Wait For Me

by Riniel o Imladris

Please...wait for me. A simple request, made by a man who loved her enough to sell his soul to darkness. And if she had heeded his plea, what then? Would their fate still be filled with sorrow, or would the light blaze a new path? Revenge of the Sith AU

24. The Road Unseen

Chapter Nineteen
The Road Unseen

"He is coming."
Jedi Master Yoda heard the words as they echoed softly in his mind, but kept his eyes closed, basking in the soothing current of the Force that was created by the array of plant life surrounding him.
The arboretum had drawn the ancient Jedi with subtle, irresistible force. He was in desperate need of rest, both mental and physical, and the Living Force permeated this room like the vapor that rose towards the arboretum's domed ceiling. And because the Force coalesced into a concentrated sphere within the lush foliage, it strengthened the bridge between the mortal world…and the next.
The spirit of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn was an invisible presence to the naked eye – but Yoda sensed his old friend and student beside him, sitting on the bench beneath the curved branches of a jade salix tree. Since Yoda had first heard Qui-Gon's shouted plea during his meditations over four years ago, each Master had sought to establish communication through the Force. The deceased Jedi contacted Yoda through a vision some months ago, and after the slaughter of their brethren across the galaxy, Qui-Gon was finally able to speak directly, rather than relying on dreams and visions. As a result, Yoda declared himself a student of Qui-Gon, asking the other Jedi to teach him how to maintain a consciousness after death and still be connected to the energy field of all life.
Because of this, Qui-Gon was gifted with incredible insight into the will of the Force…and Yoda trusted his wisdom more than his own in times such as these.

"Feel him, you can?" the old Master murmured quietly.
The answer came as whisper-soft as a breeze. "Not directly. He is still an empty place in the Force, but he leaves a unique wake through the currents of the universe."
"Maintain the opinion you formed when you met the boy, you do." The statement was delivered in the softest tone, but full of conviction. "The Chosen One he still is, you believe."
"It is more than a belief, Master – I know he is. It is the only logical explanation for how he was able to affect the Force so strongly with his emotions."
There was silence for a few moments, but Yoda was undisturbed. He merely listened to the whispers of the trees as they conversed with one another through the Force. Then, Qui-Gon spoke again. "Obi-Wan is beginning to understand, I think. He was always skeptical of the prophecy…but now seems to accept its truth."
"Speak to him, you should," the old Jedi muttered with a hint of reproof.
In his mind's eye, he could see Qui-Gon slowly shaking his head. "That time will come – soon, perhaps. At the moment, Obi-Wan is not ready to receive this knowledge." His disembodied voice reflected a muted, melancholy sadness as he spoke of his former Padawan. "I have tried to reach him in the past, and more recently as well – but he feels that my words are only echoes from his memories of me. His practical streak has served him well in many circumstances; regrettably, this is not one of them."

The door of the arboretum slid open with a barely audible hiss, mingling with the gentle hum of the vaporators as they misted the foliage with moisture. Yoda did not yet succumb to the urge to open his eyes; though he could not sense who had entered, there was no question as to who it might be.
Qui-Gon murmured urgently, "I will remain as long as I can. If Anakin has discovered the danger of his bond to Padmé, then we shall proceed with the plan. Do not mention me until we are certain that he is ready."
The grizzled green head acquiesced with a slight nod, and Yoda sensed the deceased Master's essence become less focused, as if he had taken a few steps away from the other Jedi. Yoda seized a few more seconds of peace to center himself, inhaling the scent of earth and leaves deeply, before the approaching footsteps shuffled awkwardly to a halt in front of him.
"Sit with me, young one," Yoda murmured, his large green eyes opening almost sleepily.
Anakin seemed surprised – it showed plainly on his tanned face – but complied with the Jedi Master's request. Though instead of sitting on the bench, the young man sank into a cross-legged pose on the arboretum's multi-colored stone walkway, and his considerable height, coupled with Yoda's diminutive stature, had them at almost eye level.
Yoda studied Anakin for a moment, noting the dark circles under his eyes that had been present since their conversation in the meditation chamber within the Jedi Temple, though the bruise-like shadows were not as prominent as before. There was also the presence of the same desperation in Anakin's piercing blue eyes that Yoda had glimpsed on that morning in the Temple, yet it was more subdued – tempered by a steadfast certainty that could only have been borne from an awakening to maturity. He is learning, the ancient Jedi mused inwardly. Then he spoke, "Discuss a matter with me, you do?"

Over a dozen replies flooded Anakin's mind in that instant, and he opened his mouth to blurt out the most pressing matter weighing heavily on his soul…then he remembered a fragment of one of Obi-Wan's lectures, and there had been many, in regard to his headstrong Padawan's disorganized thinking.
"Order your thoughts, Anakin; do not let them control you. Take a moment to arrange your reply before jumping headfirst into a conversation in which you desire to make a request or seek advice. All means of discussion are based on the art of diplomacy – a skill that, despite your extensive talents, seems to be beyond your reach."
Anakin was certain that at the time, he had countered his former Master's reprimand with either his standard eye-roll or stoic silence – but he doubted that Obi-Wan realized that he recalled nearly every word the Jedi Master had spoken to him in the last decade and a half. So, in lieu of his friend's advice, Anakin pressed his lips together and concentrated on forming a strategic response to Master Yoda's question.
In the few seconds that passed, the wizened old Jedi felt the tiniest surge of pride rippling outwards from Qui-Gon – a sensation that resonated just noticeably within his own spirit. Anakin's descent into the black corruption of the dark side had increased his power, but it was the experiences that followed that had taught him to put aside selfish ambition and, for lack of a better term, grow up. While Yoda was convinced that the young man still had a long way to go in order to be ready to face his destiny, Anakin had just taken another small step in the right direction.

Eventually, the flicker in Anakin's blue eyes sharpened, and he replied, "I need your advice, Master."
He looked aside for a moment, acutely reminded of the last time he had uttered those words – and the darkness that had followed – then continued. "I have already spoken with Obi-Wan, and we've come to a…consensus, but – but we both feel certain that you will have a greater understanding of the situation."
Yoda dipped his grizzled head ever so slightly, wordlessly encouraging Anakin to continue.
As water pouring forth from a broken dam, a detailed account of what he had sensed from Padmé, the horrified revelation that had followed, and the discussion with Obi-Wan flowed in a single, uninterrupted narrative. The inflection behind his speech gave Yoda valuable insight into Anakin's emotions, since he was invisible to the Force. And what the ancient Master was able to discern first caused him to sigh heavily with equal parts frustration and sympathy.
It was fear.
Yet, it was not as dark or razor-edged as before, and it did not stem from a particular source, such as his nightmares. This fear was less…focused somehow, encompassing a broad spectrum of events – though a fragment remained centered around the welfare of his family.
Along with the fear was the durasteel-laden rigidity of determination, and the solemn melancholy of acceptance. The former was an easily distinguished trademark of the young man's persona, but the latter was a feeling that had not been present in all the years that Yoda had known the boy. And it was obvious from his explanation that Anakin had indeed realized that there was an unusual side effect to his soul bonding with another's.
Perhaps that realization would make the next few moments easier for him to comprehend.

Once Anakin fell silent, his blue eyes pleading with the old Jedi for some type of resolution, Yoda folded his small, three-fingered hands in his lap and made a soft, croaking sound in the back of his throat. "This discovery you have made, an essential role it plays. But, the danger to Padmé – not as great as the danger this bond presents to you."
"Me?" Anakin frowned in confusion.
"Yes," Yoda replied with firm assurance, "Strong-willed and steadfast in belief, your wife is. Try to influence her, the dark side has – but it cannot succeed. Fear for her, you need not."
"But Master –"
"You, young Skywalker, are the prey the darkness most desires." Yoda glared at Anakin, chastising him for his impatience. "Reach for you through her, the dark side is. Right you were, in this logic. Realize you do not, that the combined strength of your feelings for each other – a shield it is, against these attacks." Anakin's eyes had grown wide, and his mouth hung slightly open. The ancient Jedi Master continued quietly, "Last forever, this protection will not. Only by remaining blind to the Force, safe you will be. This must not happen."
"I don't understand," Anakin murmured, gazing into the inscrutable depths of Yoda's emerald-colored eyes.
Yoda released a long, slow breath, looking away for a moment. When his eyes returned to Anakin, they pierced through his stare like a blade. "Open yourself again to the Force, you must, Anakin."

The only sound within the arboretum was the gentle, continuous hiss of the vaporators. Yoda's expression was full of seriousness and certainty; Anakin was virtually stunned, sitting motionless on the ground. Then, he began hesitantly, as if trying to explain the situation so that he himself could understand. "But, Master… The Force left me. It – it wasn't there after what I did on Coruscant. I attacked it, and it abandoned me. I didn't…close myself off from the Force. That's – that's not possible."
The barest hint of a smile played across Yoda's mouth. "And possible it is, for a life to exist outside of the Force, hmm?"
"Well, yes." Anakin shrugged helplessly. "Isn't that how non-Force Sensitives live?"
"Ah…understand this concept, you do not. Those without Force potential, live outside the power of the Force they do not. Unable to feel it, they are – but influenced by it, their destinies are just the same. Strengthened by life, the Force is. Throughout the universe, its power flows." Yoda paused, pinning Anakin with a sharp, unyielding stare. "As it does through you."
When the young man started to protest, the old Jedi Master huffed angrily and jabbed the tip of his walking stick into Anakin's shoulder. "Ow!" he cried out, massaging the sore spot with his flesh hand. "What was that for?"
Yoda seemed to be looking at something over the top of Anakin's head, his brow furrowed. "The boy has no patience," he muttered. "Ready for this, you think he is?" The wrinkles on his forehead deepened while Anakin watched him in bemusement, still rubbing his bruised shoulder. Abruptly, the Jedi Master's attention shifted, and he remarked soberly, "Still connected, you are to the Force – and always, you will be. Chose, you did, to close yourself off from it. Your feelings at that moment, what were they?"
"I…" Anakin raked a hand through his tousled gold hair, at a loss as to where this very strange conversation was heading. "I was – angry. I felt like I was helpless, that no matter what I did or what choices I thought I was making on my own – I was still controlled by the Force. I – I didn't –" He stopped, blue eyes widening even further, the spark of recognition flickering in the cobalt irises. "I didn't want the Force to dominate my life anymore. I wanted to be free. And then there was this…explosion…and I felt – everything, all at once. And then I felt nothing."

"Mmm…" Yoda nodded his head several times, studying Anakin's face as the young man gazed blankly into space, lost in his memories. "Manipulate the Force, you did. Disrupt its flow, the natural order of the universe, with your will, you did. Such an action…impossible, we thought. But defy all reason, you continue to do." Bright blue eyes swung to the ancient Jedi's wrinkled face. "Closed off, you became to the Force, by your choice – your need to be free. To reopen that connection, you must learn. On this, all depends."
"Why?"
Yoda regarded Anakin impassively, his biting retort echoing in the arboretum. Like quicksilver, he was on his feet, hands balled into fists at his sides, poised like the warrior he was – about to enter battle.
"Why should I open myself back up to the Force? I'm free now! I can see and think clearly for the first time in my life! Why should I go back to how it was before?"
"Not the same, it will be, Anakin," Yoda tried to pacify the reckless young man.
"I can't go back, Master." The ire-soaked voice transformed into a breathless plea, and Anakin's entire countenance mirrored his intense desperation. "I – I won't be able to fight it off. I can't risk it, not when Padmé – and the twins… Why does the Force need me to do its will?"
The answer was simple and immediate. "The Chosen One, you are."

They stared at one another, the room surrounding them suddenly devoid of all sound, save for the rushing noise of blood that filled Anakin's eardrums as his heart pumped thunderously in his ribcage.
"Born you were, to bring balance to the Force," Yoda murmured just above a whisper, his large eyes reflecting a mixture of pity and hope. "Accomplish this, only you can."
"Then…then the Force won't use my children to –"
"Powerful, your children are – but your destiny…not theirs, it is."
Anakin felt oddly lightheaded, and random objects floated in and out of his vision, painted with unusually bright colors. The thing he had been most terrified of – watching his precious son or daughter pushed into his role as the bearer of some ancient Jedi prophecy – had turned out to be just another of his many unfounded fears. Luke and Leia were safe, and free to embrace their own destinies; there was no greater joy for him than that.
But with the buoyancy of joy came the crushing weight of responsibility.
He was still the Chosen One.
It had been a tiny ember in the fringes of his mind for days, igniting shortly after the twins' birth. He had wondered as he lay awake, listening to Padmé's quiet, even breaths, if the Force could really be so easily thwarted by the attempts of one man. His ego had told him that he was free. His maturing common sense had whispered that destiny was not something from which one could escape.
And then there was Obi-Wan. His old friend and mentor knew far more than he was letting on, and it showed more and more every day. Obi-Wan had never seen him as some prophesized hero; he saw only the boy whom he had trained, grown into a man. An exceptionally gifted Jedi, to be sure – but essentially human at the core.
Yet there were times, just in the past day or so, when Obi-Wan would look at him with an unfamiliar stare. As if the older man were searching for the markings of greatness on Anakin's face – a glimpse of something other than his friend's well-known features. He expected these kinds of reactions from the general populace, and even some of the younger Padawans and apprentices at the Temple – but not from Obi-Wan.

If Anakin were entirely honest with himself, he understood that he had felt empowered by his status as the fabled Chosen One. He ate up the attention, letting it bolster his sense of pride, and he came to believe that it helped him focus his power during battle and exert himself to his full potential.
In the end, the persona of "Chosen One" was only another mask that he wore. A mask that he forbade himself to don in Padmé's presence, for he never wanted her to see him as anything other than her Ani.
And Obi-Wan…he would never be fooled by a mask, so Anakin never bothered to assume that persona while with his Master. He was usually too busy playing the "Dutiful Padawan" – not that it worked half the time, anyway.
But being the Chosen One was not simply a facet of his former existence that he could cast aside. It was engraved within every cell of his body, etched upon the very foundation of his soul from time immemorial.
It was inescapable, unavoidable.
"You have always been special, Ani. You are meant for something greater than the life of a slave. Go chase your dreams. I always knew that you would only be mine to hold for a little while."
A hard lump swelled inside his throat, and his mother's beautiful face, dark eyes warm and loving, swam hazily into view. The ghost of a caress from her weathered hand across his brow brushed his skin. Shmi had released him from her care clinging to the firm belief that her only child would fulfill some grand destiny. She understood that the life she had led would either drain him of his vibrant spirit, or get him killed because of his defiance. A mother's sacrifice, so that her son could truly live.
Now that he was a parent himself, Anakin knew that he would never be strong enough to do what Shmi Skywalker had done for him fifteen years ago.
But his mother had always known; he was special from the instant that she felt him move inside her womb. Qui-Gon's tale of the Chosen One had served as the catalyst to solidify her conviction of Anakin's uniqueness. In her mind, he was the one whom the Jedi were searching for – the one defined in their archaic prophecy. So she let him go, a small nine-year old boy brimming with unusual talent, her final words ringing endlessly in his ears as he followed a Jedi Master through the golden sands.
"Be brave…and don't look back. Don't look back."

Anakin's eyes stung, and his cheeks felt wet. He wiped away the moisture with the back of his hand, blinking furiously to clear his vision. He had not thought of his mother in years – a vain attempt to block out his last memories of her as he held her beaten, limp body in his arms, watching helplessly as the Force ebbed from her essence. Suddenly he was there, kneeling on the floor of a Tusken Raider tent, tears flowing from his eyes as Shmi's bloodied palm weakly framed his jaw. She had said that she was proud of him.
He had wanted to ask her why. Because he had become a Jedi? Because he had grown up into a strong young man despite their separation? He couldn't save her, and they had both known it. So why was she proud of him, when he had been too late to stop the leather whips from tearing into her flesh, the dull pounding of fists against her skull?
Padmé was right, he knew. His mother had held on to life with every shred of willpower she had left in the hopes of seeing him again. She was proud of him because he was alive – young and strong and well on his way to becoming a powerful Jedi Knight, as he had always wished. Because of his destiny – the destiny that had placed him in her life, to raise as her own – that was why she was proud of him. Because he could have chosen to ignore or discourage the power awakening within him, and instead decided that since there was no one else to contest Qui-Gon's claim, then he must be this prophesized bringer of balance to the Force.
He wanted to make her proud of him again. He wanted Luke and Leia to be proud of him. Most especially, he wanted Padmé to be proud of him.
He held onto the fleeting wish that there had to be another way…but like grasping grains of sand, it sifted through his mental grasp and floated into the ether on a breeze. There was no other way. He was who he was; not even the Force could change that.

His chin slowly rose, while calm certainty filled his lungs like a breath of fresh air, pulling energy into his weary form. The hands that had before been clenched with anger were now tightened by determination, and his muscles drew taut across his frame, straightening his spine. Blue eyes blazing with inner fire, he fixed Yoda with an indomitable stare that rivaled the brilliance of a thousand suns, and said four words in a voice that was at once resigned and adamant.
"What must I do?"
Yoda's eyes shone with approval. "Hmm…hmm…" rumbled softly from his throat as he nodded gently a few times, gazing up at the young man towering over him. Wordlessly, the old Jedi lifted a three-fingered hand and made a sweeping motion. In assent, Anakin sank back down to the ground, resting his forearms on his crossed legs. Yoda remained quiet until Anakin's gaze locked with his, and then murmured, "Turned a corner, you have, on the journey of your life. Take the next step, you must." A pause, and the ancient Master inhaled a deep breath. "Train you, I will, to be open to the Force again. A challenge, this will be, for us both – but necessary, it is. Begin immediately, we should."
Predictably, Anakin voiced an instant agreement, saturated with confidence. "I'm ready now, Master." A tiny worm of doubt burrowed into his brain, whispering that he would never be ready to face the dark shadow within his soul, but he kept that doubt from his expression with some degree of success, he thought. Besides, Yoda was unable to read him in the Force, so the wise old being had no way of knowing just how unprepared he felt. It wouldn't be the first time that Anakin had leapt blindly without pausing to consider the consequences, but, as usual, he felt that he would be able to figure it out as he went along.
But there was over eight hundred years of knowledge and experience studying him with emerald-green orbs – and those eyes caught every nervous fidget, the tiny bead of perspiration trickling down Anakin's temple, and the tightening of the skin around his eyes.
Yoda shook his head in denial, wagging a clawed digit at the young man scoldingly. "Ready to begin this training, you are not. Time, you need, to understand your place."
"My place?" Anakin asked with some confusion.
"In the galaxy, in the Force, in the lives of others – a specific role and space you fill. Understand this, you must, before considered safe it is, to use the Force again."

Anakin was beginning to flush with frustration. Why did the old Jedi have to speak in riddles? If Yoda would just tell him what to do, he would do it without question. "How am I supposed to gain this…understanding?" He added belatedly, "Master."
It seemed to Anakin that an amused smile played along the edges of Yoda's mouth as he replied cryptically, "Discover that yourself, you will."
Anakin visibly gritted his teeth, working hard to control a hot, bubbling surge of irritation. Just when he was convinced that he could speak to the small Master with some measure of respect, Yoda continued, musing in a quiet voice, "Proceed with extreme caution we must, when the time comes. Your Force signature – very unique, it is…and easily recognized."
Irritation fled from Anakin's essence, and was replaced by an icy wave of apprehension. "Sidious," he remarked warily, sitting up straight. "He'll be able to sense that I'm still alive." At Yoda's nod, the words left him in a rush. "When he realizes that I'm alive he'll come after me; he'll search even harder than he is for my children. He won't stop until I fulfill my vow and become his apprentice. I'm a liability, Master – I'm not strong enough as a Jedi to defeat him. And if I don't turn back…he'll kill me. Then there will be no one to protect Padmé and the twins, no one to bring balance to the Force – "
Smack! Yoda jammed the bottom of his walking stick on the ground, right in front of Anakin's legs. The young man jumped, startled out of his hopeless tirade. Glaring sternly, Yoda said, "Dwell on the 'ifs', do not, Anakin. A plan there is, to keep Sidious blind to your signature." He fell silent, and Anakin fixed him with an intent, unblinking stare. "Places there are in the galaxy, that difficult it is to sense another Force user. Full of life, these places are – or bathed in darkness. Such a place, Dagobah is."
"Dagobah…?" Anakin's brow furrowed deeply as he thought. The name seemed vaguely familiar, so it had to be a planet on the Outer Rim.
"A sanctuary it is, for a Jedi wanting to stay hidden." Yoda folded his hands in his lap, his gaze level and firm. "Your training ground, it will be."
He did not like where this conversation was leading. Anakin began cautiously, "I take it that this training…is for you and I alone?" The silent nod he received only served to reinforce the ice forming in the pit of his stomach. "But – Padmé will be on Naboo with Luke and Leia. She can't care for two newborns on her own." And I don't want to leave her again. "Who will help her? And protect them?"
"Hiding in plain sight, Padmé said, I think," Yoda remarked slyly, though his eyes watched Anakin intently. "Safe, they will be. Check on them, Obi-Wan will, while gone, you are."

Though he fought valiantly, the shadowy, forgotten feelings of jealousy and possession flared in the depths of Anakin's heart. To have Obi-Wan there with his wife and their precious stars, when there was nothing he wanted more than to stay with them always…it ripped at his resolve, leaving bloody gashes in its wake, where his determination to fulfill his destiny used to be. Who knew how long he would have to be gone, subjecting himself to rigorous training under Yoda's strict tutelage? Children grew up so fast – even in a few months, Luke and Leia would be different. Would they still recognize him?
And his angel, his Padmé… The bond that had melded their souls strengthened by the minute. How would the distance affect them? Would the bond stretch so far that it would break?
A bitter, frigid blast of fear slammed into his chest, and his heart froze in mid-beat. He could not lose that link to Padmé. He would surely be lost without her light to temper the darkness yet lingering inside him. He needed her love, and the love of his children, in order to persevere.
But the phrase surfaced, unbidden, floating above his frightened contemplations.
"Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose."

Yoda saw that Anakin was fighting a battle between his noble character and his selfish fear…and he was losing. Having already foreseen an agreeable resolution to this conflict – for the moment – the ancient Jedi Master broke gently into the young one's tortured thoughts, "A few days you will have, to settle your family on Naboo. Centered, your mind must be, before your journey continues. Accomplish this you can, only in their presence."
Frantic indigo eyes, the pupils dilated into wide, glistening onyx circles, latched onto the jade-skinned, wrinkled face. Anakin could plainly see the compromise in Yoda's placation, and was grateful – though it did not completely quell the dread gnawing an empty void inside his gut. "And then what?" he managed to inquire through a suddenly parched throat.
"Take you to Dagobah, Obi-Wan will."
Naturally, they would not leave him with a ship. Even if they removed every vital part, stripping it right down to the navicomputer and the most basic components – he would find a way to make it work, if it would take him to his family.
There would be no escape, no reprieve – not like on Coruscant, when the monotony and emptiness of the Jedi Temple became too much to withstand, and he could hop on a transport to Five Hundred Republica to bask in the warmth of Padmé's steadfast love. He would be alone.
"You must trust yourself, Anakin."
Anakin jerked, the voice still reverberating inside his head. In his mind's eye, an image from his subconscious materialized, shimmering into focus like a mirage out on the Dune Sea: a middle-aged man with a kind, yet formidable demeanor, a slight smile on his bearded face, his shoulder-length dark hair pulled back in a half-ponytail, and his grey-green eyes sparkled like shards of polished beryl.
"You are the Chosen One. Trust in your destiny. Trust in your own strength of will. You are stronger than you know. Remember what I told you before the race."
His mind immediately flashed to that day, his nine-year old body trembling with anticipation as he sat in the Pod that he had built, looking up into the calm face of a wise Jedi Master that appeared utterly confident in a slave boy's ability to win.
His words rang out once again, in the same low murmur. "Feel, don't think. Use your instincts."
I don't trust my instincts anymore. I can't trust them, or myself. I've made too many mistakes.
"So you just give up? That is not like the Anakin that I remember."

This time, Anakin actually looked around, his feelings a tumultuous mixture of disbelief and amazement. Those words were not echoes from his memories – it was like they were being spoken to him, right now.
But it was impossible; Qui-Gon Jinn had left this world fifteen years ago – Anakin had seen his funeral pyre himself, had felt the tears stinging his raw cheeks as he stood beside a grieving Obi-Wan.
Nearly every morsel of sage wisdom that his Master had shared with him during his training had come from Qui-Gon. Both he and Obi-Wan had missed the Jedi Master intensely in the few weeks after his death, but Anakin knew that Obi-Wan's grief was far deeper than his own. Qui-Gon had been like a father to him; and to see the man who had helped guide your life's path struck down in cold blood right before your eyes… Anakin often wondered if his best friend had ever fully recovered from the ordeal.
Yet now, in the Polis Massa MedCenter's arboretum, Anakin could swear that the long-dead Jedi was with him and Yoda – almost like he was standing in the room. It was something he could sense, even though his disconnection from the Force still prevailed. He glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Qui-Gon's familiar silhouette looming over him, wearing that expression of amused anticipation as he waited for a response.
The trees seemed to stir in an intangible breeze, but there was nothing else there – that he could see, anyway. Anakin twisted back around to face Yoda, his thoughts and emotions in a quandary, and then he noticed that the ancient Jedi Master's eyes had not left him this entire time. Yoda's weathered face was alight with curious amazement, and he observed in a low whisper, "Hear him, you can. Unexpected, this is…" He pressed a finger to his mouth, pondering.

Incredulous blue eyes stared at him for a full two seconds; then Anakin blurted out, "What?"
Explain it to him, Master. He can be made to understand. The voice that sounded like Qui-Gon's flowed through the stillness like a stream of cold water through the forest. Dumbfounded, Anakin could not resist the urge to look around for the source, and to his astonishment, he saw Yoda nod in response.
"Full of mystery, the Force is," Yoda began, shifting slightly from his place on the bench. "Understood this, Qui-Gon did, even when he was an apprentice. Studied many teachings, he did, from the Jedi Archives. Discovered the Journal of the Whills, he did. Much knowledge, he gained, from the Journal – but reluctant to share it, he was. Unorthodox, were their teachings, and discouraged by many members of the Jedi Council. Practiced their techniques in secret, and hoped to pass on this knowledge to his Padawan, Qui-Gon did. But the Sith on Naboo…changed this, he did, by sending Qui-Gon to his death.
Taught him, the Journal did, how to remain self-aware after departing this world. A choice it is, to become a spirit, and wander separate planes of existence. Gone on this way, he has – watching over you and Obi-Wan. Yet unable he was, to contact either of you. Lingered in silence, he has…until now."

In spite of all the unbelievable circumstances that surrounded him since the moment of his conception, the Chosen One was having a very difficult time wrapping his mind around the idea of a dead Jedi Master's spirit wandering the galaxy, watching and waiting. He opened and closed his mouth several times, each sentence sounding more ridiculous than the previous as he mulled them over inside his head. Finally, he phrased a question that whittled down all of his innumerable thoughts into the simplest form. "So you're telling me that Qui-Gon is here," Anakin pointed with one finger at the ground in front of him for emphasis, "right now?" The grizzled head inclined just visibly. Anakin leaned backwards, overwhelmed. "I always felt like he was still with us – Obi-Wan and I – though he said it was because of our shared memories of him. And on Praesitlyn…" His blue eyes clouded, darkening to cobalt around the edges.
He had wanted so badly to kill those Separatists who had surrendered, but then he had heard – "I heard his voice," Anakin continued, "and it stopped me from adding more lives to my conscience."
"Heard him I did, four years ago," Yoda put in quietly. "Crying out, he was, during my meditations. Felt death, suffering, and pain, I did." His green eyes sharpened, boring into Anakin. "Your name, it was, that he shouted."
"Mine?"
"A great wave of pain, there was, emanating from you in the Force…and darkness."
Tatooine.
The whisper swept over them like an icy wind, freezing the blood in Anakin's veins. His stomach clenched, as if he had been punched in his solar plexus by an iron fist.
The Tusken camp.
Silvery moonlight bathing the chilled desert in an ethereal glow. The pungent smell of campfire and bantha hide. His mother's body draped across his lap, devoid of life. The black fire that called to him through his grief and despair, turning it into rage and power.
Four years ago would be about right.

He had never told Obi-Wan. He had been too ashamed to have disregarded his Master's training so easily, and too prideful to attempt a justification for the slaughter of an entire village.
Padmé was the first one he had told – and originally, he had planned on her being the only one to share in his self-imposed burden. In all honesty, he would have preferred not to have spoken those words to her, to have his confession conjure up images of cleaved bodies lying on the bloodstained sand inside her mind... but as soon as she asked him what was wrong, it had just come pouring out of him.
Afterwards, she never brought it up again, and he never felt judged by her; the only impression he had received from her through the Force was that undying compassion that seemed to be embedded within her very core.
The Chancellor had offered him compassion and sympathy, as well. An understanding ear, an encouraging word, and Palpatine had all but convinced him that the murders he had committed were completely reasonable, given the circumstances. He had promised to not bring it up again.
"It is only natural. He cut off your arm – you wanted revenge. It wasn't the first time, Anakin. Remember what you told me about your mother, and the Sand People?"
With a concentrated mental effort, Anakin shoved aside all thought of the Sith Lord, only to be confronted with the gaping maw of guilt. Qui-Gon had found him, a stocky little boy working in a junk shop on a backwater planet, with a midichlorian count exceeding twenty thousand. The unconventional Jedi had believed in him wholeheartedly, proclaiming sternly to the assembled Council members, "He is the Chosen One; you must see it!"
The thought that the man who had helped grant him his freedom, who had all but defied the Jedi Council by declaring that he would train the boy deemed too old to join the Order, had seen him take his first steps on the dark path without hesitation…it churned in Anakin's abdomen like a sickness.

"It is not my disappointment that torments you, Anakin. It is the disappointment you have in yourself."
Qui-Gon sounded faintly sad, but there was no trace of a judgmental sting in his observation. "You trusted the woman you love with one of your darkest secrets, but you have allowed that secret to fester within your own heart. It is the only aspect of your Trials that you have yet to pass."
Anakin shivered, unable to suppress the reaction. The confrontation of self, he silently murmured.
"You are right to feel fear. This test will come upon you soon – but you will be ready, once you have learned to trust in yourself." His voice faded towards the end, and as though watching from a distance, Anakin saw Yoda's pointed ears swivel suddenly, as if perceiving a faraway noise.
Then, the ancient Master spoke, continuing his narrative as though Anakin had not interrupted. "Spoke to me, Qui-Gon did, on my journey with Senator Organa. Learning from him, I am, to accomplish what he did after death. Assist, he will, in your training."
Anakin clambered to his feet slowly, needing the motion to somehow anchor his mind to the physical environment. Walking over to the salix tree just beside Yoda's seat, he braced a palm on its silvery bark, before turning and leaning his well-muscled back against the trunk. He stared hard at the ground, working through these revelations inside his brain. Abruptly, his blue eyes flashed sideways. "Does Obi-Wan know?" he asked.
Yoda regretfully shook his head. "Time, Obi-Wan needs, before accept this news, he can."
The young man nodded once, as though he understood this reasoning, and crossed his arms over his chest. He inhaled deeply through his nose, and said very quietly, "When does my training begin, Master?"
"Leave today, I will, for Dagobah." With a tiny grunt, the wise old Jedi came to his feet, hobbling over to Anakin as the young man stood gazing upward at the canopy of leaves with an agonized expression. "Senator Amidala's decoy, departs for Coruscant tomorrow, she does. Leave then as well, you and your family will. One week, you have, before Obi-Wan comes to Naboo."
Anakin swallowed hard. "Yes, Master," he replied in the barest whisper.
He heard Yoda sigh heavily, the tip of his cane thudding dully on the ground as he took as few steps towards the door. "May the Force be with you, young Skywalker."
By the time Anakin looked down, he was gone.

He slowly came away from the tree trunk, circling around the bench before virtually collapsing on it. He sat slumped over, cradling his head in his hands, numbed beyond all feeling.
One week.
One week, and he would have to say goodbye to Padmé, to Luke and Leia, for an indeterminate amount of time. The hyperspace jump from Polis Massa to Naboo would take approximately two days – and provided that they had a relatively smooth landing while avoiding Port Control, it would give him just about five days with his family.
It's not enough time, he lamented inwardly.
"You cannot escape your destiny, Anakin."
Anakin scarcely acknowledged the words. His eyes felt hot and gritty; a durasteel vise was squeezing his heart. He muttered bleakly, "I should have known that you would still be here. Obi-Wan never leaves me alone, either."
Qui-Gon chuckled. "He picked up quite a few habits from me, it's true." His tone shifted, becoming more conciliatory. "But even without the Force, my young friend, you know that this is the path you are meant to take."
"Yes…I do." He let out a breath. "I hate that I know it, but I do." Raking his hands through his golden tresses, he pushed himself upright, and stared absently at a cluster of saplings across the room. "I'm just not sure how to reconnect with the Force. I don't even know how it happened in the first place."
"The answer will come to you, Anakin, and you will find a way. You always do."
"Can you tell me how I did it?"
The deceased Jedi Master replied hesitantly, "You are incredibly powerful, Anakin. The Force is so much a part of you that at times you seem to be a physical extension of its will. But, as you demonstrated, that influence can be reversed. Through sheer force of will, you were able to redirect the currents of the Force and sever your link to it, as well."
"All because I'm the Chosen One," Anakin lowered his gaze, leaning over to place his elbows atop his bent legs and clasped his hands together loosely.
"No, my friend." Qui-Gon's low, accented tone softened, and became almost fatherly in nature. "While the gift of your power is a sign of your status as the Chosen One, it is not the reason behind what you did to yourself, and to the Force. That power came from who you are – the undeniable strength of your heart. It is that which makes us truly unique that gives us our strength."

It was exactly the sort of thing that he expected Qui-Gon to say, and although it was hardly crystal-clear in meaning, Anakin found the words to be oddly soothing.
He wasn't exactly sure what to do at the present moment. The skiff was fixed, not that all of his extra precautions mattered much, since the twins would not be aboard this vessel anyway – and while he would love to take a closer look at the Aiwha, he was willing to bet that Sabé had locked it tight in the docking bay; it was what he would do. So he stared absently at his thumbs as they twiddled slowly, just waiting for the silence to get to him and force him to find another activity.
Actually, what he was really trying to accomplish was keeping his mind focused on something other than his agreement with Master Yoda. Because the prospect of being open to the Force once more called forth a bone-deep, undeniable dread within his heart. There was nothing he feared more than that loss of control – the single slip that would send him careening into black oblivion, separated from everything and everyone he had ever loved.
Anakin's head rose slightly. "Qui-Gon?" he called softly, hesitantly. "Are you…still here?"
"Yes."
Relief filtered like a breath of cool, clean air into his lungs. Studying the ceaseless motion of his thumbs, Anakin began in a low voice, "From…wherever you are, you can see the universe in a broader scope through the Force."
"That is true." Qui-Gon sounded pleased that Anakin had worked this out on his own. "While I would hardly call myself omniscient, my present condition does allow me glimpses into the will of the Force – though I must confess that more often than not I am unable to understand it."
"Can you see the future?"

Anakin could not define the motivation behind his asking of that question, but it was too late to take it back. Of course, by the silence that seemed to stretch out endlessly in the wake of his query, Qui-Gon must be attempting to form some type of logical response.
"Anakin…" Qui-Gon said his name along with a sigh, but he did not sound weary or exasperated. In fact, if Anakin were to label the feelings that he detected in the Jedi Master's tone, he would call it…empathy. "I am quite certain that I do not need to remind you of your lessons about gazing into the future."
"'Always in motion, the future is' – yes, yes, I know." He realized that he sounded more bitter than he intended, but he did not rescind his remark. Qui-Gon would understand where he was coming from; Qui-Gon had always appeared to understand his emotions and reactions better than anyone else – well, better than any other Jedi. Anakin continued quietly, "I just thought – since you can see more now… Maybe you would have a clearer picture of what's going to happen."
There was a small noise, like a wisp of wind as it brushed past a tiny leaf; if Anakin could see him, he imagined that Qui-Gon had just taken a seat beside him on the bench, folding his arms across his chest in the manner that Obi-Wan mimicked so perfectly. "My vision of the future is no more precise than any other Jedi's. I catch flashes now and then, but they are so muddled that I become swiftly confused by their imagery. If I were to compare it to anything, I would say that my precognition is much like your dreams, Anakin."
Dreams. He had forgotten all about his dreams. They had offered visions of coming events for as long as he could remember – it was a normal part of his existence, if there was anything about him that could be called 'normal'. Half the time, his sleep was sprinkled with nothing more than average dreams spawned by his own imagination…but a vision – those he could recall down to the smallest detail.
"The Force shows what it will to whom it will," Qui-Gon said gently, "Not even you can oppose that, Chosen One. Despite how you may resent your sleep being invaded by possible futures, your foresight is a valuable gift. It is what has kept you alive since you were a small boy on Tatooine – and more recently, on the battlefield."

Anakin nodded – just a slight jerk of his lowered head. It was true, what Qui-Gon had said – Anakin's ability to see things before they happened was what had allowed him to become the only human to participate in the Pod Races, and it had served him well all throughout his Jedi training and during the Clone Wars. But that ability he would simply classify as quick reflexes, bolstered by his innate talent to immerse himself fully in the Force until his world was reduced to motion and instinct.
The visions that came to him while his conscious mind rested was another matter altogether. There was not one among them that had not come true…save the most recent.
His dream of his older self as a Jedi Knight had come true, as had the vision he had seen the night before the Boonta Eve race of Padmé leading an army into battle. And the disturbing images of his mother that had haunted his sleep during the weeks prior to her death had warned him of the pain that was to come.
His thumbs paused suddenly, halting from the constant motion, and his eyebrows came together as he frowned thoughtfully.
All of those dreams, along with the one that he wished to permanently erase from his mind, had spoken to him of the future – but only the last two had caused him to physically react, just like a nightmare.
Was there some significance in that? Or was it just because his visions as a child were not so violent, and his heart was no longer as innocent? Had he become more susceptible to the Force with time and training?
Was that the reason why those two visions had affected him so strongly?
Anakin shook his head from side to side quickly, muttering, "I'm so confused."
He did not realize that he had said that out loud until Qui-Gon murmured, "Understanding will come to you in time, my friend. But for now, keep yourself centered in the present moment." He released a slow breath, and then remarked mildly, "I would suggest that you find your wife and have her and your children cleared for space travel as soon as possible; you will be leaving for Naboo in the morning."

"Wait." Anakin was on his feet in a single, fluid motion. He glanced about the room, blue eyes intense and his expression firm. "Where are you?" he asked, his gaze flicking around the arboretum in a vain effort to locate the Jedi Master's spirit.
"I'm right in front of you, Anakin."
Even though there was nothing visible except empty space, Anakin looked straight ahead, picturing Qui-Gon's wise grey-green eyes in his mind. The young man's face reflected earnest appeal as he spoke humbly, "I owe you an apology, Qui-Gon. You believed in me, you risked everything to put me on the path of a Jedi, and I – I feel like I have let you down."
"Anakin –"
He held up a hand, palm outward. "Please let me finish." Inhaling a deep breath, Anakin resumed, "I used to think that I was invincible – that being the Chosen One was some kind of talisman or defense against the lure of the dark side, because I was supposed to bring balance to the Force." He let out a short, mirthless chuckle. "I figured that I would always be the good guy – defeat the Sith, balance the Force and live happily ever after. I was so blinded by my self-importance and fame that I couldn't see, or I ignored, what was stalking me from the shadows.
It was so easy to attack the guards outside the tent that held my mother's body. And after they fell, more Raiders came, and they died, too. I could have stopped then. I could have left. But I didn't. I went looking for the rest of them. They didn't deserve to live when my mother was dead because of their cruelty."
A droplet sparkled through the air as it fell from one bright blue eye, splashing unheeded on the stone pathway. "I didn't know anything else outside of that moment but the rage coursing through my blood, my thirst for vengeance. I wish that I had heard you, Master – I wish that you had stopped me…because I couldn't stop myself." Anakin bowed his head. "I am so sorry that I let you down."
"Anakin…" Qui-Gon's tone was warm with sympathy and caring. For just a moment, Anakin thought that he could feel the slight, reassuring pressure of a hand on his shoulder as the Jedi Master replied, "How you have grown from that precocious little boy I met on Tatooine. I'm proud of you."

His head snapped up. "Master?"
"Your willingness to recognize and admit your own flaws is a talent that far too few in the galaxy employ. With this admission, the darkness clouding your future has lightened even more. But I am afraid that I cannot accept your apology. You have nothing to apologize for."
"But I –"
"I have celebrated with you, I have feared for you, and I mourned for you…but I have never been disappointed by you. Despite your fall to the dark side, you have emerged even stronger than before." Anakin could hear the smile in his voice as Qui-Gon proclaimed, "You continue to exceed my highest expectations." He suddenly laughed, louder than Anakin had ever heard him laugh in life. "And you should close your mouth."
Anakin's teeth came together with an audible click as he made a conscious effort to raise his dropped jaw.
In the face of all the mistakes he had made, the lives that he had selfishly destroyed – what had he done to deserve this kind of unconditional mercy? How did the cosmic scales end up balancing so favorably for him?
As if he could perceive Anakin's thoughts, Qui-Gon murmured softly, "Mercy is a gift, my friend, and forgiveness must be accepted before healing can begin." His words seemed to fade in volume, like he was stepping away, looking back over his shoulder as he left. "But now I must go; I have lingered too long. I will not speak to you again until you reach Dagobah – I must conserve my energy." By now, his voice was barely a whisper. "May the Force be with you, Anakin."
"May the Force be with you," he returned the farewell automatically, but doubted that the Jedi Master had heard him. If someone had told him before he entered the arboretum that he would have a conversation with the spirit of a deceased Jedi, he would not have believed it. The entire experience wrapped him in a surreal feeling, as if he was treading the border between dreams and reality.

Anakin glanced around at the arboretum, not having really noticed his surroundings earlier, and his eyebrows rose impressively. It was quite beautiful in here, and not something one would expect in an Outer Rim asteroid colony MedCenter. He looked down at his booted feet, his eyes slowly following the multi-colored stone path until it disappeared around a bend, swallowed by the dense evergreen foliage.
The symbolism was not lost on him.
'…the darkness clouding your future has lightened even more', Qui-Gon had said. While that was indeed comforting, it still did not tell Anakin exactly what the future held for him and his family. The only way to find out was to take one step – and then another, and then another.
Anakin began following the path, shoulders squared, head held high as he kept his stare fixed forward.
The road ahead of him was uncertain, and the destination unseen, but the path beneath his feet was firm and immovable.
All he had to do was keep on walking.