The Jedi And The Warrior

Hastening Joy

The heat of the day was just beginning to give way to evening, as Flyra tried her hand, for the fourth time this week, at making a decent meal. Since they learned of the coming of their child, she'd thought it might be a good idea to actually learn how to cook.

Even if Obi-Wan had told her she could hunt while he cooked, she still thought it would be better if they could share roles. So she'd been practicing. While he ventured out into the heat to hunt, Flyra prepared their meals. And then Obi-Wan gave her tips after they ate.

There was something about the way he instructed her, with a firm patience, that would have had her on his lap kissing him were it not for the monstrous belly that now hindered all movement.

And the heat did not help with her comfort. Obi-Wan had ventured into town as soon as she complained about it, hunting out a cooler from the industrial centre. Now, thanks to that risk, she could stand in front of the cooler and let the cold air blow into her face and dry her sweat.

It didn't mean she wasn't uncomfortable, though. There was not a single comfortable position in which she could lie, or stand, or sit, and even with the Force soothingly bracing her back whenever Obi-Wan was around, she barely got any sleep.

They both knew that sleepless nights would soon become routine when the baby came.

She'd remarked a few weeks ago that they had to stop calling it the baby, so they began discussing names. And that was a whole conversation that tested the quality of their communication.

She did not want to name her child after Anakin, now a Sith Lord, or Padmé, a woman who had died in labour. And he did not want to name his child after the first figwit she'd ever owned. They'd come to a tentative compromise on Alba, a desert flower that only grew on Tatooine. It was a pretty name that would serve for both a boy and a girl.

Flyra smiled to herself as she stirred her soup, noting that it looked satisfyingly smooth and appetisingly creamy. Perhaps she wasn't such a lost cause after all.

As she leaned over to take a pinch of dried lemongrass, a stab of pain lanced through her belly. She braced a hand against the edge of the clay oven, drawing deep breaths, one hand resting on her swollen stomach.

A gush of wetness pooled between her legs.

Stunned silence settled over her, even as she dug her fingers into the clay, still reeling from the pain. Her hand began to tremble. She knew what this meant. It was time.

The thought sent a volley of clamouring emotions hammering against her sensibility, and for a moment she simply stood there, her breaths quick and short. Then she gathered her thoughts enough to remind herself of what they'd planned, should she go into labour while Obi-Wan was away.

Not daring to take her hand from her stomach, Flyra took the soup off the heat and made her slow way over to the bedrolls, where she gathered Obi-Wan's blankets and dumped them with her own. Then she wrapped herself in all of them, and sat as straight as she could. For now, she'd have to wait. He shouldn't be long.

***

Half an hour later, she heard the soft footsteps of Obi-Wan approaching.

She hadn't dared get up from where she sat, and had simply bore down on the pain when the contractions came, shuddering through them. She drew the blankets tighter around her, despite pools of sweat beading down her back, as Obi-Wan stepped into the cave.

"There wasn't much out there today," he called, as he removed his boots. "Just a jackrabbit, and I found a fox sniffing around the Lars' farm. They're away from home." He stepped inside and placed his haul down in the corner, to be treated later. "I hope you've been busy with that soup, I'm —" He stopped when he saw her, the teasing on his face giving way to concern. "Darling, are you all right?"