Mary & Sue
Or the Tragical History of How Allah Sent Us a Camel
and What Happened Next

Written by Mary and Sue (of course!)


Rating:        PG.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns da boys. We make no money and what little we have is spent entirely on Qui-Gon's new rain gear..

Summary: 
Warning! This is the classical Mary Sue at its best, so of course, the story will follow all rules of classical marysuedom, which means, there are some hot Force-boys, some absolutely irresistible Earth-girls (what did you think? Why would we want to write about being ugly, stupid and in general unremarkable?), some action, some funny stuff, some hot stuff, and a whole lot of general silliness. But it is not humour -- marysuedom is a serious business.   
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Mary & Sue
Initial posting: On dmeb2.
Acknowledgement: Thankyousas to Nocturne for betaing this beast into submission!
Note: The name of God the Great and Gracious is used more than once in this story. Although the whole story is for entertainment, we don't intend blasphemy.


 

Chapter one

 



The Camel: Sue’s POV

Werroma ist ein Zauberland.

That’s what I said to Mary when we made plans to spend some time in my grandparents' house in a region called Werroma. It is a wonderful place to write. And that’s what we wanted.

Today it certainly didn’t look wonderful. It was all bleary, muddy, desolate, and cold. So were we. We had taken the early morning train to town to buy some food, and since the weather looked nice, we had innocently left behind all umbrellas, raincapes and other protective gear. Now on our way back, we cursed ourselves, watching an unusually evil-looking bank of blue-black clouds and the torrents of rain washing down the window of the coach.

”Well,” I sighed finally, ”as someone once said to me, ‘we aren’t made of sugar’. I curled myself deeper into the upholstery, to store a bit of the coach’s heating if possible. Imagination was as good as any windbreaker on the way home.

”I wish I was,” Mary said, ”that would end the suffering.” She snorted softly to herself and continued, ”Did you notice, we’re running out of wood?”

"I did. Incidentally, it's your turn to cut wood. Ha ha."

The reply was a sigh. Her hand ran in a desperate gesture over her short hair.

The train slowed to a stop. We shouldered our packs, wishing, not for the first time, that we had a camel or two at our disposal, and got off. The train let out a mournful hoot and disappeared behind the bend.

It was then that I noticed the man. He had been standing on the other side of the track, hidden by the train. He was soaking wet and haggard-looking, and I would have thought he was just another drunkard, except that …

I nudged Mary.

”Look there!”

”Yeah,” she said. ”Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

”I think there’s a dude dressed up as Qui-Gon. A very wet-looking Qui-Gon.”

We laughed at the absurdity of it.

”Oh Mary, didn’t I tell you this is a wonderland? The first thing we come upon is a stray Jedi … but whoever he is, he seems to be a stranger here. It seems he needs help … I wonder who he’s waiting for.”

”For us.” Surely she was joking. No! She was serious! She waved to the lone figure. ”Sir?”

As he stood in front of us I had my first chance to look in a pair of eyes that were the most unearthly shade of sky-blue...

Mary cuffed my side. Ah, well... For a moment I considered addressing him as "Master Jedi" but then thought the poor soaked sod would not appreciate the irony, so I just asked: ”Need help?”

His answer was simple and nice: ”Actually, I was trying to find some accommodation around here, and something to eat.”

I looked at Mary. She nodded. I said, ”Well, folks round here aren’t very hospitable … but we’ve a free room in the attic.”

And I added in my mind, It seems Allah is great. He has heard our prayers and sent us our camel.

A grateful smile brightened his face. "That's very kind of you, ladies, and I would gladly take your offer; but perhaps you should know..."

”We are soaked already, no need to stand here and wait till we get even more wet. Let’s go.” Often Mary’s spontaneity was annoying, but this time I couldn’t hate her. So again we shouldered our packs—this time with the help of a Jedi dude.

So we trudged on, defying torrents of rain. Even dogs didn’t disturb us — they, evidently, preferred their dry and snug houses, knowing they would get us another day.
 
 
 
 

I am Obi-Wan Kenobi: Sue’s POV
 
 

A kitchen is a paradise when a fire is burning in the oven, the number of pancakes on a plate is constantly increasing, and the rain is confined to regions beyond windows.

Finding dry clothes for someone like Qui-Gon wasn't easy, even in a house where generations of grandmothers had stored every piece of cloth they could lay their hands on. At last I managed to find some old training pants, which were somewhat short for him, but otherwise passable, and a T-shirt.

”So,” I said, to strike up a conversation, ”What should we call you, O kind sir?”

”My name is Qui-Gon Jinn.”

”No shit,” Mary giggled over a pile of plates that she was laying out on the table, ”And I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The man regarded her seriously. ”No, you are not.”

We rolled our eyes. We were trying to joke, but he was dead serious.

”OK, I said, ”Qui-Gon is as good a name as any other, so let’s suppose you’re Qui-Gon. She’s Mary and I’m Sue.”

The pancakes were ready; we sat down to eat. He was obviously very hungry, and I knew Mary loved my pancakes, so I watched the two of them and felt very pleased with myself.

However, only two pancakes later Mary wiped her mouth, winked me and got straight to the point: ”So tell us, mister Qui-Gon Jinn, what are you doing in this galaxy far, far away?”

”I’m on a mission … of sorts,” Qui-Gon replied calmly. ”I’m trying to find a … person who I believe must be on this planet—actually somewhere nearby. I was following him very closely until something happened to my ship.”

As we prodded on with our questions (all the time making a point of appearing deadly serious), he told us how he had been in an unusual phenomenon that he called a Force-storm, how he had lost his prey, and just barely managed to land in a clearing in the woods. He had been on the planet for two nights and days (cycles, he called them), and local inhabitants had not been very welcoming, twice they had even set their dogs on him — they obviously had never heard of a Jedi knight.

”You bet they haven’t,” I commented.

”I told ya, people aren’t very gastfreundlich here,” Mary added.

”But you are.”

”Well, maybe because you look like Qui-Gon Jinn,” I said.

Solemnly, our guest responded, ”But I am Qui-Gon Jinn.” Fascinating, how sincere the man was about his identity.

”Sure — and you’re a Jedi master too.”

”Yes, I am.”

”With a lightsabre and all?”

His hand moved reflexively to his belt, apparently for the lightsabre that should have been there, but wasn't. A slight embarrassed smile crooked his mouth as he said simply, "Yes."

I exchanged a glance with Mary. 1:0 for him, her frown said, and, he’s too daring. But I winked: I like this game!

”Very delicious,” said Mary, terminating our mute dispute and dished out the last pancakes.

After we had finished the short snack, it was still raining and we couldn’t go outside, so we just spent the evening in the living room, watching TV and talking.

I got the warm feeling of becoming more and more acquainted with the stranger until Mary referred to the forecast. ”Unbelievable. It looks we shall have a warm spell. After all this erratic weather … how nice.”

”Yes,” seconded our guest, ”I didn’t expect that either. Usually these Force-storms aren’t over so fast.”

Mary cast an ironical pitiful look at him, ”’Course, Force-storm.”

”Perhaps you don’t refer to this phenomenon with exactly the same word …”

”Yes, we call it ‘ordinary thunderstorm’” Mary snapped. Oh, I wished she would mind her manners — I felt I had to join in: ”No, Mary, this wasn’t just a simple and ordinary thunderstorm — remember the discussion in the media. And didn't the aurora borealis appear last night?”

”These may be by-products of a Force-storm, if your planet passes through its sphere of influence,” Qui-Gon said in his reserved manner.

Mary took a deep breath and pulled viciously at her short hair. ”Sure. El Nino gets a counterpart — El Nina. The polar ice will melt and the whole of Bangladesh will be drowned. The time you can go unprotected in the sun in Australia is decreasing to five seconds. And doomsday is in 12 — no, 11 — or was it 13? — years. And tall, blonde folks with blue eyes will come from a northern direction with flying saucers and take us away to carry out strange experiments. Have you come from north?”

”Mary!” I cried indignantly, glancing apologetically over to our guest. But he didn’t seem to feel insulted. Quite the contrary, he showed interest.

”Seen from your point of view, it is valid to associate these phenomena with exclusively earth-bound causes — I understand that intergalactic travel is barely developed on this planet. I think you have extensive knowledge about this planet — more than most people have about their home planets. But you don’t know about the sky,” was Qui-Gon’s answer.

”How nice — we’re THE natives. Hopefully you have some pearls of glass to pay us.” Mary was obviously not amused at the direction our talk was taking.

The tall man was puzzled. ”Why would you need pearls of glass?”

Mary rolled her eyes. I tried to explain this to the man, and he nodded. ”I am sorry that I have given the impression that I was disdaining you or your homeworld. This was not my intention. I apologize.”

”Apology accepted,” I waved my hand at Mary’s snort. ”So. Taking up where you left off— we don’t know about the sky. You know. If you tell us, then we know, too.”

”What would you like to know?”

”Anything. Like what’s a Force-storm?”

Qui-Gon sighed and closed his eyes. ”It’s not easy to explain … I’d have to start with the basics.”

”A disturbance in the Force,” Mary interrupted. I giggled. Just a couple of days ago we had been joking about certain ”disturbances in the Force.”

Our guest, however, looked at us with some interest and said, ”Exactly. A severe one.”

”What does it look like?”

”Look like? I wouldn't describe it as looking like anything … but anyway, the ship rocked heavily and lost all direction, all controls broke down, G-force rocked up and down I could easily have ended up in a star before I even noticed.”

”Lucky you,” I commented.

”Good ol’ Will of the Force,” Mary quipped. Again we laughed.

Qui-Gon leaned his elbows on the table with a thoughtful mien. ”You know, ladies, this is very interesting.”

”What?”

”You seem to know a lot about the Force much more than anyone who is not a Jedi should. You anticipate what I’m going to say. Yet you are not Force-sensitive.”

”Cut this crap,” Mary snapped as if she had suddenly remembered her annoyance at our guest's repeated attempts to appear as the real Qui-Gon Jinn. ”Whatcha think you are?! Star Wars is a movie. Not real. Jedi are a myth. Not real. This whole fucking superior technology is just a crude mixture of XIX century fantasies and what is brooding in today's think tanks! This is earth, damn it.” Opening her arms in a mocking gesture of invitation she spoke more slowly ”And that’s were we ALL are from.”

I looked at the man’s slightly shocked frown. ”Ohhh,” I sighed, ”don’t ask.”

Our guest shrugged and complied.

Knowing her from our long-term friendship I could understand Mary's reaction. And wasn't she right to be angry with this - although perfect and cute - Qui-Gon Jinn impostor? If he was what he pretended to be, he should have been dead, killed in Theed. Moreover, if there was life in another galaxy, why should it be a copy of some movies? However, I thought it was better to save what remained of the evening and switched to subjects that were safer than weather.

Mary left us. But soon she came back with a fresh bottle of beer. Shuffling to the computer she informed us "I won't disturb you any longer. I'll watch the latest shootings of the NGC 6543 planetary nebula."

Our guest sat up and asked: "Do you happen to have maps of yours and other galaxies? I am still not entirely clear about my way from my galaxy to yours. I also suppose that if I could demonstrate my journey graphically to you, it would explain a lot."

Mary’s eyes narrowed, but I stepped in before a new explosion could happen. "Sure, Qui. Come over here – let's search the files of the Hubble space mission."

With ill grace Mary offered her seat, and I planted him before the screen. First we skimmed through the files for space maps, then through collections of photos form distant galaxies, eventually we cast a glance over the latest discoveries of extra-solar planets. Although Qui was polite and showed great interest, what our sources provided was obviously not the right stuff. Too much earthbound perhaps — as he had pointed out before.

At a certain point he seemed to give up and accept this fact and instead asked for more information about the earth. That was easy now! One issue led to another - science, technology, culture, communities, governments, enterprises, etc.

I thought Mary had cooled down by now. Standing behind our chairs, she commented on sites or suggested visiting others. "I know what will really, really interest you, Jedi," she said, winking at me, and I saw that her distrust was still there, lurking in the darkest caverns of her mind, but I winked back. "www.starwars.com"

If Mary had hoped to provoke any strong reaction from our guest by chance, she failed. The man showed the same interest as for the other sites, asking questions about details and making intelligent remarks. Perhaps he was a bit more ... serious than before—if that was possible with a man who was Seriousness Embodied.

We visited some related sites too, but it was already late and I thought tomorrow was another day for surfing, should we wish to.

Then there was some bickering on where to put Qui-Gon to sleep. I was afraid the beds in the attic would be too short; he would have to sleep in the large bed downstairs. Finally we still settled him in the attic. As he had left us with a kind "Sleep well," Mary and I quickly tidied up the living room and the kitchen.

While washing the dishes we exchanged our thoughts about Qui.

”I don’t know what to make of him. You’re right, Mary, he can’t be real. But I like him.”

Nee, I was too harsh. He is nice and,” she winked at me again, ”good looking too.”

I had to grin, she knew my special interests in a certain Star Wars character as well as I knew hers in another. ”However, he is probably insane.”

”Not more dangerous than a street worker with a burnout,” answered Mary, now sorting the cutlery. ”Anyway,” she balanced a knife at the tips of her fingers, ”you noticed how serious he became as we visited the Star Wars related sites?”

”Dead serious.”

”Yeah … that leaves open the possibility that Star Wars is real--with its galaxy, Coruscant, stormtroopers and stuff. And for some reason it has become integrated in the collective subconscious on earth. Perhaps a serious flaw in the Many World hypothesis.”

”We’ll wake up tomorrow in the coach because we dreamed it all — or reality is more than an LSD-trip and we have an alien aboard. Let’s see what will happen,” I said and put out the light in the kitchen.

”Suz,” came Mary’s voice out of the darkness, ”Suz, to which fan-fic Qui-Gon Jinn would you compare him to?”

”He is unique,” I answered.

We went to sleep, to catch some dreams by luck.
 
 
 
 

Why domesticated Jedi are useful: Sue's POV
 
 

Next morning the rain had stopped, but it wasn’t exactly bright and warm. When Mary’s tousled head emerged in the kitchen doorway, I said:

”Which do you want first—the good news or the bad news?”

”Good news.”

”It seems you won’t have to walk in the rain.”

”What?!?”

”The bad news is that we forgot butter. Now how can we bake anything without butter?”

She plopped down on one of the chairs and I placed a large mug of coffee before her. ”Why me?”

”Today’s my turn to surf the net,” I grinned evilly at her. ”Besides, don’t fret, it seems Allah loves you — he has sent us a domestic Qui-Gon, an invaluable tool when you need to chop wood. After all, he has to pay back our kindness somehow, ne?”

Mary brightened up.

Speaking of Qui-Gon — he appeared in the doorway, bright and fresh as morning sunshine by the seaside, and once again in his Jedi outfit. Now how dare anybody be so bright so early in the morning?

”What exactly have you in mind for me?” he asked.

Mary pointed through the window. ”See that huge pile of wood there? It needs to be cut and stacked.” She measured Qui-Gon’s powerful figure. ”A work worthy of a man like you. Don't worry, you needn’t do it all today, just spare a day’s work for two lonely women …”

I giggled.

Qui-Gon nodded and started to go out.

”Where are you going?” I cried. ”Breakfast first! Have you no respect for my cooking?”

Mary giggled. ”Poor man, stranded here with two she-devils.” Qui-Gon’s mouth quirked, and he sat down to eat.

The breakfast was a short affair, soon I was cleaning up the kitchen, humming a tune to myself. Mary, having changed her clothes, stepped in to grab the shopping basket.

"You know, Mary, you might–"

I was interrupted by a choking noise of surprise and running footsteps, and when I turned to look, she was digging out a bottle of beer from the fridge. It was only after a few invigorating gulps that she managed to respond to my nervous clucking around her. "Mashallah..." she panted. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. Go," she directed me to the window, "tell me you see what I see."

"Holy Mary, Mother of God..."

We ran out to the porch. Qui-Gon was warming up before dealing with the wood. But it was how he was moving around! We only saw a blur of green light.

”What? A lightsabre? A real lightsabre?” I watched as if enchanted.

”So he IS a real Jedi with a real lightsabre after all,” Mary whispered clasping the bottle of beer.

”Wow,” I said. ”Oh Sith. I’m going crazy. I’m going to ignore it.”

Noiselessly I retired into the kitchen. Mary followed, stating: ”Sue, I bet, you can’t ignore it.”

After draining as much encouragement from her bottle as possible, she was finally ready to go and begged for some leftover pancakes. I also asked her to buy some sweets and beer — wouldn’t it be nice to offer beer to a man after a day of hard work? Which is impossible, if someone has just drained the last bottle…

When Qui approached me for detailed instructions, I found a heavy axe for him. Soon he was immersed in work, and blocks of wood were quickly reduced to oven-sized logs.

I postponed surfing, instead trying to gather my thoughts and write something, but I was distracted. I thought about our guest, what we had seen and heard; I played through his tiny mannerisms in my mind, the way he looked, the way he moved his lips or folded his arms. Dammit. He was too Qui-Gon to be anything else. How ridiculous. I— we— had been blessed with a Jedi in our house. It was great, it was fantastic, it was... ludicrous. It promised to spoil the whole summer and make it an event worth to remember forever. Shit, shit, shit. Ach, Mist! What was I to do?

I managed to scribble a line or two once in a while, but for the most part the morning was rather fruitless. Qui-Gon had taken off his tunics and the sight of his bare and well-muscled upper torso shiny with sweat through the window was more than I could bear. So for a while I was busy sitting and drooling. ”Behave, naughty girl,” I said to myself, but my self had other ideas. OK, I thought, I can behave later.

So I went to the kitchen to find an alibi. I remembered Rebecca and all those instances in literature where women offered water to men. How womanly, and how romantic. So I fixed a pitcher of juice, poured a mugful and went to Qui-Gon.

While he drank, I surveyed his work. ”Hey, you don’t have to kill yourself over that work, we may have need of you tomorrow! And you have a mission, remember?”

”Oh, don’t worry. And I remember,” he answered with that perfect solemnity of his. Did he ever understand a joke?

A corner of his mouth twitched. Wait, what was that? If that WAS the real Qui-Gon, then there was a good possibility that he could read thoughts. So was he? Could he? //Do you read thoughts?// I thought. He just turned and resumed his work. Damn!

I hadn’t got a clear ”yes”, but what if he still could? I had to reckon with that possibility. I remembered that as a child I had been afraid to daydream, because I had read in a book that when you think very hard and vividly, the picture of what you’re thinking might become visible to others. Now I was again in that situation.

Well, I decided, it was no different than with boys peeping through a sauna window when you’re in there. You’ve stolen nothing; everything you have is yours. And getting angry would only make me look like a fool. So I just decided to remain calm and dignified. Well, sort of — as much as you can, when a half-naked gorgeous man is nearby.

I began to stack wood; I had to work very hard to keep up with him. By the time Mary returned I was soaked in sweat.

”What a lovely rural picture. Howsa you two lovebirds doin’?” Mary grinned at us from the gate.
 

* * *

End of chapter one.

What will happen next?

”To be honest, I had no reason to smile. I wasn’t even in an elated mood. I was scared. ...”



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