The Will of the Force

Summary: While undercover, Siri meets Xanatos, and they form a strong bond. When Siri's mission ends, Xanatos trails her to Coruscant- but is arrested, forcing Siri to choose between the Jedi and the man she has come to love. Siri/Xan, AU

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to people who aren't me, apart from the odd OC. I wish it were all mine, but it isn't.

Author's note: The events of this story are set around Jude Watson's Jedi Quest: Path to Truth. So if you haven't read the novel, be forewarned that this fic basically gives away most of the plot.

If you're unfamiliar with Jedi Apprentice or Path to Truth, or have forgotten some stuff, I've put together all necessary background information here: http : / / emthejedichic . livejournal . com / 4752 . html (just remove the spaces).

Chapter One- Fight the Good Fight

-

There's trouble down here

There's trouble down there

But every day that goes by

I swear it's harder and harder to care

I fight the good fight; I do the best I can

But man sometimes it's impossible to

Stand where you think you should stand

-Jackie Greene

A/n 2: Yes, I referenced Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Props if you can spot it.

-

(Siri)

Krayn doesn't tell me why we're leaving Nar Shaddaa. He simply shows up at my door one morning and says, "We're going to Tatooine."

I nod, grabbing my comlink and blaster, and follow him out to the landing pad. I don't ask the purpose of the trip. I know Krayn doesn't fully trust me yet, even though I've been working for him for a year now. The best way to earn that trust is to just shut up and do what he says.

We board Krayn's private shuttle. He waves toward the pilot's chair. "Fly us there. Land in Mos Eisley."

I nod again and go to do as he says. I remain focused on the task at hand until I make the jump to hyperspace. Then I allow myself to relax for a moment.

Working undercover isn't what I had thought it would be. I had expected to be able to handle it. I had expected to be completely driven by the righteousness of infiltrating Krayn's operation. And I was. But I was also finding that there were things I had failed to anticipate.

I remember the first time my loyalty had been tested, about a month after I'd gotten in with Krayn's operation. Krayn and I went down to level twelve of the mines on Nar Shaddaa to supervise production. Level twelve is the least productive, for reasons no one understands. It makes Krayn livid.

There's a slave boy who can't be more than thirteen struggling with a gravsled that I suspect he doesn't know how to use. I look around, hoping to be able to knock something over with the Force in order to distract Krayn, but he spots the child before I can. He scowls, and tells me to make an example of him.

"You, boy!" I call.

The boy spins around, fear evident in his eyes. I force myself not to soften my gaze.

"Don't you know how to use that gravsled? No wonder production's down on this level!"

"Shoot him." Krayn orders.

The boy's face contorts. He falls on his knees and begins pleading with Krayn in Huttese. I don't speak the language, but I get the idea.

I turn to Krayn. "He's just a kid. We need every worker we can get. What will killing him accomplish?"

"He's a lousy worker, probably more of a hindrance than a help. Shoot him, Zora."

"C'mon Krayn," I wheedle, putting some Force-assisted persuasion into my voice. "I don't need to shoot him."

"If you won't do this for me, Zora, then maybe I can't trust you after all."

"Look- you can trust me!" I insist. "I'll do your dirty work, but killing kids is different!"

"It's only a slave, Zora."

And that's the difficult part, isn't it? Because to Krayn and everyone else in this business, slaves are worthless. And if I'm going to make it, if I'm going to keep my cover, I have to act as if I feel that way, too.

So there it is. I know that I'll never earn Krayn's trust if I don't kill the boy, and I don't dare try to push his mind any farther. What a choice. I can't compromise my mission. That I know. But I'm not a murderer, and to kill this boy will completely violate the Code that I've lived by all my life.

However… there's a stack of durasteel crates near the lift. Reaching out with the Force, I jerk my hand the tiniest bit, aware of how dangerous it is to do this with everyone watching.

It works. The crates fall to the ground with a tremendous crash.

Krayn's head spins in their direction. "What the-"

The boy, taking advantage of Krayn's distraction, turns and runs. I had hoped for this to happen, although I know full well that there's nowhere for him to go.

Krayn turns back to the kid, sees him running, and in the blink of an eye draws his blaster and shoots him in the head.

I feel sick. The Force had alerted me to what he was going to do, and I could have stopped him… if I'd wanted to blow my cover. I'd had no other choice… had I?

Krayn turns to look at me. "Take care of the body," he says coldly.

I shake my head, clearing my mind of the memory. I had done what I judged to be right in the moment. It was over now. No use dwelling on what had already happened. The past could not be changed. If dwell on the past you do, prepared for the future you are not. It was what Master Yoda had said on more than one occasion, and it had been a great comfort to me of late. There had been other times in which I had not been able to deter Krayn, and he soon forced me to prove my dedication to him.

I stand and leave the cockpit. Krayn is lounging in a comfortable armchair in the main cabin, drinking Corellian whisky. I pour myself a glass and sit down in another chair.

"Tatooine," I say.

Krayn nods. "Tatooine. I have some business with Jabba the Hutt."

"Business?"

He nods again. "Business."

So he isn't going to tell me. "I see."

"We'll land in Mos Eisley. I'll go to see Jabba, and you can look around the city if you like."

I'm annoyed, and a tad disappointed in myself that he won't be taking me along. "Don't you think I should go with you? Many go into Jabba's palace that don't come out again."

"Jabba the Hutt is my equal, not my superior. He knows the consequences should I come to harm under his roof."

I nod. If Krayn were worried, he would have taken Rashtah with him. The Wookiee might not intimidate Jabba, but he would certainly put off most would-be assassins. Still, I'm a little surprised that the slave trader doesn't want anyone there to watch his back and glower at people. Obviously this business is serious, and going alone is a gesture of goodwill.

Krayn had left Rashtah behind to supervise the factories. Rashtah, his trusted and unwaveringly loyal companion. Rumor had it that Krayn had sent assassins after Rashtah shortly after making his acquaintance so that he could publicly save his life and thus incur the Wookiee's gratitude. I don't know if there's any truth to it, but I wouldn't put it past Krayn to deliberately incur a Wookiee life debt.

The fact that Krayn has left his second-in-command behind is significant. It's his custom to take him along on these journeys only if he has a trusted associate to supervise in his absence. He doesn't trust me to do that yet. I'll have to try harder to prove my worth.

We talk business until the ship comes out of lightspeed. We land in Mos Eisley, and Krayn departs, renting a landspeeder to take him out to Jabba's palace.

Still irritated at having been left behind, I walk into the town. I buy a few trinkets in the marketplace, thinking that I might take them back to my friends, if this cursed mission is ever over.

Sometimes, I miss the Temple greatly. The lake, so tranquil and beautiful, where I've swum countless times with my friends. The Room of a Thousand Fountains, so calm and peaceful and perfect for meditation.

I shake my head. This is no time to get sentimental. The mission won't last forever. The Council had said three years at the most. I'll see the Temple again, as well as my friends. Obi-Wan, Bant, my master- I'll see them again. I have to believe it. Still, though- sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here. This mission wasn't assigned to me, I'd volunteered for it. Up till then I'd had little real undercover experience, so what had possessed me to volunteer for a three-year mission?

Well, never mind that. The suns are setting, and I'm decidedly hungry. I decide to check out a local cantina I'd heard of. It's supposed to be the best in the outer rim, despite having a somewhat shady clientele.

I find the place easily enough, at the end of a main road. It doesn't look like anything too special from the outside, and I'm not much more impressed once I enter. It's filled with nic-i-tan smoke; a jizz band is wailing in a corner. I walk in behind a group of Rodians, and they stop on the threshold to let their eyes adjust to the dim lighting. I do no such thing- having noted the dimness on the way in; I'd closed one of my eyes to give it extra time to adjust. I open it once inside, and can see fine. I stroll right in without the slightest hesitation.

The cantina is filled with beings of all species, from every walk of life. I blend right in. I know I look fierce and dangerous, at least to the casual observer. My Zora disguise is comprised of animal skins and blast padding, and includes a variety of weapons (my lightsaber is not among them- carrying it is far too risky). My hair is dyed red, smeared with grease, and has deadly looking sharp pointy things braided in. Even after a year, I feel like I've just walked off the set of a holodrama.

I walk further into the room- and reel at the sensation that sweeps over me. It's the Force, calling to me, telling me- what? I don't know. It doesn't feel untrustworthy or ominous. It's a pulling sensation, but I very determinedly do not follow it. I've been told to trust the Force since before I could walk, but this doesn't feel quite right to me.

Instead, I go up to the bar and order a Sonic Survodriver. The sensation doesn't abate, so I acquiesce only enough to look in the direction it's leading me.

There is a dimly lit booth in the corner, and in the booth there is a man. He has an air of elegance, like he's better than the scruffy spacers that hang round the bar, and knows it. He's pale, with shaggy dark hair and shocking blue eyes. He's looking at me with surprise, and I immediately know that he feels the same thing I do.

I feel blown away by the sensations that barrage me when I meet his eyes. Familiarity is the strongest of them, but there's a sense of complete and total rightness, too- as though I've just found something I didn't know I was searching for.

I realize I am staring and turn away, taking a generous gulp of my drink. I can sense, without turning round, that he has gotten up and is walking towards me. I take another sip.

"Hello there," he says.

I give him a quick glance- Force; he's even more breathtaking up close. He's older than he'd seemed from a distance, but he's aged well. Apart from the streaks of gray at his temples, I doubt his appearance is much different than when he was a young man. As it is, he isn't old- at most; he's in his forties. Despite this he manages to be incredibly attractive. I look away, hoping he hasn't noticed me staring. "Hi," I say shortly.

"Why don't I buy you a drink?" He speaks in a rich Coruscanti accent. Mine is the same, but I've been careful not to use it while undercover.

"I've got one." I reply.

"Hardly," he remarks.

True, my glass is over half-empty. And he intrigues me- probably more than he should, but…

"All right," I say. "You can get me a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster."

He grins. "Tough girl, eh?" His comment isn't surprising- the potency of the drink is well known.

I raise an eyebrow. "What tipped you off?" I ask sarcastically.

He chuckles, giving me a once-over. "Indeed."

He orders two of the drink, one for each of us.

"Sure you can handle it?" I tease.

"It would make your head spin to know just how much I can handle," he says seriously.

"Ah, modesty," I say wryly.

"And I assure you, I am the most modest man you'll ever meet. Now, would you care to join me somewhere a bit more private?" he asks, gesturing towards the booth he had previously been occupying.

"As long as you don't try anything," I warn, hopping down from the barstool and following him to the booth. "Else you'll wind up with a smoking hole in your skull."

He smiles, looking amused. "If you tried that, you would find your blaster flying out of your hand before your finger even touched the trigger."

I frown. That sounds like- "And just how would you make that happen?"

He gives me a knowing look before he sits down. The booth is semicircular, and instead of sitting on the edge, he slides in towards the middle, inviting me with a gesture to do the same. "Just the same as you would."

I freeze. Stupid, stupid! This is a trap! "Look," I begin, "I don't know what you're-"

"Relax," he says. "I mean you no harm- now sit."

I do so, staying on the outside edge of the booth. "How do I know I can trust you?"

He sighs, then pulls up the hem of his tunic, revealing a thin utility belt with a few small pouches- and a lightsaber hanging from the left side.

My first impulse is relief- but I stop myself from showing it. Yes, the undercover operatives are unorthodox, but they aren't this unorthodox. If this man is a Jedi working undercover, he would have given me one of the pre-established code phrases- asking me if I'd like to play a game of Pazaak, for instance, or making a reference to 'the widow's son'. "You aren't a Jedi."

"I was, long ago."

"And this should matter to me why? I don't know anything about you Jedi, and I don't care to." I doubt that he'll believe that at this point, but I have to try.

He sighs. "You don't have to lie to me. There's no shame in having left the Order. I did, after all."

He assumes I've left. I suppose that's the best I'm going to do. I don't think I can convince him I'm not involved with the Order at all by this point, and if discovered as a Jedi, I had been instructed to say I'd left. I wonder why he had left- and, for that matter, who he was. I study him for a moment. "I don't think I know you."

"You know of me," he replies.

I snort. "What makes you so sure?"

He smiles grimly. "Take a closer look."

I study his face. Pale and thin, I can easily see his cheekbones. As a matter of fact…

I suck in a breath. There, just below his right eye. A scar in the shape of a circle- except the circle was incomplete. Broken. "Xanatos," I breathe.

He smirks again. "Yes, that's right."

I narrow my eyes. "I was friends with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Bant Eerin. Bruck too. Tell me why I should even give you the time of day."

Xanatos laughs. "Well, if you know Obi-Wan, surely you know that I'm supposed to be dead?"

"Yes…"

"That was years ago, before Qui-Gon was killed. Yet I did not act against the Jedi during that time. Care to guess why?"

"No." I say bluntly.

"Very well then, I shall inform you. When my former Master and his Padawan had me backed up against that acid pool on Telos, I had no way out. No back door. When I leapt into the pool, I fully believed that I would die. Yet I did not. It was the will of the Force. I was being kept alive for a purpose, and somehow I thought that it was not to kill Qui-Gon."

"So, you've reformed?" I ask, skeptically.

"Yes and no. I have left the Jedi Order alone for many years now. I am still the CEO of Offworld Corporations, our direction has not changed-"

"Meaning that everything you do is still illegal." I say with a grin.

Xanatos raises an eyebrow. "You do not condemn me for this?"

I pause, shocked. I didn't think of it that way- but it's true, when he had mentioned his illegal activities, my first reaction was amusement. But I do have to keep my cover, I remind myself. He was able to tell that I was a Jedi, but that's to be expected, seeing as he's an ex-Jedi himself. I need to stick to my story.

"I left the Order a year ago, and I'm not going to claim that I've adhered to Galactic laws since then," I finally say. It 's only a half lie, after all.

"I see." Xanatos says. "Tell me-" he pauses. "I don't know your name."

I hesitate for a fraction of a second, Siri on the tip of my tongue. "Zora Jade," I say.

"Tell me, Zora, why did you leave? I'm sure you've heard my story, it seems only fair that I hear yours."

"My master," I say. I'd committed this little fiction to memory long ago. "Just before I was to take the trials, we had an argument. She disowned me as her Padawan without recommending me for Knighthood. I was so furious, I left the Order."

Xanatos nods. "It seems our circumstances are somewhat similar."

"Only I didn't kill anyone," I can't help but point out.

He shrugs. "Qui-Gon killed my father."

I don't know the details of Qui-Gon and Xanatos' last mission, but that's not going to stop me from arguing. "Qui-Gon killed a corrupt dictator, because he was forced to. It shouldn't have mattered to you that he was your father."

Xanatos raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you still believe all that claptrap, Zora."

"I- look, just because it didn't work out for me being a Jedi doesn't mean I don't still have respect for the Order."

"But to believe that rot? You can't be serious. If you left, it means that you have sense."

"I won't deny that a large part of the Order's teachings are over-restrictive nonsense," I say, acting the part. "But not all of it."

He sighs. "Well, you've only been out a year. And you didn't have as good of a reason for leaving as I did- no offense. But I should think that, with time, you'll get used to living your own life. And you'll realize how ridiculous they really are."

"Maybe so," I reply noncommittally.

He changes the subject. "So, Zora, what do you do now?"

"I work with Krayn. Mostly I help run his factories on Nar Shaddaa."

Xanatos looks interested. "I thought that Krayn was primarily a slave raider?"

"He is, and he sells most of them. The rest, he puts to work."

"Hmm. Is he fair when selling slaves?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, does he give you what you pay for, or does he try to pass off sick weaklings as healthy slaves and feign ignorance when they drop dead days later?"

I give him a wry smile. "I wouldn't be likely to speak ill of my employer, Xanatos. But yes, he gives you good slaves if you pay the price."

"I see. Perhaps I will begin purchasing my workers from Krayn, then. I find Gardulla the Hutt an exceedingly unsatisfactory source."

I snort. "Of course you do! No one in their right mind expects fairness from a Hutt."

"I suppose not," he agrees.

We're both silent for a moment. When the pause stretches out long enough to become awkward, I clear my throat and speak. "Look, when I came in, I felt-"

"Drawn to me?"

I nod.

"Yes, I felt the same."

"What does it mean?"

"Well… the Force drew us together."

"I figured that much out, thanks," I say shortly. What does he think I am, a youngling? "But why?"

Xanatos is silent for a moment. "I don't know," he admits.

"Well, there has to be a reason," I argue.

"Yes," he agrees. "Do you have any idea what it is?"

"Not… as such," I admit reluctantly.

"I don't either," he says.

I try to think of what Adi would say, or Yoda or Master Windu- any of the masters, for that matter. The answer jumps out at me soon enough, but it's thoroughly unappetizing. "The masters would tell us to meditate on it," I say wryly.

Xanatos snorts in amusement. "That never actually helped me solve anything," he says.

"Nor me, most of the time," I reply. "In fact, I'm half convinced that it was more to build patience than anything else."

"That makes a great deal of sense," he says, with a seriousness that throws me off for a moment. I had been half joking.

We talk for a while, ordering dinner and continuing our conversation. Despite the fact that they differ from my own, Xanatos expresses many thoughts and interests that I find fascinating.

After dinner we have a few drinks, and it's with real regret that I look at my timepiece and tell Xanatos that Krayn expects me back at the ship.

"Stay," he tells me. "Krayn doesn't own you, does he?"

"No one owns me," I say, perhaps a bit more firmly then necessary. "But it's not worth it to have him angry with me."

Xanatos raises an eyebrow. "I see. Well, I suppose I can walk you back to your ship, at least."

I smile. "Alright."

He pays the tab. I feel a little guilty for enjoying myself so much- I'm on an undercover mission; I'm not supposed to be having fun! But that's absurd, I tell myself. I've made a new friend, that's all. It's in the best interest of my mission. I've convinced him to do business with Krayn, and Offworld is rich. This might be the thing I need to win the slaver's trust.

Yes, Xanatos has done some horrible things in the past. I didn't trust him at first, but he mostly seems to have reformed. He claims to have no ill will against the Order any longer, at any rate. I'll watch him, make sure he isn't a threat. It's in the best interest of my mission.

"I had a good time tonight." Xanatos tells me as we reach the docking bay where Krayn's shuttle waits.

I roll my eyes. "You make it sound as if we just went out on a date."

"Didn't we?" He asks, a mischievous look on his face.

"Of course not!" I exclaim. "We just met!"

"Yes, we did, didn't we? But somehow, I feel as though I've known you for a very long time."

I feel the same way- but I dismiss his words as the meaningless platitude they obviously are. "That was a fairly bad pick-up line," I say wryly.

"It wasn't a pick-up line." Xanatos replies seriously, and for some reason I believe him. He means every word. "The Force binds us together, Zora."

I shake my head. Hearing him call me by my code name grounds me, reminds me that he doesn't know the real me. "That's just a silly romantic notion. The Force doesn't do things like that."

"Doesn't it? The Jedi don't want us to know that it does. They interpret the Force as it best suits them. Anything else is the temptation of the Dark Side."

"Perhaps that's what this is," I reply, forcing my mind to continue thinking rationally, not to simply melt under the power of his gaze.

Xanatos steps closer to me. "Do you trust the Force, Zora?"

"Yes," I reply, trying to ignore the discomfort I feel at having him this close to me. But despite my unease, I feel overwhelmingly that this is right.

"And do you think the Force would lead us astray?" he asks.

"The Dark Side-"

"The Dark Side exists only in our own choices. The fall to the Dark Side is a conscious one- I should know! Does this feel like the Dark Side to you, Zora?" his eyes are blazing with intensity.

"I don't know," I say honestly. "I don't know what to think."

He nods. "And if you do come to accept that this is the will of the Force…?"

"I'll let you know."

He smiles. "I'll be in touch. I need to contact Krayn about some slaves."

There's a moment of silence. "Well, I need to be going." I say. "We're flying back to Nar Shaddaa tonight."

I turn, but he reaches out and takes my arm, stopping me. "Wait."

He takes another step forward, until his body is pressed against mine. I stand still, looking up into his eyes and trying to calm my pounding heart. Xanatos leans down and meet my lips with his. I hesitantly return the kiss, and when his tongue presses gently against my lips, I part them and allow him access.

I pull away after a few moments. "I really should be going."

He smiles. "I'll see you again." It isn't a question.

I nod. "Yes, you will."

-

To be continued. Please review.