The Shadow

by

Alice J. Capen

(takes place two years before TPM)

	Qui-Gon Jinn was cautious.  The atmosphere was pulsing with energy, dark

and spiked.  It slithered around the trees like airborne eels, and it made

his stomach tighten.  He was glad he left his padawan in the ship.  Obi-Wan

had not approved of his master stopping here.  It was another diversion.

Another distraction from the assigned mission for the maverick Jedi.  But

Qui-Gon had to investigate.  It pulled at his curiosity like an electromagnet.

	Qui-Gon smiled as he thought of his padawan.  Obi-Wan was so

straight-laced.  When the Council assigned a mission or laid down the law,

well, by gum, Obi-Wan unerringly followed it.  Obi-Wan often, in a gentle

and respectful way, rebuked his master for not doing the same.

	Qui-Gon had already been denied a seat on the Council twice since Obi-Wan

became his padawan.  And thrice more before that.

	Qui-Gon sighed as he thought about the Council.  He was following the Jedi

Creed.  He always had.  The Jedi Creed was ancient; much older than the

Council Laws.  But sometimes, especially to Qui-Gon, the ancient Creed and

the Council seem to conflict.

	The Jedi Creed existed almost from the very beginning; since the beginning

of the Jedi.  That was millennia ago.  But as the Jedi Order got larger --

perhaps too large, especially this last thousand years, the Council seemed

to shift its focus, more and more, toward peace-keeping missions for

galactic social-politics, effectively narrowing the original purpose of the

Jedi.

	Qui-Gon's soul more strongly identified with the Creed.  And as he sought

to satisfy his curiosity with this latest diversion, he knew he was going to

have the usual tongue lashing when he got back. 

	The forest he was walking through eventually gave way to a beautiful

garden-like meadow.  But the dark energy now had gotten so strong that it

felt as if it had consciously enveloped Qui-Gon's body and threatened to

invade his soul.  He looked up at the bright full moon.  It looked huge. And

as he continued to stare at it, the face of it seemed to develop a leering

smile.  The breeze was gentle upon him.  Carried along with it was the sound

of soft, ethereal voices of angels.  Or were they fey?  He reached out with

his Force senses, but could find nothing amiss.  Nothing

unusual.......except...for.......................something.  Not quite right.

	As he walked slowly in the meadow, tendrils of a darker force caressed his

body.  They entwined around his body under his clothes like a gentle but

sinister lover.  He stopped walking. 

	The tendrils gradually thickened and coalesced into almost physical hands

of a phantom, and where ever it caressed, its touch sent a wave of softly

agonizing sensation that might be best described as pain without the hurt,

and pleasure without the enjoyment.  It shot deep down into his muscles like

a laser beam concentrated directly under the caressing fingers.

	Qui-Gon felt the light touch of physical lips kissing his chest.  It shot a

spear of agonized pleasure into his hard-beating heart, and it made him

softly cry out.  The sound from his voice traveled light-years into a black

nothingness.  A sound of chuckling from the shadow spirit wrapped around

Qui-Gon like a blanket made out of evil, and thrilled Qui-Gon with fear that

he hadn't felt for most of his life.

	It kissed his throat.  Qui-Gon's knees buckled under the sensation, but the

shadow spirit would not allow him to sink to his knees.  Instead it held him

in its arms.  Its body against Qui-Gon's felt like a bottomless pit, yet

solid.  Qui-Gon no longer felt earth under his feet.  His body was carried a

few feet off the ground.  Qui-Gon could no longer see the meadow; could no

longer see the moon.  All he could see was dark nothingness.  All he could

hear was soft, sinister whisperings, and a constant rushing of ghostly wind.

	The kiss touched his lips; gently, like a sweet lover.  But the

sadistically intensified pleasure/pain shot through like a bolt of lightning

into his very soul, and as Qui-Gon inhaled sharply to scream, part of the

spirit flew down his throat and into his body.  Qui-Gon was drowning in an

evil love that was embracing him from within and without.  He let out a soft

moan of despair.

	The sound of his moan was echoing in his head as he slowly opened his eyes

and saw his bedroom in the faint light of pre-dawn.  The lingering energy of

having been made love to was present in his being, and was slowly, very

slowly, fading away.

	He lay there for a time, his heart pounding hard, sending rhythmic

vibrations through his mattress.  He willed himself to calm down.  After

all, it was only a dream.  Dispite it being only a dream though, Qui-Gon

wanted reassurance; to get his mind focused on what was comfortingly normal.

	He got up out of bed and looked out the window, and for a while, watched

the sky lighten.  Then he walked to Obi-Wan's room to comfort himself at the

sight of his padawan sleeping peacefully.  All was well with Obi-Wan.  In

one or two hours he will be up and getting ready for breakfast.

	Satisfied that things are as they should be, Qui-Gon got back into his own

bed.  This last hour will be a nice restful sleep.

	He pulled the blanket comfortingly over himself, and eventually his body

rhythms slowed as he slept.

	As the sun's rays were splintering the last of the nights darkness, a

wraith-like apparition whose soul was like that of a black hole, reached out

and stroked Qui-Gon's hair.

	

Alice J. Capen