Title: Long Knight
Author: Elizabeth Wilde
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Forever Knight/Star Wars crossover.
Pairings: none
Disclaimer: I don't own anybody, sadly. I'm also not making any money off of this.
Distribution: My site at .net/wilde, anyone who asks nicely, anyone who already archives my fic.
Completed:
Part 1~Qui-Gon
The Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn was lost. Not lost so much as completely unsure of where he was. Or when. All around him, the street buzzed with activity. He stood immobile against the nearest wall and watched everything. Above him the nighttime sky was filled with stars wholly unfamiliar and a moon unlike any he had before seen. The people, too, were different. Their clothes were odd and their thoughts more closely guarded from inspection than those of any but another Jedi. Qui-Gon knew he had to do something. Despite the fact that he had no memory of arriving on the planet, nor of what the planet was, Qui-Gon was convinced that the memory would return. Until then, he needed to know where he was.
"Excuse me." He reached out toward a man passing by.
The man looked up. And up. And squinted beady, red-rimmed eyes. "What'd'you want?" he slurred.
Qui-Gon fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. The man's breath reeked of alcohol. "I'm very sorry to disturb you, but would you mind telling me where I am?"
Weaving slightly on unsteady feet, the man burped, then replied, "Toronto, ya dope."
Sensing the man's derision but still wanting any information he could provide, Qui-Gon continued, "That is the name of the planet?"
This time, the man laughed out loud, almost doubling over. "Planet? And I thought I was drunk!" He waved another man over, a man who looked equally inebriated. "Hey, Dave, check this out! This monk dude just asked me what planet he's on!" Both men laughed as though it were the funniest thing they had ever encountered.
Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon stayed the urge to strangle one or both of them. "I fail to see the humor here. If you would please just tell me the name of the planet we are on, I-" The Jedi sensed the man's intent before his hand curled to a fist. Qui-Gon calmly caught the man's hand and held it, then repeated the process. When the man's friend tried to follow suit, Qui-Gon merely pushed the man in front of himself, so that he absorbed the blows instead of Qui-Gon. The man let out a dull moan as his friend punched the small of his back, then turned and swung at the other man.
Using their distraction, Qui-Gon hurried down the street. He saw no point in becoming involved in a street brawl so soon after landing . . . wherever he was. Qui-Gon saw that randomly asking passers-by was not an effective means of discerning his location. Instead, he reached out with the Force, scanned gently the minds of those around him, looking for a friendly disposition, someone willing to help.
Soon he found a likely candidate. Walking hastily toward the woman's position, Qui-Gon reminded himself to be a bit more careful as to how he phrased the request. Though he could use the Force to pry the answer from her, there was no need to arouse suspicion if at all possible. "Pardon me," he began, hoping against hope that the rather attractive woman standing before him would be more helpful than the drunken buffoons he had so recently encountered. "I seem to find myself a bit lost. Could you perhaps direct me to a place where I might take shelter for a time?"