~*~

Sometimes I think I'm going to forget one of the passwords and I'll never be able to access the file again. The five passwords are probably a tad excessive . . . but if my Master ever discovers what it is I'm hiding in this harmless looking folder . . .

It will shatter his trust, if nothing else. Probably our bond. My chances of being a Jedi. My life and his, gone in a puff of smoke because I can't let go of this childish obsession.

I should delete it now. Treason. That's what I'm staring at as I scroll through the pages of my secret research, perusing words seen so many times before. This is treason. Treason against the Republic, treason against the Jedi . . .

Treason against Qui-Gon Jinn, in mind and spirit.

Sighing, I flip the file back to the first page, staring blankly at the document that started it all, so many years ago. What turned me from the path I should have walked, turned me to this dangerous middle path. The road could fork at any moment . . . and right now I have no idea which path I'd walk down.

I was doing it for him in the beginning. I had seen my newly won Master bleeding, his heart ripped asunder, and in my childish innocence I believed I could help. I could heal the wound that the Jedi Order had struggled against for years. I could do what those older and wiser could not.

I actually believed in myself that much.

So I started stalking Xanatos.

~*~

The Dark Side is seductive. I learned that when I was no taller than Yoda, standing next to him and repeating his words in a babyish lisp, not understanding the meaning but knowing their import.

Now I understand. The Dark Side is not seductive. It is the darkness . . . the mystery. Shrouded in puzzle and legend, hidden from the view of all but a select few--that is what makes it seductive. The allure of knowing what few else know.

The possibility that I could understand what so few understand.

We are scholars, the Jedi. We are seekers. I seek knowledge wherever it may come to me . . . and it came to me in the form of Xanatos.

He doesn't know how much I've learned from him. I'm sure he'd exalt if he did, knowing that he has cast doubt in the mind of one who believed so readily. But I've watched him for eight years now. Watched every move he makes, every thing he does. I know more about him than any other living being. I've grown adept at tracking his movements.

And I keep it all in this file . . . the file that could be my undoing. If Qui-Gon were to find it, what would he say? My excuses would not last under scrutiny . . . for what excuse can I give that will pardon me? I could have brought Xanatos to heel years ago. Could have destroyed him a thousand times over.

Instead I let him slip through my fingers, watching him instead. Tracking his movements, studying his strategy. There still may come a day when we will be enemies again, and I will triumph, knowing him better than he knows himself.

But maybe . . . maybe we don't have to be enemies . . .

Footsteps in the hallway alert me in time to close down the file, pulling up a physics assignment and assuming a look of reluctant attention. The door slides softly open, my Master stepping through.

"We have been summoned before the Council," he murmurs softly, crossing the room to rest a hand on my shoulder. "We're needed on Malistaar."

"What's the situation?" I ask. I already know, but I have to ask.

His fingers tighten slightly, and I can feel the stress in his body. "Xanatos is there."

Nodding, I gather up my cloak and shut my terminal down. I've known for months that Xanatos was setting up his new base on Malistaar. It was only a matter of time until the Council sent us to deal with it.

Padding softly behind Qui-Gon on the way to the Council Chambers, I let a soft smile form on my lips. Maybe this encounter will the one. The one where I talk to him.

Maybe the stalking can be over.