Everything belongs to Lucasfilm - all disclaimers apply

Unbroken Vow of a Jedi: Chapter 4

Shmi Skywalker

At the Temple

Obi-Wan's hopes for finding peace of mind before the next Council gathering faltered as he stepped into the icy silence of the Archive Room. Before the emergency barricade locks had unengaged itself to allow the Master passage within the ancient library, he had been wishing dearly to be welcomed with the characteristic buzz of children's voices.

But there was nothing.

He thought for a moment that maybe Master Windu had not been the Jedi privy to the Youngling's most recent location as he had thought. When Windu had answered a question concerning where the Younglings were during the meeting, he had been under the impression that it was Windu himself that had relocated the Younglings from their nurseries on the outskirts of the Temple's center to the more strategic setting of the Archive Room. While the Temple's nurseries offered natural sunlight for the children as they grew, their close proximity to the rest of Coruscant left them with an inferior defensive position. The Archive Room, being the duely safeguarded heart of the Temple, was leagues more secure. The rest of the Council had agreed unanimously on the matter.

But there was not a trace of the sound Obi-Wan imagined must always accompany the presence of children. As he scanned the expansive space of the chamber, his eyes detected no movement. He frowned, believing for a moment that his second attempt to center himself was falling through just like the first. Although he usually enjoyed conversing with his former Padawan, he hardly enjoyed hearing a beeping comlink at 1:47 in the morning while trying to take a nap. But, ever eager for answers like the rest of the galaxy, Obi-Wan had made haste to answer Anakin's call. In the aftermath of the midnight Council meeting, he had been especially yearning for some light to be shed.

The conversation, however, had ended without giving much in the way of answers for Obi-Wan. He had been happy to have been some use in answering Anakin's questions about Ahsoka, but that was before the conversation turned uncomfortable in his knowledge that Anakin felt alienated from the Council – and, by default – from Obi-Wan himself. Learning about the nearly collective distaste felt by citizens of the Republic – or, more importantly, the Senate – towards the Jedi was also hard to swallow.

First it was the battle at the Temple - the slaughtering of Clones - then there was Anakin's hasty assignment to the Senator (of course there was a kidnapping, why not add to our troubles!), and then there was the head-count (of those that were present, of bodies both Jedi and Clone, and of those still missing), then the data from the Tribunal's coordinate net (of course Ahsoka is MIA!), then it was the Council meeting that only showed that they have more questions than answers - more problems than solutions, and then it had been the conversation with Anakin.

Of course everyone was against the Jedi.

The corpses of thousands of brethren would apparently never be enough.

After continually getting beaten while already out for the count, Obi-Wan sought to find an escape from the grim news of the crisis at hand by seeking out the innocent companionship of little Younglings. Perhaps it had been the discussion of Ahsoka reminding Obi-Wan of the benefits to being a teacher that made him gravitate towards the young ones, but he wasn't sure. Taking a Padawan at this point was an entirely mindless notion, but it had been a notion he had been toying with since the beginning of Anakin's Knighthood.

It was a notion that he questioned the moment the Younglings began to swarm around him after finding them in the far secondary aisle of the Archive Room, waiting quietly but impatiently for an adult to come to their aid as they sat at a table holding several research interfaces. Obi-Wan could see from the screens that they were all monitoring numerous public information servers and news lines, and he was somewhat impressed with how silent they had managed to be before his arrival.

Several exclamations of 'Master Kenobi' were called out as they abandoned the interfaces to circle him.

"Yes, yes, hello," he replied to every call of his name in amused resignation, making sure to not move his legs after spotting some of the younger ones make their way through the herd to grasp at his robes. He couldn't help the curling up of his mustache in a smile, touched to see the young ones so eager to be assured by him. The older ones kept their distance better but remained to look up at Obi-Wan with awe and relief.

Although their behavior wasn't something that was usually expected out of Younglings, Obi-Wan knew that the trauma of being exposed to battle at such a tender age would leave anyone, even fledgling Jedi, in need of finding refuge in the presence of those sworn to protect them. Even after Anakin had called for the evacuation of all Clones from the premises before their inevitable switch, they had found their way back in.

Obi-Wan tried to ignore the irrefutable markings of blaster-bolts on the soot-covered floor.

Needing to find refuge himself in order to center his spirit for the forthcoming Council meeting left him more than happy to gently wipe stray grime from their faces with his sleeve.

"Master Kenobi, are you here to move us?" an elder Youngling called out.

"Oh no, I'm only here to check on each of you; I know you all must be very distressed at the moment. I can stay for the next couple of hours at most to give you company, if you'd like."

The wave of eager nods and affirmations left him unable to do anything but continue smiling.

"Now, let us make our way just over yonder," he said with a point towards the center circle of the Archive's disk-like design that rested beyond the aisle they took up. "So that we can spread out for me to meet each of you."

They parted for him immediately and trailed behind him very closely as he walked onwards.

Now I'm the Mother Goose, he thought with much amusement.

Padmé's Apartment

"I know you're there, Padmé."

She didn't expect anything less of him, but she was still disappointed for being called out. Somewhat sheepishly, she began towards the veranda to see him standing with his back to her before the paneled window. The visage that was painted against the darkness of Coruscant showed that he was looking at her reflection just as she was looking at his. The pearl marble of the column that stood behind him made him look almost inanimate.

There were millions of things that needed to be said, but that immeasurable silence remained. With his gaze still on Coruscant's skyline, and her gaze still staring blankly at nothing at all, they remained silent. Both were waiting patiently, and their thoughts were the same.

They both desired their pound of flesh on certain matters, but even if they had an entire year to speak to one another, they might not even begin to scratch the surface of the reservoir of thoughts, feelings, and memories that made up the shared joint bond between Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker.

And, despite the fact that both participants felt the bond in the moment he called out for her as surely as they did when they first met as children, tonight would not be the night that would commence that difficult conversation to begin. That night might not ever come, and they both knew it. There was a barrier, a dam, a nearly impregnable containment that gorged upon the kilometers between the two. And, while one of them had long ago promised herself a second try, had taken up the courage to in the knowledge that he was worth her devotion and adoration, the other, in his fear of his losses, his alienation from his brothers and sisters in arms, his belief that he was unworthy of love, and through the impending approach of an odious evil that dripped through the cracks of his moral code, remained unsure of himself and unsure of others; especially those that were closest to him.

The reason for their sudden need to speak to each other about their personal demons came at a random onslaught without a noticeable cause, and remained to be a mystery to them both. Being unapproached in the ways of physical acts of love left them unable to understand the sheer gravitation of being in each other's proximity in the dark of the night. They didn't even need to see each other in order to feel it. It was like the disk between two worn vertebrae; constant and uncomfortable.

But the demons remained.

For, in the darkest memory that the two shared together, none of the recollections could have scarred them like their memory of Tatooine's first sun climbing the horizon of the Great Chott salt flat of the Jundland Wastes.

One Day before Shmi Skywalker's Death

Weeks before the Clone Wars

Jamboe's eyebrows raised in surprise at the request.

"Mos Espa?" he asked, sounding impressed. As if he was pleased with the gutsy demand.

Padmé nodded. "You heard me, Sir Leirg." She smirked at the title, knowing full well the pride that the sobering man held for the sentiment. "I need you to return to Mos Espa immediately."

The faint outer rim of mauve purple that outlined the planes of his face widened as he smiled at the title; as she knew he would. Padmé was pleased to see the smile, and she continued in full confidence, reassured of his loyalties. She could imagine — through the many years of her ordering him to remain in the most sweltering planet imaginable — that the idealistic old dog would want to give up his post as her main informant for Court-Ruling 109.477.62. Jamboe just hated the feeling of the suns' radiation against his scars, and he was continuing to battle with the fact that the near decrepit state of his eyesight left his shot a little dubious 1/10th of the time. Defending himself against the throes of suspicious slavers and capitalist gang-led slave-ringers was stimulating his survival skills more than Padmé would have liked.

Especially when the dunce took on a gang with an offensive tactic, of all things.

But what he did could be done by no other, as there was no one who was more loyal to Padmé's cause – second to Sabé herself. And he was well-qualified beyond his survival skills; a native Tatooiner with an intimate knowledge of slavery couldn't serve the Anti-Slavery policy better. He already knew the system he was investigating, and he remained to be her teacher on the matter.

You can't dismantle something without knowing how it functions. Padmé, who knew her limits well, understood this.

Jamboe's smile disappeared as his holo looked about him shiftily between her hands. He seemed to think for a moment, grinding his heel in the sand, and Padmé could tell that he was trying to remember the events that took place when he was last in Mos Espa. They were grim, indeed.

"Wasn't sure you wanted us to return there since the attack against Rabé."

"I didn't know that I would need you to return until now." Quickly glancing towards the general direction that she knew her distressed Padawan protector took up in the lake house, she continued. "And unlike the last operation, you will be working independently. My handmaidens will not join you this time, so the event of being recognized is a smaller possibility than it was all those years ago. Prioritize disguising yourself and your identity."

"Know the drill," He mumbled before shuffling his gray cape tighter to him against the oncoming gust of sand. "What is back in Mos Espa that isn't here in Bestine?"

"The whereabouts of Shmi Skywalker."

Jamboe froze. "You mean, we're resuming the search? After all these years? But we don't even know if that Toydarian scum is even still in Mos Espa, let alone the woman herself-"

"But it's the only place to look," Padmé interrupted him. "When you were first put on board the operation, I remember that you were the one sent to find Watto. He had abandoned Mos Espa in order to seek out the debts he was owed from gambling, right?"

Jamboe snorted. "Yes – and to escape the wrath of the people who he owed debt to. And I could never find out who these people were, much less where they were. Thought we established that he sold Shmi to ease his debt."

"That was a likely possibility. But the situation has changed suddenly. Please, I must insist that you return to see if he is there now. Quickly. His shop was temporarily closed which means he planned on returning. He might still be there. I have reason to believe that Shmi Skywalker is in danger, and Watto is the only being we know of that could possibly know about her."

Jamboe's look of doubt was almost insulting. "With all due respect Mistress, how could you possibly-"

Padmé silenced him with her hand. "Remember when I told you that Shmi had a son who was being raised on Coruscant as a Jedi? He was assigned to me recently as my protection against the attempts on my life."

Jamboe nodded. "Heard about those, but knew that if something happened to you then Sabé would have told me. Didn't know Cordé, but if she was anything like the lovely ladies I know and love then I'm sorry."

Padmé accepted the remembrance with a saddened nod. She was well aware of the fact that Jamboe felt that he owed them his life for what they did on Tatooine all those years ago.

Padmé surely did not see it that way.

"Jedi sometimes… know of things that normal people would never know. They understand things in very unconventional ways. Her son just told me of his premonitions of Shmi where she is suffering somewhere. We don't know where, but… he made it obvious to me that time is of the essence. We must act quickly, and I don't want to waste time in trying to find her if she is truly being harmed as we search. So please, Jamboe-"

"Understand, my lady. I will leave at once and contact you as soon as I have something for you to go on. Are you on your way now?"

She shook her head. "We are preparing to leave from Naboo now."

"I will need to kick up some dust, then." He said with a grin that showed wide teeth with a single chipped tooth.

"Make sure that it is kicked with caution," she advised gravely before ending the transmission.

Checking behind her once again to make sure that the conversation had remained confidential, Padmé gulped a determined breath and squared her shoulders before she sought Anakin out once more.

After first finding her protector about fifteen minutes ago in the earliest light of dawn, meditating in a sturdy stance, Padmé began to reflect on just what was causing that bend in his brows. She knew that it had to do with his nightmares, and possibly even his mother, Shmi Skywalker. The night before, when hearing him cry out for his mother as he did on the transport to Naboo, Padmé had been afraid to ask him about his dreams. But no longer.

She had confronted him about it, inviting him to talk about it. And when he did, it was almost as if he couldn't help himself. It was as if he was rarely invited to speak about personal issues, and just couldn't deny his desire to spill his worries to her. To that, Padmé almost felt special at the treatment before she stopped her train of thought. But when he was honest with her about his dreams of his mother's torment, Padmé was left once again in awe at Anakin's ability to wear his heart on his sleeve so willingly, so trustingly.

But, she also felt guilt; an irrational mound of guilt that buried her once her fears were confirmed.

So, when Anakin told her that he needed to find his mother, she agreed and invited herself eagerly in order to do whatever she could to help her dearest… friend.

When she asked him to retrieve her belongings and send for Artoo to prepare the ship, she had hoped that the simple tasks would allow the young man some time to steel himself against the rightful worry he felt for his mother. It pained Padmé to see his boisterous face weighed down with the fear for his loved one, and Padmé knew personally of the benefits of keeping yourself busy to allow the mind to wander from fears and troubles.

But when she found him at the threshold of her master bedroom on the first floor, face faintly red, her eyes widened in realization that, while her clothes were still safely packed in her suitcases, they were actually open for all of Naboo to admire. The suitcase in question, that sat in the view of the young Jedi and Senator as she came to his side, was filled with innocent but delicate lacing that made up the bulk of her personal coverings – and completely open. Almost proudly.

Her face wildly blushing along with his own in the acknowledgement that a man was currently eyeing her nightgowns and underwear, she shuffled in front of him to gain his attention, despite the fact that he was already painfully aware of her looking at him look at her… personal clothes-

"I've made the necessary preparations, and you should find some more bags in my closet if you haven't already picked them up for me." She said, almost apologetic. She had been the one that had asked him to get her things, after all.

Unsure of himself, Anakin merely shrugged before smoothing his face. "I've already retrieved them."

At that, Padmé had to stop herself from tilting her head up at him and exclaiming how adorable he was. He had passed by the suitcase on the way to her closet, no doubt seeing what was in them, but was unwilling to touch them in his innocence even through his hastiness to make way for Tatooine.

Padmé couldn't decide if he was an exceptionally honorable man or an exceptionally innocent man. From the shade of his cheeks, she figured the latter.

"What needed to be done in preparation?" He asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Well, I thought that any time wasted would be detrimental. So I sent a personal informant loyal to me to investigate Shmi's possible whereabouts. I've sent him to Watto's workshop in the hopes that he will have an idea of where she is. From your description I assumed that she isn't where she is supposed to be."

Anakin nodded. "Yes; either he sold her and will be able to tell us the location of her new owner, or he can tell us her location through her transmitter chip and later explain to me why she is in danger."

The statement, while sounding innocent enough, was spoken with a tone that made Padmé suddenly worried for Watto's wellbeing.

"Yes… and I don't want to waste time searching for her if she is in danger."

His stare, while was usually intense to the point of making her uncomfortable, was very soft for a long moment. "And the quicker we find her, the quicker we can return. The less likely I'll be caught deviating from the mission; and the less likely you'll get in trouble with your personal security. I'd rather tell the Council myself about it after the fact." He said with a click of his tongue before becoming confused. "But, if you don't mind me asking, why do you have an informant on Tatooine? I assume they are already there as there's no way they would be able to get there before us, and Tatooine is the last place I would expect an informant for a Republic Senator to reside."

Padmé had already prepared her retort to this expected question and was able to answer immediately. "Tatooine is one of the most notorious planets occupied by bounty hunters. It's nearly infamous due to it. And my handmaidens are willful; if they are as determined to find the identity of the bounty hunter who is after me as I think they are, then you better believe that they will send resources out to do what needs to be done. Even if it's done rather covertly."

He seemed to accept the partial lie. "Hmm. Well on the slight chance that they are able to find anything on the person that employed Zam Wesell, make sure that this information is brought to Obi-Wan."

"Zam Wesell?" Padmé echoed.

"The bounty hunter that set those two kouhuns on you that night. She was a changeling. We were able to find her identity after scouring our database. And your handmaidens might be onto something; Zam Wesell does actually have ties to Tatooine, and took many jobs from there."

Padmé hadn't known that, but she was glad for the ease it brought her story.

Anakin took a deep breath before turning his gaze down. "Thank you," he said timidly, unsure of himself once more.

Padmé smiled. "It's the least I could do for saving my life once again."

"Once again?"

She chuckled. "Well, that time you blew up the Trade Federation's control ship – in the most distinctive way, I might add." Anakin shrugged at the praise, but Padmé wasn't done. "No, really! Anakin, if it weren't for you, Naboo would have remained overwhelmed by battle droids even after my subduing of the Vice Roy. And no one can forget that time when you risked your life to win that race just because your mother taught you to help those who needed it. We owe you, Anakin. And we owe your mother too." Padmé meant every word, but she started to feel unnerved when Anakin began to move closer to her with a steely blue gaze.

"With any luck," she blurted out in his face, "my informant will be able to give us Shmi's last known location; he's very good at what he does. I trust him to have what we need before we land on Tatooine."

Padmé was pleased to rediscover the fact that Jamboe did know how to kick up dust.

As they began the preparations for entering Tatooine's atmosphere, the transmission they had been waiting for finally came through the ship's console. After pressing the admission button, the hologram of a fully-cloaked and masked figure formed and stood before Padmé; a figure whose identity was only known to her. Letting out a small sniff and a turn of the head gave enough of an indication to Jamboe to keep the debriefing broad and to the point.

"Mistress, you were right; Shmi Skywalker is no longer the property of the Toydarian Watto; in fact, she is no longer the property of anyone. Watto had sold her to a man named Cleigg Lars in order to pay back his debt from podracing. After buying her, Lars freed her from her status as a slave and married her." When Jamboe was able to cough out that sentence through the sudden gust of sand, Padmé saw that Anakin gripped the ship's main joystick tighter in surprise. "She now lives the life as a moisture farmer, residing on a farm that lies outside of the city of Anchorhead on the Great Chott salt flat. I'm punching you the coordinates he gave me now."

A beep to Padmé's wrist confirmed his words, and she promptly sent the coordinates to Anakin's heads-up display. "We have them. Good work; I'll contact you if we need anything else."

"Of course, Mistress." He replied with a bow before slapping his holo-puck off.

Curiously, the ship gave a small creak as it carved its way through Tatooine's ozone layer. In Padmé's mind's eye, she pictured a tin can constricting within itself under the dry air and heat of dual sun beams. There was a comical, nearly ugly contrast to the vicious greenery of Naboo. But even through her delicate sensibility and taste, Padmé couldn't help but admire the ruggedness, nay, the harshness of Tatooine's character. It punished all who trespassed, and seared any ship that dared to fly under the glare of her suns. It was like a piece of coal floating in the galaxy, slowly being crumbled by its own nature. It appealed to her on a level that she just couldn't explain; a bit of morbid fascination that everyone must have felt from time to time.

"I'm finally coming back for her," Anakin whispered out to no one in particular.

Padmé bit at the inside of her cheek and considered her words carefully when remembering the words of a wishful boy giving a bold declaration that he would return to free all of the slaves. "Have you tried to come back before?"

"You mean, have I tried to bring the idea before my Master? Yes, many times."

"What did he say then?"

Anakin spared her a glance briefly before turning his attention back to the wrenching motions of the speeding ship. "He said that the Council would never approve, that I must remain loyal to my commitments, and that my dreams are just that: dreams. But only I can know if they are dreams or premonitions, and I say that they are premonitions."

"How can you tell?" Padmé asked politely, genuinely curious.

"Dreams do not harbor feelings of..." he paused and gave her a side look, thinking of the word. "Imminence."

"Do you have many premonitions?"

The question surprised him, and he wondered if she was questioning her reasoning for trusting him so completely on the issue. But when he looked to his side to lock eyes with those bright warm orbs of hers, he knew that wasn't the case. She seemed to be, dare he believe, curious about him. And, in the knowledge that he had found his mother, in the excitement he felt when learning of her freedom, and in the relief he felt at not having to confront Watto personally, Anakin managed to crack a small, mischievous smile.

"Perhaps. What's it to you, good Senator?"

Padmé's chin raised in mild contrition, otherwise glad to have put a smile on his face. She let herself believe for a moment that the smile meant that Shmi was okay despite his foretelling of her torment.

"I'm merely acknowledging the fact that it sounds like quite a trump card from a strategic point of view."

The objective remark made Anakin snort. He would have been disappointed with her feigned disinterest if he didn't know it was feigned. Just like that clever little half-truth that she told him on Naboo about her Tatooine informant; he could read her much too easily. He was beginning to suspect that being in love with someone allowed him to be more in tune with them, but this was never a query he could bring before Obi-Wan for confirmation. Not that he believed that Obi-Wan would have much of an answer outside of mentioning the bond between Master and Apprentice, which Anakin was already aware of. He at least knew that this was the case with the love he shared with his mother... but this made him wonder if his dreams really were premonitions, as in a foretelling of things that have yet to come to pass, or of a connection, as in feeling things as they happen to her. He had never really been able to debate such a topic in an environment that praised detachment, and the lack of knowledge left him feeling as if he was walking blind into a pit of quicksand, hoping by pure chance that there would be a boulder for him to grab, hoping for the entire endeavor to not end in disaster.

His lack of knowledge that left him hoping… left him useless.

His smile evaporated as suddenly as a drop of water would in the sand.

"You'd think so," he mused, indulging her. "As long as they come at a time that will actually help. Otherwise the visions simply torment you uselessly." A pause, then, "They have before."

Possibly sensing the oncoming disaster, Padmé spoke words of comfort. "No matter what happens, I'm simply pleased that she has been freed. And then she found love in this Cleigg Lars. Outside of the events within your visions, it sounds as if she has been given the life she deserves."

Anakin shook his head. "Not given. Nothing good is given on this planet, and especially not to slaves. That woman had to fight for it, if only 'fighting' as far as remembering to be a good person despite the atrocities she faced."

Padmé agreed, moved by the hidden wisdom of his words. She couldn't really imagine little Annie saying such a thing as it dwelled too much on the reality of it all. But at her side sat a much larger Annie who spoke such words with a reluctant but accepting acknowledgement that spoke volumes of the young man he had become.

She realized then, despite the heartbreaking conclusion that their conversation by the fireplace brought them to, that no matter what, he would always be her Annie. But the character of the little boy she so desperately tried to superimpose onto the man that confessed his profound love for her was beginning to crack as she looked upon his frightfully handsome face. Padmé was unable to deny the fact that his golden hair was beyond lovely, and his warm beige skin was just as so... or that his lake-colored eyes cut through her skin as a waterfall should with rock...

"Well said." She said through a nervous voice crack.

"You remind me of her, you know." He said quietly.

She looked at him, touched by the admission. For him to place her in the same globe of reverence as his beloved mother left her completely flabbergasted.

"I'll do my best to remain deserving of such high regard,"

Anakin's thumbs traced the joystick absently as he huffed, suddenly jittery. "I'm sure you won't have to try too hard." he admitted with an endearing mumble that tugged at a place somewhere within Padmé's chest.

Sometime during the decent, their ship finally came into viewing distance with the salt flat; an identification that was lived up to as Padmé's eyes scanned a perfectly even and uneventful horizon. Any moisture farm that was supposedly residing along the salt flat was as of yet undetectable.

"So is that your ideal of what life should be? Facing all odds and remaining true to yourself in the hopes that the galaxy somehow repays you?" he asked out of the blue.

Noting to herself that it was an unbelievably odd question, Padmé shrugged it off before pondering the angle very seriously. "I wasn't really referring to that as much as I was referring to her newfound freedom and companionship. But yes, I suppose that I value triumph through moral loyalty."

"You believe that good comes from doing good?"

"Yes, from a logical standpoint. What you give out can be returned to you, but that doesn't always mean that what is returned will be good. There will always be bad people, bad happenings... no matter what. But that doesn't mean we should turn our backs on what is good just because the universe has turned its back on us."

"Well said," he echoed. Padmé was unconvinced.

"You don't believe that's true?"

"To be perfectly honest, no. No, I don't."

"And why not?"

"Black halnuts stick out sorely to me. While the good around you seems to shine out for you to see, I can only seem to see the bad."

Not believing this for a second, Padmé shook her head. "What do you see?"

He was silent for many breaths. His eyes went beyond all horizons as he spoke slowly.

"I see a wasteland before me that can harbor no life despite people's best efforts to make a way. I see cities whose populations have been doubled by the shipment of slaves captured off-world. I see hard-working families and wives suffering a cred-less life in the aftermath of their gamble-stricken and fruitless husband feeding his addiction. I see babies being stolen and sold from their mothers who, still exhausted from the labor of birth, are unable to to anything to ease their pain other than taking a rock and pounding it against their skull, deciding that they would rather be distracted by physical pain than suffer through the emotional trauma. I see a Senator that fights justly for her ideals and morals almost get blown up and poisoned by those who would wish her harm because of it.

I dream of a mother that, despite her strength of character and pure of heart, cries out for me every night as she is whipped and prodded mercilessly like a hog before its eaten alive." He manages to finish, his voice becoming husky with emotion, speaking as if he didn't want to but couldn't stop himself.

"And, despite the fact that I have not answered her cry of help, despite the fact that I left her here, she still calls out my name; her belief in me unshaken. She cries out to me, not in anguish although that is all she is feeling, but in trust. Trust that I will answer the call. Trust in me, as if I was... as if I was her hero. As if I was the center of her world. As if I was her strength. But she... she was mine."

Padmé stared at him.

Crude… bleak. Harsh, unforgiving like the planet, and tormented. He spoke of an understanding for the darkness of this world, for a comprehension of decay and degradation, and it was as honest as the day was hot. He begrudgingly spoke of his weaknesses, exposed his shortcomings, and cried out against the injustice of it all.

And Padmé fell that much further because of it.

In all her years of listening to the words of politicians, she rarely ever had the privilege to listen to such earnest and honest words. Such passionate words... such dark words.

Without even thinking, Padmé told him what she saw. "I see a wasteland that, when given water, would thrive. I see civil servants feeding those in poverty, and I see a mother who loves her child no matter the distance. I see a man who sees the injustice of it all and swears to rectify the wrongdoings to free them from their bonds. I see a man that understands just how precious good things are, just how rooted the evil is, and who knows intimately the value of both."

His eyes found hers again, and she was very happy to look in them once more. "I guess you see the world in a vastly different way than I do." He murmured without animation.

"You're wrong; I see it exactly as you do; but I am able to see how I can change it."

At that, Anakin had to force his voice to remain gentle. "So you're saying I'm just not seeing things in the right light?"

"No, not at all - I'm saying that you have suffered through those atrocities and have been traumatized as a result. And through that lens, even with your own efforts to do good in this world, you might never be able to block out the worst of the world. I see things from a detached perspective; like looking into a dark room when standing in the light. But only when you have treaded through the darkness yourself and have brushed against those things that can never be seen can one truly see darkness."

Anakin scoffed, but nodded in acceptance, unwilling to fully unpack her words. He opted to change the subject instead. "You use metaphors often when having a debate?"

"Only as a stepping-stool for others to use when they can't comprehend exactly what I'm talking about."

He shook his head. "It's not that I don't see the beauty of things…"

"One could hardly appreciate the beauty of a mountain pass reflected in the water if they didn't."

"I suppose so," he allowed.

"There is something… almost hauntingly prepossessing about the desert."

His jaw relaxed. "I agree. The sand dances here, and, from a crowd of travelers, from that one who never learns to appreciate the desert in all her might, the dance will turn violent. It has before. It is a dancing graveyard."

"…There is a pleasantness in its solidarity. Its barrenness. Like the land made a pact with itself to remain perfect in its total cohesion."

"I… agree." He said, stunned with the realization that he wasn't lying. In Padmé's ability to find value in all of the things around her, she managed to make a change in what Anakin saw.

"Good," she said, pleased.

"What is?"

She shrugged. "The way in which you view the world means something." She finished softly, amused to see that he didn't have the courage to look her in the eyes again. The embarrassment of his earlier monologue still lingered within his cheeks.

Biting at his lip as an excuse for his silence, he considered the fact that he now could add to the growing list of things he wished he'd never said to Padmé Naberrie Amidala. His tongue was slippery in her wonderful presence, and it felt as if he wasn't in total possession of himself at times. But what was even worse was that she actually seemed to appreciate his clumsy and ill-conceived words. Padmé truly was nothing that he had even encountered in the last ten years; her capacity for empathy and tenderness was all-encompassing, and he found himself desiring to talk to her without stopping. Ever since he was finally able to return to her after ten years of waiting to see her again, Anakin had at first been relieved that Padmé easily lived up to and surpassed the expectations that he had amassed after first laying eyes on her. It was an blameless love for a Queen that came from the heart of a child in the beginning, and with that came memories that placed her on a pedestal.

But his memory of her had nothing on the real deal.

Without them even noticing, they had already zoomed past several moisture farms and were quickly charging towards their destination. Throughout the majority of their conversation, they had been too caught up in each other to take stock of their surroundings. As they had been traveling, hovering over the surface of the planet, they had been chasing Tatooine's dawn; the sky turned progressively darker the longer they flew.

Absently guiding the ships main joystick, Anakin smiled sheepishly once more as his eyes remained glued to the horizon. "You're terribly easy to talk to, you know." he chuckled.

The compliment pleased her. "Why, thank you. My social grace is my main weapon. Always has been." She replied as she tore her attention back to the coordinates on his heads-up display. "I believe that we are approaching the farm, by the way."

"Oh yeah," he mumbled before remembering himself. "I was trying so hard to distract myself that I would've flown us far past it."

She frowned. "Are you really that worried for her?"

He turned back to her for the last time, his voice breaking in its seriousness as he said, "Yes."

Padmé began the landing preparations in answer.

When they finally found the Lars homestead and landed the ship on an appropriately flat plane of land next to it, the suns had completely disappeared in the covering of early morning. Despite this, Anakin drew his arm over the ship's console to point towards something that Padmé couldn't see.

"There. Someone is over there,"

Padmé strained her eyes and caught the barest glance of a blob in the darkness. The plethora of stars and the light from three moons highlighted the figure faintly. "Maybe that means we won't have to wake anyone."

"Oh no, they've most likely been awake for many hours now. Dawn is when the humidity best accumulates in the air. We won't wake anyone." He assured.

Finalizing the ship's power-down, Padmé turned in the co-pilot's chair to reach for a silken shawl to keep the sand from blowing in her ears and getting caught in her hair. Anakin covered up as well by reaching back for his robe's hood.

"Since they are your family, I'll let you do the talking." She said with a playful smile.

"Giving introductions to a family that I didn't even know I had was not how I thought this would go. And I feel the presence of several individuals, off-hand. Wish me luck," He replied with a nervous grin before shaking his head in wonder and making his way off the ramp. "I still can't believe I have a step father. Though, if… if she's here, I'm hoping she'll be the one to introduce me."

She followed closely behind him and frowned. "Do you not sense her?"

He shook his head and gulped. "No. Not yet."

"We will not leave until we've warned her about your visions." Padmé said as a way to calm down the young man that trembled slightly in the billowing wind.

He couldn't answer, but instead ordered Artoo to remain with the ship.

The dark shadow that they had first spotted grew in size and detail as they made a beeline for them. The light that emanated from within the large crater of the homestead showed Anakin that the figure was male, and clad in many layers of tan leather-lace. He was crouched before the opened engine of a speeder bike.

Left with nothing really grand as a way of introductions, Anakin blurted out a confident, "Hello."

The man's head jumped up and his upper body unwound itself from his task in surprise. The skin of his face reflected the light well, and Padmé could see that the young man was around their age. He seemed to be bemused by the two hooded strangers before him.

"Why… hello. Do we… sorry, we weren't expecting anyone-"

"No, I imagine you weren't at this hour." Anakin replied almost apologetically. "I'm sorry to have intruded, but my name is Anakin Skywalker; I'm here to see my mother, Shmi."

"Skywalker," the man breathed out in a sigh as he looked down to the engine part that shined dully in his hands. "Anakin. Yes… we've heard a lot about you. I have, especially. Mom always told me stories about you when we would sit to drink tea." He said wistfully.

Anakin thought hard for a moment, struggling with the implication. The man didn't particularly look like Shmi or himself.

"Step-brother, I assume?"

The man looked back up sharply. "Yeah yeah. My father married Shmi after we freed her. I'm Owen, Owen Lars. I think you need to speak to my father. You can follow me inside." He said before shuffling around them to make way for a small dome that made up the homestead's entry.

It took a moment before Anakin could follow. He couldn't deny it any longer; she just wasn't here. He would have felt it if she was, and Owen wouldn't be speaking in the past tense if she were still present.

He shivered, his body growing cold in the heat of dawn.

When they reached the bottom of the main living area, Owen took a left towards a hall that opened up to a brightly lit kitchen and dinning room. Within the room stood a young woman at the kitchen counter who was dutifully preparing leaves of a shulka for hydration, and behind the stone dinning table sat an elder man that played with his untouched serving.

It was the rusted old droid behind the young woman that immediately caught Anakin's attention.

Suddenly recognizing the droid herself after seeing Anakin's expression, Padmé gasped.

"Is that-"

"C-3PO?" Anakin called out.

The droid's neck hinges squeaked with the sharp turn he gave. "Yes?- oh-! A Jedi! Can it be… Master Annie?"

Anakin stepped into the light and shrugged off the hood of his robe. "It's me, 3PO… I'm sure surprised to see you."

"Master Annie! You've come back at last!" The droid made haste in his waddling past the young lady to stand before Anakin. "The Maker! I knew it! You've returned!" He sang in a bleat, positively ecstatic. Padmé smiled at the exclamation, amused at the sight of a protocol droid flailing a bread knife in his right hand about in excitement. Anakin had to dodge a bit to the right to keep a certain whirl from nicking his left bicep.

C-3PO turned to her suddenly. "And Mistress Padmé! My, you've both returned! Oil me silly, I just can't believe my photoreceptors!"

"Hello, 3PO." She offered kindly.

"Anakin?" The old man at the table asked out with a torn voice. "Anakin Skywalker?"

"Yes sir," Anakin nodded in respect.

The man's face went dark. "Why have you come? Why now?"

Anakin grimaced with guilt, but Padmé knew that it wasn't an accusation.

The old man gave a start and waved his hand in a dismissal. "Ah ah- I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me. I'm just… not myself."

There was a silence as they waited for him to give his name, but his eyes remained glazed.

"This is my father, Cleigg Lars." Owen blurted suddenly, taking the stead of his father. He gave a point towards the woman. "And that is my girlfriend, Beru Whitesun."

The pretty woman gave a kind nod of recognition. "Hello, Anakin - and Padmé, right?"

Padmé nodded with a mirrored smile, appreciating the additional female presence.

The old man, Cleigg, sat up straight in his seat before gliding his hover chair towards Anakin as the young Jedi took a hard look at the severed absence of the farmer's right leg. The layers of bandages that wrapped the bulb of the knee had large spots of blood beginning to surface. Recent – very fresh wounds by the looks of it. Anakin doubted that the wounds were sustained near the homestead, and since moisture farmers rarely ever left their property in distaste for the salt flat… there was a reason he must have had to travel beyond the limits of his property.

Anakin knew the reason and it made him feel nauseous.

"Yes, I'm Cleigg Lars, sorry." He said with an outstretched hand to which Anakin clasped. "Shmi was my wife."

Was.

Padmé heard him take a large gulp before he spoke. "Where is she?" he managed.

The whiskers of Cleigg's eyebrows sagged before his lower lip trembled in a search for the words. "I… why-why don't you take a seat-"

"Please just tell me where my mother is."

Anakin saw an ocean of devotion drip from Cleigg's demeanor as he spoke. "She was stolen from us. The Tuskans."

A grip of ice seized Anakin's body in a taunt vice.

She was taken. The Tuskans. That was all he heard. He mused to himself absently that the feeling he felt within that moment must have been similar to how a droid must feel when their limbs are slowly detached from their main body cavity. Floating… useless, almost dream-like. Ungrounded, without purpose or capability.

A gust of sand woke him up slightly, but the numbness remained.

"How long ago?"

"Two fortnights now. Stolen away before the break of dawn. All she had wanted was to gather the mushrooms that grow off the 'vaporators. She had done nothing to trigger such an assault. Nothing… but they still took her."

"But there was reason for her to believe that it wouldn't have been safe," Owen blurred out tensely. "She should not have left the homestead — she should've known better than to go out on her own! She never even told us she went out. We didn't know that she had been taken until it was too late."

"What would you have us do? Live out the rest of our lives in fear, taking precautions for every little trifle? I think not, son. That's not the way we live. We don't live in fear, and your mother-" he gave a glance to Anakin and Owen, "was never a fearful woman. And no matter where she is, even if I don't know where… I do know that she left this world the same way she lived it. With courage. Of that I'm certain."

"Courage means nothing if it gets you killed." Owen mumbled coldly, and Anakin wanted to hear nothing of it.

"Is she a lost cause to you, then?" He asked no one in particular.

"My Shmi is not a cause to me, Anakin." Cleigg answered gruffly. "And until she's returned home, then no, I won't give up on finding her. Though I already know what state she will be in when I do… she will be buried with family. Mark my words."

"So you have given up."

"She's been gone for too long now — the Tuskans don't have the patience for staying in a single place for a month at most; there's little hope that they've had the patience to keep her alive for longer. And, well, after so many of us were lost when we went out to find her… only a few of us returned. I lost my leg in the process, and I can't go back out until it heals lest I kill myself along with her. Us farmers band together, and share an animosity and fear for the Tuskans, but it wasn't enough."

Feeling the determination of her companion grow within the grimacing features of his face, Padmé clasped his upper back with her left hand to settle him.

"You want to find her yourself," she stated quietly.

Anakin's head slowly turned around to look at her over his shoulder in bemusement.

"I do."

She nodded. "The wiser part of me says that you shouldn't; walking into a gathering of hostile individuals, no matter the intent, is asking for a disaster."

He gave her a hard look. "She is alive; I just know it, Padmé. I will go."

"You… you believe Shmi is alive? Truly?" Cleigg asked in astonishment. "I don't know much about the Jedi, but Shmi would always gush about you… I know that you see the world in a different way than normal people do."

Anakin nodded. "I can sense that she is alive."

"Then it doesn't matter how dangerous it may turn out to be — you have to find her." Padmé said.

"If she is still alive… oh, she doesn't belong out there in that treacherous land, in the clutches of those forsaken savages… b-but I can't allow you to go for her, son. I have to keep you safe too-"

"The threat is not mine," Anakin growled, hardly appreciating the sentiment. "But it is hers. She needs me. And your decision on the matter means little at the moment; I must go now."

Single-minded with his step-brother on the matter, Owen began to make his way back to the homestead's exit.

"I agree with Anakin, father." He said without a backwards glance. "Come, please — we can schedule for a transport to arrive here because, well, our only swoop-bike is currently out of sorts. The other was destroyed in the raid… But I know a guy who can-"

"Leave it to me." Anakin said with an outstretched hand, gesturing to the bike part in Owen's hands.

Owen hesitated before the part found itself in Anakin's palm.

"Be my guest," he said as Padmé filed past him to pursue Anakin's hasty retreat out of the compound.

Before Anakin had even reached the bike, his eyes began to analyze the exposed repulsorlift engine, as well as the body of the bike in general. Zephyr-G swoop bikes were a common variant amongst the civilian populace, but as a result they maintained a customized reputation in a galaxy filled with striving do-it-yourselfers. Anakin, knowing full well of the benefits brought about by customizing a piece of work to fulfill the specific needs of everyday people, could appreciate the handiwork of hand-wrought craftsmanship. It gave the machinery in question a sense of soul; like an artwork that was constantly made more and more specific as a result of the viewers individual aesthetic.

He could hardly find the effort needed to appreciate the work of metal and wire he approached now when he didn't have the time or desire to. Especially when it got in the way of finding his mother in a timely fashion.

And especially when he could see that a welded bolt kept the majority of the repulsorlift engine secured defiantly within the wedge of the cargo compartment. The witness marks on the bolt showed that there had been many attempts to disengage the bolt from its welding. With a quick approximation after noticing the complete slack of the altitude control lever, Anakin diagnosed that the problem lied within the bike's ability to maintain a credible status of negative gravity.

Meaning that the bolt had to go.

Finding the appropriate tool – an unwired hydraulic wrench - scattered amongst the sandy parts that laid atop a cloth covering, Anakin grabbed for it and rammed the head of the bolt into the socket of the wrench.

"No good," Owen said as he finally caught up to Anakin and Padmé. "That hydro-wrench isn't in order either and you won't be able to do it by hand."

Anakin gritted his teeth in response as he coiled his crouched upper body into the opposing direction of the weld-work.

"Let me go get Artoo-" Padmé began to say before Anakin finally jerked the bolt free.

"No need," he replied. The bolt pelted the sand with a hearty thud. Padmé and Owen shared an impressed and concerned glance.

"Oh dear," Padmé said as a puff of black smoke made Anakin's head disappear. The cavity that had been held together by the bolt had been holding the tricked-out repulsorlift engine together.

This hardly mattered to Anakin.

Padmé and Owen watched with scrutiny as Anakin deftly worked his hands throughout the inner-workings of the engine; Padmé with a renewed interest in mechanics, and Owen with a sense of awe at Anakin's confidence and ingenuity.

"Mom hadn't been exaggerating with you," He said as Anakin secured the cavity with a well-placed clamp.

Anakin shrugged half-heartedly. It was an easier task when the mechanic could sense the individual parts that made the sum of the whole.

Then his mind came up with an impossible image; the sight of his mother, radiantly spouting about him, showing only the hints of the unconditional feelings she harbored for her son.

Tatooine's sun began to climb the horizon.

He turned to Padmé then. "I don't know how long I will be. You will need to stay here with them."

Padmé ignored him at first, feeling about him the same aurora that he had when he was having nightmares. "No!" He had cried out time and time again, begging to no one at all, and in the prison of a restless sleep, completely helpless. He looked now exactly as he did then — to her at least.

What Owen saw, however, could almost make him afraid for the Tuskans.

Padmé shook her head. "That hardly matters. Go find your mother," she pled.

Overcome with a sudden desire for consolidation at the fear he felt for what was yet to come to pass, Anakin didn't stop himself as his arms wound themselves around Padmé, his grungy face seeking the warm softness of the cradle of her neck. Padmé held him back tightly, repressing the regret she felt when she had failed to wake him from his nightmares, failed to protect him from them. She had to repress a shiver as she felt his shallow breath against the notch at her collarbone, and he had to repress his urge to weep as her body fed his own with a warmth that thawed his core.

He was so afraid. And she, afraid for him.

When he unwound himself from her, she gently wiped at the soot on his face. He wiped the trace amounts of the transfer he saw on her neck with his sleeve. When no part of her touched him after moving away from her, the grief and fear became a ghoulish determination.

"I will."

Padmé knew this to be true.

I'm sorry for the delayed update; I had finals at the beginning of May, and I'm trying to get used to my new summer job teaching at an atelier. I've been reading up on the Star Wars novels that I thought was related, and I've been doing some story-planning and documenting important information from canon. I want to entangle my own plot with actual canon bc I'm a slut for Star Wars lore. I'm having way too much fun with this lol. Last week I made a mind-map that has 118 different elements. Pls help.

I set out to write some good fanfiction, and by God I will try lolololol

Please leave a review of your opinion on this if u got the time :D and god bless those people that comment on each chapter :3

Till next time