Chapter 28 – A New Order

Polis Massa

Having rested the twins back in their respective cradles, Qui-Gon labored back to his chair by Padmé's bedside and sat down with a groan. His legs were killing him. He had walked more today than he had in the past three months combined.

"So what now?" Padmé asked him, sitting upright in her bed with her knees tucked into her chest. Qui-Gon looked up at her and arched an eyebrow. "Will you come with us?" she clarified.

"Where to?" he asked halfheartedly.

"I was thinking Anakin and I could go to Naboo," Padmé told him, the ghost of a smile emerging on the corner of her chapped lips. "Now that the Republic has fallen and the Order is gone, neither of us have any reason to stay on Coruscant. Besides, the city isn't a good place to raise the children anyway."

Qui-Gon gave her a strange look and tilted his head. "You seem awfully calm about all this," he noted. "I would have thought you would be furious to hear what Shmi has done."

Padmé nodded sullenly and looked down at her knees. "I am," she admitted. "But I think Shmi will make the right choice in time."

"You do, do you?" Qui-Gon asked skeptically.

"I spoke to her, Qui-Gon," she said. "There's still good in her, I can feel it."

"So can I, but that doesn't mean she will make the right choice," Qui-Gon countered.

"I know," Padmé conceded with a heavy sigh. "But I have hope."

Qui-Gon stopped himself from snorting derisively and looked away quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Hope? That was a fool's folly. Qui-Gon had been through enough hardship and heartbreak in his life to know better than to rely on hope.

"Do you love him?" Qui-Gon asked suddenly, his tone stern but sincere.

"Pardon?" Padmé asked, bemused.

"Anakin? Do you love him?"

Padmé blinked a few times, clearly nonplussed by this question. "Of course," she said eventually. "I thought that would be obvious."

"Nothing is obvious. Not anymore, at least," Qui-Gon said darkly. "Forgive me, but I had to make sure."

Padmé stared at him silently for a few moments before speaking. "You don't like me, do you?" she asked.

Qui-Gon looked up sharply. "What makes you say that?" he asked.

"You never have," Padmé said. "Back when I was a queen, you were downright hostile to me. And now you question my fidelity to your son despite the fact that I just gave birth to his children." Qui-Gon blinked a few times in surprise, caught off guard by this abrupt and trenchant accusation. "You never wanted him to fall in love, did you? You didn't want him repeating your mistakes."

"Can you blame me?" Qui-Gon asked.

"No," Padmé said. "But there's nothing you can do about that now. Anakin and I love each other. I would appreciate it if you supported us now."

Qui-Gon hesitated as he considered this request. She was right; he didn't like her. He never had. He thought she was stuck-up and supercilious, her ego inflated on account of being elected queen at such a young age. Perhaps he was wrong, however. It was clear that Anakin loved her. That should be good enough for Qui-Gon, after all.

Qui-Gon had opened his mouth to say something when he abruptly froze, his eyes widening with fear. He sensed something. Something… cataclysmic.

"Qui-Gon?" Padmé asked. "What's wrong?"

"Anakin is in danger," Qui-Gon told her, his face blanching as a wave of terror washed over him. "Terrible danger."

"Well, what is it boys?" Shmi taunted as she loomed over Obi-Wan and Anakin who were a few feet below her. "Are you going to attack me or not?"

Anakin and Obi-Wan glanced at each other, clearly ambivalent about the prospect. She couldn't blame them; they were way out of their league. They were both admirable warriors, sure, but their fighting skills didn't compare to hers. She had vanquished Darth Sidious himself! There was nobody in the galaxy who presented a genuine threat to her.

Yet in spite of this, Shmi couldn't help but feel somewhat apprehensive as well. She had only managed to kill Sidious because of the strength of her anger and the magnitude of her love for her son. In this situation, she wasn't fueled by either of those feelings. She was angry, but not in the same way as against Sidious. She felt betrayed, hurt, and alone. None of these emotions were conducive to battle.

"We'll take her together," Obi-Wan said to Anakin who nodded. Shmi sneered at them when they returned their gaze to her.

"You will try," she said, brandishing her Darksaber in front of her and assuming a defensive posture.

The two Jedi hesitated for a moment longer before leaping up the stairs toward her. Obi-Wan swung down at her toward her neck whereas Anakin aimed low toward her legs. Shmi deflected Obi-Wan's blade and spun away from Anakin's assault with ease.

As she fought off their offensive, however, Shmi realized another disadvantage. For the past ten years, she had fought exclusively with two blades. Now that her blue lightsaber was gone, however, she only had the Darksaber to wield. That combined with the fact that she was not yet fully comfortable with her mechanical hand rendered her capabilities all the more depleted.

Yet she was not lost. Even if her swordsmanship may be lacking, her Force abilities were not. She still had a massive advantage over her opponents in that regard. Besides, now that she only had the one blade, she could use her off hand to greater effect.

Shmi waited for an opening before deploying her counterattack. Having backed up toward the curved window behind her, Shmi ducked under Obi-Wan's blade and swiped upward at Anakin. Caught off guard by the force of this strike, Anakin was unable to parry the attack cleanly and Shmi's blade nicked him in the shoulder. As he stumbled backward in surprise, Shmi thrust her left hand out and sent Anakin flying across the room where he collided into the back wall with a dull thud.

Obi-Wan quickly regained the initiative as he swung violently at her head. Shmi was better able to counter his offensive, however, now that Anakin wasn't attacking her as well. After parrying a few more of Obi-Wan's strikes, Shmi knocked his lightsaber away and kicked him in the gut. Obi-Wan managed to avoid doubling over, as that would have rendered him vulnerable. Instead he backed up quickly, wincing as he did so.

"You lied to us, Elegius," Obi-Wan wheezed as he continued retreating slowly. "You said you wouldn't harm the Jedi."

"You were a fool to believe me," she said snidely.

"Oh no, I never believed you," Obi-Wan retorted. "I knew all along what you were. Anakin was the one who deceived himself. But he will be a fool no longer. He sees you for who you really are now: a monster."

Incensed, Shmi didn't bother to offer a rebuttal, electing instead to leap at Obi-Wan with her blade held high. The Darksaber plunged down at Obi-Wan who managed to repel the blow. Shmi refused to let him regain control over the duel, however, unleashing a flurry of strikes and counterstrikes upon her outclassed foe.

To her left, she could sense Anakin beginning to stir. She couldn't let him rejoin the fray. She had to finish off Obi-Wan first. Driven my this motivation, Shmi redoubled her efforts and soon had Obi-Wan retreating to the window.

"You can't win, Elegius," Obi-Wan claimed as his heels bumped into the glass.

"Oh no?" Shmi asked balefully, raising her lightsaber up over her shoulder.

"You may win this battle, but you won't win the war," Obi-Wan said. "If your son won't defeat you, your grandchildren will."

Red hot rage billowed within her at this threat. How dare he pit her grandchildren against her! They were literally hours old and already he was planning to turn them against her! He truly was a Jedi through and through; a manipulative bastard to the core.

With a roar, Shmi thrust her lightsaber at Obi-Wan like a lance, directing the point of her blade at Obi-Wan's chest. Obi-Wan managed to slap the blade away, but his position was compromised since he had no more room to back up into. Capitalizing on his lack of balance, Shmi swiped across her body and forced Obi-Wan's blue blade aside. Looping back around, Shmi reared back and thrust forward in one swift motion.

Unable to defend himself, Obi-Wan let out a shriek of pain when the Darksaber ripped through his left shoulder. The tip of the infinitesimally sharp blade protruded out the back and pierced the window behind Obi-Wan, a web of cracks emanating from the point of contact. Afraid that the window would break and expose them to the vacuum of space, Shmi deactivated her blade hastily and pulled back the hilt.

Dropping his lightsaber, Obi-Wan fell to his knees before her and clutched his grievously wounded shoulder. Wasting no time, Shmi raised the Darksaber over her head and reactivated the blade, ready to deliver the final blow.

"Qui-Gon wait!"

Qui-Gon shook his head and pointed his finger at Padmé as he made his way to the door. "Stay here. It's too dangerous."

"I'm coming with you!" Padmé demanded, pushing herself upright and laboriously swinging her legs off the bed.

"No, Padmé –"

She wasn't listening to him, however. Getting to her feet, she quickly fell back down onto Qui-Gon's wheelchair which he had just vacated.

"I am going with you," she said again, her face pale yet her tone steely. "This isn't a negotiation."

Qui-Gon faltered, impressed yet also irritated by her insistence. This was not something she should be involved with. It was too dangerous.

"Look, Padmé. I think –"

"I am a part of this family," Padmé interrupted tartly. "Just because you don't like it, doesn't make it any less true. Now tell me, where is my husband and why is he in danger?"

Husband? Wait, she and Anakin were married? How come neither wore a ring? How come –

"Qui-Gon," Padmé said sternly, cutting his thoughts short. "Tell me."

Qui-Gon hesitated a moment longer before folding. "Fine," he said with a shake of his head. "Follow me."

Without looking behind him to ensure that Padmé was following him, Qui-Gon marched out of the room and into the hallway. His legs felt hollow and wobbly, but he persevered down the hallway regardless, driven forward by sheer fear and paternal protectiveness. He couldn't lose Anakin after all this. It wouldn't be fair…

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Qui-Gon looked down to see that Padmé had caught up with him, wheeling herself forward with her arms.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon admitted as they burst out of the medical ward. "All I know is Anakin is in danger."

"From Shmi?" Padmé asked.

"In all likelihood," Qui-Gon said grimly.

Padmé gulped nervously and fell silent. The sound of his footsteps and the creak of the wheelchair echoed as they turned down another hallway. They were making their way back to the observation room where he and Shmi had just spoken a few minutes prior. Had Anakin decided to confront his mother there?

Qui-Gon's suspicions were all but confirmed when he heard a roar of fury accompanied soon thereafter by a shriek of pain.

"Anakin!" Padmé yelled, jumping out of her wheelchair in an instant.

"Padmé wait!"

She didn't listen to him, however, taking off running down the hallway toward the observation. Cursing under his breath, Qui-Gon ignored the protestations of his joints and took off after her in the direction of the clarion cry.

Shmi had just been about to swing down at Obi-Wan's neck when her left shoulder erupted in pain. Screaming, she dropped the Darksaber behind her head. Looking at her shoulder, her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw a tendril of smoke wafting from a smoldering wound. She had been shot? How was that possible?

Acting on instinct, Shmi spun around and thrust her mechanical hand outward just as the sound of a second blaster shot pierced the air. The red bolt froze mere inches from her outstretched fingers, the plasma of the bolt crackling right in front of her nose.

Looking up from the suspended bolt, Shmi's eyes widened as she saw who was standing in the doorway, a blaster held in both hands.

"Padmé?"

Unfazed by how easily Shmi had been able to freeze her second bolt, Padmé opened fire a third time. Shocked by her audacity, Shmi only barely managed to leap out of the way and fell to the ground. Both bolts – the second one having been released from Shmi's grasp when she jumped away – went soaring into the glass window behind her. Much to Shmi's relief, the material seemed to be impermeable to blaster fire, otherwise they all would have been dead had the window been broken.

Her ephemeral sense of relief faded into unmitigated rage, however, when she looked back up to see Padmé still aiming her blaster at her. On her back, Shmi twitched her neck and sent Padmé's blaster soaring out of her grasp. Padmé's head swiveled to the left after the blaster, and Shmi capitalized on this moment to get back to her feet.

Shmi attempted to raise her left hand, but stopped quickly when she remembered the wound Padmé had inflicted upon her shoulder. Growling, she raised her right hand instead toward her defenseless opponent.

Padmé's eyes bulged outward as she was lifted into the air by her throat. "Shmi, please," she managed to say as she clawed at her throat, desperately attempting to escape her inexorable grip. Shmi pinched her mechanical fingers closer together, strengthening her stranglehold over Padmé's neck…

A massive blow to Shmi's left temple knocked her off her feet. Sprawled out on the ground, Shmi looked up to see Anakin looming over her, a furious expression on his face. In his right hand, he grasped his father's lightsaber yet the blade was not activated. It seemed he had walloped her head with the hilt.

"This ends now," he said, his voice shaking with outrage.

Shmi blinked a few times, feeling overwhelmingly dizzy and disoriented. The blow to her head combined with the pain in her shoulder had rendered her groggy and discombobulated.

She was not defeated yet, however.

"I won't kill you, Mom," Anakin said, his figure somewhat distorted as her vision was blurred by tears of pain. "I won't do it."

"Weakling," she spat viciously.

"Huh?" Anakin said, caught off guard by her vitriol.

With lightning quickness, Shmi summoned her discarded Darksaber to her hand and propelled herself upward with the Force. Thoroughly unprepared to repel this blitz, Anakin fell backward when she kicked him square in the chest and sent him tumbling down the stairs. Activating her Darksaber, Shmi jumped toward Anakin's prone body and landed gracefully by his feet. She reared her Darksaber back in her right hand, ready to strike…

"Shmi, no!"

Shmi looked up sharply to see Qui-Gon in the doorway. He was on his knees by Padmé's unconscious form, a finger over her pulse.

"Mom," Anakin said below her in a dazed voice. "Don't –"

Shmi closed her eyes as a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. A horrific cackle reverberated in her skull, casting a terrible chill over her body.

I don't have to fight you, Shmi Skywalker. In time you will fight for me.

Sidious' decrepit face was alight with mirth. He was laughing at her, delirious that his plans were coming to fruition in spite of his own demise.

I see the glint in your eyes. You and Sidious are more alike than you are different.

Maul was snarling at her, disgust etched across his tattooed face. She had proven him right, in the end. She and Sidious were no different. In fact, she was far worse. She had been willing to kill her own son…

"Mom, why am I a slave?"

Shmi opened her eyes and inhaled sharply, stunned by the sight before her.

"Mom?"

This was her son as she remembered him. Her baby boy. His sandy hair was long and ruffled while his cheeks were full and cherubic. He was so beautiful.

"Ani, you're so much more than a slave," she had said to him, her voice soft and sweet, eyes gentle and solicitous, touch warm and comforting. That woman was Anakin's mother. Not her. She didn't know who she was anymore.

"I know, but why do I have a chip when others don't?"

She had smiled weakly, tears welling up in her eyes at this innocent yet tragic question. "Ani, I want you to listen to me," she had said, kneeling down so that she was at eye level with her son. "Just because you are different doesn't make you any less special."

"I know, but –"

"You're my son, Anakin," she had interrupted, her characteristic sternness laced with the sincere love of a mother. "You are the most important person in the entire galaxy to me. You mean more to me than the suns and all the stars in the sky. Do you know that?"

Anakin had frowned, clearly displeased by the lack of a clear answer. He didn't raise an objection, however. He had been too obedient to do such a thing. Back when she had deserved his trust and affection. "I know," he had said.

Shmi had smiled, standing back upright and reaching down to tousle his hair. "I love you, Ani."

"I love you too, Mom."

"Shmi! Stop!"

Remember my teachings, my child.

Love is the most powerful emotion we mortals can experience. You must learn how to weaponize your love for Anakin.

Return home, and you may find the answers you seek.

Plagueis had told her everything she needed to know, and it had all revolved around Anakin. It always had been about Anakin.

She had weaponized her love for Anakin just like Plagueis had taught her to do. She had killed Sidious to protect him. She had derived the necessary strength from her love for her son, and because of that she had become invincible.

Yet now she needed to stop. She needed to remember what her purpose was. She needed to remember that love was not just a weapon.

She needed to return home.

"This ends now."

"I won't kill you, Mom."

"I won't do it."

Please surrender. Please stop now. Please come back…

"Weakling."

"Huh?"

Anakin had blinked, and before he knew it, his mother had leapt back to her feet and summoned her weapon back to her hand. She had kicked him square in the chest and sent him tumbling down the stairs where he landed hard on his back.

Winded, he had looked up to see the terrifying figure of Elegius tearing toward him, her blade held high over her right shoulder.

"Mom, don't –"

She didn't listen to him. She couldn't listen to him. She was gone. Shmi Skywalker was gone for good…

"Shmi, no!"

She froze, the blade quivering with anticipation above her head. Her eyes bored into his own, the yellow of the left burning into his retinas.

"Shmi! Stop!"

The blade plunged down.

Anakin closed his eyes and held his hands up in a pitiful attempt to defend himself. This was the end, for sure…

And then it happened.

He felt a heavy thump on his chest, instantly thereafter accompanied by a massive disruption in the Force, the magnitude of which he couldn't even begin to comprehend. He tentatively opened his eyes, unsure of what he might find.

His mother was still looming over him, but she was bent over, her head bowed so that he couldn't see her face. Her right arm was outstretched and her mechanical hand which was still clutching the Darksaber was rested on top of his chest. Evidently she had deactivated the blade as she had swung down at him.

"Anakin!"

Looking up and away from Shmi, Anakin saw his father rushing toward him, his eyes wide with terror. Turning back to look at Shmi, Anakin cautiously placed his hand atop her mechanical one.

"Mom?" he asked.

"I'm so sorry, Ani."

Anakin gasped when she looked back up at him and their eyes met. No longer were her eyes tainted by yellow and black. Instead, returned had the eyes of his mother. They were glassy and distant, but the gentle brown was unmistakable.

Shmi Skywalker had returned.

Abruptly, she retracted her mechanical hand and fell to her knees by her feet, dropping the Darksaber unceremoniously as she did so. Her chin started to tremble and tears began to stream forth from her recently restored eyes, the droplets falling downward and onto the toes of his boots. Anakin watched in awe as he struggled upright into a seated position, pressing the palms of his hands against the cool floor to stabilize himself.

"Anakin! Are you alright?"

Qui-Gon had fallen to the ground by his side and had placed his hands on either side of Anakin's face. Forced to look away from his distraught mother, Anakin blinked dazedly as he nodded to his father.

"I – I'm fine," he stammered. "Mom..."

Qui-Gon's expression hardened as he swiveled his head toward Shmi. "What is wrong with you?" he asked with uncharacteristic virulence. "You nearly killed our son! You –"

Qui-Gon's diatribe ceased abruptly when Shmi looked up once more, this time to meet her husband's furious gaze. Upon seeing her eyes, Qui-Gon's own widened in disbelief.

"Shmi?" he said.

"Obi-Wan was right about me," she wailed, her fingers scratching her cheeks as she dragged them down. "I am a monster!"

Qui-Gon and Anakin remained silent, unable to refute this undeniable truth.

"I tried to kill my own son!" she cried.

Anakin gulped and looked at his father whose face was taut, a single tear rolling down his grizzled cheek. "But you didn't," he said softly. "You didn't do it, Shmi."

"It's over, Mom," Anakin added, his voice sounding strained much like Qui-Gon's. "You brought balance to the Force."

"At what cost?" she asked, sagging her shoulders and covering her face with her hands as sobs wracked her body.

Neither her son nor her husband had any answers for her.

An hour later, Qui-Gon was slouching back in his chair as he pinched the bridge of his nose firmly. His knees were aching, his hips burning, and his head pounding, but he didn't allow himself to succumb to his exhaustion. There was still too much work to do.

The door to the conference room slid open and Qui-Gon looked up to see Obi-Wan walk in, followed closely by Yoda and Senator Organa. His former Padawan's arm was suspended in a sling and his wounded shoulder was swathed in a heavy layering of gauze.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon exclaimed, straightening his back as he sat back upright. "What are you doing up? You should be resting!"

Obi-Wan smiled thinly as he made a beeline for the nearest chair on Qui-Gon's left. "I know," he confessed as he sat down, wincing slightly as he rubbed his injured shoulder gingerly. "I'm maxed out on pain meds, but it still stings like crazy."

"Pierced by an exceptional blade, you were," Yoda commented as he too scrambled onto his elevated seat, his cane cast aside against the opposite wall. "Unlike other lightsabers, the Darksaber is."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan agreed, shaking his head as he reached to his belt. Qui-Gon frowned as he watched Obi-Wan produce the very weapon Yoda had just referenced.

"Where did you get that?" Qui-Gon asked when Obi-Wan set the hilt down on the table in front of him.

"Anakin gave it to me after the droids applied my bandages," Obi-Wan explained. "He wants me to return it to Mandalore where it belongs. He says his mother has no need of it anymore."

"That was wise of him," Qui-Gon said, grateful for his son's proactiveness.

"Very true," Obi-Wan concurred. "He and I talked a great deal, actually. We came to an agreement regarding the future of the Order."

Yoda leaned forward in his chair and pointed a stubby finger at Obi-Wan. "Consult me, you did not?" he asked accusatively.

"I am consulting you now," Obi-Wan said tartly. Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow, surprised by Obi-Wan's testy behavior toward the Grand Master. Obi-Wan returned his attention to Qui-Gon, clearly preferring to speak to him than to Yoda. "Anakin and I want to forge a new order," he said.

"A new order?" Qui-Gon repeated. "You mean to say you want the Jedi to end?"

"We want to reform the Order," Obi-Wan clarified, glancing momentarily at Yoda. "We think the code needs to be rewritten."

Qui-Gon smiled faintly and tilted his head back, stroking his chin as he did so. "I see," he said, beaming at his old Padawan proudly. "You do want to return to Mandalore, don't you?"

Obi-Wan nodded and reciprocated Qui-Gon's smile. "I do," he said. "It has been far too long."

Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon saw Yoda and Organa glance at each other, clearly bemused by this apparent non-sequitur. "I am proud of you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. "It seems you have grown a lot in the past three years."

"We want to found an order based on your ideals, Master," Obi-Wan told him. "For that reason, it is only fitting that we name it after you."

"How do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked, feeling simultaneously flattered and embarrassed by this request.

"The Knights of Jinn," Obi-Wan expounded. "Anakin has always wanted to be able to use his father's name, anyway. This gives him a way to do that."

Qui-Gon shook his head, unwilling to condone this proposition. "Obi-Wan, I'm honored, but I don't deserve this adulation," he said. "It is thoroughly unwarranted."

Obi-Wan snorted and rolled his eyes. "I knew you would say that," he said.

"What say you, Master Yoda?" Qui-Gon asked, diverting the conversation away from the subject of his alleged humility. He didn't feel comfortable receiving this undue praise from Obi-Wan in light of his nearly catastrophic failure.

"Reform, the code needs not," Yoda said definitively. "Corrupted, Skywalker was, because follow the code, she did not."

Aggrieved, Qui-Gon opened his mouth to offer a stern retort but Obi-Wan spoke before he could. "Master Yoda, it is naïve to assume that Skywalker's disregard for the code was a mere aberration," he said diplomatically. "I can guarantee you that far fewer members of the Order were as dedicated to the code as you might believe."

Yoda narrowed his eyes and made a side glance at Qui-Gon. "More diligent, we must be," he said. "Not more lenient."

"Leniency is what ended this conflict in the first place!" Qui-Gon exclaimed, not allowing Obi-Wan to interrupt him this time. "Shmi never would have returned to the light had we not been willing to show forgiveness."

"Returned to the light, has she?" Yoda asked skeptically.

"Do you doubt me?" Qui-Gon asked bitingly.

"Once fallen to the dark side, return one cannot," Yoda said with a bow of his head. "Proven wrong, I hope I could be," he added.

"She will prove you wrong," Qui-Gon said at once. "And so will this new order."

Yoda's ears drooped a bit, clearly dubious about this assurance. "Change your mind, I cannot," he said morosely. "Powerless, I am now."

"You won't join this order on principle?" Qui-Gon asked, aghast by Yoda's unflagging intransigence. He was so embroiled in his dogma that he was entirely unwilling to change his mind.

"Retire, I will," he said plaintively. "Need me, you do not."

Qui-Gon shook his head yet didn't attempt to convince the Grand Master otherwise. If he was frank, it was a relief that Yoda had decided to step aside. It was time for new leadership.

"Perhaps we should discuss the logistics sometime else," Qui-Gon suggested to Obi-Wan. "I'd very much like to see Anakin. Where is he?"

"With Padmé," Obi-Wan told him.

"Oh," Qui-Gon said, feeling a twinge of disappointment. "I'll wait then."

"She's still asleep, I'm sure Anakin wouldn't mind," Obi-Wan assured him. "He probably wants to talk to you as well, anyway."

"Very well," Qui-Gon said. "I will speak with him."

Anakin was seated on a chair by Padmé's bedside back in the operating room, Luke and Leia miraculously both asleep in their cradles. He had placed his hand atop Padmé's on the bed and was looking up at her sleeping face with a clenched jaw.

His mother had nearly killed her. He had woken up to see Padmé suspended in the air by her throat, her eyes rolling back into her skull. Shmi had been standing atop the stairs with her mechanical arm raised, Obi-Wan's prone form on the ground by her feet. Never before had Anakin experienced terror as raw and all-encompassing as he had in that moment. Padmé and Obi-Wan – two of the most important people in the galaxy to him – had been seconds away from death.

His terror gave way to rage as he managed to stagger back to his feet and rush toward Shmi, lightsaber held high over his head. He had acted on pure instinct, smashing the deactivated hilt into his mother's temple and sending her tumbling down to the ground.

He had wanted to kill her. She would have deserved it. His finger had hovered over the trigger of his father's lightsaber, itching to press down and deliver the final blow, desperate to ensure that never again would his friends and family be in danger from the monster that was Elegius.

Yet even after everything she had done, Anakin still hadn't been able to do it. He simply was unable to kill his own mother, no matter how horrible she may be.

Had he made a mistake? Should he have given into his instincts and struck her down like Obi-Wan had wanted him to do? After all, the fact that he had emerged victorious this time around didn't mean that the threat had been extinguished all together. His mother was still very much capable of destroying everything he held dear.

In spite of her apparent redemption, Anakin couldn't be sure that Shmi was no longer a threat. The ambiguity of her surrender troubled him; while she had indeed told him that she was sorry, she hadn't committed to abdicating power like they all wanted her to do. It had been a wise idea to take the Darksaber away from her, but even so her power was unparalleled. Anakin had no doubt that she could dispose of him and Obi-Wan without a lightsaber should she choose to do so.

"How is she?"

Startled, Anakin spun his head around toward the door to see that his father had entered, ensconced on his trusty wheelchair. Evidently he had managed to sneak up on him once again.

"Alright," Anakin said, his pulse decelerating quickly as his shock dissipated. "She wasn't harmed," he added in a hushed tone so as not to wake Padmé or the twins.

Qui-Gon bowed his head and wheeled himself forward a few feet. "That's good," he said wearily.

"She could have been, though," Anakin said, releasing Padmé's hand and orienting his chair so that he could face his father directly. "She would have died if I hadn't acted. She would have killed her."

"I know it," Qui-Gon said gravely. "But you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Do I?" Anakin asked. "How do we know she isn't going to come back?"

"Elegius, you mean?"

Anakin nodded, snarling involuntarily at the vile name.

"Elegius is gone," Qui-Gon said confidently. "She won't return."

"How can you know for sure?" Anakin asked, immediately dismissive of his father's optimism.

"I can't," Qui-Gon admitted with a shrug. "But I have faith."

"Faith isn't good enough," Anakin said brusquely.

"Perhaps not, but it's all we have," Qui-Gon countered. "I believe in her, Anakin. I know that you don't, and that's understandable. Just promise me you won't antagonize her."

"She tried to kill my wife!" Anakin exclaimed in an angry whisper. "She was moments away from killing me and Obi-Wan as well! You think I can just forgive her after that?"

Qui-Gon shook his head and rubbed his temples with his index fingers, clearly exhausted by everything that had happened to this point. Sighing loudly, Qui-Gon took a few moments before looking back up at Anakin, the dull glint in his eyes revealing his weariness.

"I'm not asking you to forgive her," he said in a husky voice. "I'm asking you to let her heal."

"Heal?" Anakin repeated skeptically. "You really think that's possible? After everything she's done?"

"I don't know," Qui-Gon confessed once again. "But we owe it to her to give her another chance. You especially, Anakin."

"Is that so?" Anakin asked, an edge to his voice at this assessment.

"She sacrificed everything for you, Ani," Qui-Gon told him plaintively, closing his eyes as his neck sagged forward. "She threw away everything she had ever known and was willing to be sold into slavery for your sake. Did she lose her way later on? Sure, but that doesn't mean that your debt to her is voided."

Anakin bit his tongue and looked away, unsure how to react to his father's words. He understood what he was saying and to an extent he actually agreed with him; he did have a responsibility to restoring his mother and purging the darkness from her. Even so, he wasn't sure he would be able to commit to this. He was so angry at her for what she had done and for what she had almost done.

"You should talk to her at some point," Qui-Gon said, raising his head and placing his hands on the wheels of his chair. "It doesn't have to be now, nor does it have to be at any point in the immediate future. But eventually, you need to talk to her."

Anakin nodded solemnly and glanced back at Padmé who was still sound asleep. "I know," he said. Pausing for a long moment, Anakin's eyes defocused as he considered what he wanted to say to his father. What did you say to a person you had thought to be dead for three years?

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," he said finally, turning back to meet Qui-Gon's gaze. "It was wrong of me to do that."

Qui-Gon smiled faintly at this apology. "It was wrong of me to accuse you as well," he said. "I am very proud of you, Anakin. You will make a far greater man and husband than I ever was."

Anakin reciprocated his father's smile, blushing slightly as he looked down. It felt like undue praise – Anakin doubted anyone could ever claim to be a greater man than his father – but he relished the compliment regardless.

"I should be going," Qui-Gon said after a long, comfortable silence. "I'll leave you with your family."

"Where are you going?" Anakin asked as Qui-Gon started to roll himself back toward the door.

"To speak with your mother," he said simply before spinning his wheelchair around to leave.

Shmi was seated at the base of the stairs in the observation room, her head locked between her knees which were tucked into her chest. She was rocking back and forth with nauseating rapidity, a soft pattering sound echoing in the vast room whenever her back made contact with the bottom stair.

The muscles in her arms had begun to strain after having wrapped them tightly around her knees for the entire duration of her self-imposed internment in the room. She didn't know how long she had been there – whether it be hours or days – but the triviality of time no longer concerned her.

She felt queasy. Disgust broiling and simmering so much so that she felt sick to her stomach. Over and over again, she replayed the incident which had taken place precisely where she was now seated…

Why had she swung down at her own son? For a moment she had been paralyzed as she stood over Anakin's defenseless form, the Darksaber elevated above her head. She had felt remorse and guilt on a scale incomprehensible to her beforehand. In that one instant she had seen herself through Obi-Wan's eyes and saw the monster that she had become. She had realized how Sidious had never truly been defeated, but merely reincarnated in herself just like Qui-Gon had forewarned.

She had known that she needed to stop and lay down her arms. Yet she swung down anyway.

Why?

The fact that she had somehow managed to deactivate the blade in time before it sliced through her son's chest was immaterial to her. The very act of bringing her weapon down upon her own child, regardless of the outcome, was an unforgivable offense.

In her rage-induced state, she had dehumanized all of the people whom she claimed to love; she had ceased to recognize Anakin as her son and instead she had seen him as a mere asset who was critical to her greater aspirations; Padmé had been reduced to a faceless foe wielding a blaster, no different than a battle droid or a clone; Qui-Gon had been dismissed entirely as an irrelevant outsider on account of the lack of threat he posed to her.

And therein lied the fundamental fiction of Plagueis' teachings. He had told her that love was a crucial component to the dark side, yet now Shmi understood that this was only half true. Of course, her love for Anakin and Qui-Gon had enhanced her powers so much so that she had become practically invincible versus the Jedi or Sidious. She had weaponized her love just like Plagueis had wanted her to do, yet in the process she had forgotten how to love.

She had been consumed by the dark side, but not in the manner Plagueis had feared. In the act of falling over the precipice, Sidious had plunged never to return again whereas she had managed to stop herself, clawing back to the light by the tips of her fingers – mechanical or otherwise. And while she had somehow succeeded in pulling herself back into the light, she had lost everything in the process.

It was in this sense that the dark side had destroyed her. She had realized her folly far too late and now she no longer deserved the love of the family she had long craved to have. It wouldn't be fair to Qui-Gon to pretend as if she could be his wife once more after what she had done. It wouldn't be right to be a grandmother to Luke and Leia when she had nearly killed both of their parents. It would be immoral for her to try and be a mother to Anakin after she had come so close to committing the ultimate sin.

And so she would have to be alone forevermore, isolated from the galaxy and from the Force itself. She was too dangerous to be kept alive, yet not worthy of embracing death prematurely. Perhaps she should return to Tatooine. It was there with the rest of the scum of the galaxy where she belonged, anyway.

"Our son has become quite an impressive young man."

Shmi ceased rocking yet made no other indication that she had heard Qui-Gon who had evidently entered the room without her realizing. Her whole body stiffened at his arrival, guilt and self-loathing compounding further still by his mere proximity.

"He and Obi-Wan are going to found a new order," Qui-Gon told her, apparently ignorant of or insouciant toward her desire for solitude. "They want to name it after me," he added with a self-deprecating snort. "The Knights of Jinn. I hate to admit it, but it's got a nice ring to it."

"Why are you here?" Shmi asked curtly, her voice sounding hoarse and raspy due to lack of use.

Without looking up, she could sense Qui-Gon sitting down in front of her, his tired joints cracking audibly as he did so. She heard him sigh as he settled himself a few feet away from her, the process of getting down to the ground clearly arduous for him.

"I've come to see my wife," he said finally, his voice rich and mellifluous as always. "Do I need any more reason than that?"

"I'm not your wife, Qui-Gon," she said, head still bowed to the floor and her eyes remained closed shut. "I'm a monster."

"I fail to see how those two identities are mutually exclusive," Qui-Gon quipped, his voice remarkably chipper given the solemnity of the situation. Had he somehow forgotten that she had nearly killed his son?

She heard Qui-Gon grumble, clearly frustrated by her reticence. "You don't have to do this to yourself, Shmi," he said, his vain attempt at levity disappearing as he adopted a more somber tone. "You don't have to give up because you made a mistake."

At this, Shmi finally lifted her head to look at Qui-Gon, tears streaking down her face from her bloodshot eyes. "A mistake?" she repeated incredulously. "Is that what you think that was?"

"What else would you call it?" he asked softly.

"A crime," she said, her face contorting bitterly as she looked away to the left so as to evade Qui-Gon's solicitous eyes. "A sin. A barbaric act."

"It was all of those things," Qui-Gon agreed. "But at its core, it was just a mistake. Do you know why?" Shmi shook her head, still refusing to look Qui-Gon in the eyes. "Because you feel remorse," he told her. "You regret doing it."

"Of course I do," she said, choking up slightly as she shut her eyes tight once more and tucked her head against her left shoulder which was still stinging from the blaster wound.

"You understand what you did was terrible, and therefore you deserve forgiveness," Qui-Gon told her. "You deserve a chance at retribution."

"No," Shmi said at once, biting her tongue angrily as she shook her head. "I don't deserve anything."

Much to her surprise, Qui-Gon didn't contradict her right away. Instead, he remained silent for a long while, allowing her words to hang in the air. Grateful for the silence, Shmi looked down at the floor and wiped her eyes with her mechanical hand, the cool metal unable to absorb the tears like regular flesh would have been able.

"I want you to come back," Qui-Gon said after nearly a full minute of silence. "We can finally live openly together like we've always wanted. We can finally be a family together. Don't you want that?"

"Of course I do, Qui-Gon!" Shmi exclaimed, gritting her teeth as she spoke to the floor rather than to her husband's aged face. "But I don't deserve that! I can't be your wife after what I did. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"But I don't care," Qui-Gon retorted with characteristic obstinacy. "I don't care about what's fair or what's right. I want my wife back, damnit!"

"She's gone, Qui-Gon!"

"She's not gone! She's sitting right in front of me!"

Exasperated, Shmi pressed her hands against her forehead and clenched her jaw so tightly that her whole face shook. Why was Qui-Gon making this so difficult? Why couldn't he see that she couldn't return to him?

"When we were married, I knew that you felt guilty," Qui-Gon said suddenly. Bemused by this unprompted disclosure, Shmi looked up to see him smiling faintly at her. "You never told me, but I knew. You felt so terrible that I sacrificed my dreams so that you might obtain yours. I wanted a family. You wanted to be a Master. We couldn't have both."

Shmi said nothing, remembering that gut-wrenching conflict which had afflicted her for the first three years of her marriage to Qui-Gon. She hadn't thought about that in years, decades even…

"That guilt never did any of us any good," Qui-Gon continued. "You told me yourself that it was that guilt that convinced you to run away to Tatooine because you didn't know I was the father. And now that same guilt has convinced you to run away from me again."

"I'm not running away, Qui-Gon –"

"No, that's exactly what you're doing," Qui-Gon interrupted with jarring brusqueness. "You're giving up on yourself and you're giving up on our marriage."

"I'm not giving up, I'm doing what has to be done," she rebutted.

"Would you stop it with that self-righteous nonsense!" Qui-Gon bellowed. "You don't have to do this anymore than you had to run away when you found out you were pregnant twenty-three years ago. You're choosing the easy path, Shmi. You're choosing to run away again because you don't want to confront yourself and come to terms with what you've done."

Shmi shook her head again but didn't offer a retort this time, her chin trembling precariously as renewed tears welled up in her tightly-shut eyes.

"If you won't do this for yourself, please do it for me," Qui-Gon said, the vehemence of his voice enervating but the determination not eroded in the slightest. "You said you felt so guilty about not being able to make any sacrifices for me when I made so many for you. Why don't you return the favor now? That's all I want, Shmi. I want you back by my side."

Shmi sniffled and winced as she rubbed her eyes with her left hand, the pain in her shoulder flaring up at the motion. Disregarding the searing sensation, Shmi considered Qui-Gon's heartfelt entreaty.

The latter half of her life had been forged by regret and guilt, just like how Qui-Gon was saying. He was entirely right that she had decided to run away from him and the Jedi in large part because she felt guilty about what had happened to her. It was irrational, of course, but she had blamed herself for allowing Sidious to rape her. Furthermore, she had felt horribly guilty about being pregnant but not with Qui-Gon's child, or so she thought at the time. All he had ever wanted was to start a family with her and she had rebuffed him time and time again only to get pregnant by Sidious' despicable designs.

She had run away because she hadn't wanted to ruin Qui-Gon's career by asking him to help her raise a child who wasn't even his. Ten years later, however, that guilt returned with a vengeance when she learned that Qui-Gon was in fact Anakin's father and she had been responsible for tearing him away from his son for the first ten years of Anakin's life. It was this guilt which had pushed her toward joining Plagueis and abandoning Qui-Gon once again.

And now that the guilt had returned, she was going to do the same thing she had always done: run away and leave her husband behind. Of all the monstrous things she had done, this was one of the worst; over and over again she had abandoned the man whom she claimed to love, always for some ostensibly noble reason but in reality because she couldn't deal with the guilt.

She couldn't do that to him again. She didn't deserve him, but he didn't deserve to have his heart broken by her for a third time. For the first time in her life, she would choose to prioritize Qui-Gon's wishes over her own.

For the first time in her life, she would not succumb to the guilt. This time, she would come home.