Author's Notes: Hi. (insert sheepish grin here) Welcome. This is a little foray into my real overactive imagination. It is essentially The Phantom Menace told through a twisted mind. It is alternative universe, meaning that the characters are there, but the situation is all screwed up. Anyway, this is the first part of a very long story. I cannot seem to cut it down. Thanks for your time and I hope that you enjoy.
DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
The sound of a lightsabre ignited echoed through the small adobe room. Padme Amidala was immediately on her feet, her green lightsabre flashing in the dimness of a new morning. Without a thought, she parried a powerful thrust from another green sabre, turning and leaping over the bed that she had been sleeping in. The sizzle of her sabre striking that of another sounded through the dark before she knew that it had happened. She landed on the bed and catapulted over the person holding the other sabre with ease. She swung the sabre to block as she landed and was rewarded with a hiss as her blade cut too close to its mark.
Knowing instinctively that she had hit her Master, she extinguished the blade and settled it against her sleep clothes. She reached out across the space to encounter her Master only to have a strong arm land on her upper chest and push her back into a wall. Her Master’s voice was low in the dark. "Never let your guard down, Padawan."
She swallowed against the strong forearm that held her, trying to catch her breath. "Yes Master."
"If this had been a real fight, Padme, in the amount of time that you let your guard down for, you would have been killed."
"I realize my shortcoming, Master."
The arm moved away from her chest, to land an affectionate hand on her hair. As the hand moved to leave, Padme rested back against the wall, turning in the blink of an eye to flash her sabre once again. She was immediately met with the other blade. A deep voice echoed through the room. "Good, Padme. You were awakened out of sleep, immediately ignited the sabre and were able to return parry and to move about enclosed spaces easily. You have learned. But we are at a standoff now. What will you do? Your opponent knows the Jedi arts. He knows your every planned and projected move."
Padme rose on the balls of her feet with ease, knowing that her sabre was not moving in the dark. She doused her blade quietly, not daring to breathe. Her opponent’s blade did not waver. "A different approach, Padawan. But now you have returned yourself to a position of lowered defenses." The blade swept through the air, as the woman dropped to her knees in the dark. She rolled through the room, turning behind her attacker as he completed his swing to ignite her sabre. She swung the blade only to catch the other lightsabre at its junction of the handle and the plasma beam. The sabre sputtered momentarily and then died. She executed a salute and shut off her blade quickly. With a terse voice, she called for the light.
As the room ignited in a soft light, she saw her Master holding his upper arm with a grimace and at the mass of a partially melted sabre on the ground in front of him. She clucked her tongue and moved over to pick up the weapon with ginger hands and moved it to the table in the room. She approached her Master to look at his wound, her teacher continued in his lesson giving. "Never stop to ascertain the extent of injuries to your opponent, even if you know him or her."
Padme stopped the rest of her lesson with a gentle hand on his hurt, seared arm. She closed her eyes and pressed into his flesh with a sigh. Momentarily, the skin healed. Qui-Gon Jinn sighed with thanks for the tending of his injury. "Thank you."
"Yes, Master." The girl answered, moving to her cloak to wrap herself in its rough material in the cold morning.
The Jedi Master sank into the chair that was in the corner of the small room. The suns outside were just now peeking over the horizon throwing a blaze across the earthen floor. Padme moved to the window of the second story room and looked out over the newly awakening Mos Espa. Several vendors could be seen moving their wares toward the central square in the low light of the dawn. She leaned out the window to see Shmi Skywalker shaking the rug out of the door. As her long thin braid hung past her neck as she called to her friend, "Shmi! We didn’t wake you, did we?"
Her older friend hung her head back, the knot of hair brushing the back of her neck. "No, Padme, we were already awake. A lot of noise you make, though."
"We shall try harder next time to be quieter." Padme brought her head back inside to look at her master. "Master, we should try to do this later in the day, I think."
Qui-Gon leaned back in the chair with a frown and answered lowly, "A need for defense does not often occur when you expect it, Padawan. I would be remiss in my training of you if I only approached you when you are ready for it."
"Aye, Master, I know." Padme turned, her braid flying around. "I know." Retreating toward the ladder that served as a way to get to the lower level, she called. "Ben, have you started breakfast yet?"
"Not yet, Padme." The Knight appeared in the lower level leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his bare chest. "How was the exercise?"
Qui-Gon moved to stand behind Padme, holding his burnt sabre in his right hand. "Another lesson on sabre repair is in order, I think, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon’s plain canvas shirt hung loosely over his brown pants. "That makes two, Padme." He stated lowly, a half-smile appearing on his face. "I think that maybe I ought to build another one and keep it hidden."
"All you would need do is let me hold your arm, Master, and I could find it." Padme reached behind her head to pull at the large bun that held the hair not in the Padawan braid. Slowly she crossed to the bed, picking up her shirt that she had laid out the night before. With her back to her master, she pulled the sleeveless shift she wore over her head and pulled on the soft flowing material of her work issue shirt. She felt none of the bashfulness that she had possessed just months before when traveling with the Jedi. There was no place for privacy in the small room that her master and she shared, as dictated by the Jedi Code, and she had adapted as well as she could. Her and her master’s sabre practice, their sleeping arrangement, their meditation times were the few things that they did that were recognizable under the old Jedi training code. The rest of their lives currently were created by the undercover existence that they struggled to maintain. It had been two lunar cycles and they were very deeply into contacting the remaining Jedi. Only two Jedi, a master and his padawan had made it so far to the desert planet, secreted away and delivered to Yoda.
"That is one part of your training that does not need work." Qui-Gon answered, looking back out the window while his apprentice dressed. "Your ability to delve into minds is formidable." A little too formidable, he thought. It had been a struggle to hide his feelings from her; their close physical relationship and living conditions only compounded the problem. He turned, leaning against the frame of the window to see Padme straightening her shirt and pulling on her hair knot. The Padawan braid was frayed, hanging askew. "Padme, come here."
The girl completed her morning dressing ritual and moved to stand in front of her master. She tilted her head back to look at the man, hidden partially in the shadows created by the suns’ positions. Outlined as he was, Padme noticed yet again that he was a large man, capable of completely covering and enveloping her with no effort. His brown hair had been cut just a cycle before, in an effort to straighten it. "Yes?"
"Turn." He stated, pulling on her shoulders until she had her back to him. "Your braid is slightly messed; let me fix it." He smiled gently to her as she hung her head to allow him access. "Your hair is so heavy, Padawan, it is a wonder that it remains in this at all."
"Maybe we should weave more of your hair into it, Master." She said, her voice low from having her head hung. "It might change the texture."
Qui-Gon’s hands momentarily stopped their actions and began again as his eyes narrowed. The time that he had spent going through the braiding ritual with her had been the hardest minutes that he had gone through in his life. She had had to cut her hair in that area, shearing its length to a manageable few centimeters. That had not been the hard part, he thought, as his hands deftly pulled the braid apart at the bottom and reweaved the last few inches. No, the hard part had been the girl sitting between his outstretched legs, mere inches from the juncture of his thighs, as he cut pieces of his hair to weave it into hers. At one point he had pulled too hard on her hair and her hand had landed on his upper thigh and curled into his muscles until the sting had passed. It was good that she sat with her back to him, he had thought at the time, as a blush of arousal had shot through him. He continued his ministrations to his apprentice on autopilot.
For her part, Padme was uncomfortable with her master’s hands in her hair, almost as uncomfortable as she had been when her hands had been in his the night before, pulling it to cut it straight. She remembered the soft glow of the lamp reflecting off of his naked shoulders, broad and strong. Her fingers were buried in his locks pulling it straight, her lower body rested against his back. She had thought nothing of it, until Qui-Gon had groaned in what sounded like pain and she had leaned over his shoulder to ask what the matter was. His hands had been folded in his lap, crossed over his crotch. His eyes were closed, gently, not squeezed. It was his hands that drew her attention. They seemed to be hiding a secret, twitching almost nervously together. Sensing his agitation, she had laid a hand on his upper arm to ask his condition and was quickly rebuffed as the man moved his upper body away from hers. A terse "Padawan." Had been uttered. She had gathered some information from him in that scant second. It consisted of white-hot heat and an image of her face with her hair unbound lit by soft light. The image had made her feel uncomfortable, like her clothes were too tight. She quickly had finished his hair only to bid him goodnight and to go to her bed.
Qui-Gon finished with her hair and patted her shoulder with affection. "Let ’s go get something to eat, Padme. I have to go to my ‘job’ as early as I can get there today."
Padme turned to look at him with a smile. "Meditation tonight then, Master." She said cheekily. "As long as Watto doesn’t send you back in exhaustion again. He really should be kinder to a man of your age."
"Imp." He rumbled loudly, "you have a distinct will to show me disrespect whenever you can." She smiled widely and moved to the ladder with speed and agility. "I know, Master. You always have told me that I need to excel where I am talented."
"Unbecoming of a Padawan, Padme." The Jedi answered, moving behind her to follow her down the rungs.
"There is a lot that I do during the day, Master, that is unbecoming of a Padawan, let alone a queen." She answered, moving to the kitchen area. Obi-Wan was bent over the cooking area with his fingers in a mass of dough. Shmi Skywalker, a youngish woman of thirty-five was standing near him, mixing a bowl of the Force knew what. She was a very close family friend of the Kenobi’s. She lived in the safer section of Mos Espa and had come to their aid when a living place was needed near the central section of the town. She had known Ben since birth and was happy to accept him and those he held dear into her home. Childless, yet full of love, she treated both Obi-Wan and Padme as her own. "Good morning." Padme called cheerily, as she touched the woman’s arm and smacked Obi-Wan on the back.
"Ouch." Ben’s head shot up, and Padme had to remember that his braid was suppose to be missing. His hair was longer now, but still close cropped. "Qui-Gon is right. You do not act as a Padawan should in most instances."
Padme nodded with some sobriety. "That is good, Ben. If I did indeed act as a Jedi Padawan, our location and existence here would be given away. Jedi are a hunted breed now."
Qui-Gon added with a gruff voice. "She does show me respect in most instances, Obi-Wan. Just not when I expect her to. We are coming to an understanding, though." He nudged Padme with his arm to move her aside as he reached for some of the gruel that was a staple for food. He grabbed the bowl with a grace that betrayed his Jedi training even with the farmer clothing that he wore. Backing away from the table, he nodded to everyone with a smile. "I will see you tonight; must run, deliveries to make." With that, he hit the door to open it and stepped out into the light of the morning.
As the door slid shut, Padme shook her head. Qui-Gon had garnished a job as a droid, and vehicle tradesman. He worked for a Toydarian across the city, and often found himself needing to do runs into the frontier to deliver parts and to deal with the locals. It was on these trips that Jedi that had been hiding would travel out to Yoda, hiding deep in the desert. Other times, he would bring parts, food, or medical supplies to the growing band of Jedi. His was an intrical part of network that had been formed. The unfortunate part of the plan was that he had to work in a menial, physical labor position with a boss that was immune to Jedi Mind manipulations. As they needed to conceal their existence, one of the few Jedi talents that they could use was the Jedi Mind manipulation. It had been a hard time for the Jedi.
Ben placed a hand on her shoulder with a sigh. "I need to talk to him, Padme. I will find out what is the problem." He stated. At Padme’s nod, he turned to Shmi and smiled as he moved to the door himself. "See you both tonight."
Shmi sighed as the door slid closed, leaving the women to themselves. Padme poured herself something to drink and looked to her host with a smile. "Sometimes I just don’t know about the two of them, Shmi." The girl’s face became more serious as she drank. "How is Yorinda? I could not ask you last night."
"She is getting worse, I am afraid." Shmi sighed, resting her head on her hands. "And there is nothing for it. You cannot use your power to reverse the aging process, and I fear that her time is very near." Their talk of their mutual friend weighed heavily on the both of them. "She is prepared. It is children that I worry about."
"I know. I worry for them also. Albie and Magrie are only one season. Is there any talk on who shall look after them when the time comes?"
Shmi sighed with heaviness. "No one wants to take in two children that are not their own."
"Except us." Padme answered with feeling. "You and I pledged to each other that if no others could be found that we would indeed take the children in."
"And have you talked to the master about this?" Shmi looked at Padme who shook her head helplessly. "I think that both he and Ben would say that it is too risky of a time and place to be responsible for two children."
"As if they would be better alone." The younger woman hung her head. "Regardless of what Qui-Gon thinks, we should look into taking them in."
"Qui-Gon is your master, and you should show him some respect." Shmi reminded her. "He is very lenient in the way that he allows you to interact with him."
Padme nodded with a frown on her face. The night before had been bothering her, interfering with her sleep for most of the night as she listened to her master’s heavy, calm breathing across the room. She knew that she needed to ask someone about what had happened with her, and she also knew that Shmi was the best person to ask. "Shmi, there is something that I need to ask, and…"
Shmi smiled gently as she sensed the girl’s discomfort, reaching for a plate. "Ask away, Padme, and don’t worry about the reaction you will get."
"Last night…well, I cut Qui-Gon’s hair."
"I noticed it was shorter today." Shmi nodded, "Padawans do that for masters, I understand."
"There was a time that he, well, kind of groaned. But he didn’t seem to be in pain. I held his arm to see if he was all right. And the images that I received before he pulled away were, well…disturbing."
Shmi sighed as she watched the young woman over the rim of her cup. Padme’s face was flushed with embarrassment. She asked quietly. "Disturbing in what way, dear?"
"Disturbing in that…" Padme closed her eyes and recalled the images from the night before with shivers. "They were of me. And the feelings…the images they…were me. I was seeing myself through his eyes. And the emotion tied to it was physical…there was heat, searing, but not painful." She opened her eyes to look at the woman across the table. "The most disturbing is the feelings that I have from the images. I felt warm and uncomfortable, like my clothes didn’t fit right."
Shmi laughed gently and lifted an eyebrow. "Have you ever wanted a man, Padme?"
"Excuse me?"
"The feelings that you have in response to his thoughts, they are similar to that of a woman that wants a man."
Padme shook her head, "I am afraid that I do not know what you are talking about."
Shmi leaned across the table to hold the hand of the girl. "I have watched you, Padme. I have seen you watch Qui-Gon move across the room when his back is to you. The one time that you performed first aid on him, on his upper chest when he removed his shirt, your hands shook. You smile at his frowns, and your eyes shine when he enters the room."
Padme shook her head once only to be cut off by her friend. "To feel as you do is understandable, Padme. It is not wrong. I know that you care for him, as much or even more so than you care for Ben. I know that it is in a different way, also. Do you think of him, holding you…kissing you?"
Padme blushed and tried to move her hand away from the woman only to stop and look at her with wide eyes. "I..that is wrong…he is my master. He is a Jedi Master."
"He is a man."
"Yes, he is, but a Jedi first. That is what they teach." Padme’s voice rose in agitation, unable to control her emotions as her teacher had been showing her. "Besides, he looks to me as a child in his care."
"Not a child, Padme. He sees you as a woman. Trust me. His eyes follow you when you walk; they travel your body when you stand. It is true that he cares about you as his Padawan and his charge. But I feel, and mind you, it is only woman’s intuition and not the Force, but I think he would ask you to mate not only for the sake of his desire, but as a way of keeping you with him."
"Mate?" Padme croaked.
"That white-hot heat you felt, Padme." Shmi picked up the girl’s hand and shook it. "That heat is desire. Want. Need. A desire such as that, child, at that intensity can only end in one way that will extinguish it. Mating. Making love."
"Oh Shmi." Padme shook her head as a small smile moved to her lips. "You are sorely mistaken. Qui-Gon has no thoughts like that. I am too young in that manner…"
"You are eighteen seasons. Well within the age of consent by Republic standards, if I remember correctly. And you are a beautiful woman, Padme. In the two lunar cycles that you have been here I have seen you blossom. You are assertive, not aggressive, confident. You have a formidable intelligence, and according to both your master and Ben, you have an amazing ability to use the Force. I have seen you heal with just fingers. No, Padme, I would venture to say that Qui-Gon Jinn has those type of feelings for you, and has had them for some time if intuition serves."
Padme hung her head as a blush crept up her neck to her face. Dreams had come to her in the depths of night. Dreams of Qui-Gon moving to her bed from his across the room. His bare chest and bare legs rubbing against hers as he slipped beneath the covers. His low, proud voice whispering into her ear, saying words of love as opposed to comfort. Those same lips moving to cover hers, pulling them apart to admit his tongue. His blue eyes in the dimness of the evening telling her that he would teach her in this also, that there was nothing to fear, nothing to regret. Strong, lean hands drifting low on her shoulders and sweeping to capture her breasts. His mouth recapturing hers to swallow her moan of pleasure. His bare thigh drifting to rest between her own. The shivers that the contact caused and not knowing why she felt so, just that it seemed to be how her body reacted to his. Shmi had hit too close to the mark with her talk of mating for Padme to feel comfortable, but truthfulness of feelings was taught as one of the first lessons to Jedi Padawans. She nodded slowly to the woman across from her with a frown.
"I have thought of him. But he is doing more than holding me, Shmi." Padme leaned back in her chair and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Her sigh of frustration brought a knowing smile to the other woman’s face that vanished with the next sentence that came from the girl. "But I talked him, he is unable to mate, Shmi. He is forbidden to do so, with me or anyone else. No amount of wishing from me, or if you are right, from him also, would change that dictate. He would lose his stature as a Jedi Master."
"That is grave indeed, did you perhaps misunderstand him?" Shmi laid the cup down on the table with a sigh.
"No." Padme groaned, shifting on the chair as the image of her dream came back again. "But it is a mute point. Qui-Gon does not have these feelings for me. I would have sensed it." Wouldn’t I have? She asked herself as she swung around to get into her work clothes.