DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS YOU SEE HERE. ALMOST ALL OF THEM BELONG TO GEORGE LUCAS. THERE'S ONLY THE MIDWIFE - LUCIA - AND HEAVEN KNOWS, IF ANYONE WANTS TO USE HER IN THEIR STORY, THEY CAN GO RIGHT AHEAD WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. I ALSO WANT TO APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE IF THERE ARE ANY HISTORIC INACCURACIES (AT LEAST IN THE STAR WARS UNIVERSE).

I feel hot. It's not a new feeling - in fact, it's one I've been accustomed to ever since I've lived on this planet. This planet, with its twin suns burning bright in the cloudless sky. I look up through the window at that sky as my neighbor - who is also my closest friend - grips my hand tightly, and smoothes back my sweat-soaked hair. She coos softly, with a voice that sounds like it's from another realm.

"Breath with me, Shmi. In...and out. In and out. Just breathe, I will handle everything else."

It's obvious to me that she had done this before. But at this moment, all I want is for the sharp torrents of pain to end. I couldn't care less about breathing. I try to think of other things. Thoughts flood into my mind like random gunfire - they have no pattern or order. I think of the little boy who is struggling as hard as I am for a breath of life. Friends ask me how I know it's a boy - I simply smile. After all, I don't understand how I know. I just do. They think I'm avoiding other questions, because even more curious to them is the fact that this baby does not have a father.

Another flash of pain.

I gasp, and try to continue my thoughts - scattered as they are. Inwardly, I despise their inquisitiveness. But I admit that I am as curious as they are. But still...better not to think too deeply about the mysteries of life. Some secrets are best left hidden - just accept life's beauty without question. Who was it who spoke those very words to me? In all this pain, I feel momentarily confused. Then her voice echoes clearly in my head, just as if it is she, helping me deliver my child. My mother - with her liquid eyes, and calm voice - how I long to be like her! I earnestly long for that same sense of calm to come over me, but it is pointless, I feel panicked and overly anxious.

Another blinding stab makes me scream.

"Shhh...the neighbors will hear. The little one's almost out, I see his tiny head! You're nearly there."

'Hear that Shmi? He's almost here. Soon you can hold him in your arms. Very soon. Push just a little more.' I hear my mother speaking to me again. With all this going on, I begin to wonder if I'm losing my sanity. One does not simply hear the dead speaking to them from beyond the grave! But they're kind, soothing words. I feel like a little child. I'm in pain and I want my mother. How could I ever be as good a mother as she was to me? I didn't ask for this to happen - I didn't want to bear a child! He doesn't deserve to be born here - on this harsh planet. He doesn't deserve to be born to a slave. I don't want this to happen!

'But you can't stop the change, Shmi...Any more than you can stop the suns from setting.' All these thoughts rushing through my head so fast makes me swoon. I know she's right. And knowing that I had someone like her to teach me and guide me - that is an encouraging thought. She would want me to do the right thing. I summon every ounce of strength left and push. The pain stops and blackness fills the space around me.

I'm awake, and I look around and find myself lying on my bed. The minutes before I blacked out come rushing back to me. My eyes widen and I'm fully alert now - where's my son? Where's the boy? I try to cry out to my friend, Lucia, but all that escapes from my lips is a half moan. I hear the patter of feet coming towards me.

"I did not expect you to wake so soon! You want to hold the boy?"

I try to raise myself from the bed, indicating that I want him near me more than anything. She pushes me back down onto the pillow gently and walks off into the next room hurriedly. I wait expectantly for what seems like eons before she comes back with a small bundle, wrapped in what looks like coarse grey material. I try to get an early look as she brings him to me, but his face is obscured by the cloth.

She places the bundle gently in my arms and backs away quietly, staring and smiling. I smile wanly at her, and look down. I did not expect what was coming. All the excruciating memories of the pain of birth vanish in that instant. More beautiful still, it is all replaced by a mystic joy I cannot comprehend. I feel like I'm holding my heart in my hands. I know that time heeds no man and continues on, but I wish I could freeze this moment forever. I stare at the closed lids, and stroke his delicate face gently. How I wish that no harm will come to you, my son.

"He is beautiful, isn't he?" speaks Lucia.

"He's perfect." I reply.

"You should be proud. Have you thought of a name? Perhaps the name of your father? Or his?"

Lucia still does not believe me. My son has no father. And I would not give him my father's name - the man who would constantly harm and ridicule my mother, until the day she died. She should never have married him. I suddenly think of my mother's maiden name. It is the name I will call my son.

"His name is...Anakin Skywalker." I tell Lucia.

Her mouth opens as if to ask more questions. Perhaps now she wishes to know how I came by that name. I interrupt her.

"Lucia, I know it's late. And you have a full day of work tomorrow. You should go home and rest. Thank you, thank you so very much for helping me. Little Anakin wouldn't be here if not for you."

She smiles again and walks out the front door.

"It's just you and me, then." I tell the little person before me. "You and me for the first time. Now, I will not feel so lonely!"

His eyelids flicker open at the sound of my voice. I anxiously hope that he does not begin to cry. He doesn't. There are so many things I want to tell him. I cannot bring myself to speak, but my thoughts seem loud in my head, as all my hopes and ambitions for him take form in my mind.

You're born to a slave, little Ani. That means you in turn become one. But that doesn't mean that you have to remain a slave forever. You have something special within you - I can sense it. How else could a person be born without a father if not for some special force? You will break free from this life of bondage. But as long as you remain my son - I wish nothing more than a life of happiness and kindness for you. I hope that you understand this, little as you may be. I wish that you will rise above all this oppression you see around you, and conquer it. I wish no hurt will come to you. I will try and shield you from pain as long as I am able. And in doing so, I hope that you will later shield others weaker than yourself, protect them. I want you to be a friend to people, not a foe. I want you to grow up strong, able to withstand the hardships that life will throw at you. But most of all, I want you to grow up to be free. Free to be who you truly are.

You grip my index finger tightly with your tiny hand - almost as if you understand! I close my eyes and fall asleep with you in my arms. I dream dreams of you, my son, now a man - destiny will make you powerful.

FINIS