Watto was a fucking pain. I read his EU biography and...guys, I have never been more conflicted about a person. I struggled for a long time with how Watto was going to handle Shmi and I think I managed to hit that very difficult nail. At least I hope so.
Thank you so much for reading. I'm really happy with this guys, I'm not going to lie. I hope you all enjoy it.
Warning: Tissues.
Shmi Skywalker listened with half an ear as Watto ranted quietly, long practice meaning that she could focus when needed and tune it out when it was not.
At the moment, it was not needed.
At the moment, it only hurt.
Watto had discovered through a series of hard knocks that Anakin…that her little Ani, had been more than worth his weight in wupiupi, and the fact that she knew what that weight was sit in her gut like a lead weight. Slavery put a number on all of them, and her son's number had been a high one. Watto had taken to muttering whenever he was forced to do his own repairs, repairs that could have taken Ani half of a day often took Watto a week. Anakin's ability to get good deals from other traders had also been lost, though Shmi did her best.
C3PO had been helpful, more helpful than she had anticipated in this manner at least, being able to translate words that she would not know, being able to figure out what was a better buy. However, sometimes the pressure she applied wasn't enough, and the deal was less than it should have been. Watto despaired of this, but outside of yelling had not done anything to take it out on her
Watto seemed to recognize that she was in mourning for her son. It was a fact that she was unsure how to react to, and so she never truly prodded at it.
Shmi couldn't.
The work was almost a comfort to her, forcing her fingers to work and focus her attention on something other than the empty room.
Shmi had known that her son was meant to go on to bigger and better things, that he would be a Jedi, that his Destiny was out there… But that did not stop her from missing him. Though something else had started over the last few weeks, something that had given her another distraction.
A man had started to frequent Watto's shop.
She had seen him around Mos Espa before, often in the background, but he had a solid presence and the rumor around the Slave Quarters was the fact that he was kind, and good for a favor if you asked.
It was a rare thing. No one in Mos Espa gave a favor for free. No one but him..
Of course, the fact that it was a man visiting would not have been such an interesting thing, even with the favors…
Were it not for the fact that he was trying to buy her from Watto.
Shmi had had no inkling at first that that was what he had wanted. He had been kind when he spoke to her, asking her questions and generally treating her with respect, asking her opinions on what they sold, but there had been no talk initially of buying her. And then he had come back later with an offer.
Watto was a large fluttering presence after that, never leaving the two of them alone together and always eyeing him with a very critical glare.
The Kiffer took to this with great amusement, turning several winks his way and laughing at Watto whenever he got flustered. Shmi had warmed to the man gradually, but it wasn't until she had heard from others that had more contact with him that he was as genuine as he seemed.
Watto had been critical from the start, though that look had faded as the man's offer had gotten bigger, very carefully bigger, as the weeks went on. And then Watto had looked at her.
Watto was an odd one, had always been so, full of mercurial moods and anger, but he was never physically abusive. Though it was his right as their owner and he had a tendency to threaten, he had never once touched them.
The realization that Shmi was thinking of her Ani under his hand as well stabbed her like a knife, and Shmi looked down, closing her eyes. He wasn't here.
"Are you alright?" the Kiffer asked softly, and Shmi looked to the man named Quinlan Vos with a mixture of surprise and thanks.
"I am," she said softly.
Vos eyed her in a way that looked a bit as though he did not believe her, but he did not press, merely gave her a smile, and turned back to Watto.
Shmi wondered. She wondered, if Vos did buy her, what kind of Master would he be? And then, as usual, her thoughts wandered to how Anakin was, how his training was going. She wondered if they were feeding him right. She wondered if he was happy. She wondered if he was thinking of her.
And then she told herself to stop. Ani was where he was meant to be.
She knew he was where he was meant to be. Shmi would go on as she had, would help where she was needed, and she would serve her Master, whoever that might be. Vos did not seem as though he would be a bad Master. Outside of the fact that he asked her opinion directly and seemed to care, the outside reputation had been what had convinced her.
Even then, Shmi knew that she could not be overly maudlin.
Her Ani would not have wanted that.
And she had work to do.
It took two weeks of steady escalation and visits by Vos for Watto to finally sit before her and ask her what she wanted.
Shmi stared at Watto quietly, unable to comprehend for a moment. Watto shifted slightly, frowning.
"Look, I know that… I know that a lot has happened, yeah? I know that you miss your boy and that change right now could be…difficult… But Vos' offer is a good one." Watto rubbed the back of his neck, fluttering his wings idly as he sat in front of her. "But I don't want to just…throw you away, yeah?" He huffed a sigh. "You're still good here. But I know that Vos is…new, and it might prove a better distraction than here could be. Would it be best for you, do you think?"
Shmi was quiet for a long time, thinking. This was not a choice that she had thought would ever be given to her. Gardulla had lost her in a bet, her son had been taken from her in a bet – won by his own skill, and now here she was with the question of did she want to be sold hanging in front of her.
Did she want to go with Vos, who was said to be kind and would give away a favor, but was just another Master, or did she want to stay with Watto.
Did she want to stay in the place her son's feet had walked since he was small? Did she want to stay in the place his hands had worked their magic?
Did she want to stay?
Shmi sat there and thought for a long time, and Watto remained quiet, an odd flutter of his wings here and there, but ultimately gave no words, no attempts to speed her decision along. Ultimately, what had she said to her son? What had she said to Ani when he stood looking up at her with his bag hanging down by his side, looking up at her with those eyes that begged her to ask him to stay?
Don't look back.
Shmi closed her eyes.
"Sell me," she said softly. "But let me contact my son first."
"Deal," Watto returned, and held out his hand. She smacked it, the deal was sealed, and she stood up feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Shmi was going to leave Watto.
She was not going to look back.
Shmi had stood, but before she could do much more than adjust her clothing back into place, Vos peeked through. He was wincing slightly as though he expected to be yelled at, but he was pointing at his…
"I'm sorry!" he called out as Shmi held up his walking stick that he had left behind, "I'm having one of those days today, I swear. I left my wallet on the transport on the way up here if you can believe it, but…"
"You have yourself a deal, Vos," Watto interrupted, never one for letting business remain unfinished for long.
"I…" Vos blinked, looking at him in confusion.
"I'll take what you're offering. Shmi Skywalker has agreed to go with you. You have yourself a deal…"
Vos blinked, and then he smiled, and the smile was warm and bright and relieved. "Oh, thank you so much!"
"Yeah, I expect your goods to be here before I'll release her to you," Watto frowned, "But you have to let her contact her boy! That's my final demand, and I'll see to it you follow!"
"Nothing would make me happier than to let Shmi talk to her son," Vos returned immediately, putting a hand to his heart. "Thank you both. I'll get your goods, Watto, and then I expect her chip deactivated."
"Deal," Watto nodded, holding his hand out. There was another smack, and Vos left.
Shmi stood there for a moment, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath. She had been sold. She was going onto different things.
Shmi thought of her son and knew that it was the right thing to do.
Before the sun had crested the highest point in the sky Vos' goods had been delivered and Shmi was standing before her new Master, who was looking at the transmitter for the slave chip that was within her as though it might bite him. It was an odd way for a Master to look.
Vos soon seemed to shake himself out of it and gathered her and her belongings that they had packed and carefully helped her into the landspeeder with him. Watto's part in paying for her small home had been removed, and Vos had promised her that there would be another home for her. She had packed everything she owned, C3PO sat in the back of the speeder deactivated, and the small bundles that contained her work and her life sat next to him. They soon set off and Shmi let herself be taken to the next chapter of her life. It was only fitting that her son should leave and Shmi would as well.
There was no reason for her to stay.
She closed her eyes, for a moment letting herself relax in the feeling of moving, in something new happening, and then she turned her attention to Vos. He seemed…pleased, almost…satisfied, perhaps, and Shmi found herself glad. Watto had been a hard to please Master, Vos at least seemed as though he was going to be much easier to keep content.
It did not take long until Shmi began to wonder, though, where he was taking her. They were heading further towards the Wastes, and Shmi was beginning to take more notice, paying attention to where they were going, wondering whether or not she would need to attempt to escape – for some things were worse than a sudden, explosive death - and then he stopped the landspeeder just past the first couple dunes, and took a breath.
"I have not been entirely honest with you," he said finally, looking to her. "I do not intend to keep you."
Shmi's chin tilted back and she stared down her nose at him, "What do you mean?"
"I…" Vos closed his eyes, and then looked to the transmitter he was holding. He worked with it for a moment, carefully fiddling with tools and fingers, before it finally gave off a soft beep.
It had been deactivated.
Shmi did not move.
"I had meant to tell you a long time ago," Vos said, his voice apologetic, "but we weren't entirely sure if Watto would sell you just to free you, and we thought if he knew who I was working with, he might just refuse to sell you on principle, right? But…"
"Who are you working with?" Shmi asked with numb lips.
"Me," came a familiar baritone, and Shmi turned. Qui-Gon Jinn was standing next to the landspeeder, having appeared as if from out of nowhere, and Shmi thought she was going to faint.
"Qui-Gon," she whispered, nearly falling out of the speeder. He caught her, righting her, and she stared at him, before looking to Vos, and her heart was beating so fast and… "What is happening?"
"We're freeing you," Vos answered, grinning.
"You're no longer a slave," Qui-Gon said softly, his words a perfect echo of what had been told to her son what felt like so long ago.
Shmi started weeping and it was a long time until the tears stopped, but it was the best cry she had ever had, a Jedi holding her tightly, and who she suspected was another Jedi pressing his hand on her back gently.
Vos pulled back once she stopped weeping, his hand fisting, looking away, but he smiled when her attention came back to him. "Are you a Jedi, Master Vos?"
"Please, please, Quinlan," he said, holding his hands up as though to ward the word off, "please call me Quinlan. After this I don't think I want anyone calling me Master."
"And what about Aayla?" Qui-Gon asked him, his voice amused.
"…It doesn't mean the same thing," Quinlan retorted.
"It does not," Qui-Gon agreed, smiling, "but yes, he is a Jedi. He is one of our few presences on Tatooine."
"We send a few now and again," Quinlan said, "hoping we'll get the go ahead from the Republic to free slaves, but so far it hasn't come."
"Which…" Qui-Gon was quiet for a moment, "Your son helped us free you," he said finally, which Shmi didn't think he had been about to say, but the words were enough to distract her.
"How is he?" she asked, "Is he here, did he come?"
"No," Qui-Gon returned, shaking his head. "But he is doing well the last time I talked to him, and he has been waiting to talk to you. My Padawan, Obi-Wan completed his Trials, and he is tutoring him."
"Obi-Wan," Shmi repeated, vaguely remembering hearing him mentioned. "He is now a Jedi? Is he Anakin's Master?"
"No," Qui-Gon shook his head again. "I'm sure this is very confusing, but I assure you I don't mean to be cryptic. Please, if you will come this way, you'll be able to talk to your son directly. He's been wanting to talk to you for a very long time. He will explain what has been happening."
Shmi thought she might die of happiness right then and there. The only thing that kept her alive was the prospect of talking to her boy.
They took her over the nearest dune which revealed a ship that had been stashed just out of sight. It was a Nubian model, familiar… Naboo.
"Queen Amidala, you might remember her as Padmé, helped provide the collateral to free you," Qui-Gon confirmed her thoughts, and Shmi found herself smiling as wide as possible.
The little girl who had sat at her table had been Queen. The little girl so horrified by slavery had sought to free her.
Shmi did not think that she could have had a better day, but when Qui-Gon patched through to the Temple, and a short while later the face of her boy, her boy appeared in the hologram before her, Shmi knew that she would be remembering this day for the rest of her life.
Shmi knew that she would treasure it always. Quinlan and Qui-Gon both left her alone, and the only thing left around her was the blue of the hologram.
Shmi sat before her son, and her heart was full.
Anakin was buzzing with happiness.
Obi-Wan had taken him to a private comm room, and told him that his mother was waiting for him, and as soon as the door shut and the comm came on, Anakin was suddenly awash in the blue glow that showed his mother.
"Mom," he breathed.
"Hi, baby," she said softly, her voice the balm he had been missing for so long…
"Mom, I…" he took a breath, and wiped at his face, surprised to find tears there.
"Oh, Ani, are you okay? Are they treating you right…?"
"Yes, yes mom, I'm sorry, I'm not…I just…" he wiped his eyes, smiling weakly, "I missed you," he said softly. "I'm so happy to see you."
"I'm so happy to see you, too, Ani," she said softly. "Oh, baby don't cry. This is a happy time."
"I'm so glad to see you," Anakin said softly. "I'm so happy, I just… I missed you. It's been so different here."
"Has it been good?"
"Yes," Anakin nodded. "They've all been so kind to me, and so…" he wiped his face again, trying to think of the words. He had so many, but now that he was in front of his mother, they all seemed to have gone away. "They've all been so good to me. They use a different form of Master, mom, they mean it as though they've Mastered their craft, like…like they are going to teach me how to have power so I can have the ability to teach others to be like me. It's respectful, but it…it's not the same."
"They have lessons for you, and they are ahead of you in knowledge," Shmi nodded, "it makes sense that they would have you call them Master."
"But…they make me call them Teacher," Anakin said softly, almost whispering the words, like it would make them take it away. His mom brightened, her gaze surprised, before she smiled, and the look was warm.
"I am glad," she said softly. "You have been chosen as an Apprentice, then? Who is your Teacher?"
Anakin was quiet for a moment, swallowing. "Mom," he said softly. "I haven't…I haven't started to learn how to be a Jedi yet."
His mother blinked, before she looked at him, "Anakin, I don't understand. This is what you wanted; this was your dream…"
"But…but they mentioned that dreams aren't always accurate," he said softly. "That the reality is often so much more complicated and so much more difficult and…and they are… It is. Being a Jedi is…it's so much more than I thought it was, and in some ways it's so much better, but…"
"Tell me about it, Anakin," his mother said softly, "what's making you hesitate?"
Anakin was quiet for a long moment, his head bowed. "It's not freedom, mom," he said softly. "Not…not in the way that I thought it would be. I might not be able to come back and free everyone. I have to…I have to trust the Force, to learn how to listen to it. I have to swear myself to service. I have to abide by the Republic and its rules. But they all do that," he said softly. "They all swear themselves to serve." He paused, "And sometimes it seems the only thing that makes it not slavery is…is the fact that they choose." Anakin wiped his eyes, frustrated, trying to articulate the words that had built up within him. "But…but I want to help people, I always have. As a Jedi I'd be able to help so many. I just…they promised, mom, they promised that even if I decided not to be a Jedi I would still… That they'd free you and that I'd be able to go back, that they'd make sure we had enough money that we could live anywhere. They said they'd trust the Force, that if I…if I'm meant to be a Jedi…" He shook his head, looking at his mother as tears slowly started sliding down his face. "I don't know what to do, mom. They promised me something I always wanted but…I want to be a Jedi. I want to help people. It's my dream, mom… It's just so hard…"
His mom was quiet for a long moment, taking all of this in, and Anakin waited patiently, wiping his eyes. He wanted to be able to hug her, but the fact that she was sitting there in front of him, the fact that she was there… Anakin idly wondered if Obi-Wan would hug him if he asked.
"Dreams are never as sweet as they seem," his mom said finally, quietly. "But that does not mean that the reality can't be better than what we have dreamed. Dry your eyes, baby, I'm here." She said softly, and Anakin did as he was told, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "You are right in that it is likely going to be harder, but I am curious, did they tell you why?"
"There's a lot of stuff that they have to do, mom," Anakin answered, wiping his eyes. "They have to control their emotions, and…and let go of attachments."
"Why?
"Because attachments and emotions can both be dangerous for a Jedi. They can make us lose control, and…and turn to the Dark Side."
"What is the Dark Side?"
Anakin was quiet for a moment, thinking. "It felt like an open wound," he said finally.
"It felt like?" his mom questioned. "Ani, when did you get a chance to feel the Dark Side?"
"Oh," Anakin straightened, "that's something else I wanted to tell you about."
"Then we will leave that alone for now," his mom said softly, waving her hand, "let's concentrate on why it is hard."
Anakin nodded. "It can be dangerous for a Jedi, and if we fall to the Dark Side, we can be dangerous to other people."
"So, your power has consequences if it is used improperly," his mom said softly, "all power does."
Anakin was quiet for a moment, blinking, taking this in for a moment. He hadn't thought of it like that. Anakin had been so busy thinking about the Jedi as helpers that he hadn't thought of the fact that they had power. He had been worried about them as 'Master,' but he hadn't truly considered what it was to have all of that power. They were literally able to lift things with their minds, to control thoughts, to do impossible things beyond any normal human. Put in that light, Anakin could begin to see why they'd spend so much time finding ways to keep from becoming a huge threat. If the Dark Side, if the Sith were what happened when power was pursued over everything, and if their power was unchecked…
"I hadn't thought of that," Anakin said softly. "I just…" he frowned. "I hadn't thought of that. They haven't…they didn't really put it like that…"
"They probably haven't thought to explain the why's of the situation. The Jedi Order is an old one, old Orders have long memories… I wouldn't doubt that they have a lot of rules that are steeped in good reasoning, but they have not had to explain in a long time."
"They were talking about how I was too old…" Anakin said brightening, straightening slightly as he looked to his mom. "They take new Jedi as babies, mostly, I think… I think it's because it's so hard to let go of attachments…" Anakin was quiet, looking at his mom for a long time. "No one here knows who their parents were, no one…there was one, but he…" Anakin frowned. "Qui-Gon said that I wouldn't be destined to make the same mistakes. But he was five when he was chosen, and he refused to fit in, and…and he wound up killing his Padawan. She had been hit with a dart that controlled her, but…but Qui-Gon, and I think, too, that it was the wrong thing to do. He should have knocked her out, or done something else…"
"Do you think you would become like this Jedi?"
Anakin was quiet for a moment. "No," he said finally, shaking his head, and then his mom asked him the hardest question she could have.
"Do you think you can let go of me, Anakin?"
Anakin closed his eyes, for the longest time not saying anything. "But I wouldn't have to," he said finally. "If…if I don't decide to be a Jedi, we can…we can be free, together. We can go and…" he sniffed. "We could be together."
"And what can I teach you about your gifts, Anakin?" his mom asked softly. "What can I teach you?"
"So much, you've already taught me so much," Anakin responded, shaking his head. "They said that if I am the Chosen One, that if I am supposed to bring balance, then they can trust in the Force to send me on the right path."
"Then what does the Force tell you, Anakin?" his mom asked, "what does your heart tell you?"
Anakin closed his eyes, curling up slightly, and slowly began to cry. He knew what his heart was telling him.
"Anakin," his mom said softly, "they set me free, Anakin. I am free. I will look to the stars, Anakin, and I will know that you are out there, and you are doing so many wonderful things. I will know that my son is alive and has been taught how to use his abilities to help people to his fullest potential. I will look to the stars, and I will love you always. If you decide to let me go, Anakin, if you set me free, then I will love you all the same. And eventually, if your missions ever take you back to Tatooine, I will take you in my arms, and I will hold you tight. We may not be able to do so for a long time, but we will again. This is not goodbye forever."
Anakin felt something in his heart twist, and he bowed forward, squeezing his knees and slowly began to sob. "I'll always love you," he whispered. "I will come back eventually, and I'll be the Jedi you know me to be. I'll make you proud, mom."
"You've always made me proud, baby, and I know that you will continue to do so. My little Jedi, my beautiful boy, I am so proud of you."
Anakin basked in his mother's words, leaning against the holoprojector and listening to her voice shush him, until he had no more tears to shed, and his resolve had firmed into duracrete.
Anakin would be a Jedi.
"I'm going to be a Jedi," he said, looking to his mom. "I'm going to be a Jedi."
"You will be," Shmi nodded. "Will Obi-Wan be your Master?"
"Qui-Gon will be my Teacher," Anakin shook his head, "but Obi-Wan will be my brother. There's lineage here, mom, we're brothers and sisters in the Force! Qui-Gon's teacher was Count Dooku, and his Master was Yoda. He's the Grand Master of the entire Order."
"Sounds like you have an impressive Lineage you are going into," his mom smiled. "You'll live up to it beautifully."
Anakin ducked his head, smiling. Trust his mom to hit the thing that was bothering him before he even thought of it.
"How do you feel?" his mom asked softly.
"Good, mom," he said smiling. "I feel really good. I feel…like I'm where I'm supposed to be."
"I'm glad," she said, and her voice was warm, and her smile was beautiful. His mom had the most beautiful smile. "Now, baby," she straightened, "can you tell me what you meant by you felt the Dark Side?"
"That's the other thing I wanted to tell you, mom," Anakin said then, brightening, his gaze sharp. "The Jedi captured a Slave. His name is Darth Maul – he's a Dark Side user, they called him a Sith. But…but he's a slave, he's like me, like us. Like…like we used to be."
"Explain, please, Anakin."
"Right," Anakin nodded, "Darth Maul…"
"Is that his full name?"
"It's his title as well," Anakin responded, shaking his head, "his name is Maul, but we're meant to call him Darth because it's something he…he won in blood, mom. He deserves to be referred to as that."
"I see," she nodded, and her voice was starting to become worried, her gaze sharp. "What kind of slave is he, Anakin?" she asked, as though to confirm the thing she feared, and Anakin closed his eyes.
"I…" Anakin took a breath. "I wanted to ask you, mom, about the recipe for the Liquor of the Sands."
His mom stiffened, her gaze sharp. "He is a Blood Slave then," she said softly.
"Yes," Anakin nodded, swallowing. "But he is…he doesn't know any better. I've heard him talk, mom. He doesn't know he's a slave. He doesn't know what they did to him."
His mom was quiet for a long time. "Bring Obi-Wan, I will get Quinlan and Qui-Gon. I believe they must all be present for this."
Anakin nodded, and then ran from the room, skidding to a stop in front of Obi-Wan, who had been sitting at the end of the hall on a comfortable-looking bench holding a datapad. "Anakin," he said, setting the datapad down next to him, "are you alright?"
"Mom wants to talk to you, she's bringing Qui-Gon and Quinlan, she's going to talk to us about the Blood Slave."
"Blood Slave?" Obi-Wan asked, blinking.
"Darth Maul," Anakin responded immediately, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back to the room. "He's a Blood Slave, his Master wants Blood, and so Darth Maul pays with it, bathes in it. It's…not exactly the most creative name, but it's what they are, they bring forth Blood."
Obi-Wan walked faster, keeping pace with him easily. "I see," he said quietly. "It does make sense."
"Course it does," Anakin responded, rolling his eyes at Obi-Wan and pulling him in the room. He spotted Qui-Gon standing in the holo, as well as the one he thought must be 'Quinlan'. "You're Master Quinlan then?"
Quinlan gave a sharp wince, "Please, please, just Quinlan, I just…I bought your mother today and even though I freed her I'm still scraping the awful feeling from my insides. I've never bought a person before, utterly repulsive."
Anakin beamed at him. "The bargaining strategy worked?" he asked, bubbling.
"It did," Quinlan nodded. "He bought it just like you said he would. It worked well, and he should have enough droids that he won't have to buy another being."
Anakin took that in, his eyes closing, and finally smiled. "Thank you."
"No, thank you for talking us through it," Quinlan shook his head. "I wouldn't have been able to get through it if you hadn't given us the directions and told us what we should give him."
"You helped them free me?" his mom asked, looking to him.
"Of course, mom, they asked me. They didn't know what they were doing, so…" Anakin smiled. "I taught them."
His mom beamed at him, before her look turned somber. "Anakin tells me that you have captured a Blood Slave."
"Blood Slave?" Quinlan asked.
"A slave that gives blood to his Master," Obi-Wan answered for Anakin, "one that bathes in it and pays it to his Master that calls for it."
"I see," Qui-Gon said softly.
Anakin sat back, softly proud of his mother as she began to speak, falling silent and letting her talk to these outsiders, to explain to them the nature of what they had to do. It was her place. Anakin would do his part here to make sure they did it right.
"I will give you the recipe for the Liquor of the Sands, and I will also talk you through what you must do. He warned me that the Slave does not know that that is what he is, and this…this makes him especially dangerous. This Darth Maul can be rehabilitated, but it will take time, and it will take a lot of care. You must be certain that this is what you wish to do before you make the attempt, because he will find ways to rebel, and he will find ways to cause harm."
"He is quite secure," Obi-Wan said, frowning, "we have him behind a ray shield and in Force-Inhibitor collar. He can't get out."
His mom looked Obi-Wan in the eye through the holo, her gaze sharp enough to cut. "Do not underestimate him," she said softly. "Those that have learned how to bring forth Blood for their Masters will bring it forth however they can, and it will be to your detriment if you do not take heed of this. You must pay attention to him. You must be wary."
"We will be," Qui-Gon agreed with a nod, Obi-Wan also nodding in a chagrined manner. "What must we do?"
"Your first order of business is to get him to realize that he is a slave. This will take time, and you may despair of it, but it must be done first. If you are out of order you will heighten the likelihood that he will rebel in a way that will lead to blood." His mom frowned. "You can still talk to him, and engage with him, and I recommend you do this often, but you must make him realize that he is a slave. Blood Slaves often find this more difficult to learn, particularly those that are reared from birth. They have not known anything different, so they will not be as able to see what has been done to them. They are stronger than any other Slave, but they are also the most trapped. Their chains are internal and their existence is often hard to prove."
"We do not think it was from birth," Obi-Wan said.
"Sith do not usually take Apprentices from birth," Quinlan explained. "They take the disgruntled members of society and turn them to the Dark."
"We believe that he was a bounty hunter," Qui-Gon frowned. "At least that's what he said, and Plo believes he was telling the truth. Though…" Qui-Gon was quiet for a moment, "it may have been a half-truth."
"I would recommend that you treat it as though it has been from birth," his mom shook her head, her voice heavy. "If you do not and it is, then you will find yourself struggling to catch up."
"How do we handle this?"
"Show him kindness," his mom answered. "Show him how you treat your Apprentices, show him how you talk to each other, the respect and dignity you afford each other.
"He is Sith, though," Obi-Wan pointed out, frowning, "that already means he's less likely to pay attention to how we treat each other because he thinks that we…well, we're weak. We just coddle our Apprentices."
"Prove him wrong," his mom returned softly. "If you can show that you are strong, that you are able to stand up to his…Order?" she questioned.
"Yes," Qui-Gon nodded.
"That you can stand up to his Order," his mom continued with her own nod, "then you can show him that the way he has been treated is wrong. He likely will have no frame of reference, and the more frames of reference he can see the better off you will be. Introduce him to flimsis, to holodramas, anything where he can see the way that strength is represented, how kindness is represented, and he will learn."
"There is an issue with this, though," Qui-Gon said quietly. "The Sith way is to teach through pain. To a Sith, pain is power. He will likely understand the way that he has been treated as the only way to have taught him how to be a Sith."
His mom was quiet for a long moment, taking this in. "Ask him whether he was given a choice before that pain was given. Ask him whether his Master illustrated that he went through the same pain to him. If to be Sith is to receive pain, ask him why his Master did not do the same."
Qui-Gon looked to Obi-Wan, who was grinning at that point, Quinlan chuckling quietly. "That is a very good series of questions," Quinlan nodded. "Have you used this method often?"
"We have," his mom nodded. "Several times. Blood Slaves are common, and broken Blood Slaves are even more common… But I must tell you that it is always difficult. There were injuries that came out of it, once even a death. You must ask yourself if what you will get out of it is worth the effort that you put in."
"Was it worth it?" Obi-Wan asked. "The one that killed someone, were they worth it?"
His mom was quiet for a long time, before looking to Obi-Wan. "The Slaves that help the Blood Slaves are always Slaves that are willing to die. We recognize that there is danger inherent to it, but we also realize that a freed Slave is always worth it. The one that killed a man went on to be one of our…" his mom hesitated, closing her eyes, before looking to him, "she turned out to be one of the most valuable assets we had on our trails to freedom, and even if she hadn't been…yes, Obi-Wan, yes she would have been worth it." She looked at him quietly, "would he?"
They were quiet for a moment, before Obi-Wan took a breath, and nodded. "I did not mean…I did not mean offense, nor did I wish to suggest that he would not be himself. It is just…something that I had wondered."
"It is not a bad thing to wonder," she returned softly. "I understand where your question was coming from. The Sith are the natural enemy of your Order, are they not?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed. "And I suppose I did not see myself helping to set one free. It is an adjustment, but it is one I am very willing to make."
"As are we all," Qui-Gon nodded, Quinlan giving his own nod. "Someone who has only known violence will only give violence until they know otherwise. It is sound advice and reasoning."
"You should also expect him to possibly react with violence if he is given too much kindness too soon," his mom said, her voice soft. "This is not something that always happens, but it has before. A part of him might begin to rebel against the kindness because he will not understand it. In some cases, depending on what he was trained for, he may react to this lack of understanding violently, because it puts him on the defensive. They begin to wonder what the catch is," she said, her gaze firm. "You must be careful to always present to him that there is no catch. You are doing this for him."
"What if he asks why?" Quinlan asked. "What if he challenges the reasoning?"
"Why are you helping him?" his mom returned.
"Because he deserves to be free," Obi-Wan answered immediately. "He deserves to be able to make a choice, to…to not live in fear."
"Because he is sentient," Qui-Gon answered, "because he is."
Quinlan nodded agreement, his gaze firm, and Anakin felt his heart slowly swell in his chest in gladness.
"Then you tell him that and you prove it to him in whatever way you can."
"We shall," Quinlan nodded, "thank you for this. I'll report the information back to the Council, if no one minds," he said, stretching his back out. "I actually have to make a few reports, a couple of them are quite overdo. I'll be back."
"Thank you," his mom returned, "very much…"
"It was my pleasure," Quinlan returned. "Well…mostly. Freeing you was worth it. But it was not an experience I want to repeat." He hesitated, giving a brief glance to Qui-Gon. "But I will."
There was a promise in that, and Anakin found himself looking back to Qui-Gon, who turned to his mom and took a breath. "Shmi…if you…if you do not mind me mentioning it, you brought up freedom trails."
"Yes," his mom said softly. "I did."
"I wish to tell you that you do not have to," Qui-Gon returned equally softly, "but I have been sent by the Council not just to free you, but to ask you a question."
"Yes?" his mom prompted, and Anakin's heart swelled, a grin slowly spreading across his face.
"The Jedi…we would like to do what we can to assist you. We cannot fight a war, but we are willing to do whatever it takes to help you win your freedom."
His mom stared at him with wide eyes, listening.
"This ship is a gift from the Queen. It has enough collateral to free a good deal many more slaves, and the ship itself can take you wherever you would like to go. There is also a scanner that can locate the detonator chips inside of you and remove them."
"I helped with that," Anakin called out, "I helped with the scanner, that was…it was mine." Anakin hesitated and then reached into his pocket and pulled out the small chip that they had removed from him, showing his mother the cut behind his ear. "I found it, I scanned it with the scanner, and when they put me down they removed the chip, let me work with the scanner to prove it hadn't been tampered with and…and they gave me the chip. It's out, mom, it's gone." The words were said with the same stunned disbelief they had been ever since the beginning, but he could feel it in the scar, could see it in the chip that he held in his hand, the one that they had encased in glass. It was gone, it was gone…
"It was his scanner," Qui-Gon agreed with a smile. "Your son is very talented with machines."
"I…" his mom hesitated, staring at him.
"I am also…I am also authorized to ask you to tell us how best we can help you. You give us the orders; you tell us where to go and how best to help and we will do so. We are at your disposal."
His mom's hands went to her mouth, and she stared at him, before looking to Anakin, and then back to Qui-Gon.
"I suppose," Qui-Gon smiled, "if you will let us, the Jedi have finally come to free slaves. How is entirely up to you."
While Anakin did not know it, it was the second time that day that Shmi wept into the arms of a Jedi.
It was the third time that her heart was full.
But it was the first time she wiped her eyes, her resolve shone on her face and she looked Qui-Gon in the eye. "You will train my boy, Jinn. Quinlan will help me."
Qui-Gon frowned slightly, clearly taking this in, before Obi-Wan gave a slight gasp, looking to Anakin with wide eyes. Anakin straightened as Qui-Gon turned to him, and with all the gravitas he could muster, "I'm going to do it, Teacher. I'm going to be your Apprentice."
Qui-Gon took this in for a moment, and then smiled, the look so warm. "I am thankful, Anakin. Will you give me a few days, Shmi, before I return? Let me help you settle, and I will return to your son."
"I will start his training," Obi-Wan said immediately. "I'm sure the Council will approve it."
His mom took a moment, thinking this through, and then nodded. "Very well. Will you tell your Council now?" she asked.
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied, standing up, and beaming at Anakin. "I will. Thank you. Good luck, Qui-Gon, Shmi…may the Force be with you."
"May the Force be with you."
Anakin felt his heart swell, happiness glowing deep within him. His mom had been freed, and in turn she would free others. The Jedi had agreed to help and followed Anakin's recommendations. Anakin was going to be a Jedi. Anakin had a path, and he was going to walk it.
Anakin was going to make his mother proud.
He would not look back.
Maul did not understand.
Maul stared down at the flimsi before him and flipped through it slowly.
Maul had read through The End of Dying three times and had begun examining certain passages over again. Baj the Devaronian, Aola the Twi'lek… Neither of whom existed outside of the flimsi in his hands. Even their species had been obscured, but it had not taken much for Maul to realize who was being described on this imaginary world that had forsaken seeking the stars for seeking eternal life.
And then Baj and Aola both seeking the device that promised eternal life and ultimately destroying it. There had been soft words spoken between them, as well as screaming, fighting between two generations that had come together. Baj teaching Aola as his apprentice, and Aola screaming for Baj, calling him her father at the end before he sacrificed himself for her. Very different than the father that had sold her into slavery. The father that had cared, Aola had said, buried in the arms of her chosen father as he died, refusing to use the device that would save him.
The device he had started out to steal, to rip from the clutches of the Elites that had created it, the Elites that were hoarding it away from the ones they deemed lesser.
In the end they had destroyed it and destroyed every mention, every blueprint of it, because the device would have caused overpopulation. They would have destroyed their own home world, unable to escape. Baj had died in Aola's arms with her sobbing into his chest as he called her his child, as he recognized her abilities and her strengths and told her that she would lead another in their Order, which had some sort of connection to the Force, but no obvious connections to the Jedi or the Sith.
Merely numerous frustrating, and ultimately illusive parallels.
Maul closed the flimsi and opened it up again, this time at complete random, when a familiar step approached. Maul put the flimsi down, but he was not quite quick enough to hide it.
"Oh!" Plo's voice called out, and the warmth in it was enough to make Maul close his eyes, inwardly rolling them towards the ceiling, before opening them and staring at the Kel Dor approaching. "Have you read it?"
Maul hesitated, for a moment debating with himself whether or not to respond, before finally, "The title is a lie. It ends in a death; death is not what ends."
"You have read it!" Plo seemed to be beaming at him somehow, and the effect was odd, making Maul frown slightly. "And…you are also correct. I always found the title to be something of a cheat."
"And yet you recommended it?"
"I did enjoy it otherwise," Plo answered, sitting down on the floor before his cell. Maul hesitated, thinking for a moment about standing up and walking away, but eventually wound up remaining where he was, staring at the Kel Dor quietly. "Did you see what I meant?"
"About Teräs Käsi?" Maul asked. "Yes, I did. It was obvious that they had either watched a single battle in it or they had limited experience with it."
"I do agree," Plo nodded. "It was an admirable job, but they clearly had no idea how to describe some of those moves."
"Yes," Maul nodded. "Twisting the upper body to the degree mentioned before bringing the foot around would not have given enough momentum to break the shield as described. Particularly when there was no use of the Force involved."
"Agreed," Plo said, and the tone of his voice was strange, his body language shifting as he looked up towards the sky. For a moment, Maul got the idea that he was rolling his eyes, though it was not something he could see. It was an odd realization. "The one thing I consistently find very true in reading these stories is finding the inaccuracies in their descriptions of fighting styles quite…jarring. I otherwise enjoy the prose, but there is something about some of these fights that make it very difficult to take seriously."
"It was…odd," Maul agreed finally.
"I do have a question for you, though," Plo said finally, straightening. "Did you find the Order as mentioned more closely attributed to the Sith or the Jedi?"
Maul opened his mouth, closed it, and finally frowned. "I was uncertain."
"I could not decide either," Plo frowned. "There were some elements, the ultimate self-sacrifice, but the desire for attachments in the end was quite Sith I believe."
Maul took this in for a moment, before finally shaking his head. "The Sith are not nearly as focused on attachment as you think. Not in that manner."
Plo was quiet for a moment, taking this in, and Maul wondered once again, just what it was that Plo thought he was getting from him. "I suppose that would be the case," Plo answered finally. "But I did think there were some parallels."
Maul thought of the desire for power, the need to break chains that had followed Aola to the end of her venture, and slowly found himself nodding.
"I found her a very compelling character," Plo said, echoing his thoughts without realizing, and Maul found himself confused. She had been the most Sith of all of them. "I also found Baj to be very entertaining. I deeply regretted his death."
Maul frowned slightly. "I do not understand," he said finally. "It is not as though he was real…?"
"No," Plo agreed, "but he was a good character regardless, and I was pleased that they had found each other" he said. "I had hoped that they would have been able to travel the stars as the family they had come together to be, that they were able to enjoy that realization longer than they had. Alas, it was not to be."
Maul took this in for a moment and finally nodded slowly.
"You would have liked to see them live?"
Maul hesitated, frowning. "I do not see why they could not have simply used the device and then destroyed it."
"Ah!" Plo called out, "that is a good point, but who else would have shared eternal life with him, since Aola refused so strongly? Who would he have been with at the end of all things? Ultimately…everyone else would have died."
Maul found his frown deepening slightly as he looked down taking in this point. "Is that not what he wanted?"
Plo gave a soft hum, "I do not take your meaning, would you explain?"
Maul hesitated, trying to order his thoughts, "He started off the story alone," he said finally, "travelling the world, looking to the stars and thinking about how…peaceful it was. How good it was to answer to nothing."
"You do not think that his priorities changed when he found Aola?"
Maul hesitated, closing his eyes. "I think he thought they did."
"Interesting!" Plo called out, straightening up, "I had not thought of that! Do explain."
"He was always leaving," Maul frowned. "He called it protecting, and he similarly said that he was going to teach her how to defend herself properly… But ultimately, was he not neglecting her to simply act in the way he always had been? He claimed that she would have been able to teach the Order that came afterwards, but her own training was not completed. Any Order that she created would have been a bastardization, a half-formed thing… And it would not have been her fault."
"That is a fascinating perspective," Plo rumbled quietly, "I had not thought of that, but those are all very good points. Do you think, then, that he did not care about her at all?"
Maul was quiet, "I think he did. But I also think he was very old, and he was very tired, and he was too attached to his own way of life. He did not have the heart to tell her that he would leave her, and so he spoke a…mistruth, while also finally finding the rest that he had wanted in the beginning. He remained alone, and she gained the father that she had wanted."
Plo was silent for a long moment before laughing aloud. "That is not at all what I got out of it, and yet I do see where your conclusions come from!" Plo hummed, clearly thinking, "Yes, yes, I do see your point. He was often leaving her alone. He did not train her as she should have been and…my…" Plo chuckled quietly, "I am rather surprised that I missed that." Plo sighed.
"I did not like him," Maul said finally, and Plo gave an encouraging hum. "He promised her power, promised her that he would…" he trailed off, and Maul closed his eyes for a long moment.
And said nothing more.