Chapter 29 – Answers

DISCLAIMER: We do not own Star Wars or any of the characters in it, though we wish we did. xD

Author's Note: In which Padme and Siri talk to Shmi, and Obi-Wan and Anakin have a much-needed conversation.

Someone asked me shortly after I started releasing this fic, if I could write something from Shmi's POV. If you're still reading this, I wrote this first part because of you. :D

What are y'all's opinions on Shmi living vs dying? :P

~ Amina Gila

"Why do I have to learn this?" whines Boba, pouting as he sits on the couch, arms crossed grumpily. He looks so much like Anakin in this moment, that it's all Shmi can do to hide a smile.

"Because it's important," she explains gently. "If you don't have adequate language skills, it will be hard for you to survive on your own in a galaxy like this. Here, tell me what you don't understand." She leans closer to look at the datapad in his hands.

Ever since Dooku brought Boba here, Shmi has been raising and teaching him the way she would have had Anakin remained with her. She misses her son greatly, only seeing him on the occasions where Sidious has deemed his achievements great enough to get a reward. Shmi well knows the sort of things her son has been forced to do, but there's nothing she can do about it. She's one of the few who can keep him stable, and she doesn't want to take that away from him. She doesn't think she even can without putting the galaxy itself at risk.

There are many nights when she's too distressed to sleep. Anakin was – is, she won't lose faith in him – one of the best, kindest people she's ever known when he was a child. Sidious tortured it out of him, forcing him to commit heinous crimes that will forever burden her soul, and she's powerless to save her son. It hurts. It hurts far more deeply than anything she's ever known, even than being kidnapped from her family and sold into slavery.

This is her fault, her responsibility. She had only wanted what was best for Anakin, but she was wrong. The Jedi were meant to help her son. They didn't. Perhaps it would have been better if she'd stayed on Tatooine with Anakin. Even if they were slaves, they could have eventually gotten their freedom and left of their own accord. Because now, they're still slaves but this time, it's to someone who is cunning and manipulative. She doesn't stand a chance against him, and nothing she does will ever be enough.

She tried. Oh, she tried at first to protect Anakin. It only took her being electrocuted two times before she – and worse, Anakin – got the message. They had to play nice. They had to obey, to do whatever Sidious demanded of them no matter how badly it might hurt. Anakin has never confessed his crimes, but she's a mother, so she knew when he first killed someone. She'll never forget the look in his eyes when she saw him afterwards; he was only twelve.

"Did Anakin learn this?" Boba asks when Shmi finishes patiently helping him with his Rodian grammar. Being such a big galaxy with so many species and cultures, almost everyone learns at least one secondary language.

"Yes, he did," Shmi answers, smiling slightly. It's obvious to her that Boba respects Anakin as a surrogate brother and role model. As happy as she is to have the child with her, she fears for his future. She fears that he'll become nothing more than another bargaining chip for Sidious to use against Anakin. Dooku probably wouldn't have brought Boba here if he thought it might not be safe, but… she doesn't have the same confidence.

She respects Dooku, and while she does harbor some resentment against him for helping train Anakin to be a Sith, she knows that he's doing his best and he is fond of Anakin. If he wasn't, she probably would have done something incredibly risky to get Anakin away from Sidious.

At that moment, her comm beeps, and she moves out of the room to answer. It's Sidious. "Yes, my Lord?" she questions meekly.

"Senator Amidala has an interest in speaking with you about Lord Vader," the Sith Master informs her. She can't see his face – it's concealed by a hood – but she can see his smile of satisfaction. He wants this for some reason, and that fact makes her incredibly wary. "Answer her truthfully, but do not reveal our secrets. I would so hate to kill you." The comm call disconnects, leaving her shaken. She loathes communications with Sidious because they're so infrequent. He only speaks to her if he's planning something or threatening.

Either way, she will heed his advice to the letter. "Boba, I have a call to make. Will you be alright on your own for an hour?"

He looks up at her and nods, so she leaves to go out to the garden. It's not for privacy this time; it's for comfort. Shmi enjoys being surrounded by plant life, and she knows that Sidious will be monitoring this call, just as he does all of them, though she imagines that he normally doesn't care what she speaks about in her infrequent contacts with Anakin. This is one call that he will be listening to; she knows it.

She's barely had time to settle in the garden under a tree before her comm beeps again. She answers with no small amount of trepidation. A hologram of Senator Amidala appears, a woman next to her who is dressed like a Jedi. Not good. "Shmi Skywalker speaking," she answers pleasantly, as if this conversation couldn't turn serious. She is no stranger to the knowledge that Anakin is publicly known to have abandoned the Republic.

"This is Senator Amidala. You do remember me, right?"

Shmi smiles softly. "Of course, I remember you, Padme," she murmurs.

Padme smiles back. "This is Jedi Master Siri Tachi," she introduces. "We have some questions about Anakin, if you don't mind."

"What would you like to know?" Shmi queries. There are so many things which they could ask, and she's worried that she might slip up if she's not careful. She has to watch every word which she says, especially being that Jedi – like Sith – can sense lies in the Force.

"You know Anakin has joined Dooku, don't you?" Padme questions.

"Yes," she answers truthfully. "I heard it on the news."

"When was the last time you spoke with him?" Padme wonders. "I saw him yesterday, helping Dooku." She pauses, something flashing across her expression. "The Republic has taken a huge blow, and I'm trying to understand what's happening to him."

"A few weeks ago," Shmi informs them. "He was upset about Jango's death – he knew him personally through Dooku apparently; he knew Boba as well – and he was questioning the future of the Republic. He wants the war to end, but he knows that we each have our roles. His is with Dooku, or so he said." That's not strictly true, but it's close enough that she knows Siri won't pick it up. It's a truth which is only valid from a certain point of view.

"When did he first meet Dooku?" This time it's Siri who asks the question.

"Shortly after he was ten," Shmi tells her. "Palpatine had invited him to Naboo to talk politics. This was after Dooku had left the Order, and he was having doubts about the Republic. He saw the corruption, and he had hoped to find a way to fix it. When he met Anakin, I knew he realized something, but I didn't know what. He offered to teach him to control his abilities, and I agreed." She sighs lightly, sinking back into the bench. "I think sometimes that perhaps I shouldn't have, but Ani wanted to learn. His abilities are… beyond anything the galaxy has seen, at least that's what Dooku told me."

"You can't trust anything he says," Padme declares, "But in this case, I think he's right. Anakin is the strongest known Force sensitive, which is why we need to find him. Shmi, if we can't stop him, the Jedi will probably issue a kill-on-sight order to the Republic. We cannot let that happen."

Shmi feels fear clench her in its vice-like grip. She wants to help; she knows how she can, but if she does something as foolhardy as telling Padme who Sidious is, she knows that he'll denotate her transmitter. She'll be dead, and Anakin… She doesn't want to lose her child to the darkness. Her fear doesn't prevent her from narrowing her eyes at Siri. Padme seems like a good person – Anakin cares for her deeply – so Shmi hopes that she wouldn't involve a Jedi who might use whatever information she obtains against Anakin.

"I do not agree with the Council on this matter," Siri says, as if reading her mind. She leans forward. "Where might Anakin be?"

"With Dooku, wherever he is," she replies honestly, unsure of she can say that he's on Serenno.

"So Serenno then," Padme surmises, and she nods. Maybe it isn't a secret after all.

"Did Anakin associate with others, with people who Dooku knew personally?" Siri queries.

"Probably," she answers truthfully, carefully choosing her words. "He left Naboo many times after Dooku started his training. I didn't think there was anything unusual about that, so I didn't pry, but Ani always seemed very happy to be with Dooku, and it was obvious to me that Dooku has a soft spot for him. That's why I allowed it. I never asked him who he met or where he went, though he did talk about it sometimes. Nothing that could help you, I'm sure."

Padme looks disappointed. "Thank you for your time, Shmi," she murmurs at last with a polite smile. "I hope we can talk more in the future. I'll comm you if I ever have any more questions."

"You too," Shmi tells her, preparing for the connection to be broken.

"Wait," Siri blurts out, holding up a hand. "Shmi, did you know that Dooku is a Sith?"

"Not at first, no," she responds, shaking her head. "He told me a few years after he took Ani as his apprentice."

Siri's brow furrows. "Did he not tell you what Sith are?"

"No," Shmi answers. And he didn't. Sidious is the one who did. By the time that she found out Dooku was a Sith like Sidious, there wasn't much she could do to protect Anakin.

Padme frowns and exchanges a look with Siri as if they're having some sort of silent communication. "Did he mention anything about his master?"

Shmi can feel her heartrate pick up at the question. She can't answer truthfully, but she certainly can't lie either. "Dooku is a man who makes his own path," she answers with a laugh. "He has no need of a master."

Siri seems a bit disappointed. "Thank you for answering our questions. Can you let us know when Anakin contacts you again?" she requests.

"Of course," Shmi agrees, though she has no intentions of doing so. When the connection is broken, she breathes out a sigh of relief and hopes that she didn't mess anything up. She won't know unless Sidious calls to reprimand her. No such call comes. All she gets is a text message a few hours later that says only two words. Well played.

**w**

Obi-Wan feels Anakin's presence the moment the shuttle emerges from hyperspace, and he immediately makes his way to the hanger bay to wait for their return. He hasn't heard anything of how Anakin and Ahsoka have done on their mission but seeing as they're both here – and Dooku is with them – he expects it must have gone well, which might not be a good thing for the Republic. Somehow, he imagines that whatever they're told to do next will involve him.

He stands near the doorway next to Rex, who had wanted to come as well, watching silently as the Twilight lands gracefully in its spot in the center of the hanger bay. The boarding ramp begins lowering immediately, and Ahsoka is jumping off before it's even on the ground yet. Her expression is tinged with anxiety, and with a jolt, Obi-Wan realizes that he can feel her fear broadcasting into the Force. The Dark Side is strong, making it harder for him to discern anything properly.

"Master Obi-Wan, you need to talk to Anakin," she blurts out in a rush. She's paler than normal, blue eyes wide with apprehension.

"What happened?" he asks, trying to maintain his calm so as not to agitate Ahsoka further. For some reason, he has a bad feeling about this.

"Padme was on Tatooine," she explains, "And she talked to Anakin. I don't know what happened, but he's not listening to anything Dooku is telling him. I think you might be the only one who can calm him down."

Obi-Wan blinks. Well, that's surprising. He hardly knows Anakin, and if he's worked up about something, surely Dooku would have more success? Apparently not. "I will," he promises, striding towards the boarding ramp.

Dooku greets him inside, expression unusually grave. "Be careful," he warns. "Anakin is highly unstable right now." That sounds ominous.

Obi-Wan simply nods, slipping past the older man to find Anakin. He's in one of the cabins, sitting mutely on the lower bunk and staring fixedly at the opposite wall, face streaked with tears. It makes his heart twist painfully to see it. "Anakin," he says softly, slowly approaching him the way he might a spooked animal.

At first, Anakin gives no indication that he heard, until he finally turns his head enough to look up at Obi-Wan. His eyes are vacant, and the emptiness of his gaze sends a chill down Obi-Wan's spine. Worse yet, there's a prominent sheen of yellow lurking in their depths. He doesn't know what he can even say to this powerful, ruthless, yet compassionate, and broken – sort of – man. What can he do to help Anakin away from the brink, away from the darkness that's threatening to swallow him whole?

The Jedi taught him not to act on his emotions, but right now, Obi-Wan thinks that it's the only option. Dooku has been telling him time and again of the important of mastering emotions without shunning them, and it's only now that he can better understand. His Jedi training tells him that Anakin can't be saved, that it would be a mercy to end his suffering, that Anakin is too attached to properly be anything other than a disaster. But his heart is telling him something else. It's telling him that Anakin is hurting – his pain is echoing through their bond – and that he needs someone to lean on, someone who he doesn't associate with pain.

Obi-Wan sits next to Anakin with a deliberate carefulness, giving the other plenty of time to move or react in some way. He only turns his head back towards the wall in a detached apathy. Obi-Wan gently wraps an arm around Anakin's shoulders, pulling him into a comforting – hopefully – embrace. Anakin reacts only enough to bury his face against Obi-Wan's shoulder, his breathing ragged.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan whispers, rubbing his – his brother's – he would like to think that they've been together long enough to be something like surrogate siblings – back soothingly. Anakin remains silent, but Obi-Wan is more than willing to wait for him to answer. After a few minutes, the tension slowly drains from Anakin's body until he's leaning entirely into the embrace, his arms winding around Obi-Wan's waist.

"I talked to Padme," he mumbles, choking on her name. "She doesn't understand. Sidious will turn her against me. I'm going to lose her."

The final pieces click together in Obi-Wan's mind, and he tightens his arms around Anakin as anger flares through him. This has always been Sidious' goal. If Anakin is Fallen, he'll be dangerous and unpredictable. The Jedi will, no doubt, try to kill him, and he'll slaughter them. He might try to destroy Sidious too, but the Jedi will be one of his targets. And Sidious will find another way of controlling him. Obi-Wan can't give up on Anakin for the sake of the galaxy, and for his own sake. He deserves better.

"Do you trust her?" he asks gently.

"Of course," Anakin answers instantly, voice muffled by Obi-Wan's robes.

"Then you need to trust that she won't accept anything as a fact without hearing your side of the story," Obi-Wan murmurs. He desperately hopes that his words will reach Anakin, and that he'll actually listen. There's something else there just below the surface which is triggering Anakin. Obi-Wan can sense it, but he doesn't know what it is.

Anakin presses closer to Obi-Wan, gripping tightly as if afraid he'll disappear if he doesn't. "What is it?" Obi-Wan queries.

"I don't know why she cares," Anakin confesses after another long moment, voice choked. "She shouldn't. She'd be safe if she didn't."

"You and I both know that she will speak out for what she believes in," Obi-Wan reminds him, "And that she knows you is probably keeping her alive. She sees your heart like I do. She can see that you have a good heart, Anakin."

A strangled sob escapes from him. "How?" he asks shakily. "How can you say that?"

The utter hopelessness in his voice makes Obi-Wan's heart break, and he finds himself fighting tears. How can someone hurt a child like the one Anakin used to be? How can anyone beat and mold another person – a good person who always wants to help others – into a weapon of destruction, take away all of their self-worth, and make them think they're nothing?

"You are so much more than a tool for Sidious," Obi-Wan tells him fervently. "You are more than that. You aren't a slave. We will destroy Sidious, Anakin, I promise you. No matter what it takes, we will end him, and you will be free. But I want you to understand this: Sidious might try to control you, but you are still a person. You can still make your own choices."

He pulls back slightly, moving his left arm so he can cup Anakin's cheek and force him to meet his gaze. He needs him to see how sincere he is. "You are worth just as much as any other being out there," Obi-Wan declares firmly, voice leaving no room for argument. "You must believe that." Words can't do justice to the emotion which flashes across Anakin's face. Has Dooku never told him that before? Or did he not realize he needed to? Or did he not know how? Or did Anakin not believe him? It probably doesn't matter anyways.

Anakin blinks furiously, more tears spilling down his face. The swirling cloud of darkness hovering around him seems to lessen as the yellow fades even more from his eyes, leaving them almost entirely crystal blue. He stares at Obi-Wan with what can only be defined as gratitude before ducks his head forwards, pressing it against Obi-Wan's shoulder again as he cries silently.

Obi-Wan doesn't know what will happen now, but he somehow knows that everything will be alright. Eventually. Their path won't be easy, and he knows it. Even when it gets hard – and it will – he refuses to lose faith that they can eventually find a place where they can be free from Sidious' darkness and shadow, where Anakin can grow and heal, becoming the person he was always meant to be.