deep breath, and praying to the Force for small favors, I slide under the bed.

The door opens, and I see a pair of well-worn dark boots step into the room. I can hear the Toydarian.

"...'s empty, mistah...las' room left...yes sir, 's empty...hmmm..."

The boots walk around the room and stop by the bed.

My hidden hold-out blaster is already in my hand. I don't want to make a scene; it's been hard enough making it on my own without having Isard or whoever the new warlord this week come down on me.

"This'll be fine, thank you," a soft, male, human voice answers.

I hear the unmistakable sound of credits changing hands. And now, I can't help but smile to myself. Sure, I might be crouched in a very undignified position in a very filthy place, but I might be able to get both a nap and some credits.

Actually, no on the nap. It's really disgusting under here. I'll take this guest's credits and make a run for it.

I turn my head for a moment to tuck in my hold-out blaster—and am unceremoniously yanked out from my hiding place.

I instinctively move to protect myself—too late. This guy's got me pinned. And that just makes me mad.

"Who are you?" he says, with a strangely quiet and soft voice.

I look at my captor and can't help but pause—I have never seen eyes this clear before. They are both innocent and haunted, and they are looking right through me.

"Who are you?" I reply, but with--oddly--lessening anger.

"I'm Luke," he answers. He lets me go. "Sorry, is this your room?"

"Was, apparently," I say, looking at him closely. He looks really familiar. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

A slight grimace comes and goes, but he says, "No, I don't think so. I would remember someone as beautiful as you."

And then he blushed red.

When he had pulled me out from under that bed, I thought I was going to kill him. But now...

After an awkward silence, he says, "I covered for you, you know."

"Covered?" I say, a trifle defensively.

"I needed a place to stay tonight," he says, "and he told me that there might be someone in here, but he couldn't remember. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"I'm broke," I confess. It was that blush—it's got me feeling...silly. And nice. And I am not a nice person.

Or maybe he's being too nice for me to lie to him.

"I made an—an—arrangement—with the owner—but then—"

"Shhh," he says. "I know."

I stare at him for a long moment. This interview is getting stranger by the minute.

"I'm going to get some sleep now," he says, moving away from me and towards the bed. "My credit case is on the dresser—" he gestures toward it "—take what you need. That'll save us the trouble of fighting, I think."

I open my mouth to get angry, but catch the twinkle in his eye. My mouth starts to curve in a smile.

"You can sleep here, if you want," he hurriedly offers. "I won't say anything, if you need to get some rest too..."

Then it dawns on me. "Are you aware of my—um—arrangement with the owner?" I ask.

He looks faintly puzzled. "No, why?"

Now I'm confused. "Are you really this naive? You're just going to give a stranger your money?"

"What's your name?" he asks calmly.

I hesitate. "Celine," I reply.

"That's pretty," he says, in a tone that indicates that he knows I'm lying. "See, now we're not strangers anymore. Now go on, Celine. Take what you need. I'm gonna get some sleep."

And blast it all, if this wonderful man doesn't just lay down and actually go to sleep!

I hesitate again. I reach for his credit case. Taking only what I need, I move over to the bed to thank him. He looks at me from under a mop of sandy hair and says, "You can stay, if you'd like."

"I don't think so," I reply. "But thanks...Luke."

"No problem." He reaches out and takes one of my hands in his. "Good luck to you."

Where is my temper? Where is my blaster? He touched me, and I'm not even angry about it.

Instead, I climb in next to him and allow him to put an arm around me.

"I won't let him hurt you," he promises. He moves his arm from around me and reaches behind him; I hear a clasp release. He puts his arm around me again, and in his hand is a lightsaber.

All of my sight goes red as I realize just whose arms are around me.