Usual disclaimer.

On the Edge

He was sitting all alone on the parapet, a massive hunched figure outlined by the soft lights of the Hall against the night sky. His ivory-coloured mantle was billowing slightly in the occasional summer breeze, while he was sitting motionless with his back to the party.

She moved closer on noiseless feet, following the broad line of light cast onto the balcony through the open door. The leaves of the potted plants on either side rustled silently as the breeze tossed her weightless silks against them. Was he asleep? Or was he just contemplating something?

She halted a few steps behind him, not quite certain of what to do next. She cast an anxious glance over her shoulder at the big party in the Hall of Lights. The ambassadors and diplomats of the Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems were halfway through their two-week negotiations, and now they were all gathered for an informal evening of bubbles and canapés. Ladies in colourful robes and gentlemen in exotic national costumes strolled past the huge glass doors, their shadows a dancing, bubbling mass on the smooth marble floor of the balcony. Music filled the pleasantly mild air, nearly drowning out the noise of the city below.

She turned away from the Hall and stared out into the night. The globe beneath the building was floating in a haze of coloured lights which stretched to the horizon on all sides, bordered only by the dark blue hue of the sky above. The stars were shining brightly in the distance.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she breathed, half hoping that he wouldn't hear her. Suddenly, she wished she could sneak away again unnoticed.

Following their short game of chess three days ago, she had been watching General Grievous throughout the negotiations. Mostly, he had been sitting in silence in a corner, staring menacingly at the Republic party. It was obvious that the Confederacy was using him as a silent threat of war looming on the horizon if the Republic did not fulfil their wishes.

His head made a microscopic jerk, and the ear-like duranium plates flanking it tilted slightly. There was no way out now; he had noticed her presence.

She leaned onto the balustrade with a sigh, supporting herself on her elbows and fingering her champagne glass.

"You're not in there celebrating the progress of the Confederacy with Viceroy Gunray?" she asked, indicating the Hall with a movement of her head.

He shot her a sharp sideway look.

"I'm not feeling…" he waved a metal hand in the air as if he was searching for the right word, "… social."

She nodded and looked into her glass. The distant sound of voices from within the Hall lay like a cloud all around the tense silence between them.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" she asked, giving him a tentative glance.

He shrugged, but didn't look at her.

"Be my guest."

She put down her champagne glass, pushing it out of reach, gathered her chaotically floating garments and climbed onto the parapet where she bumped down next to him, her legs dangling in open space. The peach-coloured silks of her gown were lying in disordered heaps all around her, baring her right leg up to the thigh. One small hand grabbed at the edge of the balustrade, while the other tightened around the crystal glass once more. Her dark hair was crowning her head in an intricate tangle of softly rolling tresses, and her eyes were glistening like two black stars in a smoothly white and charmingly round face.

He gazed at her, placed his palms on the cold stone of the parapet and let out a resigned sigh.

She sensed his shameless glowering and straightened her back with a frowning smile. If he wanted to have a look, she would make sure he had something to look at. She turned her face towards him, but he averted his eyes quickly.

"You haven't always looked like this, have you, General?" she asked, not expecting to get any answer.

She let one of her shoes dangle from her toes. The two-mile deep abyss under the balcony seemed to be begging for her to drop it. About halfway down the building, a small agglomeration of clouds was illuminated from beneath.

General Grievous leaned forward and looked into the depths with small hard eyes. For some time, the only sound was the distant noise of the party and the even more distant humming of the city.

"No," he said finally, "I haven't."

His last words drowned in a dry cough, and he seemed to shrink into himself as he tried to get it under control.

She watched the spastic contractions of his soft gut-sack behind the metal bars of his artificial ribcage and realized how isolated and lonely he must be inside his duranium shell. Then, she turned her face away, keen on not to pity him. He was, after all, the merciless henchman of Count Dooku. He was General Grievous, the Jedi Slayer.

"Would you…?"

His voice, now clear again, interrupted her thoughts and brought her back to their strained conversation. He was looking distractedly at his hand. One of his long fingers was scratching a deep furrow into the tough marble surface of the parapet.

She could see that he was thinking with all his might.

"Would you care to…?"

She arched her eyebrows. Would she care to what? Go out with him? Have dinner with him? See his light saber collection?

By all the forces of the universe, he didn't even have a mouth to eat with! And as for his light sabers: They had belonged to the most loyal and heroic defenders of the Republic, and a couple of them – as far as she knew – had even been the properties of some of her personal friends who had never returned from the battlefields.

The intense and critical look in her eyes seemed to break his frail determination. The gut-wrenching awkwardness of the moment struck both of them with its full force.

"Never mind," he sighed, turning away from her.

She gulped down the rest of her champagne and gathered her silks into her arms again.

"Get some sleep, General," she said with a curt smile, clasping her shoe back onto her foot, "I certainly will."

She swung her legs back over the parapet, nearly losing her balance and grabbed his metal shoulder in order to steady herself.

He took her hand and helped her safely down onto the balcony.

"Goodnight, Lady Shiela," he said, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.

He watched her walk away into the Hall of Lights. Then, he remained seated in the half-light to watch the sun rise.