Author's Note: I have recently become very obsessed with this fandom, and I cannot get enough of Star Wars. I've been mulling over this idea for awhile. It is the first time that I will be lurking about in this fandom as an author, so I apologize for mistakes ahead of time. This starts in Episode II, the Clone Wars. I will be working in this fandom for awhile, especially since SW:tOR is coming out. Thanks for clicking, hope you enjoy! Any advice / extra information would be greatly appreciated. Looking for a Beta as well.

Summary: It starts with one task. She did not expect for it to turn into anything, certainly not anything related to that silly war between the Separatists and the Republic. But that changed for a nobody-mechanic. The first task: fixing Obi-Wan Kenobi's speeder. The second task: joining the Intergalactic Army of the Republic. The third task: mending Obi-Wan's heart. The fourth task: learning that you cannot always fix everything, because some things cannot be changed.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Star Wars. I own my OC, so that's about it.

Edit: Corrected grammar / typos.

I Have a Bad Feeling about This

Chapter One

23BBY, Coruscant

Claire Elrin quickly hopped over the side of the taxi airspeeder upon arriving at one of the many clubs inside of Coruscant's club district. She checked the sign before paying the driver. It read: Outlander Club. It was the right place. She paid the driver, flashed one of her better smiles, and then started to walk towards the entrance. There was little hassle getting inside of the club, besides having to yell over the loud, almost obnoxiously loud, music that penetrated beyond the club's walls and filled the air outside. The bouncer checked her identification, and then allowed her to enter.

Of course, that was after he glanced at her body up and down once or twice. Claire ignored this by lowering her eyes and entering the club without any spoken words. Deep down she wanted to slap the bouncer, but she also did not want to kicked out without having even stepped foot inside of the club itself. A necessary evil, was not scantily dressed, at least by clubbing standards. She was wearing her auburn hair up in a high tail, and was wearing a simple, if not slightly tight, strapless black dress that came to above her knee. She immediately bolted to the bar and ordered a drink, her standard Star-Lovers, which was mildly alcoholic. The club was very busy, as Coruscant's Underworld always was, and once again she needed to yell over the music in order to place her order.

When the drink was placed in front of her, she smiled again, paid the bartender, and then swiveled her body around in order to look at the bar's inhabitants. Some people were dancing, others smoking, some gambling, some conducting illegal behaviors, and others, well they were people-watching much like herself. She took a casual sip of her electric-blue colored drink. A small frown appeared on her face.

"Why do I even come to these clubs," she asked herself quietly, with a disappointed sigh.

Claire did not expect the man sitting next to her, or rather anyone at all, to overhear her comment. It especially startled her when he himself made a comment as well.

"I myself have been trying to figure that one out for quite some time. If you happen to make any progress, you should publish your findings." He added a polite chuckle.

She turned her head and looked at the man to her right. The first thought that entered her mind was the fact that he was dressed inappropriately for a club. He was wearing a beige colored tunic and matching pants, each equally on the tattered spectrum, brown leather boots, and brown robes, with his hood down. What caught her eye the most was the mostly concealed weapon sheathed at his hip: a lightsaber's hilt. Quickly she lifted her gaze back up to his eyes, with the hope that he had not caught her staring.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Claire had not noticed that he was still talking.

"I was telling you why I come to these clubs."

"Oh." She then took another gulp of her drink and then placed it on the counter. "I sometimes lose track of my sense of hearing in these clubs. The music is so loud. By the end of the evening my throat is swollen because I have yelled so much."

The man's grin told her that he must have experienced similar troubles.

"And yet we keep coming here. Or well, I am assuming that you actually do frequent these clubs, from your original statement."

"Well, yes, I suppose I do −" She paused, in order to grab her drink again and stand up. "But most of the time I grab my drink and wait for a booth to open up. Do you mind? I would rather not have to deal with the discomfort of a sore throat tomorrow morning, I have work."

The man politely nodded, pulled his hood over his head, and followed her to the freshly opened booth that she mentioned. They sat across from one another. A rush of relief fell upon Claire's shoulders. She offered the man a comfortable smile. The booth was away from the speakers, so it was much easier to hear company.

"Thank you, I prefer to be able to hear what other people are saying."

"I agree. Can put a damper on a conversation if it's one-sided."

"You know it. I have had plenty of those before." She chuckled briefly, looked at her half empty glass, and then looked back up at him. "Anyways, I come here sometimes with my friends. Unfortunately, they could not get the evening off. The demand for a mechanic seems to have increased exponentially with all of the conflict in the galaxy right now. But I've worked for the past few evenings, so I was given the evening off. Coming to a club is better than being cramped in my apartment, possibly buried under equipment, as I work on my own projects."

"I see. Are you a mechanic yourself?" The man across from her grinned at her comment and then took a drink from his own glass after asking.

Claire nodded, and with a sheepish grin stated, "Yes, I am. Greasy, oily, and sweaty mechanic by day, reluctant clubber by night."

The man smiled at her joke and then asked, "What kind of mechanic? Do you work on droids, speeders, star-ships?"

"Mainly droids and speeders. I have a few friends who work on the bigger cruisers and military vehicles, but I prefer to not get caught in those work schedules. I have a decent grasp on medical technology, too."

"Is that so? Do you work at a local shop?"

"Yes and no. I do work at one of the local technician shops, but most of my work is commission. Thankfully, the demand for a mechanic who works on those vehicles has increased significantly. Sometimes I'm in a hangar, sometimes I'm just working in my own apartment. It varies, you see. My friends who work on the big stuff have really rough schedules. I would rather not become trapped in the lengthy and late work hours. Instead, I fix up the droids who become broken by a stray blaster shot, for example, and your average traveling speeder. Yet, I suppose if it were my only option, I guess I would be fixing star-ships as well."

He nodded. "I have a friend who could probably relate. He finds machinery to be an enjoyable hobby. He can build and use what he makes. He made his own assistant droid. He knows how to fix ships and he flies them very well."

"Is that so? Your friend and I would probably get along very well." She paused briefly, and before she knew what she was entirely saying, Claire blurted out, "Is he a jedi, too?"

The man was taking a drink as she asked this. He dropped his glass to the table immediately, mid-swig, and then narrowed his auburn brows for a few moments. She kept his gaze, and waited for him to either storm off or answer her question. She was thankful to see that he was not leaving.

He leaned over the table and answered in a quieter voice, "Yes, he is. He is my padawan, actually."

"Oh, really? That's an apprentice, right?"

"Yes." He replied simply.

After a few minutes of silence and awkward drinking in order to fill that silence, she looked up, catching his eyes again after suddenly feeling like she was being intensively watched.

"I apologize, I had not meant to pry. I saw the hilt. I blurted the question out before I even knew what I had asked."

His shoulders loosened after her apology, and he offered a smile again. "Perhaps it's fair. After all, I asked you about your interests for coming here. We're even, how's that?"

"That's fine with me, uhh..."

"Obi-wan." He interrupted her, "Obi-wan Kenobi." Another polite smile.

Promptly, she replied, "Claire Elrin."

"It's a pleasure, Miss Elrin."

She could not help but faintly flush, and she hoped that in the dim light he would not be able to notice. Her eyes lowered away from his, falling back upon her now finished drink. He lowered his hood again, and ran a hand through his hair. Awkward silence fell upon them again (or as awkward as awkward silence can be in a loud club). Soon she gained the courage to end the silence between them.

"So you never told me why you choose to come to clubs then. Or well, I guess you did, but I was deaf from the music before. I told you my reason: to get out of my apartment. What about you?"

"Frankly and quite honestly, to get away from my reckless padawan."

Claire laughed, and she hoped it was meant to be taken lightly. "Is that so? He's a handful, then?"

"Unfortunately, he can be. He is very ambitious. I suppose most padawans are. It is a crucial time for them. The time where they are gaining experience, and are training under a master, with the ever looming dream of becoming a jedi-knight. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but you could say that my padawan is very eager. Perhaps a little too eager."

"So a drink helps take the edge off after a day of working with him?"

A faint grin spread across his face and he nodded in agreement.

"Now you are making it sound like it's a bad thing."

"No, no, of course it isn't. What exactly are you drinking, anyways? I have never seen a drink of that color served here."

"I can't remember what it's called. Whenever I come here, I always tell the bartender for just the usual. It's probably ardees."

"So you must frequent this club often?"

Obi-wan's grin grew slightly. "No, unless you consider frequent to be several months apart, then no I do not frequent this club often. Not enough to have ever seen you here before with your friends, either. I am usually away from Coruscant for extended periods of time. This is a rare occasion, actually, so I try to make the best of it." She nodded, but he continued, "And I am thankful to admit that the company this time around isn't too bad."

"Too bad? I am wonderful company."

"She seems to have a bit of an ego, though." Another sly grin.

"A bit of one? You haven't got me started."

They both laughed. Silence fell between the two of them again, though this time it lacked the awkwardness of the last two bouts of silence. Claire took this opportunity to make sideways glances at Obi-wan. As she had expected, he was a mixture of tired stoicism and tranquility. His eyes were a cross between blue or grey, she could not pick which color they were, and his auburn hair was kept short and well-groomed. She admitted to herself that his scruffy, if not partially rugged-looking facial hair were highly attractive. The thought itself made her cheeks experience a rush of sensation again.

"So what kind of projects do you work on? I mean personal ones, like you mentioned."

"Like your friend, I'm working on building an assistant droid. I know I could purchase one, but I have made my own specialized schematics, and would prefer the finished droid to have more features than what the purchasable ones offer."

"Well what kind of tasks are you requesting that it do?"

"Cleaning, mainly. My apartment, I hate to admit, can become very disorganized quickly. I would also like to program it to be able to help me fix other mechanical issues as well at work. It would make me a more efficient worker if there were four appendages working on a speeder, for example, than just two. Two of which are fleshy, and easily can become ineffective if wounded by said sharp machinery."

"Those are reasonable tasks, I do not doubt that you could build a droid that meets those requests."

"Plus, I do not trust salesmen like I don't trust any of these politicians, either."

"Oh? Is that so?" Obi-wan's grin seemed to illustrate how he himself knew what she was talking about to a great extent. "I do not trust either as well."

"There aren't any trustworthy bones in their bodies, frankly. I have seen some of the materials these droids that these so called 'experts' sell. They are the mostly cheap and weak materials, the worst you could find. If one looks hard enough, they can find better materials for the same price elsewhere. Even most junkyards have better materials than the stuff that these 'fancier' droids are made out of."

"And of the politicians?"

Claire hesitated before answering his question. "I don't know. It always seems like there's another agenda. Like they are not looking out for the people's interests. I am sure some of them are, I would surely hope some of them are, but every time I turn on the HoloNET and check up on the latest news about the conflict between the Separatists and the Republic, I always become a bit disheartened." She paused and shrugged. "But what do I know. I work in a hangar or a garage all day. I'm not an expert on politics."

"I happen to know a few politicians. I can assure you that a few of them truly do care about their people."

"That's wonderful to hear." She hoped her smile appeared as genuine as she meant for it to be.

She did not expect for him to make any more comments on the subject, but Claire was surprised to see him thinking on it still, and finally he spoke up again. "If you will permit me to casually discuss the topic," he paused and Claire eagerly nodded, "then I can at least tell you that whatever happens, know that there will always be those who look out for the interests of the many. I for one have a duty to the Republic, its people, and the Code that I follow. These things give me strength, much like the Force does, and I will always stand by them."

He sounded honorable. Yet as Claire watched him speak, she saw the sudden mixture of exhaustion and sincerity. She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled slowly. When she reopened her eyes a few minutes later, she caught his glance again, and it pleased her to see that he appeared much more relaxed than before. Claire wondered if she should say something, but she simply smiled again, and turned her head in order to look out at the crowd.

"Do jedi dance?" She asked, a little nonchalantly. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and saw that his hands were now folded together on the table beside his glass.

"Do mechanics dance?"

"I asked first," she stated with a sly smile.

"Unwillingly, most of the time. Usually a few jedi representatives go to the political fundraisers and benefits. We do not mingle, but observe. Keep the peace."

"Understandable, but also unfortunate. Do you not enjoy dancing?"

"I don't exactly hate it, I simply prefer keeping to myself at those benefits. My padawan enjoys them more than I do," he said with a half-hearted laugh. Obi-wan reached up and ran a hand through his hair, and Claire found herself laughing with him. She found him to be very pleasant company, both in conversation and he was pretty easy on the eyes. "Do you?"

"I suppose if I were asked to dance, I would not entirely turn it down, out of politeness."

"I see." He took the hint, and it made her pleasantly happy. He stood up from the booth and looked at her, with one hand outstretched and the other akimbo. "I would be greatly honored if you would bear the pain of dancing with me."

"It's a pain I will begrudgingly share with you," he stated, while trying hard not to laugh. She took his offered hand and he pulled her away from the club area. She led him to one of the openings in the building, where there was a small, semi-secluded balcony that was thankfully far away enough from the loud speakers, the noise, and the crowd of club-goers. The balcony overlooked a busy area of Coruscant, where speeders were zooming in all possible directions towards various destinations. It was late in the evening, yet regardless there were people out and about.

They stood and looked out over the balcony in silence for a few moments, before Claire stated softly, "This city never sleeps, doesn't it?"

"Of course." He glanced around and frowned, "There is always something to be done."

"I suppose that's true." She frowned and tentatively reached out to take his hand. He permitted her, and she turned his frame so that they were facing one another. He was slightly taller than her, but her shoes did give her a slight amount of extra height.

She found herself wanting to ask him so many strange questions that popped in her mind, questions that were both a mixture of small-talk and personal interests, but she refrained ultimately as Obi-wan took the lead and fulfilled her indirect request. Claire was surprised to find how chaste his hand on her hip felt. There were no insinuations; instead, she felt a rush of calm envelope her. They swayed gently, dancing slowly and carefully, unlike the boisterous and fast-paced dancing inside of the club itself. The silence was peaceful, Claire decided with a soft smile.

Yet when she looked up at Obi-wan, she found that his eyes held a sense of detachment, as if despite his physical body being with her, his mind was elsewhere. It made her heart sink, and she wondered if she should address it or not. She chose not to, but still chose to break the silence regardless. She stopped moving and said softly, "Thank you. That satisfied my desire to dance."

He looked down at her, with a surprised expression. She offered him a smile again, and then disconnected herself from his gentle hold. Their dance had not been intimate by any means at all, she reminded herself, and she figured that he had every right to think about other things. There were more pressing matters, and she, for the most part, convinced herself that that was alright.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you." She took a step away from him and looked at Obi-wan again. "Perhaps I should be heading out. I have work in the morning, and I'm sure you have places to be as well."

He nodded, and only stated, "I'll see to it that you arrive home safely."

They left the club then, with the music still raging and their minds bereft of anything to say, other than silence. Her apartment was not far from the club district. Yet Claire felt obligated to say something before parting with him, as she stood outside her apartment door.

"Thank you for this, Obi-wan, I had a good time." Claire nodded and placed her palm on the hand scanner, which was her personal layer of security that she had organized and installed herself. She took a step into her apartment, but felt his eyes on her still. She quickly turned around and said, "If you ever need a mechanic, please do not hesitate to contact me. I can fix just about anything, and hopefully before then I will have my own droid to help me out as well."

He nodded again, smiled, and then added, "I'll be sure to do that. With the way my padawan and I fly and the situations we often get into, I do not doubt that we will be requiring your services soon."

She returned the nod, but found herself unable to turn and walk into her apartment, ending their evening. "Perhaps we could have a meal at Dex's sometime, whenever we both are available."

"I would like that, but unfortunately I will be away from Coruscant starting tomorrow. My padawan and I are being sent to the outer rim. We have to oversee a diplomatic agreement between two tribes who are contemplating joining the Republic. But perhaps some other time, indeed."

"Alright. Safe travels then, Obi-wan. Come back without any cybernetic replacements. Though, I can fix those too."

"I will have to keep that in mind," he smiled at her again, bowed politely, and added as his final comment, "Thank you as well, Miss Elrin."

Obi-wan and Claire said their final goodbyes, and then he turned and walked away. Claire entered her apartment, and once the door was shut, she found herself leaning against the door, sliding down to the ground, and then sitting trapped in her own thoughts for another hour or so. She ended up falling asleep in an upright position against her door. However, the next morning, she awoke in her bed, still dressed in the clothes from the previous evening, but a little startled by the fact. She checked the time, panicked for oversleeping, and then got dressed into her work clothes and headed for the docking bays at the Republic Executive building. As she took a taxi-speeder to the hangar, she wondered briefly about Obi-wan, and the offers she had made the previous evening.