Cresceant was busy today, bustling with politicians, businessmen, slaves, servants. Aliens of all classes and creed mingled together, rubbing shoulders like they would in no other situation. Crowds were a Jedi knight's worst nightmare. There were too many emotions, too many things to keep track of, an overload of senses. The metallic sidewalks sparkled in the sun, giving a pleasant warmth to Qui-Gon's feet through his leather boots. A barbeque stand practically right next to him flooded the whole street with the scent of spicy food. But the worst sense was fear; fear of failure, fear of loss. Qui-Gon kept his eyes fixed on the white crop of hair that was in front of him. His Padawan, Sahara, was seventeen. She was new to Cresceant, and disliked the jostling crowds. But she was too trusting, too vulnerable. Slavers and poachers would eye that distractingly beautiful figure, see that strange head of white hair, and those soft green eyes, and pounce like a cat on a mouse.
Sahara weaved her way through the crowds, her hand going to her light saber on her hip. The bulky weapon was comforting, the familiar grooves and ridges in the hilt made her relax, if only marginally. But the presence of her master behind her was even more comforting. Sahara hesitated, stumbling slightly. It was too hard to detect any emotions from her master in this huge crowd. Aliens brushed past her, snarling as she slowed down even further. She stopped in front of the tallest building in the city, a skyscraper that was wreathed in clouds. Her mouth was open slightly, in awe. It was too amazing, too much to take in. How could a building be this tall and not fall down?
Sahara, keep moving, Qui-Gon murmured through their mental link. Sahara snapped herself to attention and entered, feeling the cool air inside of the building a welcome relief from the glaring sunlight. Cresceant was always warm, because of all the metal. She stood in the lobby, waiting patiently for her master to come inside. She adjusted her loose white robes. She had worn them almost all her life, but she still found them uncomfortable. When she had gone through puberty, she had tightened the belt around her waist so it would "accidentally" mold around her curvaceous figure. But that had been a long time ago, and she wore the robes loosely around her slim body just as a Padawan should.
Qui-Gon entered the building, his warm brown eyes relaxing when he was out of the sun. He saw his Padawan standing tensely at the foot of the stairs, her white robes of Padawan training matching her white hair perfectly. Her light saber, which was buckled on her belt, was trembling slightly, belying her calm appearance. He reached out through the mental link and tried to calm her.
Relax, Padawan. They will not harm you. He said softly.
But they can fail me, can't they? She asked. There was no denying the panic in her voice.
No, Padawan. This is useful to the Council. They merely wish to test your skills. It is not you who should fear. If anything, they are testing my skills as a Master.
But you're already a knight, Sahara argued. Qui-Gon smiled to himself, then led her up the stairs, one calloused hand on the small of her back.
After a long elevator ride, where Sahara remained motionless except for her green eyes, which were darting to and fro, the doors opened to reveal a large, circular room. The Council were seated around an empty area, sitting in leather chairs. Sahara picked out Yoda and a few other Council members, but she was too jittery to notice anything else.
"Master Jinn, have you joined us," Yoda croaked, raising a wrinkled clawed hand in greeting. Qui-Gon stepped forward and bowed.
"Thank you for waiting, Council." Qui-Gon said quietly. He stepped aside and gestured towards Sahara, who kept her gaze on the floor.
"This is your Padawan, Qui-Gon?" queried a lithe Council member with mottled blue skin. He had a feline gracefulness to him that was both stunning and deadly. He stood up, unsheathing his light saber. A three foot long blade of pulsing blue energy flickered into existence.
"Yes, Kurriagn," Qui-Gon said. Kurriagn's flat, pale eyes had never left Sahara's bright green ones.
"And is she trained in the light saber?" Kurriagn purred. Qui-Gon hesitated. Everybody knew of Kurriagn's skill in the light saber. It would be like sending a calf to slaughter, having him duel Sahara.
"Yes, Master Kurriagn, but only for a few years. Her skill is minimal, to say the least." Qui-Gon said. Sahara smiled, a tiny, feral smile, that twitched the edges of her lips. She mirrored Kurriagn's movements, pulling out her 'saber, which was a deep shade of purple.
Kurriagn pounced with a savage grace, cleaving downwards at Sahara's neck. She deflected him with a shower of sparks, that vicious smile never leaving her face. Her eyes were alive with energy. Kurriagn slashed again, this time aiming for her waist, but Sahara sidestepped, ducking low, and parried the thrust easily. Kurriagn's eyes narrowed. Her footwork was impeccable, and her movements were fast and light. She moved quickly, anticipating each move and countering it, like some ancient ritual of dancing. She was more fluid then water, faster then a cobra.
Sahara tried a unexpected backwards whack of her own, and was rewarded with jarring the look of serenity off of Kurriagn's face. He snarled, pressing harder. She backed up to the edges of the circle, and waited for the strike to come to her head. Kurriagn complied, slicing with his blue saber. She ducked again, rolling between his legs like a hedgehog and turned around, faster then the eye could follow. There was a cry, then a clank as Kurriagn's saber hit the floor. He grasped his hand (which was more like a paw) which was bruised slightly, but not burned.
Sahara's face was damp with sweat and she was breathing heavily. Her thick white bangs were pointed at the edges, moist with water. She bowed humbly and retrieved his light saber and handed it back to him. Now that the duel was over, all of her shyness and nervousness came back. When she had been battling, she had forgotten about the Council members watching. Now she was acutely aware of dozens of pairs of eyes watching her. Kurriagn was stunned. He could not honestly remember the last time a Padawan had disarmed him
There was the sound of a handclap. Two gnarled green claws, wrinkled with age, were brought together with a muffled slap. Yoda applauded the young girl, his huge yellow eyes showing a spark of amusement. He nodded his head sagely.
"Minimal?" Kurriagn said incredulously. Then he laughed, a hissing, sharp laugh. "Force, young Padawan, that was anything but minimal. Where did you learn that?"
Sahara met his approving gaze and glanced at Qui-Gon. "Where else could I learn it but from my master?" she said quietly.
Then she turned to face the Council. "May I speak, Master Yoda?" she asked respectfully. Yoda nodded once.
"Members of the Council, this proves nothing. Even the most skilled duelist can be defeated by a trick he does not know. My prowess in battle shows that I know an different trick, a different schooling then what Master Kurriagn learned."
Joter, another Council member, barked his approval. "Well said, Padawan! You are a fine credit to Qui-Gon. Test her with the Force, Master Yoda. We will see how well she has been taught then."
Qui-Gon watched his youthful Padawan blanch with fright. She had been expecting another Council member to test her in the Force, not Yoda himself. She swallowed hard, then knelt on the floor, readying herself for the test.
The Council watched as Yoda clambered out of his seat with a grunt. He sat ten paces away from Sahara. Qui-Gon watched impassively, his gut roiling unpleasantly. He did not want Sahara to be hurt. She meant too much to him.
***MENTALLY***
Purple sparks met green, colors, lights, flashings, sounds. A roaring in Sahara's ears. Yoda curled his lip, and the two minds met. Sahara parried his every thrust, throwing up the strongest fortifications she could think of. A rod that felt like steel pierced her head, crumbling her defenses like chalk. Bravely Sahara blocked her memories, throwing out a useless memory to distract Yoda-
Qui-Gon whacked me smartly on the thigh with the wooden stave. Sweat burns in my eyes, tearing my vision up. The hot sun is blistering my back, baking it. I am clad in only my training pants and a tight tank top. My shoulders scream for release, but I strike out at Qui-Gon with my stick, catching him on the ribs. I see his surprise, then approval in his eyes; that is worth more to me then any praise-
Yoda tossed the memory aside like a smashed beaker, plunging deeply into her mind again. Sahara gritted her teeth, and put all her will into forcing him out. She gained a few feet, sensing that Yoda was surprised that she had so much fight left in her. Usually Padawans fainted after the first intrusion. Sahara struggled to get into Yoda's mind, but it was hard enough trying to keep her own mind safe. She felt Yoda reaching that little hollow in the back of her soul, where she kept only her darkest memories.
Oh, no you don't!
Sahara shoved him backwards, giving him no leave into her personal thoughts. That was private, that was. No one, not even Qui-Gon had managed to puncture the sturdy walls she had built around her little storeroom. Yet Yoda was a Master; he managed to seized one memory before she threw him out.
It is cold outside, very cold. The icy terrain is of snow and ice, and it crunches under my boots. Tears sting my eyes, my whole world is crushed. They hate me; all of the students at the Jedi academy. I am humiliated, fearful, and angry. The world spins, I fall to my knees, sobbing. An arm encircles me, pulling me against a warm, muscular chest. I hear a soothing growl in the throat of my Master. I sob into his arms, wishing to give myself away entirely to this man who I-
Sahara tore the memory away from Yoda before he could get any farther. Ruthlessly he smashes through her walls again, pulling out another memory. Sahara felt her strength ebbing away, but she feebly attempted to take the memory. Yoda staved her off carelessly.
I am sleepy, very tired. The soft pillows feel so good under my head, the silken sheets utter bliss. After weeks of being in that accursed planet Tattooine, I am finally back in the civilized world. Last nights shower was so good, so sensual to wash away all the dirt that had caked itself against my body. I felt clean and fresh as a daisy. And now, lying here, clad in only my sleeping clothes, I watch my master slumber. He is just as tired, and one arm is thrown around a pillow. The sheets are tangled around his legs and waist, revealing a bare, heavily muscled chest. His sleeping couch is large, and a few feet away from me, but I can see every detail on his handsome features-
Sahara gave up. It was ridiculous. She couldn't stand against Yoda, master of the Force. Blackness swirled before her vision, and she collapsed.
***BACK***
Qui-Gon watched as Sahara fought for her memories. Her fingers tapped rapidly against the ground, her eyes wide open, but not seeing anything. Then her back arched, and her mouth opened in a soundless cry. She snapped her teeth together so quickly she bit her lip; blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. Her jaw was clenched tightly, and she leaned forward, thrusting Yoda out of her mind. Qui-Gon's heart burst with pride; his Padawan was putting up a fight!
Yoda's brow creased slightly with effort, then a satisfied smile spread across his ugly features. Sahara's fingernails dug into her palms, cutting half-moons into her smooth hands. Blood dripped onto the floor as she dug deeper and deeper into her hands.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Sahara collapsed on the floor, her green eyes fluttering closed. Her white hair lay spilled across her cheek. Yoda stood up with a grunt of effort.
"The Force is strong with her," he proclaimed. "Qui-Gon, wake her."
Qui-Gon crouched by his unconscious pupil. He traced her jaw line with one finger, reaching out to her mentally. She was so beautiful, even when she was in pain
Sahara, wake up.
No, I don't want to. My head hurts. Where are you?
Padawan, arise. You are in front of the Council.
Master, I'm tired. Five minutes, please?
Wake, Padawan. Now.
Sahara's eyes shot open, and a huge gasp of air was sucked into her mouth as she sat up quickly. She fell back slightly, one hand raising to grasp at her head. Sahara groaned, and spat out a mouthful of blood. She cradled her head in her hands and groaned again. Unsteadily, she got to her feet, then swayed. Qui-Gon caught her, supporting her. Sahara waved him off, her eyes unfocused.
I'm fine, Master. Really.
You are such a terrible liar.
Joter clapped his hands. "Sahara, please. Take your refreshment in your own household. I trust you are not in too much pain to make your way to your apartment? Good. Master Jinn, remain here."
Sahara shook her head to clear the fuzziness, and bowed respectfully to the Council. Then she left, her head still ringing in pain. But she was blushing furiously. How much of her memories had Yoda seen? Her passionate love for Qui-Gon had been barricaded behind her strongest fortifications, but Yoda was a master Jedi after all…
The door closed slowly behind her. Yoda climbed back in his chair and settled himself. "Master Jinn, there is a bond deep between your Padawan and yourself." Yoda said solemnly.
"Yes, Master Yoda. Anyone can see our bond is strong," Qui-Gon said. It was true; the bond between Master and Padawan was one of the strongest Qui-Gon had ever encountered. Possibly that was why she could use the mental link so easily.
"Not that is what I mean," Yoda croaked. He pointed a gnarled claw at Qui-Gon. "Sahara love is in with you."
The world spun beneath Qui-Gon's feet. What? She was in love with him? Where was all this coming from?
"Accessed, I have, her memories. Guards, she does, her love for you, but it is there, strong."
Qui-Gon took a shaky breath. "Council, I had no idea-" he began, but Joter cut him off.
"It is not a question of what you knew," Joter said brusquely, "But what's to be done about it."
"There is a reason there are not many woman Jedi," Kurriagn said. "They form strong bonds, deep love. To tear her away now from Qui-Gon would be disastrous. She could possibly give up all her ambition to be a Jedi."
The Council murmured it's approval. Yoda was still watching Qui-Gon. "The Code will not work in this situation," he growled. "Sahara must be care of, taken."
"Leave Qui-Gon to his own devices," Kurriagn said decisively. "Let him speak on what he wishes to do."
Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "Council…I believe in what Kurriagn says. Sahara is a talented woman, you all can see that. But she has much to learn. To stop her training now would be hazardous; you would be letting a girl with Jedi training run loose. The chances of her becoming a Sith would be high."
There were more murmurs of approval. "Then do what you must," Yoda croaked. "Keep training her well, training her well. In the mean time…" Yoda shrugged. "It is written. May the Force be with you, Master Jinn."
*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%
Qui-Gon made his way through the streets, his head still in a dreadful muddle. He had suppressed his feelings towards his pretty Padawan, but now…what was to be done? He opened the door to the apartment with practiced ease, and saw Sahara alone by the window. She looked almost scared.
"Padawan, you did well," he said. She turned, the fear not leaving her eyes there was also something like shame and embarrassment in them.
"Thank you, Master," she muttered.
What is wrong? Qui-Gon inquired. He found it was harder for a Padawan to lie mentally.
Nothing, Master, Sahara answered carefully. Everything about her was too careful. What did the Council want to talk to you about? She asked.
Telling me what a good job I'm doing, he said back. He rummaged through the cabinets and began preparing dinner.
Anything…else? Sahara asked. There was a note of trepidation in her voice.
Something I already knew, he said carelessly.
Sahara sat down and began eating her food. It was quiet in the apartment for a while, then Sahara broke the silence.
"Master…please. I fear that Yoda told you something…bad. You see, some of the memories he accessed were kind of…personal. It would have been easy to misinterpret the meaning of them."
She stood up and began walking out, but Qui-Gon caught her sleeve. She turned, and he closed the small space between them, pinning her against the wall. He nuzzled her neck and collarbone, kissing her jaw line, in that secret space between her ear and her neck. She gasped in pleasure, and Qui-Gon pulled her to him, holding her tightly. Her eyes were full of desire but there was a slight hesitation.
"But…the Council-"
In answer, Qui-Gon kissed her. He felt her tense for a moment, then relax as he explored her mouth with his tongue. It was new to her; she had never kissed anybody before, and she discovered she liked it. He drew back, then kissed her again, making her close her eyes and lean against the wall for support. Her legs felt like water, and her stomach was turning in an unending, pleasurable rhythm.
Qui-Gon nipped her bottom lip gently, then kissed her neck again. She moaned, clinging to his broad, heavily muscled back. Without another word, Qui-Gon led her over to his sleeping chambers. The door closed behind them with a pneumatic hiss, drowning out the secret of creation.