Chapter 27. 35 Hours

I was made
and meant to
look for you and
wait for you and
become yours
forever.
— Robert Browning

There are three distinct nights which compete for the title of being the longest of my life.

The first agonizing candidate materialized when Sola was in labor with her first child. Her water broke on a sunny morning, but by nightfall of the second day, the baby still hadn't come. I'd never seen such deep pain carved into my sister's face, yet it was her determination which frightened me the most. Whether or not it killed her, Sola was committed to her child entering the world. Holding my sister's hand into the early hours of the second dawn— praying more fervently each time she passed out from the pain only for her to be awakened by it mere moments later— was a tormenting experience I thought could never be matched.

The last contender came several years after the first. I watched helplessly from a window as my husband's second home became a fiery inferno. Even the blessing in my belly stirred, restless, as if he or she could sense my emotions and shared my anxiety. Debilitating worst-case scenarios assaulted my mind, torturing me… though, even my wild imagination never could've anticipated the horrific reality. When my husband finally came and went again, I found sleep to be an impossibility.

Each of the three nights is a unique nightmare in their own way, although, they all share a common thread— I had to play the part of passive, powerless observer while Fate dealt its cards to the people I loved. Under this criteria, the middle event more than earned its place on the roster. Waiting in an unfamiliar home on a backwards planet, surrounded by others who understood but couldn't really, seconds felt like hours at the Lars homestead.

Two of the worst nights of my life have been spent waiting for Anakin to safely return to me. Both times, the man who came back was no longer the Anakin I'd known.

Hour 1

The twin suns were both going down for their nocturnal naps, but I hadn't moved. I still faced the direction in which Anakin disappeared. The last sight of him had been a microscopic black seed in a sea of beige. But the view was fading from sunset orange into twilight purple, and my eyes were starting to strain.

"Pad-Padmé?" I heard the voice of Beru on my left side, near the stairs. She said my name as if she wasn't sure she'd remembered it right. I still didn't take my eyes off the horizon.

"Here," I answered, numbly. She obviously saw where I was, but I didn't have a better reply at the moment.

I heard her approach, sensed the graveled sand shifting as she came to stand beside me. I was scared to look at her— scared that if I removed my focus from the barely perceptible point where Anakin had last been visible, I'd lose it for good. My eyes would try to seek out the exact point again, but— in the monotonous bland of Tatooine's skyline— it would only be a guess, not a certainty.

Beru was a smart girl. In my peripheral vision, I could see her look at me, then to the horizon, and quickly put two and two together.

But I respected her a great deal more when she said nothing, instead continuing her silent gaze in the same direction I stared off into. She didn't press me for conversation to fill the air. She didn't question my vigil. She joined me in it.

For several minutes, we stood in a comfortable— given the circumstances— silence, and she was so quiet that there were moments I forgot she was even there. But the soft appearance of Beru was in contrast to the more shuffled walk of her counterpart, and I heard Owen's coming before he'd even emerged through the hovel opening. He made a gruff sound as he cleared his throat, and, reluctantly, I finally took my eyes off the horizon to look at the young man standing on the top step.

For a moment, the events and the weight of the day disappeared, and I simply gazed upon this person who had such a unique title: Anakin's stepbrother. Or, as Shmi might prefer me to say, Anakin's brother.

The thought was strange and peculiar. I found myself wading through an odd pond of both joy and remorse. Anakin had a brother. And a stepfather/father. These were gifts— precious, wonderful gifts. For anyone else, they would be a cause for jubilation, a silver-lining in the day's dire circumstances. But for Anakin, they were yet more to be dangled in front of him, out of his reach— more echoes of a life he wasn't permitted to enjoy. With the rules of the Jedi as intact as they ever were for us on Varykino, Anakin was no more allowed to form attachments to this new family as he was free to foster any for me.

Of course, that hadn't exactly stopped him.

Only I had stopped him.

I'd been lost in my thoughts, gazing at Owen a tad too long, and he shifted awkwardly under my study. His blatant discomfort broke me from my reverie, and I switched my sight back to the horizon. How was it possible that the sky had grown even darker in the few seconds I'd looked away? I searched for the exact point I knew was out there, but the dividing line between horizon and sky was indiscernible, and I could no sooner find the spot than know for sure where the skyline started at all.

Owen's voice was layered. "So, he's gone to find her."

My eyes shifted once more, and I again examined his face. For his slightly standoffish demeanor, Owen Lars was an open book to a practiced reader like me. It helped that his face evidently never stayed still as his thoughts filtered through his mind. He very plainly appeared both disappointed and, almost desperately, hopeful.

Could Anakin be the answer to the prayers they'd been making for the past month? I had to believe it could be true. "Yes. He will find her."

Everything that would happen after he found her would be in the hands of a higher power.

Owen nodded once, curtly. His eyes were on the horizon in the general direction Beru and I had been looking in. "Good." He shifted his focus and priority back to us. "It's getting cold, and it's not safe out here after dark. Best you two get back inside." His eyes jumped quickly, almost unwilling, to my bare midriff. "We, ah, we can find you another top, if you like. Something of Shmi's or Beru's." He looked expectantly at his girlfriend, and it was hard to tell in the growing dark, but I think his cheeks were a little pink.

But Beru let out a little laugh as she moved towards the slightly flustered man and placed a hand on his shoulder. She passed behind him, descending the stairs that led back into the homestead. "She looks fine, Owen. Let her be."

He nodded again at me, awkwardly, then followed in behind Beru. I hung back a little, pausing to stare off into the distance one last time. Anakin promised he wouldn't be long, but I knew it was too soon to rationally hope for his return. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes, spotlighting all my senses into my hearing, listening for the sound of a speeder's revved engine. At first, all I heard was the light wind.

Surely, they thought I couldn't hear them, but the hushed whispers of the couple echoed up through the stairway as they continued their descent. Most of it was indistinguishable, but then I could suddenly hear an enthusiastic Owen remark, "I'm not looking at her. I just didn't want you to think I'm looking at her."

This was followed by a quick, "Shhh!"

I took one last longful look at the blackened horizon, then I ambled towards the hovel's opening. As I walked, I couldn't help but smile just a little, and I wished someone was there to share the humor with. Anakin had warned me about wearing anything too immodest on Tatooine. He'd been concerned about gangsters, kidnappers, criminals, and the like. Obviously, especially at the time, care for the eyes of a brother had been beyond his scope of imagining.

Several lights around the property flickered on all at once. Night had come for the homestead. At its behest, I followed the muffled sounds of the pair into the dwelling.

Hour 2

I looked up at the open ceiling as I came to the bottom of the landing. A deep purple the color of a bruise hung above us. All the same, a faint show of the brightest, most ardent stars began to make their debut. No doubt within minutes their supporting cast would join the inverted stage.

"Oh, Miss Padmé!" Threepio shuffled towards me from the nearest doorway. "I have prepared a room for you off the anterior hall. I do hope it meets your expectations."

C-3PO had only ever known me as an anonymous peasant girl. I wondered what this protocol droid would think if he found out I'd once lived in a royal palace, and about the titles that I'd been bestowed then and since. If he knew, he wouldn't believe me if I told him I'd be content with whatever accommodations had been offered.

I smiled at him gratefully. This wasn't the first time the droid had done what he could to make me feel at home in someone else's. "Thank you, Threepio. I'm sure it's perfect." Cliegg had asked earlier if I intended to sleep on the starship. As if I can fall asleep while Ani's out there hunting vicious, mindless monsters in the desert. Although it would likely only cost me brief minutes, I knew Anakin would return to the abode of the homestead first, and I wanted to learn of his return as immediately as everyone else.

"Your hosts and I are most insistent that your stay be comfortable while we await Master Ani's return. I must say, it is an upgrade from your lodgings in Mos Espa all those years ago. The homestead lacks a certain, well, ah, cosmopolitan flair, but I think you'll find the quiet out here most pleasing."

Ordinarily, he would've been right. After spending the bulk deal of my time living on Coruscant in recent years, the solace of the homestead might have served as a further a respite. It made the isolated Lake Country of Naboo look like a bustling city. Yet, instead of enjoying the quiet, I'd never been so anxious to hear the sound of an approaching speeder's engine in all my life.

"Padmé," Beru called from up ahead. "We're in here."

I thanked Threepio again and followed the friendly beckoning coming from the kitchen. I was about to descend the steps into the space when I stopped and began to backtrack. Beru and Owen were each carrying a tray up the stairs, and I stood to the side so as not to hinder their progress. Beru was transporting cups, a pitcher full of blue drink, and a stack of empty white bowls, while the young man came behind her with a steaming pot of something heavy and semi-liquid. What looked like flat bread was rolled up next to the cauldron on the tray.

Perhaps I should have thought about my own hunger as I took in the sight and smells. Instead, my heart ignored my own stomach and immediately wondered whether or not Anakin had stopped to eat the food we'd prepared for him.

Once the trays were grounded, I began to help them set the table. Confused, I double-counted the bowls and cups before I made my inquiry. "Cliegg isn't joining us?"

"He's in his room," Owen replied, as if that was explanation enough. After a pause, he exchanged a look with Beru, then added. "He said he wants to be alone right now. Seeing Ani arrive stirred up some," he cleared his throat. "Well, he just wants to be alone."

I nodded in understanding, though I could only imagine the battle between grief and hope Cliegg was enduring. One way or another, with Anakin's return, Shmi's husband would finally receive closure to this horrific, drawn-out ordeal.

Just before I settled into my chair, I noticed the seat of it was covered with a dusting of sand. I subtly gave it a brush with my fingers a few times before lowering myself into it. Owen and Beru took their original seats from earlier. We left Cliegg's and Anakin's spots empty. I tried not to focus on the glaring void on my left side. The room felt wrong without Anakin's larger-than-life presence filling it up.

"Speaking of rooms, Threepio just told me one has been prepared for me. Thank you for such courtesy."

Owen shrugged his shoulders but gave me a kind smile. "Least we can do is make you comfortable while we wait." His smile faded and became something else. "Ani's got a lot of ground to cover. It could take days for him to find her. If he finds her."

Do the Tuskens burn their dead captives? Bury them? What if there's nothing above ground for him to find?

But that pessimistic and awful thought sent a chill straight down my spine, and I didn't ponder that scenario anymore.

Instead, I mumbled a thank you to Beru as she passed me a serving spoon. I remembered from my previous stay with Qui-Gon and Jar Jar that days were longer on Tatooine than on Naboo, but I couldn't remember by how much. "How many hours is a day on this planet?"

"Thirty-six for a full rotation," Beru answered. "Luckily, this time of year, the nights last longer than most other seasons. Gives us a break from the heat."

"How long?"

"About fifteen hours."

"Fifteen?!" I repeated, aghast. "But Anakin left just before sunset! The first fifteen hours of his search will be in darkness?"

"Not necessarily," Owen countered. "Not pitch-black darkness. We have three moons and a good crop of stars up there. Trust me, he'll go through his water a lot slower than he would if the suns were up." He adjusted himself so that his elbows were on the table as he began to dig into his food.

"Naboo has three moons as well," I replied quietly. "That's my home. We were there before we left to find Shmi." I served the hot helpings on to my plate. The dinner looked fine, but truth be told, I didn't have much of an appetite. Dense rocks of anxiety took up too much space in stomach to leave room for much else. I would eat what I could to be polite. I kept talking to fill the silence. "Once a month, all three of the moons align in the sky. We call it Lunar Day." Memories sprung into my mind of Anakin shaking my father's hand, greeting my mother, and laughing at my sister's jokes. It felt like ages ago. Here I was, seated around his own mother's table— even wearing a similar shade of blue— and the mood could not have been more different. "Anakin and I just celebrated the holiday with my family a few days ago."

I looked up from my plate to find Beru smiling softly at me. "It's strange to hear him called 'Anakin.'" Owen started nodding, as if he already knew what she was about to say. "When Shmi talked about him, she only ever called him 'Ani'."

"We knew his full name was Anakin," Owen interjected. "But she's right… it's a little unusual. Not in a bad way."

"I understand," I remarked with a tiny grin. "I go back and forth myself."

I decided not to comment on my pleasant surprise when earlier, while the two men were working on the speeder, Owen very naturally referred to Shmi as 'Mom'. He'd done it multiple times since. I took it as a beautiful indication of the relationship formed between Shmi and Owen, but couldn't help but wonder what, if any, reaction Anakin had to hearing it. He hadn't said anything aloud at the time, and I hadn't had a clear view of his face, which kept his opinion a mystery.

"She told us a lot of stories about him," Owen remarked amiably. "It seems he was quite the character."

"Still is," I replied, the corner of my lips tugging upwards again.

Owen looked down at his bowl for a moment. I was surprised when his eyes rose and latched on to mine with sudden urgency. Even still, his voice stayed even. "I know I didn't give him the happiest reception when you two arrived but… I've heard a lot about him; been hoping to meet him for a long time. I just… never thought it would be under these circumstances."

"I'm sure he understood that." Beru placed a tender hand on his forearm to accompany her words. "He was probably thrown by the news. Not to mention, he was distracted by concern for your mom."

"Besides, there will be opportunity for you both to get acquainted when they return."

Beru and Owen both stared at me with dispirited expressions. I had a sinking feeling it was my use of the word 'they' which triggered their less than hopeful response.

We ate silently for the next several moments.

Hungrier to hear anything which would make me feel closer to Anakin than I was for the food, I eventually asked, "What were some of the stories Shmi told you about Ani?"

"Well," Owen chewed his helping then swallowed. "Did you hear about the ultra power cell he found and donated to the medical center?"

"No." I was already beginning to smile. "He left that one out."

Owen nodded. "It's not one of the funnier stories, but it, well, it always stood out to me. So the story goes, Ani was building a podracer, and he found an ultra power cell in a pile of scrap Watto told him to throw away. It was a good find; exactly what he needed to complete his pod." Owen stopped to take a quick sip from his blue milk. "No one knew he'd found it and odds were probably high he'd never come across one like that again. Then a gang member damaged the generator for the Mos Espa medical center in a shootout." Owen nodded at me appreciatively with respect I gathered was intended for Anakin. "He examined the generator and diagnosed that the cell would fix it. According to Shmi, he didn't even hesitate. Cost him the win in a race the next week against Sebulba, but it seems he never regretted it."

I dipped my head and tried to hide my smile before realizing there was no need. "That sounds like Ani." I looked back up at Owen, greedy for more. "What else did she tell you about him?"

To my surprise, the storyteller's face clouded over.

"Are you aware of his previous encounter with the Tusken Raiders?"

Beru and I both paused in our eating as we regarded Owen's suddenly cool demeanor.

"No."

"He was doing business for Watto out in the Dune Sea. Came across an injured Tusken pinned under a boulder. He got it free, put its leg in a splint, lit a fire and stayed with it the whole damn night. Lo and behold, when the rest of pack found them the next morning, they almost killed him."

"Even after he'd helped one of their own? And he would've been just a little boy!"

Owen shrugged. "His age didn't matter to them until the injured one he'd helped spoke up. Only then did they spare his life. That story always stood out to me too." He read Beru's and my expressions, and then his shoulders released a smidgen of their tension. "Sorry, I'm not trying to imply any anger towards Ani's part in it. He did a good thing. I just wish the recipient of it was worthy of his deed."

The only sounds for the next seconds were of our utensils moving against the bowls. Daring the extent of my desire to know Anakin's reality once again, I ventured, "What are the Tuskens like?"

"They're barbarians," Owen replied quickly, putting down the cup he'd been drinking from with a little extra effort on the table. I felt confident I knew him well enough to know his ire was at the subject itself, not at my bringing it back up.

"Reclusive nomads," Beru added. "They raid caravans, homes— wherever they can steal or terrorize. They know nothing of dignity, shame, or mercy."

And Anakin is venturing towards their den. Alone.

Nervously, I asked the question I'd been wondering since Cliegg told us about Shmi's abduction. "Why would they take her? Certainly, they couldn't have seen her as a threat?"

Owen sat back in his chair and scratched at his light beard. Then he rubbed his cheek with his hand till it drew down to cup his chin. "Popular theory seems to be that it's a rite of passage. Or a sick science experiment to learn more about their enemies."

"I don't understand. How could they be so cruel?"

Owen leaned slightly forward in his chair in my direction. "Because that's their sole purpose in life. Some of us suspect kidnappings like these are a savage coming-of-age ritual for the young adults of their tribe." His stern face lost some color. "Others think they just want to see how long a human body can hold out under torture. Every once in a while, they'll take a different kind of person— young girl. Young boy. Someone old enough to be a grandfather. So on. Shmi's the first middle-aged woman to be randomly taken, alone, like this in a while."

My stomach turned over. I couldn't decide which theory was worse— both sentenced Shmi to an unthinkably gruesome fate.

"If he finds them, I don't think Ani will be mending any injuries this time. Better that he causes them."

"You don't mean that, Owen. That's your father's hate talking."

Now he leaned in her direction, emphatic. "You think I'm not hateful? You think I don't have hate for the Tuskens?"

"I think you know the best outcome is for Ani to get out of there as quickly as possible without drawing any attention to himself."

I pressed my lips into a thin line. I had one more question I wanted to ask about these raiders, but it would have to wait. Now wasn't the time.

Beru placed her hand on her boyfriend's arm once more and gave it a comforting squeeze. At the sight, I remembered performing an identical action to soothe and connect to Anakin on the flight here.

I recalled the way the muscle of Anakin's forearm relaxed under my touch; the small smile that peeked its way up his cheeks like a sunrise.

The chair to my left felt so empty and cold. My distressed heart called out for the arm that wasn't there.

The ability to reach out and touch the ones we care about— when will we remember this is such a luxury whilst in the moments we live them?

Innocently oblivious to my depressed thoughts, the young woman opposite me picked up her spoon and smiled encouragingly. Or… perhaps she wasn't so unaware, as her gaze lingered on me as she said, "Tell her more stories about Ani, Owen. The funny ones."

Owen dabbed at his lips with a napkin and relaxed into his chair. He rubbed his grizzly cheek again, asking, in a much lighter tone, "Have you heard of womp rats?"

Hour 3

I was amazed at the innovation of Tatooine's people. In place of using precious water, they'd come up with their own resources— a manufactured chemical— to rinse their dishes. I might have been more skeptical of the bronze-colored suds, save for the fact it had been in use by their ancestors for hundreds of years.

Beru and I were each standing by the sink in the kitchen cleaning up after the meal. Owen sat in a chair next to a nearby table, tending a broken part.

"Just wait until Anakin comes back," I suggested. "He can fix anything."

"So I've heard. So I've seen. I still can't believe he fixed my bike so fast." Owen shook his head in continued amazement. He didn't look up as he spoke. "I should— his mother was the same way. Within two weeks of Shmi's arrival at the homestead, we didn't have a broken droid, system, condenser— you name it. Families from the neighboring farms used to bring their parts over here and ask her to fix them." His expression, from what I could see of it as I listened, grew more pensive. "She always said yes; wouldn't accept any payment. Probably one of the reasons why so many families jumped to help us when we were rounding up people to go after her." Owen's direct focus shifted back to the orange gadget in three pieces in front of him.

Beru didn't let the weighted silence linger very long before she apparently decided to change the subject.

"How long have you and Ani been together?"

"Oh, no, no, we're not—" My hands were doing some weird crisscrossing maneuver, so I purposely set them down on the counter. I turned and leaned my back against it, pinning my hands behind me as I finished, "We're just friends."

"Oh," Beru looked as surprised at my answer as I had been at her question. "I just assumed— when he said you are important to him—"

"—And the way he said it," Owen made a point to add, though he didn't go to the trouble of lifting his head from his work as he spoke.

Beru nodded, agreeing with the hunched figure, "And the way you stayed up top…" She smiled tentatively, perhaps regretful at her question.

I once again felt like I was sitting at my parents' table. Now, though, I made a point to speak more kindly to Beru than I had to my unapologetically needling sister. "We've known each other for years. In fact, I meant Ani ten years ago, here, on Tatooine."

This caught Owen's attention, and his face at last peeked up. "That would mean you met Shmi."

I nodded. "I did. She sheltered me and my companions from a very bad sandstorm. She didn't even know us," my lips curved up at the memory, "Ani just dragged us in and announced we were there. She fed us, gave us places to sleep, and never made us feel like a burden. She was the epitome of grace."

Beru smiled. "Sounds like Shmi." Both she and Owen were looking at me with a new, warmer regard.

Indeed, after my affirmation, the air noticeably changed. Despite the fact that I was an unexpected out-worlder in their home, the Lars had been a welcoming trio. But now, I was no longer a stranger standing distantly sympathetic to the family's plight. I'd known their matriarch— had seen her gentle face, had heard the lovely sound of her accented voice, had been a beneficiary of her kindness.

My time with her could not compare to theirs, but all the same, it was as if an invisible hand had pulled me into the fold. Anakin was right; these were good people, and they looked after their own.

"Wait," Owen suddenly started, a half-grin, half-frown of concentration on his face. "I think we've heard about you. Mom told us the story about the entourage that Ani left with—"

"—Only about a thousand times." But despite her interjection, Beru didn't look like she was complaining.

"— And she told us about a brown-haired girl tagging along with the Jedi." He laughed, the first time I'd heard him do so. "Mom makes it sound like Ani was smitten with her."

Feeling like I should, I attempted to lie, albeit badly. "Oh, I don't know about any of that."

"Well," Owen continued, "according to the story, Ani left with a Jedi man, a big alien with floppy ears, and a young girl he had a crush on. So, unless you've got a lightsaber or fleshy ears hiding underneath all that hair…"

I sighed, resigned, and lifted my hands up in a show of admittance. "I'm not denying it was me. But," given the past days on Naboo, the ridiculousness and irony of this statement was not lost on me, but they didn't need to know that, "he was nine. He's grown up. And now he's a Jedi apprentice."

Beru just smiled widely and shared a conspiratorial look with Owen, which I chose to ignore.

Wanting to divert the conversation, I added, "Shmi and I watched Ani win the Boonta Eve podrace together." I would never not be amazed at what he was able to pull off. "I thought I was worried enough until I got into the viewing pod with her. I thought she was going to break the screening tablet— she was holding it so tightly."

As stressful as the events had been at the time, oddly enough, these weren't unpleasant memories to talk about now. I had a light smile on my face as I reminisced. The sheer joy and relief on Ani's young face as he celebrated his win was an easy memory to revisit.

Beru's eyes lit up knowingly before darting over to look at Owen. He looked unimpressed. "Reckless sport," he quipped, his attention going back to the device in front of him as he resumed tweaking something on it. "Never a fan myself."

I grinned at him. "I think you and Shmi must have that in common."

He met my eye and smiled back. "Yeah," he huffed. "That's not her favorite part of the story to tell. It's pretty obvious how she skips over most of the details."

It didn't escape my notice, nor I imagine theirs, that we were speaking of Shmi in the present tense. Whether Beru and Owen had fought it or not, hope had infiltrated back into their home.

"So," Beru turned her hazel pools back to me. Curiosity pinched her eyebrows upwards. "How are you here now?"

I'd pondered about answering this question ever since we'd arrived, and I'd yet to come to a definite solution.

At my hesitation, Owen seemed to want to get the tale going on his own. "Mom said you were a servant girl." He eyed me up and down, and I could practically read the verdict as he took in my rich fabrics and non-calloused, well-nourished skin. Besides the public-service kind, I didn't look like I'd been a servant a day in my life.

There were so many details we'd had to keep secret from Shmi, even as Qui-Gon convinced her to trust him with her child. Would she have let him go if she'd known the threat following the very ship he was departing on?

"When Shmi met me, I was a handmaiden to a queen." Technically true, from a certain point of view. "She was waiting back on the ship, on the outskirts, while we were in Mos Espa."

Both Owen and Beru straightened. Beru's eyes were the widest. "A queen? Here? On Tatooine?"

"We couldn't tell Shmi," I excused apologetically. It was as if by making them understand, I could retroactively undo the guilt I felt ten years ago for keeping secrets from the woman who'd given me a safe place to shelter. "It was dangerous for her to be on the planet at all; we were only here because we were stranded. Our hyperdrive failed."

"Right," Owen cut in, nodding me on. That was a detail they'd no doubt already heard in every thousandth retelling. "Mom said Ani had to race his pod for the engine."

"Without it…" I shook my head, my voice trailing as I imagined all the worst-case scenarios which could've been if we'd never gotten off Tatooine. I thought not of my own fate, but of the people of Naboo. An absent queen would've eventually been written off as abdicated or dead, and then the Trade Federation would've been even better equipped to take over the planet as they propped up a puppet monarch. By the time that happened, how many more of the Naboo would have starved?

I realized Owen and Beru were still looking at me in wait for me to finish my sentence. I eyed them gravely, feeling the hallmarks of a forever grateful leader weaving through my bones. "It's not far of a stretch to say an entire planet owes Anakin Skywalker a tremendous amount of thanks."

And that's not even with mentioning his heroic exploits in the space battle.

Privately, I marveled at the reality that Owen and Beru only knew secondhand scraps of the story. So much of it occurred after Ani left Tatooine— even Shmi herself didn't know the rest of it. I decided I would resist sharing those details now in the hopes that, come tomorrow, we could sit around the table with Anakin and Shmi, and he and I could recount the full story together for all ears to hear. I would make it a point to impress upon them, especially Shmi, how crucial Anakin's involvement had been. I imagined his mother would delight to know her son had inspired an entire generation of children. Young adults who'd been around his age at the time of the invasion were now signing up at the Royal Naboo Air Academy in record numbers. For the first time, the school was more inundated with prospective pilots than there were slots available.

I couldn't wait to share my anecdotes, and I only knew of the opening act. Anakin could then regale everyone with ten years worth of Jedi adventures. There wasn't a story he'd already told me back on Varykino that I wouldn't happily hear again.

So lost was I in this excited daydreaming— my optimistic rush temporarily turning my anxiety into anticipatory joy— that at first, I didn't notice Beru was waving her hand at me to continue.

"You were handmaiden to this queen?"

"Yes. I went on to work in public service." Again, true. But here came the more problematic, present-day troubles. "And I've made some… enemies over the years."

Owen's eyebrows shot up. "Enough that you need a Jedi to protect you?"

As much as I'd been praying that Anakin would walk through the door at any moment, I amended my prayer to ask that it wasn't this moment, as I answered, "A Jedi apprentice. He's only a Padawan."

This answer wasn't the soothe I'd hoped it to be. Owen sat back in his chair, studying me much more intently now. There was a palpable pause.

"Are we in danger with you here?"

"No," I assured. "Anakin wouldn't have left if we were."

I realized I wasn't certain if that assumption was wholly true— not with his mother's life on the line. However, I knew he would've at least left the Lars' better prepped on the situation and saw to it first that we had some defenses.

Owen was watching every movement on my face. Instinctively, I pulled the neutral Amidala mask on.

He pursed his lips. "So, you're telling us there's no danger?"

This was a skillful and blatant yes or no question, and though I had no reason to believe we'd been tracked to Tatooine, to answer 'No' would imply a certainty I did not have the rights to give.

At my silence, Beru spoke up. "It's alright. My father is a marksman. I knew how to shoot long before I knew how to draw moisture from a vaporator."

I switched my gaze to her and shook my head. "No, I promise, it won't come to that."

Owen crossed his arms over his chest, still unsatisfied. "Who's after you?"

Every time I came to Tatooine, I was the prey of a lethal hunter. The last time I stood in the dining nook of Shmi Skywalker's home, I lied to her, even though my presence— if even by the smallest chance— put her in danger. I couldn't enact the same deception to her extended family. Not again. They deserved the truth, especially as I was seeking shelter from Shmi's dwelling once more. "I believe he's been hired by the Separatists." Tatooine wasn't so remote that they wouldn't have heard about the Separatist movement.

I'd almost said 'a bounty hunter' but thought better of it. I trusted my instincts about this couple, but I'd still only known them for a few hours. A bounty hunter meant there was a bounty on the target's head. Good, harmless moisture farmers as they appeared to be, this was still Tatooine.

"Why do they want to take you out?"

Disapproving, Beru swatted the air in his direction. "O-wen!"

He frowned at her and lifted a palm off his crossed forearms. "What? He's a Jedi. They're not trying to find her to have a friendly chat."

Owen and Beru didn't need to know my official mantle. Beyond that, seeing no reason to lie, I answered, "I've been working against the passing of a bill in the Galactic Senate. It would formalize an army for the Republic. The Separatists are retreating from the diplomatic table more every week, and this might be the trigger that collapses the negotiation efforts all together. I believe it will push us into a civil war— systems fighting against systems, potentially trillions of lives affected."

My lungs inhaled after my grand little speech. I expected to see shocked, even frightened faces, but all I got back were blank stares.

"Sounds like a headache." Owen scratched behind his ear. He then stroked his beard as he shared a look with Beru. "See? Stuff like that makes me grateful we live out on the Outer Rim."

To her credit, Beru didn't look near as apathetic as her boyfriend, and she gave me an encouraging smile. Yet she only remarked, "Sounds like what you're doing is important."

Owen grimaced at her. "Sounds like she is important." He didn't say it like it was a positive attribute.

Unbothered, Beru stepped towards Owen and leaned down, planting a kiss to his cheek. He noticeably softened under her graces, his rough exterior melting away. She stayed at his eye level long enough to say, "Sounds like we better make sure she stays safe." Then, she put both her hands on his shoulders and came to a stand behind his chair. She met my eye and gave a warm smile.

I nodded at her, grateful— but I had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from launching into a rousing discord on civic duty and not turning a blind-eye to other's misfortunes, no matter how distant they seemed to be.

His previous grumpiness apparently forgotten, Owen seemed content to feel Beru's hands on his shoulders, and in truth, I envied him that simple yet significant happiness. I reminded myself that not everyone devotes themselves to public service, and very many are happy with the fences separating them from the rest of the galaxy. It didn't mean the Lars weren't still good people. Besides, if autonomy was what Owen wanted, I had no doubt he'd get his wish. If a galactic civil war indeed broke out, Tatooine would surely feel the effects one way or the other, but the isolated Lars homestead was almost guaranteed to be immune from the fray.

Hour 4

My eyes took in the space with neither fanfare nor protest. A bed wide enough for a single person was flushed up against the other side of the wall, opposite to the entrance to the room. A thin pillow with striped fabric laid flat at the head. A folded bundle of blankets had been placed by the foot.

"Thank you," I offered to the couple standing behind me in the doorway. Personally, I would've preferred a lookout post on the surface level with electrobinoculars, but I knew better than to ask for that— at least, until morning came.

"Right. Let us know if you need anything." Owen departed with a short wave as he turned and walked down the hallway. Beru however, lingered behind.

Her eyes were gentle and her tone somewhat quiet. "Do you need a change of clothes?"

"No, thank you." I nodded, cementing a decision. "I'll go up to the cruiser tomorrow and find something else to wear. I wouldn't want to put you out of anything." I couldn't imagine clothing was easily washed on a planet so deprived of water.

"I wouldn't mind." Her eyes drifted over the soft threads of my outfit. There was something wistful there. "Your clothes are very beautiful. I've never seen such workmanship." The hazel ponds lifted to meet mine, and she leaned against the door frame with her shoulder. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you believe Shmi's story? About him not having a father?"

I studied her, quickly trying to read the motive behind her thoroughly unexpected question. Did she accept the tale? Or was she checking to see if I was a non-believer— possibly like her? In the end, it didn't matter. I could only say what was true for me, and let her reaction be what it was.

"Yes," I heard myself say. "I do believe it." And it was at that moment that I realized I truly did. With anyone else, I would have presumed it to be an odd tactic a creative mother used to keep the full parentage of her child a secret. But Qui-Gon Jinn believed it, and he never gave me the impression of being a man easily fooled. Even if he had been, there was just something about Anakin Skywalker that made one buy in to the idea that he was something… extraordinary.

Beru smiled at me, and I felt like I had unknowingly passed another test. "So do I." Pink stained her cheeks as she suddenly appeared bashful. "Although, I would never ask him about it." Her eyes asked me a silent favor.

"I won't say a word," I promised. I'd decided back by the fireplace to keep the topic of Anakin's prophetic background out of my mouth, so I knew this was a commitment I would have no trouble keeping.

Hour 5

My body knew two modes: sitting on the edge of the bed and digging my nails into the mattress, or pacing the room. There was no in between.

Hour 6

I counted the sand particles on the top sheet. Anakin was right. Sand did get everywhere.

I was too consumed with other, more fatal worries to label it rough or irritating.

56 grains.

Hour 7

I found more underneath the pillow. 77 grains of sand.

Anakin, where are you?

Are you alright?

Author's Disclaimer: The story of Ani finding and tending to the Tusken Raider came from The Phantom Menace novelization. The story of the ultra power cell came from "Tales from Wild Space: Podracer's Rescue".