Dust swayed and scattered before the buffering landing gears, the gritty sand swirling in whirlwinds as the sleek ship slowly came to a halt. Before them, the massive gray cruise ship stood silently, contrasting cuttingly against the rough hewn brown landscape around them. The tiny planet they had landed on was nothing but a flat brown disc of nothingness in every direction, the pale blue sky shot through with streaks of yellow and green, an unnatural shading that suggested chemical overuse had stripped this planet of everything. There was no movement from the larger ship, and Qui-Gon stood tensely in the cockpit, his blue eyes focused and cold. The young captain beside him raised a blonde eyebrow. "We could fire the plane, sir," He suggested. "That's a cruise ship, and this is a fighter craft. Our guns will be larger and faster than theirs, if they have any at all." The captain said, looking at the stoic Jedi standing next to him. Marcus, the captain, had never seen a Jedi before, and this one was a particularly impressive specimen. Tall, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, with a proud, straight profile and smoky blue eyes. The weight of his lightsaber tugged down his belt, and Marcus saw that the Jedi had his hand resting on the hilt of the strange, old-fashioned weapon. Then, he finally seemed to jerk himself out of his reverie and shook his head once, barely perceptibly.
"Not until I release my Padawan," He said firmly. "When she is safely within our grasp, blow the ship. But not until then."
He turned on his heel and smacked the green button which opened the hatchway, striding out into the hot, burning sun and the cackling dust devils.
Xanatos watched his former Master carefully, a smile twitching his lips. His back ached where Qui-Gon had branded him with the flat of his lightsaber, and his hand throbbed where La'Ana had bitten him savagely, but these pains he swatted away with the Force. Now, came the final showdown between himself and his Master. He would show him just how much he hated him, show him just how much his self-righteous ideals were useless in day-to-day situations. He clicked his fingers at the cowering blonde woman in the corner, who was nursing a black eye. She stiffened to attention and drew tentatively closer to him, fearing another backlash. He turned to her, those merciless blue eyes sneering and cold. "Go bring out the prisoner," He said softly. "Make sure she's conscious, but still drugged. I want my old friend to see those pretty green eyes of hers when she dies."
The woman threaded her way through the maze of corridors and hallways until she found the black, innocuous door which held the captive. She keyed in a set of numbers and the door hissed open, revealing the tiny, cramped room with nothing but a small cot wedged into the corner. The young woman was still in a drugged stupor, her eyes closed, her cheeks unhealthily pale and clammy, her limbs twitching spasmodically as her mind grappled with the Force. The dried blood had knitted around her hip, crusting over the horrific wound which was exposed to the stuffy air of the tiny room. A searing black burn, surrounded by layers of puffy red skin, marked her hip cruelly, and the woman swallowed hard. The blonde woman knelt and deftly unstrapped the restraints holding the young Jedi's wrists to the sides of the cot, pulling the slender arms free from the welting red restraints. The Padawan shuddered and cried out a little, legs thrashing in the tangles of sheets, and the blonde woman looked at her worriedly. They weren't very far apart in age, with the black-haired Jedi perhaps being one or two years older than her. The blonde woman loaded a small syringe with blue liquid and located a vein on the arm of the unconscious woman. As the hypo needle sank into her vein, the woman shot straight up in bed, her newly restored conscious flooding her mind. A bolt of pain shook her small frame to the core, and she cried out, arching her back, as the younger woman led the unresisting Jedi down the hallway.
Ana's eyes, dark green flecked with facets of gold, snapped open. The Force flowed over her like a stream of warm water, and she struck out with it, sending the blonde woman skidding down the hallway and into a wall. Ana closed her eyes once more and located the knot of the Force, settled in her head, pounding in beat with her heart. The pain from her hip scorched once more, and she cut deeper runes into her palms with her nails, feeling the crusted blood break free and begin to ooze once more down her fingertips. The blonde woman was stirring groggily, and Ana kept her pinned there with the Force, extending the heel of her hand towards the young woman. "Where are we." Ana rasped, her voice a dry rattle that scratched her throat. The woman on the floor wriggled and tried to move, but Ana's face was a mask of determined calm as her hip throbbed painfully.
"O-on a small p-planet," The girl choked out. "W-waiting for y-y-your Master."
All energy drained from Ana when she heard that one word – Master. Ana bent with great difficulty, her vision blurring into multicolored streaks, and grabbed the barrel of the gun latched onto the woman's hip. The weight of the weapon felt good and solid in her hands, but her vision took an eternity to settle. The blonde woman looked fearfully at those slightly disoriented gold-flecked green eyes, fearing them more perhaps than the chilly blue orbs that had wooed her to come aboard with him. There was no pity in Xanatos's eyes, but there was a forceful determination in Ana's, something cold and heartless and made the blonde woman cry harder. And then, just when she was sure that the wounded Padawan would surely kill her, the black-haired Padawan made her way down the hallway, gripping onto the smooth metal walls with her nails. She left bloodied smears from where her nails had sliced her palms, and the woman sobbed as she watched the young Jedi leave, dragging her left leg behind her as she left. It was several minutes later, when she heard the automatic hiss of the hatchway opening, when she dared to get up.
Qui-Gon stood resolutely against the bland brown landscape, his neutral colored clothing and dark boots melting into the background. But it was those eyes, full of cold, hardened fury, his jaw set tightly as he waited for someone to emerge from the ship, those eyes which struck mortal terror into the heart of any man. There was nothing, and then the hatchway cracked open, a black slice cutting a rectangular opening, widening into a dark maw which yawned open. A small figure – small from this distance – stepped from the ship, a quick, confident stride and easy gait marking him as Xanatos. Qui-Gon didn't move, simply stayed as still as a rock while his adversary came closer, watching the smirk settle on the younger Jedi's features. "Well, well, well," Xanatos said brightly, "You finally arrived, old man. I was wondering if you decided not to show, to just leave your Padawan behind."
"I wouldn't leave Ana behind," Qui-Gon said firmly. "I wouldn't leave anyone behind in that ship of yours."
"Mm," Xanatos purred, his sneer widening. "But do you know what I think? I think you wouldn't leave her behind because you have a special place in that granite soul of yours for that scruffy little girl." He began to circle Qui-Gon like a caged panther, his icy blue eyes never leaving his former mentor's deep blue ones.
"No man has a soul made of stone. Only his emotions are frozen." Qui-Gon quoted, reciting a proverb that had been in Xanatos's handbook as a child. The younger man reacted angrily, his pale skin stretched over his jaw as he gritted his teeth.
"Do you deny it?" Xanatos said, finally stopping when his back was to his ship once more. Their faces were very close, and Qui-Gon could feel the fury pent up in the younger man's heart. "Do you deny that you feel for her? Love her like you never loved me?"
Qui-Gon thought back to her confession last night – could it possibly have been last night? Only twenty four hours ago, she had come to him, soaking wet and broken, dredging up her last remnants of strength to break down the final barrier between them. And he tried to examine the new, raw, powerful feeling in his chest that tore hatefully at him whenever he thought of Ana being locked inside that ship, away from him. It was a foreign feeling to him, and it wasn't the trust he felt for Ana. It was deeper than trust, a cemented bond between the pair that linked them irretrievably, a mutual attraction that would rage like wildfire if left unattended and desperate. Xanatos saw the change flutter over his former Master's eyes, a deep sense of calm shrouding those stormy blue eyes.
"I do not deny it."
The fight began with a sudden, harsh move as Xanatos withdrew his lightsaber and activated it within the blink of an eye. But before his hand had even thumbed the button on his lightsaber, Qui-Gon had already assumed his defensive position, the long green 'saber purring in his hands. The two weapons clashed together in a shower of electrical sparks that withered and died on the dusty ground, the sensation jarring up their arms as they twisted their lightsabers free of the shocking embrace. And then they were together again, wrists and elbows protesting at the rapid change of pace and speed, the blurring movements between the stripes of color, light green and crimson tangled in a deadlock. Steadily, surely, slowly, Qui-Gon pushed him backwards towards the safety of his ship, his handsome features a mask of concentration. The Force was humming around him like an electrical current, tingling the hair on his head and setting every nerve alight with a spark of power. Xanatos saw the change, and the snarl on his face erupted from his throat. The two were locked in a battle, the Force dark and dangerous around the pair. They both felt the current shift, knew this battle was different from any other battle between them, both emotional and physical. Because, this time, they were fighting for something, not against something. Xanatos was fighting for the years he spent under the crushing weight of Qui-Gon's non-approval, or so he thought; he was fighting for revenge, for bloody and horrific death. Qui-Gon was fighting for life, to spare the life of his Padawan, of Ana, of his friend, of the wonderful woman who he had come to know and love.
How long they stayed there, battling each other, none of their strokes touching the muscled bodies, neither of them knew. But they both heard the rough, cracked voice snapping through the air like the piercing shatter of a circle breaking:
"Stop!"
And only the Force knows why they did, both in the same movement, the same split second. Their frenzied motions stopped, both chests heaving, hearts hammering as they faced whatever had told them to stop their war, halt their angry movements. They both turned in unison, eyes flicking to the ragged figure in the hatchway, a blaster in her hand, one dark-green eye to the scope. Qui-Gon felt his heart do a strange somersault in his chest as he saw the sight of his exhausted Padawan, her face whiter than any color white he had ever seen, her dark eyes pain-ridden portals to her tormented body. But her hand was steady, and even though she leaned against the side of the doorway, she was still standing, her barrel pointed straight at Xanatos. The dark Jedi finally laughed breathlessly, a rabid, painful sound. "Your girl has spite, Jinn!" He said mirthlessly, still trying to catch his breath. "She'll be a pretty toy to play with when I have the time!"
He moved, his lightsaber moving to place a killing stroke across Qui-Gon's throat, and then the bullet cracked through the air. He yelped, hitting the dirt face-first, his lightsaber deactivating the moment it touched the ground. Qui-Gon jerked his fingers almost impatiently, and the lightsaber shot across the dry terrain, rolling to a stop almost a hundred feet away. The younger Jedi expelled one little moan between his teeth, a taut sound of life escaping, and his fingers touched his tunic, skating over the sticky patch on his side. Already his frozen blue eyes were darting frantically, unable to move from the immobilizing pain. His eyes rolled back and he lay still, fingers twitching spasmodically. Qui-Gon spared one final look at the dying man on the ground, and then took off towards the ship, towards his Padawan, towards his Ana.
She had sunk down to the corner of the hatchway, leaning her head against her shoulder, her hip sending her into a downward spiral of consciousness and pain. The barrel of the blaster scorched her palm when she released it, and she wasn't sure if it was from heat or from the contact with her bloodied palms. She felt the comforting growl of her Master, and she felt instantly safe, despite the ravaging pains tearing at her body. She felt his big, calloused hands pick her up gently, cradling her small, broken body close to his chest, full of vibrant life, and she closed her eyes, allowing the heat and unfiltered life to flow into her paralyzed limbs. The Force slipped out of her grasp completely as she gave up the fight to stay conscious, and Qui-Gon held her close, marveling at the sight of her alive. Not well, but alive. And for the first time in his life, he felt his own broken circle begin to mend as he carried her back to the ship, back to the anxious Marcus who was waiting impatiently. His circle was mended – but Ana's had broken afresh.
The sleek ship had barely left the planet before the blonde woman ran outside, running over to her savior and damnation, dropping to her knees next to his prone form. She lay an ear on his chest, a thumb to his pulse, and listened intently, hearing the weak thread of life pulsing through his veins. She opened his jaws and rammed a small cake of some sort of crumbling yellow powder down his throat, forcing him to swallow, thumping his chest anxiously. For a long moment, nothing happened. And then his back arched, his breath sucked in between his cheeks, and one frosty blue eyes opened.
A/N: Well, I have my Muse back! Aren't you glad? Now, I have to warn you – this book will not end happily. BUT! There will be a sequel. I can promise at least two chapters after this one, so please tell me what you think. This series is going to be a trilogy, because I have been struck by a bolt of inspiration to make these stories UTTERLY EPIC. So, anyway, PLEASE review and tell me what you think!