Chapter Four

The frenetic ride to the Tusken camp feels very different from the last time I made it. While I had been overcome with anxiety and fear back then as well there had also been a steady beat of hope pounding in my heart as I sped along. The entire time, I had felt my mother's Force signature pulsing around me, firming signaling that she was still alive. The certainty had spurred me forward. I had not allowed myself to even consider any outcome besides a successful rescue.

How could I not when my mother's strength was so readily evident? After an entire month, the sand people had not broken her! That first time, I never once entertained the possibility that she might actually die. I'm not sure I could have conceived such a thing at all.

Circumstances are different in this timeline. I know her death is a distinct possibility. It can happen. It has happened. And that terrifies me because I'm not entirely sure I can live through the grief of losing her a second time. I know I won't survive.

Deliberately, I chase those negative thoughts away. I try to take comfort in the knowledge that her light does still burn dimly in the Force but, I can't quite extinguish that insidious voice that whispers, "But for how long?" The refrain rattles around in my brain no matter how hard I try to push it away. You can't save her. You won't save her. She'll die.

And if I do lose her again, then what? Will I once again lay waste to that wretched camp, slaughtering indiscriminately until there is not a single thing left living? I try to convince myself that I would never, could never lose myself to rage and grief like that again. But truthfully? That is all I have known for ten, long years.

Even knowing that this night, this event had signaled my first headlong steps into the dark side doesn't strengthen my resolve to be better, do better. In hindsight, I can easily recognize now that my mother's death had been the beginning of my Fall. There had been events in my life that had chipped away at me throughout my years with the Jedi, but her death and my merciless actions that followed it had been the defining moment. I had unknowingly laid the foundation for my own destruction.

That was the reason I had begun having those terrifying dreams of Padme' dying in childbirth so soon after I had killed Dooku in cold blood onboard the Invisible Hand. I had crossed over then, and I hadn't even known it. For years, I had imagined that the Force had allowed me to peer into the future so that I could stop those horrible events from coming to pass. The truth was something else entirely. I wasn't being given the opportunity to change the future at all but instead being shown the inevitable conclusion of the path I had chosen to take…Padme's death and my own.

I don't want to live that again. I did all of this so I would never have to but somehow it seems that I always circle back, always find myself at the proverbial crossroad. There is an undeniable darkness that continues to pulse inside of me, ebbing and flowing like the bubbling lava river just beyond Fortress Vader. I know now that I will never completely banish it and, for the most part, I've accepted that grim truth. But with that acceptance also comes fear. Not the fear of death but fear of myself, of what I know that I'm capable of and how far I will go.

I reach the Tusken camp in late afternoon. Because there had been no need to stop and question the local Jawas for clues and directions, I complete my journey well before sunset. Previously, I had the cover of night to mask my covert approach. I had followed my mother's Force signature in order to locate her in the camp.

It had been my intention to creep up on them unawares and then steal away with my mother without incident if I could. This time there will be no secret arrival. I want them to know that I'm coming, not as a young, frightened Jedi padawan but as a particularly deadly former Sith lord.

As soon as I clear the rock ridge, they come swarming at me from all sides, staves raised and ready for attack, barking their primitive war cries…and I'm ready for them. I ascend from the swoop bike in a single, fluid motion, my body carried effortlessly by the Force. The instant my feet touch the ground, I ignite my lightsaber and slice through the first Tusken that comes running.

They swarm me from all sides, like insects descending on a rotting carcass, and I cut them all down in effortless sweeps and thrusts. It feels like a familiar dance, and I fall back into the steps with practiced ease. I twirl and bend and flex, blue plasma whirring and whizzing, and I don't even break a sweat. I'm deeply seated in the Force now, firmly ensconced in a place that is familiar and welcome.

And still they come, young man, old man, it doesn't matter…all are destined to die at my hand as they mount their attacks. Some are sliced asunder, my glowing blue blade carving through their flesh with incredible smoothness, separating arms from torso, head from shoulders, cleaving bodies in two. They fall and scatter like leaves at my feet. Those who don't perish by my blade have their necks cleanly broken without compunction. I feel no pity as I snuff out each life and I never break my stride. There is a satisfaction that comes with the crisp snap and pop of their fracturing vertebrae.

As I advance towards the camp, I am vaguely aware that I'm met with less resistance there. The camp is a cacophony of noise, but I cannot discern terrified, dissonant cries from calls for attack. My dance falters only briefly when I catch sight of my mother, tied to a post in the middle of the camp and hanging listlessly, her naked back exposing the torment she's endured.

I see her bloody, bruised form, feel her relentless pain thumping through me, and the rage swells within me in a deafening crescendo. The dance begins anew, more feral than ever before. Now I don't only intend to neutralize a threat. I intend to punish anyone who stands between her and me. The few who are foolish enough to do so fall swiftly at my feet. I execute everything in my path.

It is only when I raise my blade to blindly dispatch the newest obstacle that blocks my end goal that I hear my mother weakly call out, "Ani, no!"

I am abruptly thrust from my Force cocoon, and for the first time, I become truly aware of the carnage that I have unleashed. The camp is in utter confusion. Many are fleeing for the safety of the jagged cliffs beyond the camp. Moans of grief and cacophonous hoots of terror echo steadily over the domed huts. Dismembered corpses litter every visible surface of the ground.

There is a female Tusken cowering in front of me, her body huddled protectively around her child. She had clearly been too terrified to scurry out of my path or, perhaps, had run directly into it to make a desperate grab for her escaping child. Whatever the circumstances that brought her into my crosshairs, my blade is literal millimeters from her neck. A fraction closer and I would have beheaded her.

Shaken and breathless, I deactivate my lightsaber and fall back a step, overwhelmed not because of what I have done but because I feel a decided lack of remorse over it. Unlike before when I agonized with guilt, this time I feel nothing beyond unswerving resolve. I don't allow myself to dwell too long on what that might mean and instead scramble to my mother's aid to begin working her free of her coarse bonds. I can feel the wary looks from the remaining Tuskens as they fervidly watch my every move.

"If you come near us," I warn them in a flat tone, "I will kill you." I have little doubt that they've understood my words though I've spoken in Basic. No one dares to move.

Once I am certain that they aren't an imminent threat, I turn my full attention to my mother, gathering her close in my arms. She's emaciated and dirty, covered with bruises and deep, oozing gashes. Her dark hair is tangled and matted with blood. Her features are nearly unrecognizable beneath the dirt and swelling and discoloration. Even her eyes are puffy and bruised, parted only into the barest of slits. And yet, despite all of that, she manages to raise a trembling hand to my cheek and smile.

"Ani? My little Ani? Is this really you? My handsome, beautiful boy…"

The words are so reminiscent of the same ones she spoke to me so long ago that my automatic response to the ignore them entirely. "Mom, you have to stay with me," I plead with her, tears forming for the first time, "Please, please stay with me this time. I can't do this again. I'm begging you…"

"I'm so tired…"

I rock her back and forth in a soothing motion the way she once did to me when I was a child. "I know. I know you are. And I'll get you home. I swear it but, you have to stay with me."

Her fragile, fluttery hold on life echoes back at me through the Force. I'm half expecting her to utter the words, "I am complete," and die in my arms just as she had the first time. And if she does, I'm not going to be able to pull myself together. But I'm stunned when, instead of breathing her last, she opens her eyes in an instant of pure, undiluted lucidity and whispers, "I'm here, Ani. I'm with you…"

"Good. That's good, Mom," I murmur against her temple, "Stay with me…" I notice then how dry and cracked her lips are from dehydration and spear the nearest Tusken with a scathing glare. "Get me water! Now!"

Something to the right of me scurries to execute my barked command and, a split second later, there is a water canteen deposited next to me. The figure quickly scrambles out of sight before I can even discern who or what it was. I uncap the water vessel and place it against my mother's parched lips. She drinks greedily though most of the water escapes the corners of her mouth in a steady trickle.

"Not so fast," I urge her gently, "You'll make yourself sick." Another canteen appears without my bidding, and I give that one to her as well. Once I have confirmation that she is satisfied and I'm hopeful (at least in this moment) that she won't die, I ask her if she can stand.

"I don't know…" she sighs wearily, "I can try…"

It quickly becomes apparent to me that she barely has the strength to lift her head much less stagger to her feet and make the slow, plodding journey back to the abandoned swoop bike. With my options limited, I secure the strap of the second canteen against my shoulder, gently scoop her into my arms and rise to my feet. My body is tense as I do because I'm poised to respond to any incoming attack, but the remaining Tuskens appear frozen in place. They crouch low to the ground, huddled defensively, none of them brave enough to even look at me as I move past them. I walk from the camp, bearing my mother in my arms, without any opposition whatsoever.

Her head lolls against my shoulder as she falls in and out of consciousness, but I can hear her murmur into the folds of my collar as we near the swoop, "Oh, Ani…what did you do…?" I don't know if I should be grateful or disconcerted that she's not so disoriented that she hasn't failed to notice the brutal, bloody evidence of my rescue, the destruction I've left in my wake.

"What I had to do, Mom," I tell her, "I did what I had to."

Progress back towards the Lars homestead is slow and painstaking. My mother has incredible difficulty keeping herself upright on the bike even with me positioned behind her as a stabilizing force. I can feel her fading, her light flickering dimly in the Force. A constant, insidious fear strums within me. Don't die, don't die, don't die, beats a bitter refrain in my heart. I'm discouraged to think that I might have come this far and accomplished so much more than I ever had in that first timeline only to be met with the same horrific conclusion.

I can't accept it. I won't accept it. Not even when my mother begs feebly, "Ani, stop. Please, stop. I can't go on…"

In the end, I heed her pleas, not because I'm at all ready to accept her death but because I can't deny her requests for rest. I gingerly lift her from the bike and place her on the rocky ground, keeping her body cradled in my arms as I frantically consider my options. They are painfully few.

There is force healing but that is a skill that I've never been truly able to master, not without calling on the dark side. In my past, I had used it to regenerate the damaged tissues in my lungs in order to sustain my breathing for longer and longer periods outside of the suit. But the improvements were never permanent because joy and relief that would come with success would inevitably break my focus. Only through rage, hatred and despair could the power be maintained.

But I can't bring myself to use that malevolent, destructive power on my mother, not even as she lay dying in my arms. I can't corrupt her goodness and innate purity with such a perversion of the Force. She deserves better than that. And so, I do the only thing I can do, a thing I haven't done in more than a decade…I reach for the light.

The first contact burns, not as intensely as the glassy black sands of Mustafar but real enough that I recoil from it. I shouldn't be surprised by the result. Had I really expected for the Light to envelop me warmly after I've spent the last decade of my life harshly rejecting it? But I reach out for it again, even with the prospect of a second rejection looming, because all I want is for my mother to keep breathing and I'm willing to do almost anything to ensure that she does.

I'm willing to give my own life in exchange for hers. I'd do so gladly because, suddenly, this isn't only about my desperate need to hold on to her but also my firm conviction that my mother's incomparable brightness should not be extinguished. Not yet. Not when she still has so much goodness to offer the galaxy. Why should I have a second chance if she cannot?

So, I implore the Force to take me instead, make myself vulnerable to the Light and my own lack of omnipotence. For once, I do not try to control the Force, to take mastery over it and dominate it as I dominate everything in my life. Instead, I allow it to master me. I offer myself up without reservation.

When the Force finally answers back, I feel a peace like I've never known. There is no pain or fear or anger. Those ever-present emotions flutter away like embers carried on the wind.

I can feel myself disconnecting from my body, untethered and floating high above the sprawling desert where I have an unobstructed view of myself cradling my mother in my arms. The Force beckons me, invites me and I know if I heed there will be lasting peace that awaits me. I know that if I let go, I will drift away entirely, becoming one with the Force, but my mother will live. And that I all that I want.

But just as I begin to slip away, my mother takes a sharp, deep breath and the sound of it literally slams me back into my own body. I'm left confused and disoriented in the aftermath and I must blink several times to chase away the sudden waves of dizziness that assail me. When I finally regain my bearings, I look down at my mother and find her staring up at me with lucid eyes.

"Ani, my sweet baby boy…please, don't cry," she whispers, reaching up to brush away the wetness from my cheeks.

I force a wobbly smile. "I can't help it. You keep trying to die on me, Mom."

I'm still not certain she won't because her Force presence remains so weak, still just a shimmering light but, she's more coherent now than she's been since I found her. My hope that she is rallying is strengthened when she mumbles tiredly, "I'm here. I'm still here. Take me home."

She's still not able to make it to the bike under her own steam but she can at least remain upright as we ride now. The unrestrained terror that I had felt only an hour before has now simmered down into anxious worry. I'm able to steer the bike with a great deal less recklessness.

My mother continues to drift in and out of wakefulness but that seems to be born from overwhelming fatigue rather than the possibility of looming death. Still, I can't keep myself from counting her precious breaths and measuring them with my own. Thankfully, she keeps on breathing…and so do I.

We reach the Lars' moisture farm just before daybreak. The twin suns are beginning to rise in tandem over the craggy, sun-bleached cliffs that line the barren landscape. I don't even bother bringing the bike to a complete stopped before I'm desperately yelling for help. They all come running at my cries, a complete processional that includes the Lars men, Beru and Padme' and even Threepio and R2. Everyone comes skidding to a stop, however, when they see me standing with my mother cradled in my arms.

"Star's End, I can't believe it…" Beru breathes in disbelief, "You found her! You actually found her!"

"Is she…is she alright?" Cliegg bursts out, clearly afraid to hope, "Is she alive?"

"Just barely. She needs a healer now!"

Owen, Beru and Threepio are already tugging her from my grasp and bearing her into the house before I can say anything more. The instant I'm relieved of my burden, however, it is as if my strength deserts me completely and I collapse to my knees. There is a strange burning sensation that rises in my chest right before the sobs come. They explode from me with such force that it feels like I'm being torn apart. I don't even know why I'm crying. I just know that I am filled with such inconsistent emotions, a chaotic mixture of deep anxiety and overwhelming relief, that I cannot contain them.

I'm vaguely aware of Padme' moving to stand alongside me and wordlessly pulling me into an embrace. I don't even consider pushing her away. With a broken whimper, I turn into her arms gratefully and burrow my face against the warm flesh of her exposed waist and I cry. I cry until there are no tears left.

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time I finally regain some modicum of control. And with that settling calm comes the full realization that I am wrapped in Padme's arms. I had forgotten how good it felt to be held by her, to be pressed so closely, so perfectly against the smooth, soft contours of her body, to inhale her sweet, intoxicating scent…

But now it all comes flooding back to me in a torrent and I'm acutely aware of how starved I've been for this contact with her. And, ultimately, it is that need and my fear that I might be unable to deny it any longer, that prompts me to finally extricate myself from her gentle hold. I have a difficult time meeting her eyes, so I concentrate on scrubbing my face free of fresh tears instead. Somewhere beyond my shoulder, R2 trills a commiserative "weeeewoooo."

"I'm alright, buddy," I reassure him with a sniffle, "I promise."

"Are you sure?" Padme' asks quietly, crouching down beside me. I jerk a nod but, she doesn't appear to be any more convinced by my reassurance than R2. "You were gone a very long time, Anakin. I was frightened. We didn't know if you were going to come back at all."

"The journey was very hard on my mother. I didn't think she was going to…" I choke on the remainder of that statement because I can't bring myself to finish the thought out loud, to give voice to the relentless fear that has been rattling inside me for days now.

"Oh, Ani…"

She looks like she wants to reach out and pull me into her arms again but, instead, she lifts her hand to lightly cup my cheek. Though I scoot out from beneath her touch and the contact is fleeting, it is enough to weaken the frail hold I have on my emotions. I know that if I go back into her arms then every determination that I've made to keep my distance from her will be shattered.

As it is, need for her is already sweeping through me like a flash flood and I'm not sure I'll be able to control myself if she touches me again. I bring my knees to my chest and hold them there in an unconscious bid to will the need away and create a barrier between us. She continues to regard me with mournful eyes, unaware of my inner turmoil or, at least, the latest reason for it.

"Do you…do you want to talk about what happened out there?" she asks tentatively.

"No. Not really." I roll to my feet then, and she subsequently straightens as well. "I should go inside and check on her."

"Anakin, she's in good hands for now. You need to rest. You look exhausted."

"I am exhausted. I haven't slept in two days."

"I thought you said that you didn't need sleep," she reminds me with a small smile.

"I said I don't sleep," I correct her wryly, "But I won't deny that I need it."

She reaches out to grasp hold of my hand, briefly squeezing my fingers. I stare down at our clasped hands, marveling that this is the first time I can remember her holding my hand this way while it was still flesh. I don't make a move to pull away this time.

"Thank you for being here, Padme'." My words are hoarse, so thick with emotion that I can barely recognize my own voice. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been. You've shown me more kindness than I deserve."

"We're friends. I will always be here for you if you need me." I nod at her words but mainly because I literally cannot speak right then. "You should sleep now, Anakin. Please. For me."

"Will you stay with me?" I ask before I can talk myself out of making the request. I'm mentally cursing myself for myself for being a weak, selfish fool, especially because I had been so determined to keep away from her only minutes before. But now that the petition is out there, I'm not inclined to call it back. I don't even try.

"Do you want me to stay with you, Anakin?" I answer with another wordless nod, and she smiles. "Then I will."