Huh, it feels so different to put my comments on top of the page. Oh, well, I wasn't planning on putting up another chapter until next week, but seeing as how my loyal readers have graced me with more reviews, I decided to post another chapter. I'm sorry about all these sappy, emotional, un-Jedi like moments, they're so fun to write.
~Queen Yoda
~Anakin's POV~
The night, like his dream, passed in a flurry of images. The first few came after he had fallen asleep. They were of screaming children, their blue skin dripping off their bodies from the fire licking up their legs and arms.
Soon, he saw his mother's body in their stead's. Then Padme, and then Ahsoka. After that, he had seen Luke and Leia, their small, soft bodies shining with flames and their shrieks making him sick with grief.
After those images, he had heard his own strangled scream erupt before he felt something like cold ground hit his back. He had seen the world spinning as he stumbled quickly to the bathroom.
He had felt at his own forehead, and vaguely noticed that it was burning almost as hot as he suspected those children had been. After he had thought of that comparison, he remembered the smell of his own vomit as he landed on his knees in front of the toilet.
Thoughts passed in confused flashes of pain in his skull. They died. It was not my fault though. I blamed Obi-wan but it was not his fault either. We got into a fight. We aren't friends.
What do I do now? I want my mother. My mother is dead. Why did Qui-gon have to die, too? Why am I so dizzy? I cannot think straight. Where is Obi-wan? I should call him. He'll help me.
No, our bond is cold, something is wrong. Is there something wrong with me, master? I have a fever, is that what's wrong? Force, I hate throw-up. I hate being sick, I never get sick. Why am I sick now?
Those thoughts were somehow halted by another spasm of puke. Anakin's limbs began to tremble as his mind cleared slightly.
Why was he sick? He never got sick; he had too many midi-chlorians to get sick easily. Even most poisons did not work on him.
Anakin felt his back arch as he buried his head in the toilet. Stress could be a factor. Obi-wan had once told him something like similar to that.
What had he said? Stress and emotions could tear at a person's body? Was that what was happening?
His legs quivered with expulsion. He was so tired, so miserable, so sick, and so alone. He felt like a child again. An orphaned, cold, sad little boy who was a million miles away from his mother and in a new place with a new master with no friends.
No, I am not that child anymore! He thought, gnashing his teeth.
I am a grown man. A great Jedi. Get up, Anakin. You are not a slave; you are the Chosen One of ancient Jedi prophecy. You're General Skywalker, champion of the Clone wars. You're the Hero With No fear. Get up!
Anakin struggled to raise himself, but his arms were trembling too much, he was too weak. As usual. All of a sudden, a familiar yet muggy force presence slipped into his dark room.
"Ani!" Was that….? No, she was on a mission somewhere half across the galaxy. Anakin was hallucinating.
"Anakin, are you alright?" Yet the strong arms that wrapped around him and pulled him upright were not any clones. He struggled to lift his head, but Nava did it for him. Gently, she set two fingers under his chin and raised his head to meet her concerned blue-purple eyes.
"Nava?" For some unexplained reason, her name came out slurred. He could barely control his tongue. Suddenly, he lurched back to the toilet and let out another stream of vomit. Nava knelt next to him, gently stroking his hair through the soft cotton of his undershirt.
She reminded him of Shmi.
He glanced up. "Nava? Wha' are ya doin here? Weren't you on a mission somewher'?" He asked blearily, his head pulsing with soreness. The sound of his own puking had given him a migraine.
"I was. I thought I'd stop by and see how you two were doing. Force; and I thought Obi-wan looked bad. He was right to send me," Anakin's head swam with that knowledge.
What had Obi-wan done? Besides break Anakin's heart all of these years?
He groaned. "Do you think you're done?" Nava asked through the fog in his mind. "Huh?" Anakin asked, vaguely ashamed by his own confusion. "Throwing up? Are you done?" He nodded. "Nothin' else to thow up," he said.
Nava nodded. "Alright. Then try to stay focused. I'm getting you back to bed," she said. Anakin could only nod. Nava hooked her hands under his arms and hauled him back into the room.
Anakin felt his back press against the side of his bed before Nava's hands went slack. She let out a slow breath and sat next to him on the ground. So much for putting him in bed. Anakin closed his eyes, and noticed that he was moving again.
What is she doing? He wondered. Before he could even try to order his brain to attempt asking, he felt a silky strand of black hair brush his face. His head was settled into a warm body and strong yet slender arms circled him comfortingly, stroking his hair from his face.
"Nava?" he asked, wondering if maybe this was Shmi after all. Or Padme. Ahsoka might have done this to him once when he had been shot on the battlefield. He could not remember.
"Shhh, Ani. You're sick and you look as if you haven't eaten in days. I should give you a lecture," nope, not Shmi. She had never given him lectures.
He opened his eyes to see Nava looking down at him with pursed lips. "No lecture," he appealed. "Why are ya here? Shouldn't you be wit Obi-wan?" he asked. Nava smiled ruefully.
"Obi-wan sent me here. He said you needed help that he did not know how to give," interesting, considering that Anakin was not the problem exactly. It was mostly Obi-wan's fault.
"What is?" Nava asked. Blast! I have got to guard my mind better! "You're sick, Anakin, Guarding your mind is not an option currently. Welcome to the unfairness of stress," She brushed back another piece of sweaty hair. Anakin closed his eyes again.
He did not feel anything as he laid in Nava's arms. There was not the pleasant tingle he always felt with Padme. Or the protective urge that he would feel with Ahsoka. Actually… he felt secure.
For the first time in so many years, he felt truly safe. As safe as he had felt all of those years ago with Shmi holding him in the exact same way. Shmi; his mother. Suddenly a memory hit his befuddled mind like a wave.
"You have too much energy, Ani," though her eyes were sunken with fatigue, they shined with teasing as Anakin sprang into bed. He glanced over at his robot in progress.
It was only half-way built. He would have to go with Kitster one day and get more pieces when Watto let him off. As if that had a high chance of happening.
Anakin landed on the soft layer of blankets that made up his sleeping area. Shmi's side was made up; perfectly nice. Usually, they slept together, side by side, but his mother did not lay down next to him as usual.
"Where are you going, mom?" he asked. Her eyes flashed with something akin to fear, but she merely smiled and sat down next to him.
"I have some work for Watto to do," she explained. Anakin frowned, even at six years old; he knew Watto did not usually give out night jobs. And when he did, they were never good. "You're going to be okay, right?" he asked fearfully.
It had always been a fear of his. So many boys had woken up one day without their mothers. They had been sold or killed in the night. Anakin had no illusions that one day that could happen to Shmi, too.
One day, he could lose her, too.
"Yes, Ani. I'll be back in the morning, I promise," she assured him with a smile. Anakin nodded and settled under the blankets, fully sure his mother would never lie to him. "Alright. Do you have time to tell me a story?" He asked.
She chuckled softly. "Oh, no you don't. It is time for bed, young man. I will tell you a story tomorrow night, if there's time," she said, kissing his forehead. "Ah, but mom!" he protested.
"No buts," she poked his stomach affectionately. "What have I told you? To get big and strong enough to free all of the slaves, you need your rest," that quieted him.
Because there was nothing that Anakin wanted more than to free his fellow slaves. To free his mother.
"Ok," he surrendered reluctantly. "And guess what, mom? When I'm old enough, I'm going to get you those nice pretty scarves we saw in the market place today," he said. Her eyes flashed with delight. "Are you?" she asked. "Yep," Anakin said happily, fully convinced of this.
"And you'll live in a big castle, and have a whole lot of maids. Not slaves, like us, but maids who are happy and eat good food," he assured her in case she misunderstood him. "Well, that sounds fun" Shmi said, tucking the blankets up to his chin.
"It will be! We will have grand feasts every day, and we'll get to meet Jedi, even! Don't you want to meet a Jedi, Mom? I do," he babbled, She kissed him on the forehead again.
"I don't think we'll ever see a Jedi around here, Ani," she told him in a laugh. "You never know. Anything is possible, that is what you tell me. Your going already?" he asked, disappointed.
Shmi stood and smiled down at him. "Yes, Anakin. I have to go. I'll be back though, I will," she sounded almost like she was trying to convince herself as well as him. He eyed her suspiciously but nodded. He wished he could keep her safe.
"Goodnight, mom," he said. She turned. "Goodnight, my son. I love you," she called. Anakin closed his eyes as she flicked off the light. "I love you, mom…."
"Anakin?" That was not Shmi. But he still felt as safe as he had with Shmi. He blinked a few times, and Nava's face came back into focus.
Her brown face was streaked with the same sleepless, roughened lines as Shmi. Her purple-blue eyes shined with the same strength and warmth.
And he saw the Jedi version of his mother. He smiled sadly. "Nava," he croaked out. "You remind me of my mother," she did not seem surprised by the change in subject.
She only cocked her head curiously. "Is that good thing?" She asked. Anakin thought a moment, was it a good thing? He did not feel particularly like it was bad. He only felt warm, and safe, and sick.
"I think," he said slowly. Nava nodded and brushed a strand of hair from his face. "Would you mind it terribly if I cut your hair?" She asked flatly.
Anakin stared at her, eyes wide with horror, but then his fuzzy brain managed to concern that she was joking.
She had the same infuriating humor as Obi-wan.
"Uh, yah," he snorted. She smiled. "You remind me of Annex," she told him, softly. Anakin's brows crinkled, trying to remember who exactly Annex was. After a moment, he frankly gave up with that task. He had too big of a headache.
"Who?" he asked. Nava's face shifted into an emotionless mask. "My first apprentice," some gears in his mind started to turn. She had an apprentice now, Intrepid, so that meant Annex had been before Intrepid.
"Oh," he said, proud he had figured it out. "Where is he?" He could not imagine not ever having met him. Nava's eyes flashed, and despite his dizziness, Anakin could sense her turmoil.
That answered the question in itself. Annex was dead. "Oh," he gulped again. Nava nodded. "He jumped in front of Grievous's blade to save me," she explained solemnly.
Anakin looked at her sympathetically. What does that feel like? He wondered.
Anakin knew that Ahsoka would do the same for him, and he would do the same for Obi-wan without hesitation, but what could it feel like for Nava to have been saved by her own apprentice, and for him to give his life for her? He had only been too late for his mother. Nava had been the one Annex had sacrificed himself for.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, sane enough to know he was supposed to say something like that. Nava only nodded, and in the dim light he saw her eyes shining. "You cared about him a lot," he guessed. Nava looked away. Her pain was easily felt in the force.
"I regarded him as my own son," she confessed. Anakin let out a slow breath.
Force, did he know how that felt. Despite the fact that Ahsoka was only a few years younger than him, and he had known her for all of six years, and she was a different species altogether, she was his daughter, blood related or not. Blood ties had nothing to do with family.
If anything ever happened to her. Or, force forbid, she gave her life for him like that…. Anakin was not sure whether his own guilt and anguish would destroy him.
Yet Nava was sitting above him, still strong, still alive, still going. He did not know if he would have been able to do it.
"My mother's dead, too," he had no clue where that came from. Maybe Nava reminded him so much of Shmi that he felt like he was talking to her; instead of a friend he knew only so much.
Nava looked back down at him in surprise. "How do you know?" she asked in surprise. "She died in my arms," he replied, again, the words rushing from his mouth as if running water. Nava studied him a moment, perhaps wondering if he was hallucinating or delirious. He met her gaze with glassy yet clear eyes. He was sick, not stupid.
"You went back for her," it was not a question. Anakin hesitated; he had never told anyone about his mother's death. The only one who knew was Padme.
Before he could come to a decision, though, he realized he had already begun speaking, stumbling over words and slurring several names.
Sick, he though, trying to remember when he had ordered his mouth to speak. I am sick. Then a new presence touched his force signature. "No, Anakin. You have merely kept this in for too long," a melodious voice told him.
Shmi.
He was uncomfortable not as he told Nava the story of when he and Padme had gone to Tatooine. He only felt the pain that was sitting in his chest, had rotted in his heart and spurred on his fear, slowly lessen.
It was not gone; Anakin doubted that it would ever leave. Nevertheless, he felt better.
At last, the story was finished. Anakin stopped, gasping for breath. Nausea worked its way up his throat. Not seeming to mind this, his eyes cleared and his trembling limbs stilled.
Nava was staring at him with shock, sympathy, concern and admiration. Anakin did not know which emotion he preferred. "Ani…" her voice faltered. "I'm sorry. You should not have had to go through that alone," finally, someone gets it.
"I had Padme," he pointed out. "Yes, I'm glad of that. But all the same…" she bit her bottom lip. "You killed everyone?" She asked. Had he added that part in? Oh, yes. Whether he had been compelled by stress or Shmi; he had told her the entire making of it.
Blast.
He lowered his eyes. "Yes," he groaned. "Does Obi-wan know?" She asked. Anakin snapped his eyes back up. "No," he grasped her arm with a frail but strong grip. "He can't know. You can't tell 'im, Nava. Don' tell him," he half ordered and half pleaded.
"Why? What do you think he'll do?" Nava asked; her expression surprised. Anakin only shook his head; he had no clue what Obi-wan would do. That was what scared him.
Both Jedi were silent for a moment. "He'll understand, you know," Nava said quietly. Anakin shook his head. "Perfect Jedi, remember?" He sighed resentfully.
To his surprise, Nava laughed. "Perfect Jedi? Well, I suppose he tries to be. He even has you fooled. No, no, my dear foolish child, Obi-wan is not a perfect anything; trust me. Except maybe a perfect pain in the butt," she shook her head, still shaking with chuckles.
Anakin had to agree with the pain in the butt part.
"Force, he would laugh at hearing you say that. Even he does not understand why people call him that. Let me tell you something my master once told me, Anakin," she said, reverting to her lecture mode. Anakin groaned, he really did not need a lecture at the moment, he was too sick.
"It's not a lecture, per say Anakin. Just listen. There are two identities to every Jedi. We are trained in the temple to be warriors, peace-keepers, emotionless guards of justice, that is the easy part," Anakin's crows crinkled, that was the easy part?
"The other side of us is the side that is still who we were before we came to the temple. The side that is human, the man inside of you," she poked his chest.
"The Jedi side is stronger, of course. We are wiser, and we do not get emotionally scarred very easily because we feel no love, no anger, no jealousy, only compassion and modesty. We listen to our minds and to the force. A man will listen to his heart, not the force. A man will protect his family above his duty. A man will do whatever it takes to be the best for the ones he loves," Anakin nodded, foggy-minded but comprehending.
"For example," Nava went on, fully engrossed in her lecture. Anakin did not mind.
"A few years ago, during the Clone War, I came across a woman who had lost her young daughter when the Separatists had attacked. She had found her a few days later, shot to death. I have never seen more grief in a person than I do when a mother has lost her child," Anakin nodded. He had learned that lesson as well.
"Now, a Jedi would have walked up to her with a sympathetic expression and went on about how there is no death, only the force. And to hate is to invite in unhappiness and the rest of the nonsense Yoda feeds us at a young age," Anakin had to smile.
"But what would that have done? Then, Anakin, I had to be a woman, not a Jedi. I had to be another woman who understood what it was like to lose her child. So, I sat next to her and hugged the grief-stricken lady. I rocked her and comforted her with the rest of the village women. I forgot my status as a Jedi. At that moment, I was just another woman in the galaxy, nothing more. Do you understand the difference?" She asked.
Anakin nodded, intrigued by this lecture as he had never been before.
"Yes," he agreed. "Good boy. Now, you are a man. Plain and simple, you listen to your heart and wear your emotions on your sleeve. A brilliant Jedi, of course, but admittedly that's in due to your intelligence and the force," she told him straightforwardly.
Well, that's true, he thought begrudgingly. "And Obi-wan? He is a Jedi, through and through. Many of them are. Windu, Yoda, basically, most of the Jedi population are increasingly losing their humanity. It wasn't always that way, but that's off topic," Anakin would not mind getting a lecture on that topic some day.
"But Obi-wan can be a man, just as you can be purely Jedi. He is just better at being a Jedi. But he was once a man." Anakin scowled disbelievingly.
It seemed that being anything but a Jedi was an impossibility to Obi-wan. "Yah right," he grunted. Nava smiled secretively.
Anakin decided he really did not like that smile. "You know surprisingly little about your master," she said. "Former master," he reminded her irritated. Obi-wan was his best friend. He had spent seventeen years with him.
He knew Obi-wan perhaps better than Obi-wan knew himself, and certainly better than Nava. "Former master, then. Tell me something Anakin; do you think a Jedi would have argued against the wishes of the entire Jedi council just to fulfill the promise of a dead man and train a boy who his master had tried to replace him with?" She asked.
Anakin blinked. Obi-wan had done that? He had argued with the council?
Well, of course, stupid, he realized. None of the Jedi wanted you to be trained; and what did Obi-wan once say? He argued for you on a daily basis? No wonder he's the Negotiator. And Qui-gon wanted to replace him with me?
"He only did t' 'cause of Qui-gon's promise," he argued bitterly. Nava shrugged. "Perhaps at first, yes, but after you were trained, did he still need to argue with them for you?" Blast her; she had good points. She was challenging all of the insecurities Anakin had ever had.
Even the ones separating him and Obi-wan.
"Would a man be able to live through the anguish and remorse of his master's death and be able to care for a small child all while getting into his new role as Jedi at the same time?" She asked.
Anakin eyed her cautiously, she was going somewhere with this. He agreed with her all the same. He would not have been able to do what Obi-wan did; he had always known that.
"Would a Jedi have stayed your master knowing you wanted to go home, and with all of the stunts you pulled and all you put him through?" She raised a pointed eyebrow at him.
Anakin gave her a sheepish smile. Obi-wan had obviously told her some of Anakin's….. Troublesome excursions that happened every once in awhile. Or maybe often.
"Would a Jedi have kept your secret about Padme for as long as he did?" Obi-wan did do that, and Anakin had never been able to truly figure it out. Why had he done it? He had had every right to tell the council, it was actually his obligation to do so. Yet he had not.
"So you see, Anakin," Nava concluded. "Obi-wan can be a man. He does it in the small ways that make him a better Jedi in the end," her eyes misted over with something Anakin had rarely ever seen.
"He is perfect, but not a perfect Jedi or man. He is the symbol of peace for most people, the perfect symbol of peace," she whispered.
Anakin stared at her oddly. "Which are you?" he asked at last. Nava returned her gaze to him, and smiled. She even had Shmi's smile.
"I'm a mixture. I am comfortable in both positions. A perfect balance," She said. Anakin envied her. "But so are you, Anakin. Together, you and Obi-wan are the perfect balance," she told him confidently. Anakin's face darkened.
"Not anymore," he told her. "We had a fight and now our bond is cold, Nava. I can still feel 'im, but it is cold. Like I don' know 'im anymore. We forgave each other, I think. But…. The fight… What he said… What I said… It finally broke somethin' in our friendship. I-" his voice cracked. "I don' know what we can do," he admitted.
"Ah," Nava nodded thoughtfully. "That's what was wrong with him earlier. That and he's tired above tired. You know you need to make him sleep and eat, Ani, or he never will," she scolded, as if it were Anakin's fault Obi-wan was the most stubborn man in the galaxy.
"I know," he sighed. "No, you don't. Anyway, I come back to my earlier question, you don't know much about him, do you?" she asked. Anakin opened his mouth.
"I know you know his character, Anakin. You know who he is, what he can do, how he operates and a bit of how he thinks, but do you know him?" What's the difference? Anakin wondered.
"Whether or not he remembers his other family, the one he was born into too? Whether he has met them?" Nava went on.
"Have you ever asked how he feels after a battle, or what he does to get rid of guilt? Do you know what his favorite color is? What are his hobbies when he is not being a work-o-holic? What do you truly know about his past?" She questioned.
Anakin blinked, his already aching head beginning to throb. Because he did not know any of that. He had spent seventeen years with Obi-wan and he did not know even the slightest clue of any of Nava had asked.
How did she know?
"He doesn't know any of tha' about me either!" he pointed out in his defense. Nava chuckled softly. "You'd be surprised just how much of that he does know, Anakin. Obi-wan often masks one question in another," she said, as if he had never met the man before.
"Well," Anakin said slowly, refusing to let Nava win this game. "He has never told me any of tha'. He barely ever mentions Qui-gon's name, or anythin' else. You know Obi-wan doesn't talk about himsel'" he pointed out. Nava nodded in agreement.
"He has been taught not to speak unless spoken too, Anakin. Should you ask him, you will be astonished at how much he can talk," she sighed wholeheartedly.
"He will go into an old story and never shut up about it like an old bore. It drove me nuts the first time he did it, but eventually it gets fun to hear him talk about it, like the good old days weren't all of a few years ago. He will talk about you for hours, actually. And make you laugh ten times in a minute for the pure fact that he can, the show-off," she said fondly.
Anakin pursed his lips. The Obi-wan Nava spoke of was a very different one than what Anakin knew and had grown up with.
"So, what do I do?" he asked. "Ask him, Ani! And after a moment, he'll ask you all kinds of nosy questions, trust me," Anakin eyed her doubtfully, wondering if she knew it was Obi-wan she was talking about. "Yes, I do know. Now," she readjusted Anakin in her lap.
"I have kept you talking for much too long. You need sleep if your body is to fight off this sickness," she told him. Anakin felt disappointment prick at him.
He wanted to stay awake and keep talking to Nava; she soothed him with her similarity to his mother.
"But…" he began. "No buts," Nava waved her hand over his face. His eyelids drooped. "Ah, no fair Nava," he yawned, too weak to fight the force suggestion.
"Welcome to the unfairness of stress," Nava chuckled softly. "How long will ya be here?" he asked blearily. The tightness of his muscles loosened. "The night. I will not leave you," Nava assured him gently.
He closed his eyes sleepily. "Nava? Thank you," he whispered. He could have imagined it, but he felt soft lips press themselves to his forehead gently. "You're welcome, Ani. Sleep well, my son….."
Or perhaps that was Shmi.