Finally having been put down by the tall one, Tarfang had decided to see where everyone was going. Not because he wanted to be around others, but simply due to the fact that numbers were a detterent to many things that would try to eat your face. Giant lizardlike things not withstanding, there were likely other things in this metal cave that would like to make an ewok fritter out of a lone fuzzy sentient.

Following everyone back to the messhall, the angry ewok was less than thrilled with the outcome of that mini-adventure. Locating a dead tall one in a cold storage unit was not precisely the treat any of them had been looking for. That, quickly followed by the exploding tall one, had been more than enough to cause Tarfang to decide that maybe he'd be better off away from this mess after all.

Heading out and picking a random direction he simply wandered throughout the metal cave, getting thoroughly lost. Not having been able to take in the sheer scope of the place he absently wondered if this wasn't a mistake of some sort.

An acrid scent grabbed his attention, and he waddled as rapidly as possible for his short, stubby legs. Upon entering the large metal cavern Tarfang stopped in shock. This was a graveyard of twisted durasteel, trandsparisteel fragments and charred everything else. Walking carefully into what had to have been an inferno, Tarfang was secretly grateful to the whiteshelled tall ones for teaching him as much as they had. The angry ewok would never admit this, even to himself.

Stumbling over something that blended in with the charred floor, a coherent beam of light shot out the end of it. Jabbering angrilly he kicked it again, and another beam skittered across the floor. A maniacal gleam suddenly shown out of the now silent furball. A weapon. Hee hee hee... Scooping the blaster up, Tarfang checked around and spotted several others.

Thanks to what the whiteshelled tall ones had taught him, the ewok deftly stole the other blasters powerpacks, figureing that extra ammo was something definitely not amiss. Stashing them in his belt pouch the Tarfang waddled out of the rather burnt hangar in far better spirits, even going so far as to hum to himself absently. Life had gotten better, regardless of being stuck on the giant metal cave.

Heading out again randomly, Tarfang decided to see what sorts of mayhem he could cause...

Nothing had really improved from Han's perspective over by the door. It stayed locked. Junior and Bria stayed together, and Leia wasn't really helping matters by glaring. In general this had turned into even more of a nightmare than before. That didn't include Obi-Wan being drunk, and rather useless in general. Admitedly that was kind of Pop's own fault, but there was no way he could have known how much of a drunk the Jedi was.

Heaving himself to his feet, having decided that it wasn't worth the pain of sitting there and watching to comind train wreck that his life was soon to become, Han wandered throughout the library. There were several dark patches, gloom and doom sorts. They felt a bit too heavy, gloom and doom wasn't quite what Han was looking for. There were others of a lighter variety, more the sadness and melancholy. That wasn't quite right either.

Finally the older man found exactly what he was looking for. Gloom with a dash of despair. It was the perfect shade for his mood, so he sank onto his backside again and banged his head against the wall. Over. And over. And over. It was a steady tatu that he beat out, not loud enough to bother anyone else. Of course that didn't preclude someone bothering him.

Somewhere off in the distance he heard Junior yelling, yet again. It stopped and Han figured that silence was likely to reign supreme for at least a little while. Irksomely that quiet wasn't to last as Junior came by the patch of darkness and almost tripped over the older man. This was quickly followed with some kind of accusations about how Han had made a great choice, and that Junior was having to deal with Leia now. It wasn't his responsibility, and he wasn't going to have any of it anymore.

Pops looked up at Junior with a vaguely forlorn look. "Never said she was your problem. She kinda made that choice when she got here." Looking down at the ground again, "And just how the feth do you propose I rein her in precisely? She's got a will that would make it intact through the fething maw." Closing his eyes Pops leaned his head back. "'Sides, I don't think it'll really matter what we do. If what we do here effects things where we came from I'm screwed regardless. Basically I don't exist anymore kid." A decidedly deppressing thought, but about all the older man had running through his head at that point. Nothing Han had said was in a heated fashion, but in a boring monotone.

He isn't looking at me! This was NOT how Bria had thought this would work out (though in hindsight it would be the only obvious response from Kenobi). Somewhere along the way she'd gotten tired of the abrasive bluntness of Han. He might have feelings, but she had never been able to get them out. Now there was so much more bluster behind it that she just couldn't deal with it anymore. Oh, she loved him. That's what was making the whole mess so difficult, or she'd have not even tried to get things to work with her fellow Corellian. As good as he could make her feel, she had never been able to open up to Han. And that was something she needed desperately. Someone who understood her. Han would likely never be that person. After two days Obi-Wan already was. Which was something he should already know.

This lasted for several seconds, and she started to get a slightly desperate feeling in her heart. She'd seen his dream. Been in it. She KNEW what Obi-Wan felt towards her, regardless of what his creed for life was. She KNEW what he wanted, and that just compounded everything. The Jedi was an intensely private person... but he was private in a completely different way that Han was. Kenobi admited to what he felt, and tried to figure out what to do with it. Han seemed to try and gloss over everything, ignore it and hope it just went away. Not precisely the most enticing action for a young woman. Especially after getting the taste of Obi-Wan she had.

Then their eyes met and time seemed to stand still.

Bria found herself holding her breath. What she saw written in Obi-Wan's eyes, and by extension his mind and heart was terrifying in a way. There was such a deep seated hunger and longing there. Longing to do everything write, to make every hurt go away. But he couldn't even succeed in doing that for himself, and it hurt. There was also a strong desire to be loved and wanted, one that he'd hidden so far deep inside it almost might as well not exist. The problem with this was that Siri had broken into it and dug it out. What had passed between Bria and Kenobi had left it almost completely uncovered and it was overwhelming.

A barrier started trying to form between them, but this wasn't the type of connection that Obi-Wan was used to. It did very little to block anything, just made things vaguely more hazy. After that his gaze was taken from her and the window closed.

He started talking. This isn't right. This wasn't supposed to happen. Somewhere it struck her how true that statement was. None of this was supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to have ever met the Jedi. His apology seemed to emphasize that. Those exact words even came out of his mouth. This was never supposed to happen.

Things continued in that vein, as he told her that he KNEW that she loved Han. That he was who she was supposed to be with. No I'm not! We don't end up together. The old one said so. Pops had never told her that she ended up with no one... yet she knew that was what happened. On some undefinable level she knew that she was doomed to be alone after Han, and she quite simply couldn't handle that right then. Maybe never again after what had happened.

She could see how hard it was for Obi-Wan to say this. She could feel it in his mind as well. It was really odd to be able to do that, but in another sense it was an amazing relief. Hiding things from each other wasn't possible. Kenobi would understood what she didn't say, not just what she did. That was a rare thing to find, and she really didn't want to lose it. Kenobi had rather definite ideas to the contrary.

Obi-Wan seemed to think that a large part of why she shouldn't be with him was that he would only end up hurting her worse that Han had. Far worse. Bantha Poodoo. She refused to believe it. No matter what he said about had really happened between him and Siri. That wasn't how the dream had played it. Hadn't been what he'd wanted, which was something that Obi-Wan had denied for far too long. It wasn't healthy to do that, but aparently the Jedi thought otherwise. It was no wonder that they had fallen, unable to learn and grow like the rest of the sentients in the galaxy. It was a stale existence. It was living death in some ways, no matter how much life flowed through them. They were never touched by it. Never could be, as they couldn't experience things that they wanted or needed. That every sentient needed.

Their eyes met again, and there was pain and regret written throughout. The Jedi fell back on the Jedi rules, as if that would decide things. Meeting her gaze had made him falter again, which only spoke to how much he wished things were otherwise. She had been starting to feel slightly desperate to get through to him in some way. His reaction told her that it was possible, and hope bloomed deep in the recesses of her heart. It was hidden away, but that hope dying would crush her yet again. There was only so much mental abuse one could stand, only so much anguish one soul could take. She was nearly there and had no clue how close to the precipice she trod.

Finally he wound down, saying that his life was not for what he wanted. Which meant he was living for others, which again confirmed the dead man living. He deserves so much better... Better than I could ever offer him for that matter. As things stood, in many ways she was the best he could truly get considering the way he was going to live his life.

Yet, despite all of what he said she was unwilling to give up. Her voice a whisper, the want written so clearly on her face that a blind man could see it, "Then don't do it for you." That was something he would have trouble countering. It went in favor of everything he stood for, from a certain perspective. "This is our only chance Obi-Wan. I can't live wiht a what if her. I know what happens with Han. I was a fool to think I could change that, but we have nothing written. No future decided... No clue if what happens here will even effect anything." Her eyes had ended up on his beard, almost as if she were afraid of what she might see writ through the window of his eyes.

Grabbing hold of herself, she looked into them steadfastly. I have to do this. I have to see. "Obi-Wan... Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi... You're my only hope..." There was a quiet desperation running through every word she said. It echoed of hunger, of need so deep that there was almost nothing that could fill it. Love. Love was her only hope. Love was something she had lost, and her chance of finding it again was disolving with every passing second.