Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except Kothari Aaarak. Both the paraphrased lyrics and the title of this story come from Colplay's "Atlas."

Carry Your World

ø

Some saw the sun,

some saw the smoke

Some heard the gun,

some bent the bow

Sometimes the wire

must tense for note

Caught in the fire,

we're about to explode

Heaven we hope,

is just up the road

Show me the way, Lord,

I'm about to explode

ø

The day is numb. The gentle blue and yellow of the skies are replaced by crushing grays in light and dark shades. The rain pelts down upon the city like bullets, relentless against the flimsy umbrellas that fold under the pressure. Thunder roars and lightning blinds. The HoloGossip says it's the perfect weather to cuddle up with your special someone. HoloForecast warns you to stay inside.

In the Jedi Temple, a tall, broad-shouldered man with billowing black robes strides down the hall with a noticeable limp. The dim lights illuminate the angry red scar over his water-blue eye. His footsteps, the only ones in the hall, reverberate eerily, sending a prickly sensation through his own skin.

The muted thunder rumbles through the walls from outside, as if trying to get his attention. But he barely notices; he is too urgent. He is too worried. He is numb as the day is, and he has to change that before the chance slips from his fingers. He just has to get there.

Luckily, the first great problem is out of the way; he need not ask around or search the Force. He knows at once where to find her.

The hum of a single lightsaber breaks the silence as Master Anakin Skywalker enters the sparring room. The windows allow for little natural light; that which does spill through is the color of chrome. The owner of the lightsaber, the only figure in the room, is whirling the weapon over her head and leaping in the air before landing and striking down with force. To the untrained eye, she is calm and calculating, a Padawan with the peacefulness of a Jedi Master. But he knows what the crease between her eyebrows mean and what the jaw looks like when teeth are clenched. Anakin feel the heat behind her cold stare, can see the tremble in her lip where others would see stiffness, can hear a growl behind her even breath. . . all beneath her struggle to be numb as the day is.

Her eyes flicker to him and away like a candle in the dark. She stabs at her unseen opponent in silence.

So he will have to talk first.

"What are you doing?" he asks, leaning against the wall.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she replies breathlessly, swinging in midair with a smooth spin.

He narrows his eyes, blaming himself for allowing her the verbal freedoms he never had with Obi-Wan. "It looks like you're sparring."

She doesn't answer. He doesn't expect her to; she's never been good with small talk and mundane topics, preferring to delve into depth after first greetings. It's a trait that has cost her many potential friendships.

"But we both know better," he continues. "You're hiding."

She still doesn't answer, just stabs viciously at the air.

"You can hide from the other Padawans, and you can hide from the Council, but you can't hide from me."

"Why not?" she snarls, bending her legs to jab toward the ground. "Why burden you and everyone else with all my little feelings?"

"That's what I'm here for," Anakin says patiently. "And you're not a burden to me."

"Yeah? Well I'm a kriffing burden to me."

"Don't say that."

"What, kriffing?"

Hiding the smile he shouldn't have, Anakin steps forward, keeping his distance from his Padawan as she blocks an imaginary strike. He must tread carefully with his next response; as much as he hates her self-deprecation, he can't deny that he empathizes. This girl, this suffering girl, embodies who he was at her age. Who is he to tell her not to feel what she's feeling?

"Your form is perfect," he muses. "You strike with precision. But you're using too much of your emotions."

"And what's wrong with that?" she retorts, jumping and swiping the air.

"Sooner or later, they always get the best of you."

"Is that your way of telling me what I did was wrong?"

"No, that's just my honest advice."

She laughs bitterly, twirling her weapon and stabbing the air behind her. "About combat or Cato Nemoidia?"

Anakin's sigh is like spacecraft exhaust. He had hoped the inevitable conversation would start off better than this. . .but no matter. As long as it is tackled now.

…..

Yoda sat quietly in the middle of the council's heated debate, his eyes closed, his face screwed up tight against the noise. Part of him was disappointed in the way grown adults, Jedi Masters, were handling themselves like Padawans, talking over each other and raising their voices. The other part of him understood; as a whole, the Jedi Order had endured many changes and setbacks to their way of life, like fallen Jedi, Sith, Politics, and near-war. Only once had they dealt with a Chosen One who, by all rights, should not have been the Chosen One, and they had overcome that bump as well. But this. . .this was another monster entirely.

"How is this possible?" Mace Windu demanded. "How does a child conceived by midichlorians with a count of over 20,000 exist and no one foresees it?"

"We can only foresee what the Force allow us to," Kit Fisto snapped. "The more pressing question is why the Force did not warn us of this?"

"Perhaps the Force did not deem it necessary to divulge all its plans," Ki-Adi-Mundi offered, the only one who seemed resignedly amused.

"Oh, don't be like that," Shaak Ti admonished him, "The Force has never left us unprepared for an event of THIS magnitude! Something must be wrong."

"With the Force?" Ki-Adi-Mundi snorted.

"No. . ." Adi Gallia breathed, looking suddenly horrified. "With us."

Yoda sighed through his nose; so she had come to the same conclusion as he. Now, what would the other members make of such a theory?

"Us?" Kit Fisto sniffed. "Everyone in this room has the closest connection to the Force in the Galaxy! The Dark Side can cloud vision, but not obliterate it completely!"

"I don't think that's what she meant," Windu said slowly, staring at Adi Gallia, whose Force signature was swirling with dread.

"I think," she rasped, "I think we've failed the Force somehow. . .gone against its wishes or chose our own judgment over its will. I always said there were some rules we didn't need, some positions we were too rigid on. . .I worried the Force was freer than we allowed each other to be. . .and we have been wrong."

Kit Fisto gaped at her. Windu rubbed his eyes wearily. Shaak Ti was chewing her lip, trying to catch Adi's darting eye.

Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up. "So, we're paying penance or learning a lesson."

"Or receiving a warning," Saesee Tiin spoke up. "The child's future is very uncertain. She is a massive holder of power and she's already learning to manipulate it to her desires-without any guidance. She could be our Savior or our destruction."

"So what do we do?" Windu asked out loud, sounding more rhetorical than anything else. A silence fell over the group, as everyone fought to provide an answer and failed.

Finally, Yoda opened his eyes. "The will of the Force, this incident may be," he said quietly, "Presented with a task, we have been. Not to be taken lightly, this task is."

"In that case," Windu responded, "We probably shouldn't reject her from the Jedi Temple."

"No," Yoda agreed. "We shouldn't."

"But she is too old!" Kit Fisto protested. "Our younglings are taken from infantry precisely to avoid this kind of problem! She will have to break deep attachments and control emotions we have learned all our lives to release! We are not prepared to take on such a risk, not with the war going on!"

"Master Fisto has a point," Shaak Ti said, "It's depleted our energy, killed our best Knights and Padawans alike, the Senate is breathing down our necks, the Chancellor-" she cut herself off with a sigh. "Forgive me, I'm rambling. But my point still stands. We cannot handle this girl right now, not the way she deserves."

Most of the Masters looked somber and dejected, but Yoda was wearing the tiniest of smiles. He could feel one person's lightbulb moment, a dawning realization that would steer their fate in the right direction.

"Excuse me," said a gentle voice that had, up until then, remained quiet throughout the whole meeting. "I can recall another child, who, 19 years ago, came into our Temple with the same circumstances as this girl. His potential was just as strong and his future was just as clouded. Everyone was certain they couldn't handle him."

One by one, heads slowly turned to the source of the voice, eyes widening in understanding.

Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled warmly at his fellow Council members as he concluded, "I think I know the perfect candidate to train this child."

…..

"You did well during negotiations," Anakin begins, opting for the positive first. "The Trade Federation are a spiteful bunch, and they know how to get under your skin, but not once did you budge. Obi-Wan has taught you well."

She slows her movements a fraction. "Yes, he has."

"The droid attack was expected, but not prepared for," Anakin continues. "You were right to be on your guard from the beginning."

"I told you."

He won't mention that he'd already known and just wanted his Padawan to realize herself. Instead, he assents, "Yes, you did."

She flips in the air and slices it in half. "They said they were going to convene in another room."

"They lied."

"Those fucking droids. . ."

"They came up from behind."

Her voice trembles with anger. "Cowards."

"Soldiers."

"Run by cowards."

"Kothari-"

"They got you, Master. Didn't even let you stand before they shot at you."

"Could we expect them to?"

Anakin knows it's the wrong thing to say when Kothari strikes directly at the ground, leaving smoking gashes in the rug.

"You were wounded," she hisses. "You were wounded and you kept trying to fight! And then you-you fell!"

"Yes, I did," says Anakin, sensing a swell of heartache through the Force. "That must have been hard for you."

"They were going kill you. KILL you, Master. You would have died if it wasn't for. . ."she falters.

"If it wasn't for you," Anakin finishes, clasping his hands behind him. "I know that, my dear Padawan. You fought with everything you had until reinforcements came."

"Yes I did. I fought them. I saved your life."

"But at what cost? The Dark Side is not to be toyed with."

"Don't you think I know that?!" she spits, lowering her lightsaber and turning to her Master for the first time since he entered. "You think I haven't gone over that moment over and over in my head, seeing if I could have done it differently? You think I wouldn't have done differently if I had a choice?"

Anakin bows his head. "There is always a choice."

"I HAD NO CHOICE!" she roars, pouting her lightsaber in his direction. "You just don't trust me!"

The Force billows around them. Anakin feels the heat of her wrath, and that saddens him. He recognizes the darkness he's spent his whole life trying to squash, now festering in this sixteen-year-old girl. She is too young, he laments, she is still too young.

"I am not questioning your intentions, Kothari, nor am I disregarding your valiance. I am proud of your bravery, and thankful that you saved my life. I am only worried because you drew on your anger to do so."

Kothari slowly lowers his weapon, deactivating it. Her breath is sharp and her face is stubbornly set. "If anger saved your life. . .how bad can it be?"

…..

That same day, they called in Jedi Knight Skywalker.

Anakin had been meditating deeply after a particularly heinous mission; his brain was plagued with images of exploding ships and disassembled bodies, bodies of men he had served with for nine years in a war that started off promising and deteriorated over time. The losses were staggering on both sides, to the point where Anakin wondered grimly if anyone would come out the victor in the end. If there was an end in sight.

One of the younglings had interrupted his meditation apologetically to tell him that the Council needed to see him for an urgent assignment. Something about this made Anakin feel strangely anticipatory. Ruffling the boy's hair, he stood up and made his way over to the other side of the Temple, walking faster than usual.

When he entered, the unusual aura of apprehension overwhelmed him. All the Council members were sitting stiffly in their chairs, staring unflinchingly at him. Windu and Yoda looked slightly less rigid, but still regarding Anakin intently. Anakin's eyes flashed to where Obi-Wan was sitting, and his Master's encouraging nudge in the Force calmed his nerves.

He bowed in the center of the room. "Masters."

"Knight Skywalker," Yoda greeted. "Back from a long mission, you are. Feeling at peace, I hope you are."

"I'm sure we will all find more peace when the War is over," Anakin responded soberly. "I understand you had an urgent assignment for me?"

Yoda pursed his lips. "In a manner of speaking. . ."

Mace Windu glanced at Yoda, as if looking for a final confirmation, before plowing forward with the news. "A young Aldeeranian child has been brought to the Jedi Temple this week. The mother is gravely ill and has asked us to take the child in for training."

Anakin blinked, feeling a bit crestfallen. He held his tongue, however, waiting for more information.

"When we met with the child, we were struck by her rudimentary skill with the Force, despite never having a Master. We sent for a test of her midichlorian count." Windu swallowed. "It is as high as yours."

Cold surprise trickled down Anakin's skin. His eyebrows furrowed; he had long believed he was the only one with the highest midichlorian count. Qui-Gon's shock and excitement at the discovery showed Anakin that his case was very rare. He could still remember the way he felt when Qui-Gon presented him to the Council, stating proudly, "I believe he is the Chosen One." It made more sense as time went on; after all, Anakin did have a count of per 20,000, and-

Wait.

"Wait," he heard his voice pipe up hoarsely; his feet suddenly felt like jelly. "You said her mother brought her here. You didn't mention a father."

Windu raised his eyebrows with an air of impatience while Yoda shifted in his seat. Anakin turned his head to look at Obi-Wan pleadingly. The older Jedi took pity on his former Padawan and answered, "The mother told us there was no father. She simply had the baby."

It took a few moments for Anakin to remember to breathe. He swallowed, the dry flesh of his throat unsticking painfully.

"What. . .what does this mean? There's another Chosen One?" He bit down the second question: Am I off the hook?

"That's the problem, Skywalker," Windu said heavily. "There is no prophecy regarding another Chosen One. We don't know what she is."

"You don't know?" Anakin repeated frustratedly. "None of you have any idea-HAD any idea that a girl conceived by midichlorians has been roaming the galaxy for-Force, how long?"

"Nine years," Obi-Wan answered, unmoved by his former apprentice's outburst. "The girl is nine years old."

As quickly as the frustration had come, it left in a whoosh. The Council room disappeared around him. He was crouching on a dirt ground, in a Tusken Raider's tent, holding a cooling body in his arms, feeling a bloodlust unlike any other, his hand moving to the belt of his lightsaber-

"Anakin."

Anakin shook himself out of his memories and stared at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, whose shimmering eyes told him he was remembering the same thing, and had come to the same conclusion.

There would be time to hash out the details later, get over the worst of the shock, but right now, Anakin needed to get it together. The Force sung gleefully beneath his fingertips, reminding him that events were never in his control, that his fate had been set in motion years before he discovered it, and now was the moment of truth: would he take the task or fail?

Breathing deeply through his teeth, Anakin slowly turned back to Yoda and Windu, who were both watching him warily.

"What is the girl's name?" he asked, his voice significantly leveled compared to the whirlwind of emotion inside him.

It was Yoda who answered. "Kothari Aaraak."

…..

Anakin is struck once again by how much she looks and sounds like him. Or rather, who he used to be. With her arms hung at her sides and her lips pouting, she betrays the turmoil of her youth, the growing pains of life between girlhood and womanhood. Sixteen has never looked so painful.

"There is a danger in using the wrong means for the right ends," he says slowly.

"So you've never done what I did out there?" Kothari snaps back. "You can't tell me it isn't effective. It saved your life."

"But at what cost?" he coaxes. "Can you truthfully say that you could not have drawn from a healthier place?"

She looks away, jaw locked. "You don't understand."

"You know I do," Anakin retorts. "I know what fear can do to the best of intentions."

He is taken aback when she laughs again in that same mirthless way. "You sound like Yoda. What's next? 'Fear is a path to the dark side?'"

"He says that for a reason."

"You mean he says it from experience," she bites back, glaring at him. "Every last one of them-they say a real Jedi knows no fear. But they're all afraid."

"This is war, Kothari. We are all a little afraid-"

"They're afraid of me."

Anakin halts at that; the crux of the entire argument, the underlying issue, is that the Jedi Order still looks at her as a ticking time bomb for the Dark Side.

"I save my Master's life after a sneak attack and the first thing they do is berate me for how I did it," she says moodily, kicking at the ground. "Rambling on about how they sense great conflict and fear in me, forgetting the fact that I can sense all of them from a mile away and still feel how much they hate me."

"They don't hate you," Anakin jumps in, running his gloved hand through his hair. "The Council can be. . .strict sometimes, but their intentions are to help you."

"No, your intentions are to help me," she contended. "And that's just by the grace of the Council not knowing what else to do with me."

"What does that mean?"

"Come on, Master," she nearly sneers, hands on her hips. "You don't have to ask around much to learn how many Jedi were lining up to train me. You had to be begged yourself. Just ask those asshole Padawans I call peers."

"They said that?" Anakin felt a small flame of anger rise in his stomach.

"Are they lying?"

"You know they are lying," he said, shaking his head. "Why do you let them get to you?"

"Why does the Council hate me?"

"Kothari-"

"No, no Kothari anything!" she barks. "Not when you see it too: the way they scrutinize me and scold me and judge me before I even have the chance to prove myself! This is just another mark against my name, and you know it! You didn't even defend me in there!"

"Now, wait a moment," Anakin protests, squaring his shoulders. "I just came back from defending you to the Council. You would have had a graver punishment than just extra meditation if it weren't for my good word."

"Oh, thank you," she simpers sarcastically, bowing low. "I'm so pleased! Now I only have to meditate five hours more! Never mind that I'm better at it than half the other Padawans!"

"Well, what did you expect? You know better than to let your emotions control you."

"Again," Kothari responds with gritted teeth, "I saved your life. If I'd known you were going to be so kriffing ungrateful, I wouldn't have bothered. You'd clearly rather die."

"Watch your tone, Padawan," says Anakin sharply. For the thousandth time since Kothari's apprenticeship, he wonders: was he this insolent with Obi-Wan?

"Oh forgive me," she drawls, with a hand to her chest. "Have I made you angry? Am I being all Sith-y and dangerous? Better haul me back to Aldeeran now."

"This is exactly why anger is the wrong weapon!" Anakin declares, his own voice rising. "You've carried it with you back home!"

"I've carried it with me all my life!" Kothari stalks towards him with blazing eyes. "I have no mother-"her voice cracks-"-no father, no friends, the Knights don't trust me, the Masters don't trust me, the Council is afraid of me! Everyone in this damned Temple waits for me to make a mistake so they can prove they were right not to want to take me in! The only reason I am here is so I don't turn Sith, but they still treat me like I'm on my way there! And all this," she waves her arms frantically, "because of a prophecy that doesn't exist for a life that clearly shouldn't! How am I supposed to feel? I don't belong here! If I did, there would have been a sign by now, but there's nothing! I am nothing! So what's the point of training me when there is NO POINT IN ME LIVING?!"

The silence is earth-shattering. They stare at each other with wild eyes, frozen in the presence of their greatest enemy. Unable to bare it, she spins around and hugs her stomach, her shoulders trembling with the weight of her pain.

The pause gives Anakin the freedom to feel momentarily helpless. After seven years, the words still don't come easy to him. In combat, in meditation, and in war, he can teach anyone. He's done well in making their bond closer than that of his and Obi-Wan when it first started. This, however, is a more delicate matter, usually solved with space or meditation sessions, and, in rare cases, an account of his own life experience.

But this time, the Force is speaking to him, reminding him of the one story he's kept from his Padawan since the beginning.

Anakin closes his eyes, sends a prayer to the Force, and opens his mouth.

…..

"Master."

Anakin was so anxious and excited he could barely get the words out.

"You know what this means? Master Master-" he pulled Obi-Wan by the arm into their secluded quarters. "It was her. That presence I felt all those years ago-it was her, all along! She's the shift! It's her, Oh Force it's her-"

"Anakin, calm down," Obi-Wan cut across firmly. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack."

"Can you blame me? This has-I've been waiting nine years for this. Nine years! I have searched my feelings, I have scoured the Galaxy, I have asked the Force directly-and finally, finally-" Anakin ran his hands through his hair with a startled laugh, "We've found her, Master. . .oh Force, we've found her. Kothari." He said the name slowly, with relish, knowing he would say it for the rest of his life. "Kothari Aaraak."

"Yes, Kothari Aaraak," Obi-Wan repeated grimly. Anakin's smile faded at his tone.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter," Obi-Wan shook his head. "Not really. . ."

"Master," Anakin pressed, sitting down on the couch next to his friend, "You're not a good liar, and you never have been. Spill."

Obi-Wan sighed, stroking his greying beard. "You are going to train her."

"Of course."

"And you're sure about this?"

Anakin leaned back, affronted. "How can you even ask me that? I've been waiting for nine years for this! I've never felt more sure about anything in my life!" He looked at Obi-Wan accusingly. "And you know this. You know what this means to me."

"I know, I know," Obi-Wan tried to placate, but Anakin's eyes were blazing.

"You were on my side all the way until now! "

"I am still on your side.

"Then why?"

The older Jedi dragged his fingers from his forehead to his chin, feeling the weight of the Galaxy on his shoulders. He would have to go about this carefully, without mincing words.

"Anakin, you and I alone know of your connection to this girl. That shift in the Force was felt only by you; no other member of the Jedi Order understands. They haven't spent nearly a decade anticipating another sign from the Force. All they see is a repeat of when you first arrived at the Temple; a Force-conceived child with attachments, emotions, and a cloudy future. For them, that's enough; they have no reason to believe in her like you do."

Anakin's head was in his hands, burdened by the accuracy of his friend's words.

"I know all of this, Master," He finally said. "That's not going to stop me from training her."

"I'm not saying it will," Obi-Wan countered gently. "But it certainly is going to make things harder. It's you and her against the world now. . .take it from someone who knows." The sudden edge in his voice made Anakin's heart skip a beat. The memory of a clean-shaven Obi-Wan with his braid in his fist flashed in his mind.

"It's not just me and her, you know," Anakin said in a wavering voice. "We're going to need you too. I can't. . .do this without you."

Obi-Wan's smile was wide and warm as he rubbed his friend's shoulder comfortingly. "You will never have to."

After a few moments of grateful silence, Anakin cleared his throat and brought playfulness back into his tone. "So, now that that's out of the way. . .I say let's meet her! Well, you already have. What's she like?"

Obi-Wan stood up, adjusting his robe. "She's quite the child. Timid one minute, and bold the next. I think you'll find a lot of yourself in her."

"Oh?" Anakin grinned cockily. "Is she that charming?"

Obi-Wan smirked. "No. That stubborn."

…..

"When I was a Padawan," he spoke slowly, watching her back, "I began having dreams about my mother. I'd left home when I was ten and hadn't seen her for a decade. The dreams came out of nowhere. They involved her in some kind of suffering that I couldn't define, but I always felt it. Obi-Wan would tell me not to put too much stock in dreams, that they would fade in time. He didn't know any better." What growth, Anakin marvels, to look back on such a grievous error and not feel any anger. "He and I were separated by respective missions; I escorted Padmé back to Naboo while he searched for the person trying to kill her. The nightmares continued there-they got worse. . .It was torture, seeing something so vivid and not knowing if it was real or fake."

She's heard two versions of this story-the one where they win the battle against Dooku's droids, and the one where he falls in love with his now-wife. But this was the one version he'd kept to himself. Her figure freezes, but she makes no move to turn around. So he keeps going.

"And then I couldn't take it anymore. . .I had to go to Tattooine. To find her. I found out she had been taken captive by a-a primitive pack of nomads. My search led me to their village, where I found her." He shudders; some memories never lose their bite. "She was barely hanging on when I got to her. I can now appreciate that she got to see me again, after so long. . .she always said I'd be a great Jedi. . .at least she got that last view of me.

"But I was angry, Kothari. I was so angry and hurt. . .that I wanted revenge. I wanted to make the villagers pay. I wanted to kill them. All of them."

Kothari is slowly turning around with an expression of dread, the dread that comes from hearing yourself through someone else's voice. If this is her reaction now, at sixteen years old, then he did make the right decision to hold off on telling her.

"And I would have." He waits a beat. "But then I felt something. A shift in the Force unlike any other. It was as if the all the love in the world had spilled over and into my very soul. I'd never felt such a warm presence in my life. Against the light, my anger and vengeance had no power, and for the first time in years I could finally release them into the Force. All that was left to do was take my mother home and give her a proper burial."

Kothari's eyes are swimming in unshed tears, her lightsaber hanging loosely in her hand. The air around them is silent, as though waiting for the standoff to conclude before moving again.

"Nine years later, a young girl with the same Force presence came to the Jedi Temple to be trained."

The room echoes with the sound of her lightsaber clattering to the floor. Her mouth drops open and she takes a step back, as if frightened by the truth; for this, he steps closer.

"The Council was thrown off, the other Knights were skeptical, and nobody had felt the shift in the Force when you were born. The only ones who knew were me and Obi-Wan. And I swear by the Force, Kothari, I didn't need persuading. I knew I was meant to be your mentor."

…..

Obi-Wan knocks on Mace Windu's door. "It's us!"

Windu opens the door, looking vaguely troubled. "Yes, do come in."

Anakin spots the child sitting cross-legged on the floor. She looks healthy, but frail at the same time. Her neat white shirt and pants were a little too big for her, which made him smile. Her black hair was set in a loose side braid, tendrils already falling out over her face as she admired the ground in front of her. When she looked up, Anakin was immediately moved by the fear in her hazel eyes, the dried tears tracks on her round cheeks, her skin like powdered cocoa, smooth and flawless. This was youth at its peak, he mused. Fear and tears, but also peace, able to sit on the floor and pass the time doing nothing.

"Kothari," Obi-Wan said gently, approaching the girl, "This is Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi Knight. He has requested to meet you."

At first, she froze, mouth slackening in surprise. Then, shyly, she stood up and held out her hand for Anakin to take.

Anakin remembered when he first met Obi-Wan and grinned, taking the girls hand. "I am very pleased to meet you, Kothari."

Her lips curved ever-so-slightly, but he could sense her reservedness around the other Masters, namely Windu, who seemed to get the hint and announced, "We'll leave you two to get acquainted." Obi-Wan nodded, smiling once more at the girl, patting Anakin on the shoulder, and following Windu out the door.

Kothari dropped his hand and went to sit back down on the floor, staring at her hands again.

Hesitantly, Anakin sat down on the floor beside her. "I hear you're from Aldeeran," he began. "I've been there before, it's a beautiful planet."

Silence.

"I'm from the planet Tattooine," Anakin added. "In the Outer Rim. It's not as beautiful as Aldeeran, though-it's a desert planet. Nothing but sand as far as the eye can see."

"I don't like sand," the girl piped up in a small voice.

Anakin's heart melted. "Me neither! I prefer lakes and trees."

"Back home," said Kothari, "I'd play in the Forest all day. I could jump from tree to tree and make the leaves sway back and forth."

"Wow," breathed Anakin. "That's very impressive. I couldn't do that at your age. How did you learn?"

At this, Kothari looked up at him, and her eyes were suddenly steely.

"They're afraid of me," she told him, her voice lowering with a seriousness that threw him off.

He had to gather his thoughts for a proper response. He considered refuting her claim, but something in him warned that she would detect the lie. Instead, he settled on the one truth that mattered.

Leaning in, Anakin locked eyes with hers. "I'm not afraid of you."

Kothari stared back before saying, ". . .I know. And I don't know why."

Reaching out and grasping the girl's shoulder, Anakin told her warmly, "Because there is nothing to be afraid of. You are powerful in the Force-"

"I think that's what scares them," she interrupted with some wryness. "I'm not supposed to be."

"Yes, you are," Anakin insisted. "It's just that no one knew about you before today."

"Why does that matter?"

He could say that her birth is a miracle without a prophecy to define it, but that would be too deep for now. "Jedi usually take children Force-sensitive children into the Temple as a baby. They sense the Force in babies before bringing them here. But they did not know about you."

Kothari frowns, remembering something. "When I met them, they had said something like. . .'Why couldn't we sense her?' Is that what you mean?"

"Yes."

"That's bad, isn't it?" she whispered.

"Not bad," said Anakin carefully. "Just different."

". . .they would have taken me as a baby?"

Anakin nodded. Kothari thought for a moment, and then a look of defiance twisted her face.

"I'm glad," she huffed. "I'm glad I got to stay at home. I wouldn't want to grow up here. . .away from my mother. . ."

Her lower lip quivered, and Anakin was overcome with sadness for her. "I heard she brought you here to be safe."

"I just said goodbye to her," Kothari choked out, crossing her arms tightly. "She wanted to die back home. She-she made me promise to be a good Jedi. . ." He could feel her shaking under his hand, and he moved closer to throw his arm around her shoulders, wishing he could take some of the pain away. All he could do was send soothing waves through the Force to keep the pain from breaking her down.

They sat in silence for a few minutes until the shaking in her shoulders subsided. Then Anakin said quietly, "My mother died too."

Kothari looked at him sorrowfully, her eyes glistening.

"I was brought to the Temple at the same age as you. She sent me here so I could be taken care of."

"How did she die?" Kothari whispered.

It was too soon for that. "One day I'll tell you," he promised, hugging her to his side. "Just know that I understand."

She pondered that for a moment. Then she sat up straight. "They said I'll need a master."

Anakin nodded.

"But they're all afraid of me. No one wants to train me. How am I going to be a Jedi?"

Suddenly he was thankful beyond belief that his life had been what it was. No other Jedi but him was qualified to take her through the trials and tribulations she'd soon endure. For this, all of the hurt and pain he'd gone through before was truly worth it.

"Well, that's why I'm here."

She cocked her head quizzically.

"What do you say," he said, barely containing his joy, "to me being your Master?"

…..

Kothari's breaths are ragged when she tearfully demands, "Why didn't you tell me this before? All this time! All this time!"

"I know," he acquiesces, bowing apologetically. "But you were so young. I didn't want to burden you with something you weren't ready for."

"Ready for?" she repeats incredulously, gesturing to the world around them. "I'm not ready for anything! I don't know what I'm supposed to be ready for!"

"Padawan-"

"So what's this supposed to do for me?" she interrupts, her chest heaving with suppressed sobs. "All it means is the Force gave you something to do and left me with nothing. It just means I'm nothing."

Holding his heart together with all his might, Anakin closes the distance between them and places his hands on her upper arms. "You are not and never will be nothing."

She tries to glare at him, but her face crumples. "Then why do I feel like it? Why do I even bother with the Force when it abandoned me?"

"Search your feelings," he tells Kothari, squeezing her arms lightly. (Another time, he will laugh at how much he sounds like Obi-Wan, and curse his Master for always being right.) "The Force has not abandoned you. A life without prophecy does not mean a life without purpose. You don't need Fate to guide you."

Kothari's hung head shakes. "If Fate can't guide me, what can? I can't even guide myself!"

"That is why I'm here."

"To guide me?" she huffs thickly.

"To help you guide yourself." He gently lifts her chin up so she can see the warmth in his smile. "Maybe that has been my purpose all along."

It takes a long time, but she does return his smile. It is wobbly and watery, but as bright as the sun that still hides behind the storm. Sighing, she leans against his chest and his arms come around to hold her close.

"I can't take all the weight of the world off you," he murmurs into her hair, "but I promise, you will never have to face it alone."

She nods into his shoulder, already taking calming breaths to stave off her hiccups.

Anakin knows in his heart that this won't be the last time she struggles with destiny. It is a war forever waged until the Force sees fit to show mercy. But at least today, the battle is won.

The day doesn't feel so numb anymore.

ø

A/N: I actually had this idea's outline written between "Master Of The Grey" and "Pakskka Palace," but other stories got in the way. I just couldn't let this year end without finally bringing closure to this one "What-If?" story where Anakin trains someone who he can relate to the way no one else can. I know he's much more like Obi-Wan than the Anakin we see in the movies, but I figured if anyone can make Anakin grow up into a calmer Jedi Master, it's someone who's just like him. I think we tend to better ourselves when we see our immaturities in someone else.

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