My first bit of fan fic; a fluff, PWP story, really. Made up of short vignettes, this more or less focuses on Shmi and Qui-Gon Jinn, and a love that could have happened (even if only in my head). Terry Brooks' novelization of Star Wars: Episode I, The Phantom Menace was my inspiration, and it is his words I use for segments enclosed in [brackets]. I've taken some huge liberties, and added plot elements that have not and I'm certain will not appear in the films; I also know very little of Star Wars canon, and have not adhered to it very well, I'm sure. But, hey, it's fiction!
Feedback is welcome (please be gentle!) at imteepee@hotmail.com
Star Wars and its characters are sole property of LucasFilms and the almighty GL.
I claim nothing, but my muse is mine alone. (Okay, and so is the lizard)
Rated R for some sexual situations, but nothing you wouldn't read in a modern romance novel.
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Shimmer - by TPod
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The only perceivable sound was that of the wind, a constant companion to any creature residing on the sun-baked planet. Whipping past both flora, what little there was of it, and fauna, only that which was not currently holed up in a rare cool spot, and many, many rocks, the wind swept along tiny grains of sand. Night was slow to arrive on this desolate outpost; the two suns around which it slowly orbited made the day here longer than most planets in the same system. Thus, indigenous life here was scarce, narrowed down to those who had developed traits that ensured survival, and those who preyed upon those survivors, in order to ensure their own.
A member of the former poked his head up from behind a jagged rock, quickly scanning the immediate area for apparent and hidden predators. His tongue flicked nervously in the air, testing for the minute traces of scent and moisture that another living, breathing creature would emit, and finding none, crept stealthy from his burrow and around the rock to a neighboring one. There, wedged firmly into the shadow of the rock, grew a desert plant, its bloom just beginning to bud into a bright orange flower. The color of the fires that raged on the suns that gave it life, a sentient being would have no doubt stopped to admire its loveliness. But, the lizard, not greatly impressed with the flower's beauty, but rather with its flavor, and the tiny droplets of essential liquid it stored in its center, promptly removed it from the plant with his long, toothless mouth
. He tucked his lengthy reptilian frame in closer to the shelter of the enormous rock, and savored the petals, one by one, all the while continuing his careful perusal of the perimeter. Life was simple here; one was born, struggled daily with survival, hopefully lived long enough to procreate, and died. No more, no less.A sudden shift in the air, a tangible wave of -- what? -- on the wind, made the lizard pause in his chewing.
All around him, energy flowed in waves, from the rocks, the earth, the plant beside him, and even his own body, a current of pure life-force. This was unusual, he noted, and then noted that it was unusual for him to be observing this. The rocks nearby emitted a strange glow, the sand below sparkled tinges of green and blue, as he himself felt his small, cold heart warm with an inexplicable swell of emotion, and his mind completely clear, all thought processing in a very efficient and orderly manner. A faint humming noise circulated around and radiated from all objects, be they living or inanimate, evolving into voices speaking in excitement.
* A birth! * *A new life has joined us* * A child born from all life* * He will bring balance*
Moments passed. Hours passed. Centuries. In a mere second.
*******************************************
(Many years later…)
The sleek silvery ship touched down on the dusty surface, sending billows of fine sand swirling below its carriage in plumes. Tatooine's twin suns glared off of its exterior, a testament of the harsh environment to which the occupants had just exposed themselves. Some time later, the ship's loading ramp yawned open, and from its belly issued forth a motley group, who immediately found themselves shielding their eyes from the brightness of the midday sky on the light golden sand. Ahead of them lay Mos Espa, its image wavering like a foreboding mirage in the distance. There, they would find the part they so desperately needed to repair the ship, and continue their journey to find justice on the city/planet of Coruscant.
Dressed in a simple farmers garment, Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Knight of the rank of Master, emerged from the Nubian-class vessel, bringing his hand up to shade his eyes, his long, shoulder-length hair blowing in the hot, dry breeze of the day. He gazed out at the sprawl of the bustling city ahead, reaching out with the Force to detect signs of danger. Nothing seemed amiss, until he felt it; a slight disturbance in the Force, nothing great, and not necessarily harmful, but there nonetheless. He would need to be on his guard, most assuredly. Turning back to the interior of the Nubian, Qui-Gon decided to confer with his student, his Padewan, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Something important lay ahead for them, of this he was certain. Just what it was, he wasn't at all certain.
***********************************************
Padmé could not help but notice that the boy who introduced himself as Anakin Skywalker had developed a crush on her; that fact was affirmed upon his declaration that they would one day be married. That she doubted, given his status as a slave, and hers…well, she was not of a stature compatible with that of a born slave. Not that it really mattered, she decided. They would be gone from this planet called Tatooine, and from the life of this bright, charming and quite intelligent slave boy, once Qui-Gon was able to procure the generator for the royal yacht. Besides, she had greater problems to deal with once the Jedi knights and the Queen's contingent reached Coruscant. Of course, the lack of finances and the generator were a huge obstacle at the moment. The Jedi Master had not been overly successful in his bartering with the strange flying alien Watto, owner of the salvage shop and of the slave boy Anakin. At this moment, they were quickly making their way to Anakin's residence to avoid the oncoming sandstorm, her hand firmly tugged along by him into the blinding grit of sand that pelted the inhabitants of Mos Espa.
Behind the two youngsters, the Jedi smiled at the obvious attraction Anakin felt for the lovely maidservant to Queen Amidala of Naboo. This boy is special, he thought. Strong in the Force and… what?… untapped? A feeling had curled up and settled in the back of his stomach, the area normally reserved for his Jedi intuition, a feeling that there was much, much more to Anakin Skywalker than met the eye. Qui-Gon would have to observe him more closely.
As they rounded a corner, Anakin deftly ducked into the doorway of a small adobe dwelling that looked much like the dwellings beside it. Opening the door, he rushed in, his words to the occupant(s) lost in the now roaring noise of sand. Allowing the others in their party to go inside before him, Qui-Gon himself ducked (for the top of the doorway was at least 3 centimeters lower than he was tall) inside, brushing fine dust off as he did so. He stopped at the appearance of the interior: a sparse, yet functional home, with whitewashed abode walls and floor, the room in which they stood being the center of the house, acting as both a kitchen and eating area and leading into the rooms meant for sleeping.
His attention was drawn to the right as a woman entered the main room from what must have been another work area, wiping her work-worn hands on a dress that had obviously seen better days. She drew up short at the sight of the unexpected guests and inquired from her sandy-haired son their identities. Of the age of forty, or so, she had once been undoubtedly pretty, maybe even downright lovely, but now could only be described as "handsome". Her face displayed the lines of years of hard work and the emotional tally of slavery, as did her hands. Her brown hair, pulled back in a loose ponytail, was beginning to grey. Yet her eyes and smile bespoke a youth that still lingered, a sweet smile of love for her son, and of tentative welcome to the dusty strangers who had shown up on her doorstep. Gray eyes warmly regarded her son as he attempted to introduce his guests, only getting as far as the lovely Padmé Naberrie before he hesitated in embarrassment at not having the foresight to discover the names of the remaining group. Qui-Gon stepped forward to lend his assistance, smiling at both mother and son, introducing R2-D2 the droid, Jar-Jar Binks, an amphibious inhabitant of the Naboo homeworld, and himself.
Anakin's mother glanced shyly at Qui-Gon after he finished the introductions. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Anakin had quickly pulled Padmé away, excitedly chattering about his own droid, and would she like to see it? The woman stopped him, asking why he had brought the visitors to their home. Qui-Gon admired her sass, and the resolute way in which she dealt with her headstrong child. Once he had answered her question, young Anakin was off once again with Padmé in tow, a twittering R2-D2 rolling along behind. Jar Jar stood, looking awfully discomfited, as Qui-Gon and Anakin's mother faced each other awkwardly.
[ "I'm Shmi Skywalker, " she said, holding out her hand. "Anakin and I are pleased to have you as our guests" ]
Qui-Gon did not immediately take her hand, but reached under his poncho and withdrew a number of food capsules, and placing them in her hand, explained that he understood the unexpectedness of their appearance, that the food capsules would make an entire meal. As their hands met, both felt a slight spark of current pass between them. Gray eyes met blue, for just an instant in surprise, and gray eyes quickly looked down again as a flush rose on both sets of cheeks.
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Dinner was an *interesting* affair, with Anakin spouting ideas on how he could race his incomplete Pod-Racer in the upcoming race in order to win the generator from Watto , Padmé being very supportive of her young friend, Shmi attempting to dissuade her son from racing at all, Jar Jar displaying terrible table manners, and Qui-Gon pacing thoughtfully around the kitchen area.
When it was decided that on the morrow Anakin and the Jedi Knight would suggest the boy's participation in the Boonta Eve Podrace to his owner, using "Qui-Gon"'s racer (since a slave was not allowed to own property), the dinner ended. As Padmé and Anakin rushed outside to take a gander at the still-clunky vehicle, and Jar Jar wandered off -- somewhere -- Qui-Gon assisted Shmi in the cleaning of dishes and utensils. It was not often that he performed domestic tasks and it was quite refreshing to do so. He made note that it might prove a good lesson to add housekeeping to his curriculum in Obi-Wan's training. Good to take a young, cocky Jedi Padewan down a notch or two once in awhile…
As she placed into the sonic dishwasher the dirty dishes handed to her by Qui-Gon, Shmi engaged him in small talk. "So, Qui-Gon, how did you become a Jedi? I know so little about that sort of thing. Tatooine is more or less removed from the rest of the galaxy, " she asked, glancing his way.
Qui-Gon cleared his throat, and turned his head to her, letting his eyes meet hers for a moment before she looked away to her task. "All Jedi are identified and removed from their homes at a very young age, barely 1 year old, if it can be helped. This is of course done with a parents permission. They are then taken in by surrogates who raise the child in the Jedi discipline, until they are old enough for apprenticeship. That usually happens by the time the child is able to walk, talk and meet the physical and mental challenges of the Jedi arts. I myself was an apprentice at fours years old. It is a hard but rewarding life. "
Shmi nearly dropped a slippery bowl, but Qui-Gon caught it before it completely left her hands. She laughed, an enchantingly girlish giggle, and sheepishly thanked the man beside her. He, too, smiled, and for a millisecond longer than was necessary, let his hand rested next to hers on the bowl.
"And what of you, Shmi? How did you become a slave?" he asked hoping that he was not being too personal, but was genuinely curious. In the Republic, slavery had long ago been considered immoral and was abolished altogether. The concept was a foreign one to him, really.
She halted in her work, and raised her head to look out of the kitchen window at the remains of the sandstorm, now no more than a shifting wind. Licking her lips, she began. "I was born free, the daughter of members of a nomadic tribe from a much more temperate planet than Tatooine. I had two brothers and a sister, and we lived in a tent city that moved wherever the wind blew, or at least that is how I remember my mother describing it, " she reminisced, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes then narrowed and lips tightened, as she continued. "When I was but 8 years, raiders invaded our camp, and slaughtered the old, the sick, and the men who resisted them. My family was then taken to a cargo ship, loaded onto it like eopies, and taken to another system to be sold into slavery. I never saw any of them again, " she finished, her expression pained at the memory. She slipped past him and turned to the table for the remaining dishes, but not before Qui-Gon noticed a solitary tear slide down her cheek.
Returning, she went on, "I was 16 or so when I was sold to a Hutt by the name of Radda. I became part of his entourage, traveling with him on his journeys to his many holdings, expected to do his bidding. And too often his bidding was to 'entertain' his colleagues and those he hoped to impress with his wealth. " She said this last sentence bitterly. Qui-Gon could literally *feel* her humiliation; to be used as an object of lust, and discarded when the deed was finished…no one should have to undergo that shame. He fought an overwhelming urge to take her into his arms and somehow make her feel whole again. Shmi cleared her throat, and again stepped away, as if sensing his thoughts. No more would be revealed on this matter, and the Jedi would not press her.
That night, Qui-Gon found sleep an elusive target, and had taken to wandering the Skywalker home, deep in contemplation. His thoughts were occupied by the urgency of their situation: one way or another, he must acquire the Hyperdrive generator for the Nubian. The world of the Naboo and of the Gungan depended upon it. If their mission to Coruscant was not successful, the invading armies of the Trade Federation would overtake Naboo, and he was certain they would not stop with the lush planet. The odds were against Queen Amidala, and she knew it. As he knew.
Anakin's suggestion of involving himself in the podrace, in order for Qui-Gon to bet his master for the generator was as unlikely to ultimately succeed as the Naboo objective. It was terribly risky, both for Anakin's life and their own, were he to lose. That child has spirit, much like his mother, thought Qui-Gon, cracking open Shmi's sleeping room door to look in on she and Padmé. The two slept soundly, Padmé curled up on a pallet made of blankets on the cool floor, and Anakin's mother in her bed, facing Qui-Gon, her brown locks loose and spread like a fan over her arms and pillow. In sleep, she resembled a much younger woman, giving Qui-Gon a glimpse into what she had looked like ten or so years prior. The lines on her face were smoothed over, her soft mouth slightly parted, and dark sooty lashes fell on tan cheeks. A hard life she had lived; losing her son would only make it harder. If the boy were indeed Jedi material, would it be right for the Jedi to pursue taking him before the Council? After all, Anakin was all she had, all that made her life remarkable. He was irreplaceable.
And yet, he could be crucial to the Jedi.
As Qui-Gon left the doorway to open Anakin's door, where he would take his rest, his musings turned to himself…
********************************************************
The next afternoon, following Qui-Gon's successful bid to enter Anakin in the podrace, using the Nubian itself in the wager to procure the parts for it, Qui-Gon watched as the boy and his crew repaired and enhanced his racer, a truly sad-looking piece of machinery. Shmi had joined him in his observation post on the rear balcony, and they spoke briefly of Anakin's special abilities. He was still stunned to the core at her news that Anakin had never been conceived through sexual intercourse, he was just suddenly 'there' inside her growing until she birthed him. At her request that he help her son, he was left with a sense of perplexity: what could he do to help? Firstly, the boy was a slave, chained to this planet by an invisible transmitter, that would kill him if he left without being freed by his master; secondly, he would no doubt be considered much too old to begin Jedi training by the Jedi Council. All he could say in response was that he would try. Shmi seemed to accept this, but behind her passive façade, hope sprang to life. Almost imperceptibly, her shoulders straightened, and chin lifted.
For some time, the two stood together, silently watching the progress below. Each was acutely aware of the other, not just as man and woman, but as one who held the others' future in their hands. Keeping his head forward, but shifting his eyes on the woman beside him, Qui-Gon quietly beheld her profile: proud, strong, noble, willing to give up her only child so that he might have a future, never once asking for her own freedom… Few women he had ever met had shown such selflessness. There was so much more to Shmi Skywalker than met the eye, as well.
Shmi turned to face him, catching him staring. He flushed, surprising himself, and the woman, too. So much for Jedi reflexes and composure. They smiled for an instant, then she sobered, setting her hand on his arm and gazing into his blue eyes.
"I worry so much for him, " she whispered. "I know that he has a unique gift, and seems charmed, but I still fear for his life every time Watto has him race. "
Qui-Gon smiled reassuringly, "He will do well, of that I have no doubt. Besides, how can he lose, with the best pit-crew in the galaxy working on his racer?" As he said this, Jar Jar, one of the aforementioned crewmembers, dropped a large piece of machinery on his foot. Yelping, he began to hop on the other foot, his long ears flapping. Both Shmi and Qui-Gon erupted into a volley of laughter, and he unconsciously wrapped an arm around Shmi to support himself as he doubled over, hand on stomach.
When Jar Jar wound up headlong in a bucket of spare parts, that was their undoing. Unable to control herself, Shmi tucked her face into Qui-Gon's chest, and grabbed the front of his robe to hold herself up. He responded by settling his other arm over her shoulders, gathering her close. The reaction to both bodies was instantaneous; realization of their present position set in, and the laughter stopped abruptly. Shmi stood in the Jedi Master's embrace, wildly wondering how she had gotten there, and why did he smell so wonderful, and why had her knees suddenly turned to mush? He perceived her distraction, and his own. She fit perfectly in his arms, her head just below his chin, one of her hands still firmly clutching his cloakfront, the other on his hip. That particular region of his body had rapidly come to life, letting him know exactly what it thought of the woman in his arms. He thanked the Force that he was wearing loose clothing, even as he unwound his arms from Shmi's warm frame. Stunned, she stared at his chest for a moment or two, then spun on her heel, and entered her home, mumbling something about preparing dinner. Qui-Gon watched her leave, his body aching to follow, but his mind, the only part of him that he seemed to have any control over at the moment, telling him no, that he may have done too much already. He sighed, a long ragged sound, and turned as a group of Anakin's friends entered the courtyard below.
Inside, Shmi leaned against the door of her sleeping quarters, vainly attempting to slow her panting. She hugged herself tightly, her hand on her neck, then sliding down to feel her fluttering heartbeat. "Oh, goodness, " she whispered, to no one in particular.
***********************************
Qui-Gon abruptly set down the commlink, channel remaining open, in his lap. His heart raced at the news he had just been delivered by his Padewan: Anakin Skywalker had a midi-chlorian count of nearly two thousand, unheard of even among the most skilled Jedi. His instincts about the boy were right; he was indeed strong in the Force, in fact, stronger than anyone he had ever encountered. His mother had verified the skills indicative of a person considered Jedi material: Anakin's uncanny ability to predict things before they occurred, thereby making him a Pod-Racing phenom. Unfortunately, the Jedi Council would not accept one so old for training in the Jedi arts; most were taken into training before they were a year old, as he himself had been. But, could they not make an exception this once? How could they pass up the opportunity to train one in whom the Force flowed so strongly?
Qui-Gon glanced up at a slight noise in the doorway that lead out to the hovel's back porch on which he now sat, and stiffened.
[Shmi Skywalker stood just inside the doorway, staring at him. Their eyes met, and for just an instant, it felt to the Jedi Master as if the future had been revealed to him in its entirety. Then Shmi turned away, embarrassed, and disappeared back into her home.
Qui-Gon paused a moment, then remembered the open commlink. "Good night, Obi-Wan," he said softly, and clicked the transmitter off.]
A cool breeze, rare on the desert planet, blew past him and into the slavewoman's hovel. It was as if the air itself was guiding him, to discover a hidden gift, waiting to be opened. He was uncertain if he should even enter the house, unsure of himself for the first time in nearly decades. *Like a teenage boy, again, I am* he thought. The promise that those soft gray eyes had yielded, the sadness, the want, the need, and the desire (the desire!) they revealed caused Qui-Gon's heart to race. It had been a long time since he had felt desire, real desire, and felt desired. He sat for nearly half an hour contemplating the moral implications a relationship with Shmi Skywalker would evoke. Sexual activity was not forbidden by the Jedi creed, but control over one's body and mind, and the purity of both was stressed and expected. He decided he would not initiate intimacy between the two, as much as he wanted to, and allow Shmi to go at her own pace, if she truly wanted to.
Resolved, he moved to stand from the railing on which he was now perched, only to stop in mid-rise when Shmi reappeared on the balcony. She had pulled her hair from it's binding, and it now flowed smoothly about her shoulders, softening her face in the glow of the moonlight. Qui-Gon' s once racing heart now came to a screeching halt. His mouth dried and suddenly his strong legs, muscular from decades of Jedi training and use in combat, felt quite rubbery. He sat back on the flat top of the railing, never once taking his eyes off the woman who now approached him.
"I--, " he began.
"I--, " she started.
They both smiled.
"Ladies first," he conceded.
Shmi sat beside him on the rail, not too close, a safe distance away, but near enough that Qui-Gon could smell the pleasant, yet not perfumy scent of her soap. She clasped her rough hands onto her lap, as though hiding them, and looked down at nothing at all. The breeze blew a few stray tendrils of hair into her face, causing her to look almost girlish. Qui-Gon desperately fought the urge to brush the offending hair out of her eyes, knowing that if he touched her at this moment, he might not be able to stop touching her.
She sighed, a long shuddering sigh, "I've always known that I would not be able to keep him with me forever." Her fingers interlaced with one another. "But I cannot help being sad at the thought of him one day leaving. He is all I have; all that I should not logically have, but that has never mattered to me. He has, and will always be, a part of me. My child."
Qui-Gon watched those hands fumble, feeling her thoughts fumble. What could he say to a mother whose child he desperately wanted to take from her? To train to fight, and perhaps do battle, and possibly die for a cause she knew nothing of? He had scouted many a Jedi trainee during his lifetime, but never had he been regretful of taking a child from its mother. The parents had always made the final decision, and because the Jedi was such a noble cause, rarely did a parent deny their child the opportunity to use their gifts to their utmost potential. Shmi was a different case; she knew close to nothing of the Jedi, did not see how they could affect her life as a slave, and now one of them seems awfully interested in her son?
What could he say to make it easier for her? To give her the strength for what would eventually come?
He reach out and gently grasped her hands. She started slightly at the contact, then looked up into his face.
"Shmi, every child must leave a nest someday, to strike out on their own. It has always been this way. I know that does not serve to make you feel any better, but know this: Anakin is special, very special, and he is capable of great things. He will make you proud in whatever he undertakes, just as he does now, " he finished, lightly caressing her callused fingers with his own.
She sighed again, looking back down at the nondescript floor of the balcony. "Yes, I know this. I've always known this. But will I miss him any less? No, I think not," she shook her head. " I am such a coward, Qui-Gon. I'm frightened out of my mind to be alone."
His heart melted at her words. Unable to think of anything more to say to reassure her, he merely reached his right arm around her shoulders and drew her close. Shmi rigidly sat there, but after a few moments relaxed, leaning in closely and laying her head on his chest. Wrapping both his arms around her, he rested his chin on the top of her head. They sat this way, listening to the sounds of the city, and of their own hearts beating. The house was quiet, with the exception of an occasional snore from the direction of the kitchen, where Jar Jar slept.
Minutes passed, with each absorbing the other in the silence, their thoughts flitting on a great many subjects, not the least of which were the tendrils of warmth that seemed to creep up inside their bellies, nor the fact that both of their breathing had increased just slightly. A land speeder buzzed by below, surprisingly quiet for an older model, and the inhabitants of a nearby home shouted angrily at each other, then quieted.
Shmi snuggled within Qui-Gon's embrace, making herself more comfortable, while decreasing Qui-Gon's comfort immensely. He closed his eyes and meditated to control the parts of his anatomy that had decided to awaken and assert themselves. Unfortunately, deep breathing only brought Shmi's fresh scent deeper into his senses, counteracting his preventative measures. He opted to breathe through his mouth.
Shmi broke the silence. "I believe Padmé has fallen asleep in Anakin's room, " were her only words.
Qui-Gon digested this bit of information, thinking of how little space there must have been for Padmé to sleep in, as he had the night before, what with the pieces of machinery and electronics that had taken up residence in the boys room, and C3PO, his protocol droid. Perhaps they should move her into Shmi's room, where she had slept the night before. He would then once again sleep…
He sat forward suddenly, realizing the unspoken implications of Shmi's statement. The woman in question nearly toppled forward, but found herself rescued and tucked even deeper into Qui-Gon's strong arms.
Qui-Gon sat stock-still, absorbing what he had just been offered. And his offering squirmed in his grasp. He loosened his hold and allowed her to turn in his arms. They stared into each other's eyes, he searching for verification of what he had inferred, and she boldly daring him to take her up on it. Finally, Shmi just tired of waiting for him to figure it out, and placed her hand behind his head and pulled his head closer, touching his lips with her own.
He figured it out.
He groaned as he enfolded her in his arms once again, his mouth taking hers, at first gently brushing those soft pink lips, then allowing his tongue to probe inside, tasting and savoring. He brought his large hands to frame her smaller face, thumbs caressing her strong jawline, as hers wound behind his head, digging her fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss.
Far, far away, a lizard brought his head up from behind a rock…
As she shifted slightly in his arms, Shmi trembled, not from the cold, but from the need coursing through her body. It had been a long time for her; and had almost never been out of desire, but duty as a slave. But the feeling was unmistakable: she was falling in love with the Jedi knight. An emotion doomed to fail, as the Jedi would surely be gone from her life after tomorrow and the Pod-Race her son must win in order to acquire the part for Qui-Gon's ship. Should she throw caution to the wind, and give her heart despite this knowledge? What could she lose?
Qui-Gon felt Shmi's shudder and withdrew his hands from her face to wrap them around her. Odd, he mused, that she should shiver, it's very warm yet. His mind touched hers, and found the source of her trouble. She was in turmoil. As he was. Seize the moment and live with the outcome, or stop right now, and walk away safely? It was a decision that had to be 100% mutual.
He drew back his head, breaking the kiss. Cupping her chin in the palm of his hand, he lifted her eyes to meet his. For a time, they just gazed into each others soul, searching for the right answer to their question.
Qui-Gon knew that he could not commit to this woman; his life was pledged to the Jedi Council. A Jedi served everyone, he or she had no room for a family, it was too distracting. Missions were often dangerous, as his current mission had turned out to be. Obi-Wan and the other Jedi Knights were the only family he knew.
Shmi was torn between the passion she felt for the man who now held her in his arms, and the need for self-preservation.
Passion won out in the end.
" I want you, " the woman stated. That simple.
Qui-Gon did not reply, but stood and set Shmi on her feet, as she took his hand and led him inside the house, and her sleeping quarters. Carefully tiptoeing so as not to awaken the various sleeping occupants, they quietly closed her door, and turned to each other. Shmi dropped Qui-Gon's hand, and reached to undo the fastenings on his cloak while he untied the belt around her waist, and deftly opened her garment. Letting it drop from her shoulders, then hips, he gazed at the figure peeking out from beneath a gauze-like shift. She was a woman with a curvaceous, voluptuous body, and he was a man all too willing to fit inside those curves. His own body reacted forcefully to the sight, and Qui-Gon wasted no time discarding his own clothing. Finally, he stood nude, in the moonlight glimmering through the glass windows, a tall leonine warrior, built of granite and muscle, salt & pepper hair flowing wildly about his shoulders, looking very much like a god of antiquity.
Shmi felt hunger flood her senses, her nipples hardening and the pit of her stomach and between her legs burning in response to the vision set before her. Drawing her shift over her head, and sliding her undergarments down her legs, she, too, was soon exposed. The two stepped closer and slipped into each others arms, lips hungrily feasting, while hands explored plains begging to be touched. Hard, lean muscle and soft curve; throaty groan and shuddering gasp, the two indulged themselves in each other. Stroking fingers discovered long hidden territories, and treasures unearthed. Mouths left each other to begin journeys into undiscovered countries, eager travelers thrilling in a new adventure. Skin met with linen, as the couple lay down on Shmi's simple bed, and resumed their exploration of body and soul, heart and mind. When they finally joined, it was with a heady violence, and yet incredible joy, mewling cries and low moans merging into one song…
Far, far off a lizard noticed his cold heart warming…
And a bit nearer, a woman-child lay sleepless in the room of a little boy, listening to the sounds of the night, and from the next room, knowing… yet wondering if she would ever feel such passion…
Some distance away, in a silvery vessel meant for a Queen, a young man sat in meditation, feeling a movement in the Force, an effusive sensation, and wondering its source…and how a Queen can be a Queen, and then not…
Nearer again, a boy tossed and turned, unaware of the goings-on in the room next to his, his mind a maelstrom of anticipation at the events that would unfold the next day. A race…and a lovely girl with the face of an angel…
Moments passed. Hours passed. Centuries. In a mere second.
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EPILOGUE
(Days Later)
Shmi awoke from her slumber with a start, and sat forward in her bed. Sweat poured down her brow into her eyes, despite the coolness of the night, as she scanned the room in a vain attempt to determine what had jarred her from her sleep. Brushing a shaky hand across her eyes, she tried to quell her trembling, and slow her rapidly beating heart. Something was just not right.
After searching for the source of her unease, Shmi lay back on her bed, and stared at the adobe ceiling, listening to the winds outside, and the nocturnal inhabitants of Mos Espa going about their business. Then the loneliness that was her constant companion since her son left with the Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, settled in. Tears followed the watery tracks created by sweat down her cheeks. Emptiness resided in her heart, but pride, as well. Her young son now had hope for a future removed from this desolate place.
Smiling through her tears, she closed her eyes once more, and began to drift…
Only to open them again. The air fairly tingled with energy, crackling electricity causing her hair to stand on end. A glow beamed from the direction of the door, and she turned her head to look. She gasped at what she saw.
Before her stood Qui-Gon Jinn, resplendent in his Jedi robes, his mane of hair flowing in a breeze that wasn't there. And he luminesced. Shmi gaped, not at all sure what was happening, but knowing that a feeling of dread had made its way from deep in her gut all the way to her throat. She rose again to a sitting position, her eyes fixated on the man in her doorway. The man who had made love to her only days before. The man who had held her close as her son packed his belongs and reassured her that he would take care of her son, and would see her again, at any cost. The man who had gently cradled her face in his large, powerful hands and kissed her tears from her eyes.
That man now stretched his glowing arm towards her, making her jump and scoot back on her bed in terror. He quickly dropped his arm, and a somber look fell over his gleaming features. When he spoke, he sounded far away, as if in a tunnel.
"Shmi," he said, his deep voice almost a throaty growl. "Shmi," he repeated, waiting for her response.
Swallowing the knot in her throat, she replied, "Qui-Gon? Is that you?"
"Yes, love, it is me." He sighed, a shimmering sound that faintly reminded Shmi of the sound of a rain shower hitting the roof of her tent when she was a child. "I cannot stay; I wanted to see you again."
The eerie way he spoke those words gave Shmi pause. Then she knew.
"Oh, Qui-Gon. What has happened to you?" she whispered, sure of the answer even as she asked the question.
He smiled, in that way that seemed to put all her fears at ease. "I am now one with the Force, Shmi. Transcending time and place, I am no longer confined to corporeal form. That is why you see me here, even as my body lays in state on Naboo."
Shmi cupped her quaking hand over her mouth, a sob escaping her quivering lips. "Oh, nooo….."
Qui-Gon stepped closer, his robes swishing around him, then knelt at her bedside. Tears freely coursed down Shmi's cheeks, dropping to her blankets. Crying unchecked, she closed her eyes and lost herself in her grief. Minutes passed, as she mourned the man who she loved, and the future that could never be.
When her shock subsided and the tears slowed their even flow, she opened her eyes again to gaze into the concerned face of the ghost of her lover. So handsome -- that face -- deep-set blue eyes, aquiline nose and full lips; beard and mustache neatly trimmed over strong jaw. She ached to touch it, and reached to do so, but cried out when her hand passed through. Withdrawing it, she wrapped her quivering fingers around her throat. "I can't even touch you, " she wept.
He smiled sadly. "You already have."
"So, is this it, then, Qui-Gon? Is this all I will ever know of you? All that I will ever have of you? My memories?"
Qui-Gon brought his pale hand over her abdomen. "No. You will always have a part of me with you."
Shmi looked down at her belly, then back to Qui-Gon, as comprehension dawned.
Far, far away, the voice of a lizard joined the chorus around him, singing in joy…
THE END