Although He Smiles
Chapter 12: Hello, Anakin.
Ever-shifting sand dunes disappeared and reappeared in wind that roared against her presence. The caravan she'd watched slowly wind its away across the landscape now sat against the waning sunlight. Unseen figures huddled in groups around the flimsy, canvased transports in the attempts to escape the raging wind. Yet, only one individual truly wanted to remain shrouded in shadow. A form construed of cloth and black moved on assured legs down an embankment of sand, framed by archaic, mysterious, sand-ridden horizons. Something dark seemed to encase the silhouette, hanging around the slender frame just as easily as her robes fell. Despite the hideous darkness, there was a sudden stumble upon the sand. It provided a different, more frantic conclusion to the seamless ease Ahsoka had witnessed before. The unexpected fumble corrupted the proud haze the figure conducted herself with. The scrabble brought her to a stuttering stop at the bottom of the steep incline. Yellow eyes, once grey, darted from beneath a well-concealing hood.
They settled on her.
Ahsoka stared back, watching as the unknown presence extended to full height once more. The sand obscured any chance of discerning who this was, but it hid neither height nor stature. Something cold bit at her hand when she stared into the stranger's eyes. There was something awfully, terribly familiar that moved around her mind and whispered to her soul.
A hand to her arm — a hand tugging at her soul — hauled her away.
"'Soka."
"Anakin."
Blue eyes — blue eyes! — searched her's. Strong hands gripped her arms. Her master held her; wouldn't let go. She fought off the floundering tears that threatened her resolve.
"'Soka, come back."
What?
"Obi-Wan's worried… I've never seen him like this. Master, come on." The words falling past a twenty-two-year-old Anakin's mouth seemed sorely out-of-place. She gripped the fabric of his tunic.
"What?"
"Will she be alright?"
"I'm sure she'll be fine, Anakin."
"You really sure… Because she didn't look fine."
The groggy start of the form on the narrow bed pulled all eyes to the girl below them. As blue eyes gently flickered open, the eldest of the two huddled around her bed sighed.
"Ahsoka."
Said ex-padawan blinked. The face of Qui-Gon Jinn, whose brows were scrunched to new extents, hovered before her. Brown eyes narrowed, strands of long, chestnut hair dancing before her vision. Beside him, a new face swam into her line of sight. And while his identity may have been hidden by his youth to another, Ahsoka had spent far too much time around her old master to not recognise him.
Her heart gave a fluttering start, as if something was alive within her and wanted out.
"Hey," She croaked out, a smile curving her lip.
Because this time, it had been different. This time, there had been no Obi-Wan to nearly kill. There was no swarming vision of the topple of a Republic. There was darkness, most definitely, but it hadn't surged around Anakin Skywalker. She'd seen no yellow tainting his eyes. She'd seen a clear sky-blue, as bright as the first day she'd met him on Christophsis all those years ago.
"Hey," the boy offered back, his head inclining to the side as she stared at him. Her smile, however, never prompted one of his own. In fact, it only seemed to fuel the confusion she could feel radiating from him.
"Ahsoka, how are you feeling?"
A no-longer-gloved hand rose to her head. Other than a mild pang of discomfort, she felt none of the lasting effects of her previous visions. It was an odd comfort; liberating in fact.
"Not as bad as I look, I'm sure." Wobbly muscles brought Ahsoka up to sit against the pillows supporting her.
"You must be feeling pretty okay then." Anakin gave a smile, finally, before he was taking a step back. "I'll go tell Padmé and my mom. Mom'll probably have some stew left over. You hungry?" He stopped at the doorway, a break to his seemingly bouncing exterior. With a turn of surprise and an almost choke, Ahsoka nodded.
"Yeah, yeah that'd be nice. Thanks, Ana—" Kriff. There had been no stopping it, of course. Not as she stared at him with wide eyes. Shock gripped her like a vice— because there was no darkness. She had been expecting it. She had expected it to curl around him in decimating waves, yet… Nothing. Only light. Somehow, it startled her more than if she had been greeted by the Dark Side. "Anakin. Thank you."
Impossibly blue eyes narrowed on her, before they were darting to the only other occupant of the room. Something unspoken passed between the two before Qui-Gon placed a large hand on Ahsoka's blanket.
"It's alright, Anakin. I'll explain later. Can you go an fetch something for Ahsoka to eat? She'll be very hungry about now."
A concerned expression scrunched his nose, but, "Alright." And then he was gone from the room.
With eyes still wide, Ahsoka remained glued to the doorway. She shook her head, blinking away the hazy image that had placed Anakin still in the doorway. There was a strange twist in her gut, letting her know the true reason behind her inability to depart with the entrance to the room.
She expected him to walk back in.
Not the nine-year-old Anakin, no. Rather, she hoped for Master Skywalker to come stumbling through the crumbling archway. It was a distant wish, too far-fetched to ever be fulfilled. She begged for him to appear, spot her lying prone on this old bed with a panicked call of that blasted nickname, and take her away. Back to reality. Back to my time.
With an inaudible sigh, Ahsoka collapsed into the pillows behind her. It was an absurd wish, just as preposterous as she actually being here. But still, his eyes were blue. Bright and blue.
"You know, I will have to tell him something."
"What?"
Her gaze abandoning the coarse ceiling above her and settling on the calm exterior of Qui-Gon Jinn, Ahsoka heaved a sigh. With exhausted arms, she began to pull herself back up again. Her hands pressed into the flimsy mattress beneath, ready to manoeuvre her weight again, until Qui-Gon's hand gently grasped her now un-ponchoed arm.
"No, I don't want you to strain anything. You fell rather awkwardly in Watto's shop. Just rest, young one."
Something caught in Ahsoka's throat, a mild deterrent but with enough weight behind it to stop her flailing attempts at bringing herself upright. Blue eyes met a gentle brown. Young one.
"Where are we?" The words sounded fainter than she would have liked, but her eyes were busying scanning every wall and corner of the cramped room both her and Qui-Gon were cooped up in — along with a multitude of dismembered electronics, mechanical bits-and-bobs, bolts and nuts, a plethora of tools, toy models that would have seen brighter days, and a protocol droid (Ahsoka supposed it was — the droid was missing a few important layers). However, the mess itself spoke for the owner of said room.
With a sad smile, Ahsoka pressed her lips together. He hadn't changed at all.
"Something tells me you might already know the answer to that, Ahsoka."
The knowing glimmer in both his tone and gaze had her's skimming away again. With a sigh, she knew the master had his answer. "I understand that you will be hesitant to explain everything, Padawan. However, when the boy begins to ask why the first thing to pass your unconscious lips is a tortured choke of his name — I can't make up an excuse that they don't deserve. The boy, and his mother."
"I know. It's just —" He was right. She couldn't explain all of it. Not here, not now. Not to a man that in less than a week should be dead. Not to a small boy pulsing innocence and untapped strength into the Force. Neither of them needed to be burdened with such a revelation. A hand came up to rub at her bare arm.
"Here," something small and cylindrical was offered to her. Once she'd discerned that the muggy grey liquid within was water, Ahsoka took the cup with a smile. "Thanks Master."
A moment of content silence passed, where the only sound within the room was of Ahsoka draining the glass, and the chorus of chirping insects outside in the night.
"Would you be able to at least tell me why you collapsed when Anakin arrived? In truth, I was expecting that once I got you away from my padawan you would be less prone to these erratic fits." She handed the now empty mug back to awaiting hands. Oh no…
"I suppose I —" The same feeling plagued her again. Something was thrashing against her ribcage, wanting out. If before, within the confines of the mess hall, Ahsoka's indecision surrounding the truth caused her to stumble over words and laugh mirthlessly at herself, then here… "I suppose it's useless to try and hide it..." She was sure Qui-Gon could see her indecision, let alone sense it in waves. "But I do know him. My visions, I mean. I saw him."
It wasn't exactly a lie. No, in some ways it was the truth. From a certain point of view.
Qui-Gon's brow quirked. Something within her recognised the meaning behind the gesture, despite only a short acquaintance with the Jedi Master. Surprise, shock, and a good dose of disbelief. Qui-Gon inclined in his seat, a hand coming up to rub at his bearded chin. It was an action she sadly recognised.
"You saw the boy in your visions. Do you know him in your time?"
Her heart skipped a beat, words refusing to come. It was so unlike her — usually she was always ready with a quip on her tongue. Come on Ahsoka.
"Yes, but only a partial acquaintance." Was it safer to not tell him? Could she trust those eyes, encourage them even? If Anakin's accounts were anything to go by, it was 'Master Obi-Wan's Master' who found the boy and brought him to the temple.
She'd only ever heard of the heroic but somewhat unorthodox master — of all his kindness and maverick nature burnt up too early on. Could she trust him? Anakin did. He said so himself.
~'Train the boy, Obi-Wan. Train him.'
A broken, desperate hiccup. 'Yes, Master.' ~
"Ahsoka."
An angry hand came to wipe at the traitorous tear staining her cheek. Stop it, it was a low grumble into the Force. Please.
"Padawan, forgive me for my possible ignorance, but usually crying over something or someone suggests more than 'a partial acquaintance'." He leaned forward again, perching himself on elbows that dug into his shins. The Togruta's face curled up into a storm of disgust. However, he could sense the internal struggle — it was directed at herself. There was attachment there, strong at the heart but fraying around crumbling edges. "I'm sorry, Master."
It was neither the time nor place to reprimand her for such feelings. The boy seemed to be ignorant, but Qui-Gon could sense behind well-built shields her affection — and fear. She was broadcasting, no longer in control of what he'd sensed were shields beyond the level of an eighteen-year-old padawan. But just as brief as the glimmer of pain had been, the walls were thrown back up as high as the sides of the Temple itself.
"Ahsoka," A gentle hand rested against her blanket. The action called her gaze up to meet him. "I more than suspect you have been called to this time for a reason. While I sense the Force will reveal why in its own mystic time," A flash of something, "The boy does deserve to know why we are currently in his bedroom, and his mother should want to know why she has to give away half her rations for the next week."
Ahsoka set her jaw, but felt none of the surety behind the action. It was as if someone was sending her out to face the darkness alone — there was hope, but it flickered like an obscure candle in the night. She just hoped Anakin would be the beacon upon the shore, rather than the evil lurking patiently beneath the waves.
Lithe limbs swung effortlessly over the side of the sleep couch, the feeling now too familiar. Her blanket fell away, and she sensed more than saw Qui-Gon collect the cloth and begin to fold it into neat little sections. "I'll go and tell him something. You're right, they deserve some explanation." Booted feet met the decidedly tidier floor, and she seethed past the pain in her knees.
"Careful, padawan. You did collide awkwardly with the floor… and the Queen's legs. You might need to offer her an apology later."
Some sound akin to an exasperated 'argh' left her mouth, hands raising to scrub at her face. Sun-kissed fingers pressed into the markings over her brow bones. Qui-Gon swore he heard an embittered, 'Why?' and 'First Obi-Wan, now Padmé?'
"Stars, maybe I shouldn't go find him."
Qui-Gon smiled, setting the blanket down at the end of Ani's bed. He rose on weary legs. "He'll be alright, padawan. I just want you to be careful." A hand was suddenly at her shoulder, and Ahsoka's head turned with a forced ease. "I suspect you knowing Anakin's name, as well as Obi-Wan's and the Queen's is a little more than just these visions you've been having." His chin fell, bringing him to stare at her past arched brows. "I trust that by the end of tonight, Anakin won't know the proceedings of the next decade and a half before any of us, will he."
It was a gentle reprimand, one that left a much needed smile on Ahsoka's lips. Her head shook with a lighthearted 'no' to accompany.
"Very well, Ahsoka. Just be mindful of the Living Force. If it begins to — move again,"
"Don't stand next to Anakin where I can easily squash him, yep. Gotcha."
A goodnatured chuckle rumbled lowly from Qui-Gon's chest. "Be cautious. I promised Obi-Wan I'd bring you back to the ship in one, lucid piece."
At the quirk of her brow, Qui-Gon's smile brightened mischievously. "My padawan seems to believe you might be his future padawan."
Oh.
"Either that, or your master is someone by the name of Emeraé."
What?
When his searching gaze revealed no note of recognition or unexpected panic, Qui-Gon resigned himself. His padawan had been wrong then. Well, at least it was a small part of the mystery out of the way.
"Where'd he come up with that?" She gave an incredulous look to an unsuspecting floor tile. Qui-Gon heaved a sigh.
"You apparently asked him about an Emeraé during a recent episode."
She shook her head, only emphasising to Qui-Gon her utter confusion. "I don't know any Emeraé."
The Jedi Master folded his arms, trying not to bite his lip. It was a habit his own master had tried to dissuade from him for the first few years of his apprenticeship. It wasn't until a fourteen year old Qui-Gon had managed to offend some important dignitary from the Liàront System with his unbecoming mouth movements did Master Dooku finally have his way. It was only the diplomatic prowess of his respect-commanding master that managed to salvage the situation. Qui-Gon had been forced to apologise for his 'ignorant ways' to a haughty-taughty senator. "You almost managed to start a war between the Republic and the Liáront System, my young apprentice. Let this be a lesson to you and your indecorous quirks." He learnt to school it in after that, for obvious reasons. Who knew when you could accidentally tell a dignitary to go and do something rather improper with themselves. Tahl had laughed for weeks after.
But here and now, Qui-Gon fought the odd sensation once more. The young padawan seemed not to have noticed; rather, the worrying of her own lip showed her own anxieties. Qui-Gon resisted the urge to chastise her as he would have done with Obi-Wan — the girl was not his padawan.
Clearing his throat, Qui-Gon offered the only other insight he could to the situation. "Emeraé is an indigenous name to the Moons of Kiplar. However, there are no Kiplarians that have the name Emeraé within the Temple."
Keen eyes turned back to him. "Within the Temple? Do you know an Emeraé?"
After a belated moment, Qui-Gon nodded. "It's not a common name by any stretch — the Kiplars are an isolated people at best. However, there is a fishmonger on Coruscant that Obi-Wan and I frequent. She goes by the name Emeraé."
"A fishmonger?" Her brows quirked, her chin dropping. Qui-Gon merely shrugged his shoulders. Somehow, the casual, comfortable movement brought some echo of warmth to the once-padawan.
"You did ask."
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Ahsoka shook her head. They were only running in circles here — she made a note to ask Master Obi-Wan about it when she returned to the ship. However, here and now she had a nine-year-old master to go find. Turning her shoulder brought Qui-Gon to her side. The pain in her knee seemed to subside into the Force, curtesy of her own efforts as they made the doorway.
"By the Gods' grace… You're awake."
A woman with hair as dark as the night on Diloriat III dropped a basket of laundry onto the ground. Ahsoka struggled to place her rounded jawline and cracked lips against the handsome features of Anakin Skywalker — and came up short. It wasn't until she found a bowl of soup in her hands and a young chattering Anakin by side with his own bowl did she finally see the unequivocal similarity between mother and son. It was the kindness in their eyes and selfless actions.
"I was just about to come and give you your dinner, you know." The small voice of her master mustered her attention again as his mother returned to the cramped kitchen. Ahsoka met the boy's curious gaze with a gentle smile.
"Hey, I know."
The boy looked ahead, holding the bowl of stew before him as if it were some offering. The tendrils of steam trailed across his face as finally he noticed where Ahsoka was directing them.
"Don't you wanna sit inside? It's a bit cold out there, and Mister Qui-Gon thought you'd be more comfortable without your poncho on."
Balancing the bowl of still-hot soup and the clay spoon in one hand, Ahsoka mentally rolled her eyes.
"As great as your room is, Anakin, I think I need a breather. Don't you?" They finally made it outside onto the balcony. A cool gust of wind coursed up her arms, raising goosebumps and darkening her lekku. The small boy beside her noticed her hesitation by the door. A lopsided smile curled his lips.
"Do you like to breathe sand?"
The earned a snort. "It's not that bad."
When she didn't look at him, Anakin bit his lip."Are you sure you're feeling better? I was sure you broke your leg when you fell over. Even Padmé was."
It didn't surprise her when she felt those curious eyes turn to her knee. For his benefit, Ahsoka let go of her bowl. With a low hum around them, the bowl began to float on its own accord. Ahsoka stretched her knee — again for his benefit — before plucking up the strength to flip over him. A moment of sheer exhilaration passed through her as she met his gaze mid-twist. Landing on the small parapet of the balcony allowed her to call the bowl over his head. Granted, the ostentatious show of flexibility was probably uncalled for. She supposed someone as well-collected as Obi-Wan wouldn't be so flamboyant, but the look of sheer wonder in his eyes at merely the sight of the bowl floating; that called for a lavish show of Force-enhanced acrobatics, surely. Ahsoka unfolded herself from the railing, instead coming to rest in the seat below her. Sure enough, Anakin rushed over, nearly spilling his soup down his front as he did so.
"Wow! That was so wizard! I knew you're a Jedi knight too!"
A laugh shook her chest. "Well, no, not yet."
She stopped. Her smile, where it had been bright and brought a sense of home, fell from her face. How could she forget?
~I'm sorry, Master. But I won't be coming back.~
"Well, Mister Qui-Gon's a Jedi Master." He was completely oblivious to her sudden shift. Ahsoka watched him with pained eyes. But then something else occurred to her — Qui-Gon had told the boy already? Well, she knew that eventually Anakin would manage to accompany them back to Coruscant, but her master hadn't been terribly open about other facts. She understood, through his grumbles and quick disregards, that Skyguy wasn't exactly at home speaking about Master Qui-Gon, nor his demise. Master Jinn had seen the raw potential of the Chosen One and brought him to the Temple — it was all she could conclude from the fragmented memories she had.
"I thought Padmé was a Jedi too, but it turns out she's a handmaiden to the Queen of Naboo." A beat. "I wasn't sure about you." His head inclined to the side as he brought a spoonful of soup to his mouth — then another. And another. "Mister Qui-Gon didn't say much about you. But he did say you were in trouble. And that you needed help."
So thats how we ended up here.
"Well, I'll need to fix that, won't I. I'm Ahsoka Tano." A hand reached out into the ebbing space between them. The gloom of the night cast her colouring into a strange dusky hue, but the soft yellow light of the living room's interior sparked the sun in her skin. A little hand, somehow smaller than her's when they'd first shook, slipped into her own.
The moment of foreboding calm before the pending storm was suddenly destroyed. Anakin's grip tightened and his smile brightened her own when he shook hard. "Anakin Skywalker. Pleased to meet you."
There was no darkness, no ice nor fire tearing up through her middle. Just a pleasant warmth that threatened to spread from his hand to her whole body — until finally he let go.
Whatever this strange twist of tone and mood was, the sudden calm was more in line with the most recent vision. It seemed at complete odds to the nightmare that landed her here. She'd seen darkness when she'd collapsed on Watto's shop floor, but it hadn't been Anakin. In fact, he had been the force to pull her away from the evil.
There was no threatening vision of Anakin's tormented visage. No heart-shattering scream that pronounced his hatred. No looming sense of loss or desperation. No death, no pain… only light. Ahsoka blinked. For however briefly it had been allowed to exist in her heart, she knew her instant resolve. She would seek it out again.
"You're a funny little guy." Ahsoka said past a mouthful of soup — she was suddenly determined not to let it grow cold; not to waste the Skywalker's hospitality.
"You're a pretty funny Jedi." He offered in return around his own mouthful. "Where's your laser sword? Mister Qui-Gon let me have a look at his, where's yours?"
"I lost them." There was no harm in telling him that, was there? If she twisted the truth, he'd never know. Well, not right now, anyway. If Ahsoka got her way, he'd never have the chance to find out.
"What? How'd you loose them?" Brows furrowed together beneath a sandy-blonde fringe. The corner of Ahsoka's mouth curled upwards.
"You ask a lot of questions, Skyguy."
Skyguy. He mouthed the word, as if chewing over a piece of desiccated Bantha meat within the stew. She got the impression he was trying to think up some sort of response to that, until finally, "That's weird."
Ahsoka laughed. "It suits you."
"You could always call me Ani. All my friends do." He took another quick sip of the piping hot meal, his eyes dancing away from her. Ahsoka couldn't stop her smile from spreading. As his eyes racked over the Tatooine horizon and stayed fixed on the shadowed sand dunes, she found herself lowering her head in the attempts to meet his gaze.
"Hey," His head turned to her's tentatively. "How 'bout I call you both Skyguy and Ani. You did save my life after all. I should be allowed to bestow upon my rescuer his own title."
That earned a laugh from the boy, red beginning to creep up past his neck line. Uneven teeth smiled back at her pointed ones. "You're really weird, Ahsoka."
"Ani, let's not offend our guests." Illuminated by the backdrop of yellow, Shmi swept onto the balcony with a smile, two cups and a jug of water. In her peripheral vision, Ahsoka placed Qui-Gon resting by the doorway as Shmi began to pour.
"He's really no problem, Ms Skywalker." She gave the boy a wink when his mother wasn't looking. That earned an incriminating smile that he quelled with pressed lips.
"Please, call me Shmi. Everyone else does." The woman stood straight-backed, the jug resting gently in her hands. Ahsoka couldn't help but stare up at her. This was the woman who had raised Anakin Skywalker from birth. There was such kindness pulsing around her general presence in the Force. It sent Ahsoka to her feet. A measured bow was offered to the woman.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Shmi."
The woman ducked her head, sparing a glance to the doorway she was suddenly eager for. "Well, it's not everyday two Jedi knights arrive on my doorstep. And," She paused, allowing herself to send a forlorn glance at her son who was chewing on the side of his mouth and watching the exchange with shrewd eyes.
She didn't need to finish that sentence. Not as Qui-Gon, who had been an impassive viewer up until now, stepped away from the doorway. He placed a hand on the older woman's arm before leading her back inside again. Ahsoka watched them go, her heart pounding once against her ribcage and her fists curling.
"Hey 'Soka. You gonna finish that stew?" Ahsoka turned back around, both seeing the boy and not as he inched closer to her bowl. With a smile that never touched her eyes, Ahsoka shook her head. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered Anakin collecting her bowl to do to her what she'd done to Obi-Wan Kenobi a few days previous.
She understood now, she liked to think. There was pain, discernible and troubling in Shmi's dark eyes when Anakin had commanded her attention.
His mother had been unwanted baggage. A Jedi can't afford attachments — Ahsoka wanted to scoff. The Jedi were so blinded by their adherence to an antiquated code, they hadn't seen the gradual, spiralling decent of their Chosen One. The all consuming darkness had claimed him as one of its own and the Jedi fell, toppling a once mighty Republic and heralding an unwanted dictatorship.
Well, not this time. Not if Ahsoka could have a hand in fate.
"You really sure you're okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." A dirty sleeve wiped clean a stew-covered mouth. Then blue eyes went wide as if some secret had just been shared with him. "Is it those visions that Mister Qui-Gon was talking about? Is that why you knew my name when you saw me? I mean, before you fell over…"
His tirade seemed to die in his mouth, and instead he filled his awkward ending by placing both their empty bowls into the crook of his arm. But before he could collect the spoons, Ahsoka's hands darted out, beating him to it. He gave her an accusatory glare before he found the corners of her mouth curving upwards.
"In a way, it is the visions, Anakin."
"So, you saw me in them?"
She heaved in a lungful of air, and as the air expelled, she placed a hand on his shoulder. Her thumb pressed the fabric of his tunic to her palm. "It's sometimes best not to know everything, little one." His gaze fell down, but a finger and thumb were suddenly at his chin. With care that Anakin could only acquaint to his mother, he found his gaze being lifted to the Jedi's. "But I've learnt neither is it best to let things play out by themselves." Her hand abandoned his chin, instead cupping his ear. Slender fingers slipped through sandy-blonde hair. "I did see you, Anakin."
"Was it good?" He asked on soft words, and she knew she wasn't imagining the faint movement as he pressed his head into her hand.
"Almost all of it. Some of it was magnificent."
He could see the pained edges of her eyes. His brows shot up. "How about the other bits?"
"Maybe one day I'll tell you. Right now, I don't have enough — only bits and pieces. Visions aren't usually as wholesome as we'd like." She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes they can be an absolute pain in the buggering ar— neck."
Her slip-up earned her a giggle. With a hum of satisfaction, Ahsoka slipped her hand away from his head. It wasn't the whole truth, but he didn't need to hear of the future. No, he never would if she could save him from it. He'd never meet Vader, never feel a need to become him. He could have his mother, her, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. That would be enough, wouldn't it?
"Ani," A new voice called the boy's head away with a snap. At the new, unforeseen arrival, Anakin's melancholic smile disappeared in favour of giving Padmé an entire account of his teeth with his smile "Your mother says it's bedtime."
"Aww."
"Come on, Skyguy." A motion of carefully unfolded limbs, Ahsoka rose from the chair she'd sat herself in. With a dramatic sigh, Anakin also rose from his seat.
But then, it was as if a switch had been hit, "Come on, I can show you were you'll be sleeping." The boy grabbed her wrist, hauling the Jedi across the balcony to the doorway, remembering to collect Padmé as he went as well.
"Ani, where are you — "
"'m just showing Ahsoka and Padmé where they'll be sleeping for the night, mum." He flew through the room, Qui-Gon sparing the two young woman a measured smile as they disappeared around a corner.
"He loves new company." Shmi hummed from behind the Jedi Master before, "Ani, have you set out the spare sleep rug?"
"Of course, mum!" Came the distant reply, which earned a low chuckle from Qui-Gon. Shmi returned the gentle gaze as the taller man faced her once more. Once the chirping of Tatooine's nocturnal life had filled the atmosphere, mixing with the muffled sounds of laughter from the other room and the warm, homely smell of Shmi's cooking, Qui-Gon shook his head. He was never one for sullen silences.
"He's a very special boy." He offered, unfolding the arms over his chest. The look Shmi gave him suggested he'd uncovered a secret.
"Yes, I know."
