Chapter 27 – Torn Apart
Polis Massa
We intend to save you. And if you don't let us, you will never see me nor Qui-Gon ever again.
Shmi stared sightlessly down the empty hallway, her body frozen and her forehead perspiring as she considered Anakin's fateful words. Her initial instinct had been to storm after Anakin into the conference room and demand that he apologize to her. He had no right to speak to her like that! She would not tolerate such insolence from her son!
Yet she knew she couldn't do that. What would it accomplish? She could feel Anakin slipping away from her, and after everything she had done, it was likely that one last offense on her account would push Anakin away forever.
And Shmi couldn't let that happen.
The past twenty-three years of her life had been dictated by one desire: to see her son safe. Now that Sidious was gone and the threat on Anakin's life also gone, however, Shmi had lost her purpose. Perhaps that was why she had decided to seize the Republic and declare herself Supreme Leader; she hadn't done it to fulfill Plagueis' wishes, but because she simply didn't know what to do with her powers anymore.
But that wasn't true either. She did truly believe what she was espousing: the Republic needed to be overthrown and the old order destroyed. Otherwise her victory over Sidious would not truly be absolute. Plagueis had told her as much after she had lost consciousness in Sidious' office.
So in that sense, Shmi was still attempting to defend Anakin. Sure, the immediate threat to him had been eliminated, but that didn't mean that his safety was permanent from here on out. Besides, even if Anakin himself was no longer in danger, that didn't mean that his children or their children would be. She had the opportunity to ensure galactic peace for generations to come. It would be foolish for her not to secure that for her family!
But how exactly would she accomplish this? Plagueis had been infuriatingly vague as always. Restore balance to the Force? Harmonize the light with the dark? What did that mean and how was she supposed to do it?
Shmi growled in frustration as she finally refocused her eyes and looked away from the empty hallway she had been staring at blankly for several minutes. Rubbing her eyes, Shmi shook her head in a vain attempt to clear her head of the incessant maelstrom of doubts and confusion swirling perpetually in her mind.
She didn't like being unsure of herself. For the first three decades of her life, she had been crippled by self-doubt. Qui-Gon had helped ameliorate her inhibitions a bit, but she had only escaped the confines of her own mind when she had begun training with Plagueis. Her father had shown her how powerful she could be, and it was with his help that she developed into the confident, decisive woman that she was now.
Now she felt herself reverting back to her inferior, younger self. It had been so easy to be confident and sure of herself back when Sidious was her enemy, but now she had nobody to confront but herself. Anakin, Qui-Gon, and even Padmé's disappointment with her wracked her conscience, rendering herself unconfident and afraid once more.
She hated them for that. No matter how much she loved them, she couldn't deny how angry they made her also. Why couldn't they understand why she was doing this? Couldn't they appreciate the fullness of the situation like she could?
She would simply have to convince them, Shmi decided. By dint of sheer determination, she would sway them to her side. Anakin would cease to be afraid of her; Qui-Gon would love her for who she had become and not for who she had once been; and Padmé would come to see Shmi as someone she could trust and respect.
There was no alternative to this. Shmi knew she couldn't live without them. She wasn't as naïve as she once was; she knew that the only thing that differentiated her from Sidious was her love for her family. Without them, she would be no better than him.
Therefore, Shmi found herself striding forth into the conference room where Anakin had gone a few minutes before. As she entered, she saw the same arrangement as earlier with the sole exception being Anakin's presence on the left side of the table seated next to Master Yoda. It seemed they had all agreed that Shmi deserved to sit at the head of the table, and rightly so. That was where the Supreme Leader belonged, after all.
The five men all watched Shmi with a mixture of trepidation and bitterness as she walked around the table toward her esteemed seat. Shmi eyed each one of them – with the exception of Anakin whom she didn't feel comfortable making eye contact with – before resting her gaze on Qui-Gon who was seated opposite her.
"Time for you to get talking," she said acerbically as she finally sat down, her back stiff against the plastic backing of her chair.
"I suppose you're right," Qui-Gon said with a faint smile, he alone expressing no apprehension whatsoever to her ill-temper. "This may take a while," he added.
"I don't care how long it takes," Shmi said with maintained astringency. "I want to know where you've been these past three years."
"Right here," Qui-Gon said at once.
"For three whole years you've been alone on this rock?" Obi-Wan asked incredulously.
"For the most part, yes," Qui-Gon affirmed wearily.
"What do you mean for the most part?" Anakin asked with a frown.
"I wasn't alone at first," Qui-Gon said, now speaking directly to his son. "I had company for the first few weeks."
"Plagueis," Shmi said. It wasn't a question.
Qui-Gon nodded and looked away from Anakin to her. "He was waiting for me when I arrived three years ago," he said.
"But why did you come here at all?" Shmi asked. "And how did you even find this place? The only people who knew about this location were Plagueis, myself, and…"
"Dooku," Qui-Gon provided when she trailed off. Stunned, Shmi realized her mouth was hanging open and she promptly closed it. Dooku had told Qui-Gon about Polis Massa, and since Qui-Gon hadn't perished by his former master's blade that meant that Dooku hadn't betrayed Plagueis and herself like she thought he had.
"I killed him," she said hoarsely, guilt crashing down on her as she realized her grave mistake.
Qui-Gon nodded somberly and looked down at the table. "I suspected as much," he said quietly. "When he didn't arrive, I figured he hadn't survived."
"I don't understand," Anakin said, his expression evincing his utter confusion. "I thought Dooku was Sidious' apprentice?"
"Dooku despised Sidious," Qui-Gon told his son. "Despite that, he believed that the only way to defeat him was to get close to him. Therefore when Sidious ordered Dooku to kill me, he was placed in a difficult situation."
"Why would Sidious want you dead?" Anakin asked.
"To alienate you," Qui-Gon said. "I foiled his plan, you see. Sidious planned to abduct you on Tatooine when you were a child, but your mother and I managed to get you off the planet beforehand. When I brought you to Coruscant and convinced the Council to allow me to train you, Sidious knew he had to kill me eventually. Dooku was tasked with this assignment. He delayed for as long as he could, but finally Sidious twisted his arm. He tasked a bounty hunter with capturing me and taking me to Geonosis. There he told me what needed to be done, and I agreed."
"But you hated Dooku," Anakin pointed out. "Why did you agree to help him?"
"Because he offered to help me in turn," Qui-Gon explained, a pained expression on his face as he finally looked back up from the table and locked eyes with Shmi. "He told me that if I agreed to partake in his plan, he would be able to reunite me with my family."
A second, more terrible wave of guilt crashed over her when she met Qui-Gon's gaze. This was her fault, she realized. Had she not succumbed to her rage and not killed Dooku, everything could have been set right. Instead, she had snapped and murdered the man who had been nothing but magnanimous and loving to her. And she hadn't simply murdered him – she had torn him limb by limb and strangled him so forcefully that his neck had quite literally folded in on itself. It had been a horribly brutal way to die.
"The plan was that I would project myself to the arena so as to make it seem as if I was really there," Qui-Gon continued after a brief silence. "After Dooku had supposedly killed me, I took a ship to Polis Massa where I was told I would meet you."
"But I wasn't there," Shmi whispered, speaking mostly to herself.
"You projected yourself?" Anakin asked. "What does that mean?"
Shmi tuned out Qui-Gon's explanation as she looked down at her hands which were shaking against her knees. She knew all about Force projection, as Plagueis had been the one to teach both Dooku and herself about that particular power. Why had she not considered the possibility that Qui-Gon had been projecting himself? Why had she immediately assumed the worst when Dooku ostensibly killed her husband?
But this wasn't entirely her fault. Dooku should have told her! He should have tried to explain himself beforehand. This all could have been avoided had she known what he had been planning!
"Plagueis told me what had happened when I arrived," Qui-Gon said, rousing Shmi from her thoughts. "I was angry at first, as you might imagine. I blamed him for letting you get away."
"Did he know about the plan?" Shmi asked. "Did he know what Dooku planned to do?"
Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment, his jaw tight as he met her intense eyes. "He did," he admitted.
Furious, Shmi jolted upright out of her chair. "This is all his fault then!" she exclaimed, slamming her fist down on the table. "If he had told me –"
"You have no one to blame but yourself," Qui-Gon interrupted in a booming voice, his hands grasping the armrests of his chair with vigor as he stared her down. "It can never be your fault. You always have to blame someone else for your problems. First it was the Jedi, then it was Sidious, and now it is Plagueis. When will you come to the realization that you are the one responsible for this? You are solely responsible for Dooku's death and you are solely responsible for the fragmentation of our family."
Shmi was too stunned to respond, indignation causing her eyes to bulge outward as she stared back at Qui-Gon incredulously. How dare he say that this was all her fault! It wasn't her fault that Sidious had raped her! It wasn't her fault that Plagueis hadn't trusted her enough to tell her the truth!
"You have a choice before you now, Shmi," Qui-Gon said upon taking a deep breath. Relaxing his vicious grip on the armrests, he flexed his fingers and rested his back against his chair. "You can either continue to live in the past, blame all of your problems on your enemies, and watch this family crumble, or you can choose to move on and put it all behind you."
Shmi's incredulity didn't fade as she seethed down at Qui-Gon, her eyes flashing furiously at his insolence. "How dare you," she said in a steely, barely-audible voice. "How dare you belittle my suffering."
Disheartened, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not doing that, Shmi," he said.
"I am not to blame!" she bellowed, the abrupt shift of her voice from soft to stentorian shocking Obi-Wan so much so that he nearly fell out of his chair. "Sidious ruined our lives, not me!"
"But now he's dead," Qui-Gon pointed out, his tone even as he refused to be intimidated by her. "So who will be to blame now?"
"No one!" she roared. "Everything has been set right!"
"Nothing has been set right!" Qui-Gon countered, he too raising his voice as he pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Shmi, you're becoming the very thing you sought to destroy! You have highjacked Sidious' plan and have refitted it for your own purposes!"
"That's a lie," she averred viciously, a droplet of spit flying from her mouth and landing on the table.
"Is it?" Qui-Gon asked. "Because I fail to see how what you are doing is any different than what Sidious wanted to do." Breathing heavily, Shmi was too incensed to offer a rebuttal. "You're founding an empire, Shmi!" Qui-Gon said, capitalizing on her silence. "How can you justify that?"
"I'm doing what has to be done to ensure peace," she intoned, but Qui-Gon wasn't having it, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Plagueis warned me that it would come to this," he said. "He told me that you were on a path to destruction and that the darkness you claim to control would consume you in time. He died fearing that he had created another Sidious. Are you really going to prove him right?"
Shmi had no come back to this having been utterly frozen by Qui-Gon's acute and biting arguments. She simply stared back at him, feeling increasingly foolish with each passing moment of silence.
"Please, Mom," Anakin said suddenly. Surprised, Shmi blinked a few times as she turned her attention to her son. "Listen to him," he beseeched her. "Stop this madness."
Shmi's lower lip trembled precariously as she looked between Qui-Gon and Anakin. She felt paralyzed by indecision and decidedly unauthoritative. Despite the grandiloquent act that was Elegius, she had never truly shed herself of her innate lack of confidence. At her core, she remained Shmi Skywalker, not Darth Elegius. Shmi Skywalker was cautious, indecisive, and in need of someone else to tell her what to do.
She hated that woman.
She hated being told what to do.
She hated that Anakin and Qui-Gon were able to manipulate her like this.
She was the Chosen One! She made the decisions! People were supposed to bow to her authority, not the other way around.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked in a high voice, the façade of Elegius having fully disappeared by now. "Why are you forcing me to choose?"
"Because we love you, Shmi," Qui-Gon said hesitation, his piercing blue eyes entreating her to acquiesce. "We want to save you from yourself."
She couldn't take it anymore. Shutting her eyes tight, Shmi stumbled away from the table, tripping on the chair behind her as she did so. Furious at herself for being so clumsy, she sent the chair flying across the room with a violent swipe of her hand. The plastic chair crashed into the opposite wall and smashed to pieces.
Qui-Gon alone seemed unfazed by this outburst as he watched her with sad eyes. "Shmi –" he tried to say, but she wouldn't listen to him. She couldn't listen to him.
"I… I need to think," she muttered as she looked away from Qui-Gon toward the floor, her cheeks tinged red with embarrassment. She hesitated for a moment longer before making to march out of the room.
"Mom –"
"Let her go, Anakin," Qui-Gon instructed Anakin gently. "Let her go."
Shmi was standing in front of curved window with her hands behind her back. Her eyes stared off sightlessly at the craggy asteroid field before her. For all intents and purposes, however, she wasn't even there at all. Like all other aspects of the Force, she had mastered the art of meditation so much so that she no longer had to close her eyes to ingratiate herself with the Force like the Jedi used to do.
She had meditated like this often during her ten years of solitude with Plagueis. Back then, she had sought out Anakin and Qui-Gon through the Force, probing them gently to see how they were doing. Now, however, she was attempting to find another person.
"Father," she said aloud, her sightless eyes glistening with tears of conflict. "Tell me what to do."
Yet Plagueis didn't respond. Her father was gone for good. Sidious had killed him three years ago.
But he had spoken to her! After she had killed Sidious, Plagueis had told her what she had to do. He had told her to found a new order to ensure that the evil of the Sith could never return.
Why hadn't he been more specific? Why couldn't he help her now when she desperately needed him?
"Father," she supplicated the Force once more. "Help me."
Silence.
Shmi was alone.
"I thought I'd find you here."
Startled, Shmi broke out of her meditative state and spun around. Standing in the doorway of the circular room was Qui-Gon. His wheelchair was directly behind him, implying he had just stood up.
"Go away, Qui-Gon," she said tersely. "I want to be alone."
"I think both of us have been alone for far too long," Qui-Gon countered as he walked toward her.
Conceding the point, Shmi sighed as she turned back around toward the window. Qui-Gon came to a stop by her side and he followed her suit, staring off blindly at the expanse of space before them. After nearly a minute of comfortable silence, she spoke.
"How can you still love me?" she asked in a strained voice. "After everything I've done?"
Qui-Gon didn't answer her for a long while, his silence serving to heighten Shmi's anguish. "I don't think I could ever not love you," he said finally.
"That's not an answer," she said.
"Perhaps not, but it is the truth," Qui-Gon retorted, a subtle smile emerging on his lips as she saw him looking at her out of the corner of her eye.
With another sigh, Shmi lowered her head and redirected her gaze down toward her boots. "I don't know what I'm doing," she confessed, speaking so softly that it was barely audible to her own ears. "I don't know what the point of it all was."
"Why does it need to have a point?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Because I'm the Chosen One," she said, looking up to meet his eyes. "I thought…"
"That your life would have purpose?" Qui-Gon provided. Shmi nodded, grateful for Qui-Gon's innate ability to understand how she was feeling. He had always been able to do that. "What makes you think you haven't had a purpose?" he asked. "You protected our son. You defeated Sidious. What more do you have to achieve?"
"I didn't fulfill the prophecy!" Shmi exclaimed. "I didn't bring balance to the Force."
"Who's to say that you didn't?" Qui-Gon asked. Bemused, Shmi arched an eyebrow at him. "Both the Sith and the Jedi are gone," he explained. "Their monopoly on the Force is no longer."
"So that's it? My legacy is one of destruction?" Shmi asked.
"What would you rather it be?"
"Plagueis told me that –"
"No," Qui-Gon interrupted, holding a hand to stop her. "What do you want your legacy to be?"
Shmi faltered at this, her mouth still hanging open as she considered this question. What did she want? Shmi was used to being a single-minded person with one well-defined motivation to drive her. Back when she had been a Jedi, her singular ambition was to become a Master. After that dream had been derailed by Sidious, Shmi had refocused her attention toward protecting her son. Fundamentally, that remained her focus to the present day, although she had become more offensive since her time on Tatooine – intending to kill Sidious rather than merely hide from him to keep Anakin safe.
But now Sidious was gone and Anakin was safe. Her purpose was gone. Perhaps that was why she had chosen to ascribe Plagueis' aspirations to herself. She personally didn't care about the Republic or founding a new order on which the galaxy could prosper. Plagueis had wanted her to care about those things, but that hadn't been why she had pledged herself to him. She had devoted herself to Plagueis' teachings to protect Anakin, plain and simple.
"I don't know what I want anymore," she said finally, looking down in shame at this pathetic admission. Despite this, she couldn't deny that it felt good to reveal this to someone. For the past three years, she had been pretending to be some sort of master schemer who had an ultimate plan to counter and defeat Sidious. She had needed to maintain this façade so as to prevent Maul or Anakin from questioning her. The truth of the matter, however, was that she had no idea what she was doing or what she intended to do. She had been flying by the seat of her pants for three whole years.
That was why she had delayed her confrontation with Sidious for as long as she did. It wasn't because she was afraid to face him. She had long since known that she was more powerful than Sidious and that he didn't stand a chance in an even duel between them. The true reason was because she hadn't known what to do afterward. What would she do with herself once Sidious was finally gone?
"I know what you don't want," Qui-Gon said. Curious, Shmi looked back up to meet Qui-Gon's solicitous gaze. "You don't want an empire," he said confidently. "I know you Shmi. You have never wanted that."
Shmi swallowed hard and found herself nodding. "You're right," she admitted. "But I need a purpose. I need a cause to put my powers behind."
"You have a cause!" Qui-Gon protested, abruptly reaching out and grabbing her hand. Shmi flinched, but she stopped herself from recoiling.
"Do I?" she asked skeptically, her jaw clenched and her body stiff at Qui-Gon's gesture.
Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Qui-Gon let go of her and retracted his hand. "You have a family now, Shmi," he said. "Why can't that be enough for you?"
Shmi bit her tongue and placed her hands behind her back, her flesh still tingling from when Qui-Gon had touched her. He didn't understand. She wasn't an ordinary person like him. It would be a waste of her powers to not use them for the greater good.
"You don't have to do this, Shmi," Qui-Gon said upon taking a deep breath. "I know you think you have to, but you don't."
"What do you suggest I do instead?" she asked bitingly. "Abandon my responsibilities? Let the Sith return and ruin the galaxy all over again?"
"Is that what you think you're doing? Ensuring peace?"
"Yes!" she said emphatically. "Sidious will return if I don't!"
"On the contrary, he will return if you do," Qui-Gon retorted. Caught off guard by this comment, Shmi wasn't sure how to respond. What was he talking about? "Sidious can't literally return, Shmi. He's dead. You killed him. But his spirit will be revived if you continue down this path."
Qui-Gon stopped when Shmi shook her head vigorously, refusing to listen to this particular argument. At the mere insinuation that she and Sidious were alike, Shmi would shut down and disregard such an apocryphal and unjust recrimination. She had killed Sidious! She had been the one to thwart his plans! They were not alike.
"If you plan to do this, at the very least don't do it alone," Qui-Gon said, switching tactics. "You can't do this alone, Shmi. You have no idea what you're doing."
Shmi wanted to rebut this accusation, but she knew she couldn't. It was the truth, of course. She had no idea what she was doing. "What do you propose, Qui-Gon?" she asked instead. "Have me return power to the Senate and hope for the best? It was the Senate which allowed Sidious to gain power in the first place!"
"The Senate is not to blame, Shmi," Qui-Gon said gently. "And besides, you can't rule without them. You need their support."
"I have the clones," she growled. "I don't need the help of some slimy administrators."
Qui-Gon pursed his lips and looked away, disappointment etched across his heavily lined face. "Do you even hear yourself right now?" he asked. "You plan on being a dictator!"
"If that is what is needed, I will do it," Shmi said stiffly. "The galaxy needs me."
"No, it doesn't!" Qui-Gon exclaimed exasperatedly. "The galaxy doesn't need you, your family does! This isn't your responsibility, Shmi!" When Shmi didn't respond, Qui-Gon recomposed himself and exhaled slowly out his nose. "You did your part, Shmi. You destroyed the Sith and brought balance to the Force. Now it's time to preserve that balance and step aside. All the work you have done will be for naught if you follow through with this insane plan."
Qui-Gon didn't wait for a response as he turned around and hobbled away toward the exit. Shmi watched his reflection retreat in the window, her impassive expression belying her brewing internal conflict.
"Are you sure about this? I don't feel comfortable –"
"Obi-Wan, shut up," Anakin interrupted, a smirk on his lips as he shook his head. Obi-Wan glanced up at him nervously before returning his absolute attention to baby Luke whom he was holding stiffly.
"You're doing fine, Obi-Wan," Padmé said encouragingly from the bed. She had been able to get about an hour of rest before Leia had started crying again. Despite the heavy bags under her eyes, Padmé didn't complain, having gotten out of bed to scoop Leia out of her cradle. Anakin and Obi-Wan had arrived a few moments later.
"What if I drop him?" Obi-Wan asked.
Anakin rolled his eyes. "You're not going to drop him," he dismissed. "Although if you do, I'll never speak to you again," he added impishly.
"Anakin!" Padmé reprimanded.
"Just kidding," he amended hastily, giving his wife a rueful look.
Padmé shook her head as she looked back down at Leia who had ceased crying. Padmé alone seemed to be able to sooth the baby girl, and Anakin couldn't deny that he was a bit jealous. Leia was his daughter as well! Why didn't she seem to respond as well to him as she did to Padmé?
Just then, the door to the room opened, startling Anakin who hadn't sensed anyone approaching. Spinning around, he saw his father wheeling himself toward them. It was no wonder Qui-Gon had been able to sneak up on him – his Force signature had atrophied so significantly that it was nearly indistinguishable in the Force, even to Anakin who was nearly as attuned to it as Shmi was.
"Did you talk to her?" Anakin asked urgently. Qui-Gon didn't look up at him, a frown imprinted on his lips as he parked himself by Padmé's bedside. Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, disconcerted by Qui-Gon's silence at this question.
"I did," he said finally with a heavy sigh.
"And?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Nothing," he said with a shake of his head. "She won't listen to me."
Anakin felt his stomach drop, utterly demoralized by these words. He had been so sure that Qui-Gon would succeed. His mother loved him, after all. Surely she would see logic if Qui-Gon had been the one to talk to her.
Evidently he had been wrong.
"What are we going to do?" Obi-Wan asked.
"What are you talking about?" Padmé asked, her forehead creased with concern. "What is this about Shmi?"
"She won't relinquish control over the Republic," Qui-Gon said heavily.
"Why is she doing this?" a wide-eyed Padmé asked.
"I don't know," Qui-Gon said, wearily rubbing his forehead with the palms of his hands. "And I don't think she knows why she's doing it either," he added morosely. "She's just too stubborn to stop."
Dejected, Anakin shook his head and looked away. None of it made any sense to Anakin any more. He had joined his mother so that they could defeat Sidious, not take over the galaxy. When had her ambitions changed? Or had she always been steadfast on overthrowing the Republic and he had simply been too naïve to see it? Was it possible that she had been manipulating him from the start?
"Hey, Anakin? Could I have a word?"
"Hmm?" Anakin mumbled, his mind still too wrapped around his internal musings to register this solicitation.
"A word. Now."
Anakin looked up to see Obi-Wan looking at him with a severe expression.
"Oh," Anakin said quickly, blinking a few times as he reoriented himself. "Yeah, sure."
"I'll take Luke," Qui-Gon suggested, his eyes narrowed somewhat as he scrutinized Obi-Wan.
"Thanks," Obi-Wan said, leaning down to deposit Luke into his grandfather's arms. "Come on," he whispered to Anakin once he had stood back upright. Wrapping his hand around Anakin's shoulder, Obi-Wan all but dragged him out of the room and into the hallway.
"Obi-Wan –" Anakin protested when the door closed behind them, but Obi-Wan cut him off.
"This has gone too far," he said, pointing a finger at his chest. "You have to stop this, Anakin."
"Me?" Anakin said incredulously. "How?"
Obi-Wan glanced behind Anakin toward the closed door for a moment. "Follow me," he whispered. Bemused, Anakin followed his friend and master down the hallway and out of sight of the operating room.
"What are you on about, Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked in a hushed voice once they had come to a stop around the corner.
"You need to listen to me, Anakin," Obi-Wan said urgently, spinning around and facing him directly. "Your mother has lost it. We need to stop her while we still have the chance."
Anakin gulped audibly and glanced around, irrationally fearing that Shmi could be overhearing them. "We can't stop her," he said. "We don't stand a chance."
"But you do," Obi-Wan said, speaking so softly that Anakin had to lean in to hear him clearly. "She trusts you."
Anakin furrowed his brow and leaned back away from Obi-Wan, suddenly catching his drift. "I will not do that, Obi-Wan," he said stiffly.
"Are you sure?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Yes," Anakin said resolutely. "I will not kill my own mother."
Obi-Wan sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Then all will be lost," he presaged. "Surely you must know this." Anakin looked away and remained silent, feeling supremely uncomfortable with the situation at hand. He knew Obi-Wan was right to an extent; if Qui-Gon couldn't get her to stand down, then his mother was truly gone, consumed by Elegius. Even so, that didn't mean Anakin was willing to confront her. Not only did he know he wasn't strong enough to defeat her, he could never turn against his mother like that. He couldn't try and kill her like Obi-Wan wanted him to do.
He loved her.
How could he not? She was his mother! No matter how insane or sadistic she had become, he still saw Shmi Skywalker within the monster that was Elegius. To Anakin, she was still the kind and loving woman from Tatooine who had sacrificed so much for him.
That was what he told himself, at least. That's how he rationalized everything he had done at her behest. Yet deep down, he knew it wasn't really true. Elegius needed to be stopped, on this he agreed with Obi-Wan completely. He just wasn't willing to sacrifice what small piece of his mother remained. He wouldn't kill Elegius even if she were ninety-nine parts evil and only one part good. That one part – the part that was his mother – was too important for him.
"There has to be a way to convince her to relinquish power," Anakin said optimistically.
"Don't deceive yourself, Anakin," Obi-Wan dismissed. "If Qui-Gon couldn't do it, no one can."
Anakin nodded absently, unable to refute this point yet not willing to concede either. There had to be another way, and even if there wasn't, Anakin was going to try. He owed it to his mother to try.
"Anakin, I know how difficult this is for you," Obi-Wan said in a more-compassionate voice. "But you need to face the facts. Elegius can no longer be reasoned with. She has to go for the sake of the galaxy. For the sake of your children! Anakin, I implore you to listen to me and do what has to be done."
Feeling overwhelmed, Anakin chewed on his lower lip and looked down at his boots. "I… I can't do it, Obi-Wan," he said, his voice garbled with conflict and emotion. "I can't kill my own mother."
Obi-Wan reached out and placed his hand on Anakin's shoulder, a gesture he no doubt copied from Qui-Gon. "You don't have to," he said softly. "Because she's already dead. Your mother has been dead for a long, long time."
At this, Anakin broke down and began to sob. Great tears flooded down his cheeks as his whole torso heaved. Without hesitation, Obi-Wan placed his other hand on the back of Anakin's head and pulled him in to his chest. Anakin didn't protest, allowing himself to be enfolded in his brother's embrace.
It wasn't fair. His family had been through so much, only to be thwarted at the end. They were so close to being united! Why couldn't his mother see that? Why did she have to ruin everything by pursuing power?
Why had Shmi Skywalker chosen to die? Why had he been robbed of his mother?
"You have to do this, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered into his ear after Anakin had ceased crying.
Anakin nodded, his forehead still rested against Obi-Wan's collarbone. "I know," he said in a muffled voice. "I know."
You have a family now, Shmi. Why can't that be enough for you?
The fate of the galaxy hangs on a thread. It rests on your shoulders. You must choose what its fate shall be.
We intend to save you. And if you don't let us, you will never see me nor Qui-Gon again.
You must restore order to the galaxy. Restore the balance which you were meant to restore. Only then will Sidious' demise be truly permanent.
The galaxy doesn't need you, your family does! This isn't your responsibility, Shmi!
The Jedi and the Sith have been destroyed. It is time for a new order to rise.
Because we love you, Shmi. We want to save you from yourself.
Remember my teachings, child. Bring balance to the Force by bringing harmony to both the light and the dark. Do not be led astray by either path. Stay true and stay strong.
She was being torn apart.
How could she reconcile the two facets of her identity now that they had become diametrically opposed to one another?
She was the Chosen One!
Yet she was also a mother.
She had to bring balance to the Force!
But at the cost of her family?
What cruel fate was this? Why was she being forced to choose between fulfilling the prophecy and happiness? Why couldn't she be the Chosen One and a matriarch at the same time?
Why did it have to be her? Why had she been chosen?
She hated this burden. The burden of the Chosen One. The sacrifice. The solitude. The power.
She hated it all.
This is the burden of the Chosen One, Plagueis had told her all those years ago. You must make this sacrifice for the sake of the galaxy.
Why?
Why did she have to make this sacrifice?
Why did she have to suffer in order to bring balance?
Why did it have to be her?
She wanted nothing more than to concede to Qui-Gon's demands and abdicate power. He was entirely right; she had no idea what she was doing. She wanted to leave the galaxy to its fate and retire her responsibilities. She wanted to be with her family for the first time. She wanted to be happy for the first time in twenty-three years.
Yet she couldn't. She wouldn't let her father down like that. She had a responsibility to fulfill the Prophecy and to bring order to the galaxy. Once again, Plagueis' words rang in her head.
You are being selfish! The fate of the galaxy is dependent on you! Are you really going to squander your responsibilities for the sake of this man?
She couldn't be selfish. She couldn't let her feelings for Qui-Gon derail her from her greater purpose. She would do what had to be done...
The sound of a lightsaber being activated pierced the previously placid air and Shmi looked up sharply. In the window in front of her, she saw the distorted reflections of a blue and green blade.
"We need to talk."
Nonplussed, Shmi merely stared at the reflection of the green blade. Her shock quickly transformed into anger, however. How dare he…
"This needs to end, Mom."
Slowly, Shmi turned around. Standing at the base of the brief flight of stairs was Anakin and Obi-Wan, each holding an active lightsaber. Anakin was looking up at her with a determined expression, yet she could sense that this visage was belying his internal ambivalence. He didn't want to do this, yet evidently he felt he had no choice.
Her own son had turned against her.
"Sheath your blade," she demanded authoritatively, speaking solely to Anakin. Obi-Wan's treachery neither interested nor threatened her. All that mattered was her son.
"Not until you promise to abdicate power," Anakin countered, clutching his lightsaber tightly in his right hand.
Shmi shook her head and snarled. "I will do no such thing," she said.
Anakin's shoulders sagged in disappointment, yet he didn't look particularly surprised by her response. "Then you give me no choice," he said, raising his blade above his shoulder. "I will do what I must."
Shmi clenched her jaw and began to tremble with furious indignation. She couldn't believe this was happening. Of all the people to betray her, Anakin was the last she would have suspected.
"Anakin, don't do this," she exhorted him. "You need to stop."
"You're the one who needs to stop, Mom," Anakin retorted. "What you plan to do is insane!"
"You don't understand!" she roared. "None of you do! I have to do this! I have to fulfill my destiny!"
Anakin shook his head and bent his knees, assuming an offensive posture. "I can't let you do that," he said defiantly.
Fury coursed through her at her son's insolence. Lowering her mechanical hand, Shmi summoned the darksaber from her belt and activated it in one swift motion, the black blade crackling to life at her flank.
"It's treason then," she snarled.
How had it come to this?