Summary: Just after having his new arm fitted, Anakin Skywalker is approached for an autograph. The ensuing conversation is... interesting.

Autograph

Warm brown eyes peered around the door frame. A small woman quietly slipped into the room.

Sensing her presence, Anakin Skywalker awoke from his meditation. He sat up to look at her.

Her right arm was held across her body by a sling. Golden blonde curls framed her pale face in their fall to her shoulders.

He couldn't help but think that she reminded him of Padme.

"Um, Master Skywalker?"

He blinked in surprise. "I'm not a Master, just a Padawan," flew from his lips without a thought. The moment struck him as strangely surreal. Perhaps it is the drugs.

She tilted her head a little. "Oh," came her response, not the least put-off, merely acknowledging that he had contradicted her. "I wanted to know if you would autograph my cast?" she asked, left hand offering a pen.

He hesitated. "I don't know..." A flash of disappointment crossed her face. "I have a new prosthetic arm. I'm not sure I can control it properly yet." Well, that did it. It had to be the drugs. Normally he would have projected calm self-assurance; certainly he wouldn't have admitted such a weakness to a perfect stranger.

She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You could consider it practice," she offered impishly.

With a sigh, he accepted the pen from her. Then he hesitated, considering what to write. Slowly, he became aware that her eyes were raking across his face in a most appreciative manner. He caught her eyes with his own, unable to keep from raising an eyebrow at her.

A smile danced at the corners of her lips as she sighed. "You are incredibly sexy," she told him. The other eyebrow rose, and he opened his mouth to respond – though he had no idea what he might say in response to that. The smile broadened as she perched on the bed beside him. He watched her warily as she moved.

"She's a lucky woman, the one who waits for you."

He stiffened, staring at her in disbelief. Did she really just say that? How? How could she know? His mouth was suddenly dry. Nervously, he stammered, "Jedi... Jedi can't... we aren't permitted... You must be mistaken." The end was firm, and perhaps harsher than he'd intended. But he was unsettled.

Once more her head tilted. The mischievous glimmer still danced in her eyes. "Oh?" There was a definite question in her tone. "But isn't Master Ki-Adi-Mundi married? Several times?"

Anakin shook his head. "That's different. He is required to by the laws of his race."

Now it was the young woman's turn to shake her head. "But he still had to apply to the Council for permission to do so."

"It would never work. They would never permit me to marry." Once more, Anakin was forced to wonder at the effect of the drugs he was on. It was as if they held some type of truth serum.

She was grinning widely at her victory. "But they would! Appeal to them to listen to the Force. It sings with joy at your union!"

He could only stare incredulously.

"Explain to them your love; its purity, its strength. You came too old to your training. You cannot simply let go your attachments; they are part of you, in a way no other Jedi of this time can understand."

Of this time?

She flushed a little, as if realising her slip. "Oops." But her eyes still sparkled with joy. There was not a hint of regret in her tone.

Nothing needed to be said. Both knew, now.

Gently, he took hold of her right arm, removing it from its sling so he could write. "What is your name?"

"Leia."

He concentrated hard; but the hand was not so difficult to manoeuvre as he had feared.

Thank you, Leia. May the Force be with you. Anakin Skywalker.

She smiled at him, winked, and offered a final word of wisdom.

"Don't deliver it as an ultimatum. Be calm – be serene. Lay out the facts, let them understand the situation. Then ask."

With that, she walked out of the room.

A/N: No, she is not Leia Organa/Skywalker-Solo. She is either his distant descendent, or his ancestor. I haven't decided which, but I don't think it really matters.