Blast from the past (1950's Star Wars AU)

[un_handed]

Summer 1952, it was just starting and shaping up to be a beauty. Most kids were getting that antsy feeling of the nearness of vacation and the want of freedom. But there were still three more week of school before that bell rang and let the kids free for the next three months.

Idyllic towns like Havencrest were almost too perfect this time of year. With their well-manicured lawns and pretty picket-fenced houses. The same could not be said of Bleakburn, just one set of train tracks over but a whole different world. The houses were not so quaint and the colors not so cheery.

Mara lived in Bleakburn, her family had for three generations now. She went to Bleakburn High School, or BBHigh as they called it, home of the Imperials. They had a reputation, as many towns that were not as well off as their neighbors, of being rough. That suited Mara just fine, she wasn't the sort of girl who felt like she needed any particular favor with the people of Havencrest and certainly never did anything to seek it out.

There were scuffles often enough between the rival schools but nothing, as yet, had been too bad. Street races, pranks, the occasional party was crashed but things remained a fairly constant level of general dislike between the towns. Both of whom claimed the one place that was any sort of fun, Moe Isleys. A diner that used the wide white back wall of the joint as a screen after dark and doubled as a local drive-in and hang-out. Sometimes they'd clear the parking lot and hold mixers there but more often than not it was used to watch the newest (that Moe could get his hands on) schlock film making rounds.

Mara had been there enough times to be recognizable, not just for her flame-red hair but also because she rode a motorcycle. Something she always grinned about when the 'Cresters looked at her with gaping mouths and dropped jaws. Keep staring, squares. In three more weeks she'd graduate and then she'd hit the road and leave both these towns behind her. She wasn't sure where exactly she'd go but the hell out of dodge sounded good to her.

That's why she was out here tonight, making some early goodbyes to friends she wouldn't be seeing again before she left because of this or that. So, like most bored kids in both towns, she headed to Moe's. Jeans rolled up over engineer boots, a black leather jacket and a black t-shirt beneath she could have been mistaken for a boy riding up. But when she parked and took off her helmet it was very clear she was anything but. She straddled her bike and hooked her helmet to the back and waved to a few people she recognized.

Comments

[from_twin_suns]

It could often be said that not only did nothing ever happen in Havencrest, nothing ever had happened. Extreme weather seemed to go around it - heck, the Civil War had gone around it. The local statue in honour of the local kids who'd gone off to swell the ranks of the Union was so generic he often suspected it'd just come from a catalogue. It was the sort of place that had never minted a local historian, was the point. He'd be happy to leave. There was a much larger world out there, and he intended to explore it completely.

He lived with his Aunt and Uncle on a farm just on the outskirts - any further, they'd technically be the next county over. He'd excelled at school, though more strongly at English, History - he'd even taken a swing at Latin. The classes he liked were the ones that took him far away from Havencrest, to far-off places that were or never were. Maybe that was why he ran, too. High school could have some tough lines, but he'd defied them - his photo was in the yearbook for chess club, debate; but he'd earned his letter jacket for cross-country running. The school had also never produced a better fencer, which for some reason seemed to make his Aunt and Uncle uncomfortable and proud at the same time.

But he sure did look like a square, sitting on the stool at Moe's. Letter jacket over checked shirt and slacks, sneakers completing what might be called a 'look'. And, naturally, a malt in front of him. He'd stayed out of the stuff with Bleakburn as much as he could - didn't avoid anyone, but didn't go out of his way to make friends with the hostiles, as it were.

But he sure did notice that motorcycle. Because the last thing worth knowing about Luke Skywalker was his predilection towards tinkering with machinery - he himself had pulled up in a 1940 Streamliner that he had gotten restored and running himself...though the paint was still faded and mismatched. He couldn't settle on a red or a blue. But his room - over the garage, naturally - was a menagerie of posters and schematics, models of everything from WWII fighters to the brand new F-86 Sabre that his friend Begley "Biggs" Darklighter swore he'd be flying a year from now.

So he regarded that motorcycle with great interest, recognizing it instantly. Wow.

Then the rider pulled off her helmet. Wow.

Lots of reasons for an aw shucks farmboy to stare just a little more than he rightfully ought.

[un_handed]

The streamliner was distinctive with the central 'torpedo' dome of the hood and one hell of a chrome grill. She was a pretty thing if a little rough in places. But rough was hardly a bad thing to Mara, things that were pristine tended not to be used, and if something was only for show what good was it?

The driver, however, she had to smirk at when she passed his seat. A toe-headed boy who looked to maybe be about her age but with the widest blue eyes she'd ever seen, he was a rube. That was clear in how he held himself his general carriage and demeanor and not the least of it was the way his jaw dropped when he turned her way.

"Tryin' to catch flies, Pretty boy?" Mara hardly paused in her stalk to the booth in the rear where a rowdy group was already standing to greet her. Her friends were definitely not the type who would be in his social circle. Belatedly she passed and tapped the countertop with bright red nails to get the attention of the cook. "Burger and a coke, for the back table."

Her order was met with a nod and he jotted it down. "We're awful busy, and shorthanded, you mind waiting for it here?" Mara rolled her eyes and took a seat with a huff.

[from_twin_suns]

Pretty was one way to put it. It was from an era of art deco masterpieces of engineering. One of those times that people sat down and decided to match art to the best engineering they could.

Her response was, perhaps, to be expected, but it didn't dampen his enthusiasm any - and she had said 'pretty boy', which parts of him might remember more actively later. He stood from his spot, moving a bit closer, managing a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, don't see anything this pretty around here," he said, belatedly remembering he should gesture at the motorcycle when he said it. "She's a beauty - how long have you had her?" Then, a beat later, he gestures at the seat next to her. "Mind?"

[un_handed]

well, he wasn't a coward was he? Mara blinked in surprise when he approached. Normally his type scoffed at or rudely dismissed her type. She wasn't used to them talking much less the golly gee homespun manners he brought with him.

Against her every inclination she shrugged toward the empty stool. "Free country as far as I know." She desperately wished she had something to do with her hands aside from drumming the countertop as that only made her feel like she looked uneasy. She'd be damned if she looked intimidated by him.

"I had an uncle who picked her up a few years back. He let me have her if I helped him fix up some other bikes." He wasn't really an uncle, but it was just easier to explain that way, Pappy was just someone who took her under his wing but she had started to disagree with some of his more vocal and virulent ideas.

[from_twin_suns]

It helped, he found, when you didn't think about type. Old Man Ben had always talked about people just being people - and he'd always listened.

He sat down next to her, listening intently.

"Pretty sweet deal, sounds like," he responded, attention swinging from the bike to her. "If you need any help with her, I'd love to take a swing at it - I've got a '40 Indian I'm working on, myself. Not as pretty as yours, but."

He shrugged, then offered a hand.

"I'm Luke. Luke Skywalker. You new in the area, or...?"

[un_handed]

Type was something that was almost constantly enforced in her experience, so to see someone not do it stood out. She would have written him but without malice had he not mentioned his own project. That had her attention, it was a solid bike that would be a satisfying rebuild.

"Cheif or Scout? The Scout has a lighter body and you can really jam it up if you don't keep weld work neat and light." And they were a pretty bike in and of themselves.

She took his hand in her own, still wearing her riding glove. "Maureen l'ejade. Not new, just not from your side of the tracks." Her grip was strong, firm, and confident. She had no cruelty to it, but there was something of a test in it and in her emerald eyes.

[from_twin_suns]

"Scout," he replied, brightening a little bit more. "Pretty sure she was army surplus - just figured out her original paintwork and am trying to restore that."

His own return grip was much the same, but the smile? Was pure farmboy.

"That's an interesting name. French extraction, maybe?" He doesn't rise to what he should realize is obvious bait, in the tracks comment - his uncle might, but he doesn't.

"It's a pretty big county, that's for sure. I swear sometimes they just drew it in on the map because you can't have that much space without anything in it."

[un_handed]

She appreciated that he didn't give a weak handshake, but that smile. She was caught off guard by it a moment, even found herself responding in kind before she let go and pulled her hand back, turning the face the counter a little more.

"Irish and French got the hair from mom and the temper from dad." Which would depend on how well someone knew french history as to how that was taken. It could go a lot of ways really. Not that she put a lot of stock in that sort of thing, they were all American now, weren't they? No one in her family had been here less than 2 generations so it was a moot point at best.

"It's big enough, yet someone always wants more." Story of the world, no one is ever satisfied with what they have, so the best you can do is make yourself useful so you get yours along the line too.

"So you a fan of things besides bikes?" There were plenty of cherry rides out in the parking lot, everybody brought their best or whatever was best that they had out to Moe's to show off.

[from_twin_suns]

"Fun mix," he responded, with a chuckle. "Me, I'm pretty sure my people sort of...blew into Kansas on the wind one day and never left."

He was distracted from her one interesting comment by her question, gesturing over his shoulder.

"Yeah, that jalopy over there. I'm a fan of anything with moving parts, really. Not quite finished with her, she'll get me where I need to go."

He gestures to the staff when they come back.

"Hey, can I get some fries?"

Which rather indicates he plans to stay on the stool next to her.

[un_handed]

Fun mix wasn't an expected response but it wasn't antagonistic either. For a 'crester he'd been polite and even friendly. She was unsure just what to make of it.

Thankfully her meal arrived just then, burger and fries on a heavy solid plate that made a satisfying thunk when set to the counter. She looked over to the table where she'd been heading earlier but didn't move from her seat, not yet anyway. Mara nibbled a fry and watched the blond as he settled in.

"And where is that anyway?" She asked if a lift of her chin. "Where you need to go?" She punctuated the question by gesturing to him with the bitten end of her fry.

[from_twin_suns]

He shrugged a bit at that, looking off into a distance not at all part of the diner.

"I dunno," he said, "I've got a scholarship coming to Georgetown, so I'd be heading there, but...part of me wants to just go for the Air Force Academy, you know? See about getting my hands on one of those new F-86 Sabres, seeing how far and how fast I can go."

"Ever been flying?"

[un_handed]

Mara picked up her burger and took a generous bite while he talked, having to pause and laughed a bit at his spoil for choices. She chewed and swallowed under the could wash it down with a drink of coke.

"No, flying isn't exactly a weekend activity." Not on her side anyway, she was lucky to be good at fixing things and maybe she could do something with that. She had Pappy backing her up after all, even if he was a jerk sometimes.

"That bike out there is as close to flying as I'll get, but get me on the open road and she really moves like she's got wings."

[from_twin_suns]

He looked enthusiastic suddenly, turning back towards her again as his own food was placed in front of him.

"Oh, well, my uncle has an old cropduster he's used for ages - if you want, maybe one day I could take you up - not all that fast, but there's nothing like it!"

He clammed up, suddenly, looking a bit sheepish. Right, too much enthusiasm. Aunt Beru told him that all the time.

[un_handed]

The farm boy had given her the address of the garage he spent his time tinkering at. She hadn't exactly called him and it had been a week since she ran into him at Moes. So there was every possibility that he just assumed she'd forgotten about him or never intended to follow up.

The truth was that she wasn't sure what she was going to do either for a few days. What did she want with him? He was attractive sure, he blushed easily and it delighted her. She could tell he had buttons to push but he was also, well he'd been kind to her. He hadn't judged her and he hadn't given a damn when others squawked about them talking and that was something that had her interest in him piqued.

it took her time to work up to it but she eventually decided to just go and if he wasn't there then that was a sign in and of itself. She would go on with her life, he would go on with his and that would be the end of it.

It was a little after noon when she rolled to a stop, the engine purring down from a rumble to a soft sigh when she killed it. She kicked the stand down with a black boot and dismounted before pulling her helmet off and setting it on the seat. Flame red hair pulled back in a sleek tail making her look more serious than she had the first time they'd met.

Her bravado failed her just a little when she walked to the main door, a momentary panic of being on enemy ground before she swallowed that down, tossed her hair, and hoisted her chin to step inside. Havencrest had better be ready, a Bleaksider was in their midst.

[from_twin_suns]

Maybe, he thought, she’d just been proving something. At least, that was what he told himself as the days stretched by with no sign of her. Though if asked, he would have denied thinking about her.

Probably the embarrassing amount of it, at any rate - he kept coming back to, well, everything. His friends at school certainly attributed his new slate of distracted moments during classes to her - and they weren’t wrong. Some good laughs had been had at his expense, certainly.

And word has very definitely gotten around. In a town where little happened, gossip and drama were like a flame through dry underbrush. The girls at the diner had spread word faster than a Korean War dogfight, and now suddenly it seemed there were question marks about him. Apparently the sudden cold front from Sally Dean, the head cheerleader, was owing to that. According to gossip, he’d been supposed to ask her to the upcoming formal, but now “the ginger hussy” or whatever stupid terms they used was in the picture.

And since they knew nothing about Maureen, they just made things up, many of them wildly contradictory. It was exasperating. And all news to him, since he found Sally Dean about as interesting as watching paint dry. The boldest thing she’d ever done was try spaghetti, he reckoned. He’d always ignored the social order, but now? Now it was rearranging itself against the intruder. He was, he was told by his friends, to beware of all this.

So why was it that every time he left the school he hoped to see a flash of red-gold hair atop a motorcycle?

So he tried not to get his hopes up. Maybe she just had some hand grenades to lob at Havencrest society. But he kept coming back to her eyes, that tumbling of hair, that kiss…

At the moment, he was 9n the sledge under his car. The nearby radio was turned up, blaring An episode of You Bet Your Life as he worked away.

[un_handed]

She heard voices within so Mara steeled herself and stepped inside, only to find the voice was a radio with some jazzy music under the words. She recognized it at once, that gameshow hosted by Groucho. It was funny, his humor tended to lean on that edge of good taste that the upper crust seemed to feel was so far beneath them. But it was so much smarter than just that.

Marx's voice called out to his unseen guest. May I kiss your wife?

Mara was already smirking having heard a scenario like this before and they never failed to be funny.

The guest responded in an amused but gruff way with That would have to be over my dead body.

There was hardly a pause before the funny man retorted with Have it your way. Fenneman, get the gun!

She laughed, she couldn't help it really. And why should she, laughter was nothing to be ashamed of. "If he was smarter he would have asked the wife's permission." Was the only commentary she offered before she just walked in and started looking around the place.

She hadn't exactly expected to nearly trip over the legs protruding from under the car, but realizing which car it was she had a pretty good idea of who she'd almost fallen over.

Ok, sure maybe she was intentionally just moving around like she had every right to be here because she knew there was a chance it would piss off someone. But she had been invited and as such, she would take the right to be here as it was given.

She hadn't exactly expected to nearly trip over the legs protruding from under the car, but realizing which car it was she had a pretty good idea of who she'd almost fallen over.

[from_twin_suns]

She might, might hear him banging his head on the undercarriage trying to look up when he heard her voice. He slid out quickly, wiping his hands on his coveralls and hoping his hair was in some semblance of order. And also thanking the unseen forces of the universe that he’d remembered to shave on a day off.

A pity, then, really, that he forgot about some of the grease spots on his face.

“Good advice,” he said, sitting up on the cart. “Though I seem to remember…”

He hadn’t minded the boldness, thought. Not. At. All.

[un_handed]

"You aren't a wife. And if you had slapped me I would have deserved it. But I bet it gave those hens something to cluck about." Yes, there had been a reason to do it, the chance to make those nose in the air Havencrest girls a shock they wouldn't soon forget.

But about midway through making her point she'd discovered maybe she'd wanted to as well. And more surprisingly he'd been a good kisser, very receptive and enthusiastic. She liked that about him in general, he wasn't as closed off and button up as most of his people were.

Mara smirked at the streak of dark across his cheek and dots over his nose. Hazard of working under greasy parts. It showed he really did work though, not just played at it.

"You've got some," She gestured to his face and found her smirk widening to a smile, she looked around for a clean rag and dabbed it over the spots. "Better."

[from_twin_suns]

"Yeah," he replied, with a theatrical sigh. "I can't cook to save my life and look terrible in pearls. But oh did you ever. It's not the Red Menace anymore, it's the Redhead menace in some circles."

He stood to scrutiny as she did that, only rolling his eyes a little. And hiding the slight blush.

"Heh, thanks."

[un_handed]

"That's what we Bleaksiders live for, haven't you heard? We only dream of the day when we can cause a stir in the pressed shirts across the tracks." She rolled her eyes enough to let him know it was a joke, mostly.

She finished and set the rag aside.

"You're welcome." There was a moment of silence between them before she looked around. "So, give a girl a tour?"

[from_twin_suns]

"So people tell me," he said. "Stupid people, mainly."

And that moment felt like an eternity. What did he say in such a moment? What did he want to do? Other than his first instinct, which was to kiss her again, though that was - oh, good, she solved it for him.

"Uh, right, yes, um - not much to see, but..." he gestured at the car, "not mine, but fixing it for the Reverend down the road. Mine's in the barn. So, umm..." Oh, there really wasn't much to it, was there? Well, she was going to determine he was a country rube at some point or another. Best to get it out of the way.

"Workbench is over here, so's the bike - would you like a coke?"

[un_handed]

It was a small shop, more like a glorified garage. But the tools were good and well kept which said a lot about how the shop worked. She liked that, neat but not fussy, clean but not sterile, well used but not broken. It was comfortable.

The car he was working on seemed in old but good condition too. But she was more interested in the bike he'd told her about.

She walked toward it when he pointed it out, immediately dropping down to take a look at the engine and mounting. "Yeah, a coke would be great, thanks."

[from_twin_suns]

The 1940 Indian was a symphony in reds and whites. He was very proud of it, really. He crossed to the small fridge at the back, pulling out two cokes before heading back towards her.

"I do love her," he said, with a slight sigh, offering her the coke. "How long have you had yours?"

[un_handed]

Mara let out a low whistle, fingers lightly brushing along the pipes. "She's a beauty, I can see why."

She stood to take the coke and twist the top off, looking back at her own ride a 39 AJS Silver Streak midway through restoration. "About two years. When I got her she was an engine, a frame, and some spit welds. But the bones were there. I was lucky Pappy found her, there wasn't a lot that made it over."

[from_twin_suns]

That wasn't a term he'd heard much, but he assumed she meant a father or grandfather - and didn't interrogate it further.

"I wouldn't think so. Them and the Vincents aren't exactly regular arrivals. You did pretty amazing work on her!"