The betting is CLOSED! Thank you so much for your very entertaining ideas for how Qui-Gon wises up to the fact that he should know this Ben kid. XD We will see who is the victor. May the Force be with you all!
In gratitude, have an extra long chapter that I was kinda afraid I wouldn't finish in time. Really, the first part of this chapter probably should have been included in the last chapter...but I didn't have it done, so you're getting it now. Enjoy!
ln(^_^)
Chapter 6: Waba Che Tchuta Mo Gootu (Wish For Somewhere Better)
The sandstorm was closing in, but Mos Espa wasn't far off. They should have been able to make it. But when they reached Smuggler's Canyon, Ben knew they would never get there.
"I have a bad feeling about this."
"Shut it," Udez growled, but he was arming himself even as he spoke. "I've come too far on this karked job to let them get me now."
His words belied the way Ben knew the Weequay really felt about this enforcement run. He had been cursing the suns all morning—came this close to cursing out Gardulla herself, but didn't want it to get back to her. He'd been short with his crew and the moisture farmers alike, pushing everything to go as fast as possible. He was nervous, and he had every reason to be. Normally he collected Gardulla's water tax from the moisture farmers in her territory with eight or ten hardened enforcers, which ensured there was no trouble from the farmers or the Sand People. Today, due to an epidemic of dryditch fever burning through Mos Espa and Gardulla's regular forces, he had a young Zabrak driver that had never worked enforcement before and two slaves: Ben for muscle and Shmi for her mechanical skills with vaporators.
"Give me the readout, boy!" Udez barked.
Ben already had the macrobinoculars up to his eyes, studying the line of the sandstorm. "It's headed this way, all right. I'd say about an hour till it reaches us. Maybe less if the wind picks up like it's been threatening to do." He had a feeling that was more than likely. The weather had been very strange lately. It felt like this storm had been brewing all week. Ben could feel it churning in the Force. It made him uneasy.
Shmi surreptitiously took Ben's hand, squeezing it tight. Ben could feel her apprehension. "Almost there," he murmured to her, and she nodded, grim-faced. Being out of the palace and away from Gardulla was, in a way, a reprieve, but Ben would be glad when this was over. He'd tasted enough fear and anger in the Force for one day. At least he was in good company with Shmi, whose presence as a dear friend was all that made their distasteful errand bearable. Ben adjusted both their seats so she was sitting in his shadow in the speeder, mindful of how long and hot the day had been for her. It wasn't typical for Shmi or him to be sent out with the enforcers like this. It wasn't a typical task for any slave, really, especially not an arena fighter like Ben. It probably went to show just how desperate Gardulla was to find personnel that she would let a flight risk like Ben out of the palace with so little supervision at all.
Ben really hated it when events bore out his bad feelings. At the narrowest point in the canyon, they ran into a roadblock erected by Tusken Raiders. Before the rookie Zabrak could get the clunky speeder turned around, they were surrounded.
Ben managed to wrest a gaderffii stick from one of the attacking Tuskens, which at least gave him a weapon, but he was distracted when Shmi screamed. He turned just in time to see the Raiders hauling her over the side of the speeder. Ben didn't even think before he jumped after her, heart in his throat. He was concentrating on fighting his way through to her, so he didn't quite notice when the two enforcers managed to turn the tide with their blasters and the defense mechanisms on the speeder just enough to to break free of the ambush. He did, however, notice when the speeder zoomed away, leaving him and Shmi behind.
A score of Tusken Raiders surrounded him. Ben dropped the gaderffii, defeated. If he tried to fight with no means to escape, they would only kill him.
The Sand People were efficient in securing their prisoners. They soon had Ben bound and up on a bantha with only a little beating of their prisoner, and Shmi seated behind him. They wasted no time in moving out. The Tuskens were in a hurry too—they no more wanted to be caught in the sandstorm than Udez had.
Ben's thoughts raced, dread souring his stomach. It was bad enough that he was captured by Sand People, but for Shmi to have to face their cruelty—no, he couldn't let that happen. His friend was pressed up to his back, hands bound around his waist. Ben could practically feel her heart hammering through her chest where it was pressed against his spine.
Ben buried his bound hands in the bantha's shaggy fur, breathing deep to center himself. He slipped into meditation, expanding his awareness in the Force, finding the slow, calm mind of the bantha under him. He let his thoughts extend to his surroundings, to the whole herd of banthas bearing their Tusken riders, and then beyond. He could feel the sandstorm close behind them and drawing ever nearer. It felt wild in the Force, roiling and steaming like a boiling kettle. It was like nothing Ben had ever felt before.
Ben turned his attention back to his own bantha. The beast started to slow, dropping back in the line, letting its faster fellows go ahead of it. Soon Ben and Shmi were last in line and dropping even further back. Ben waited until he felt the attention of one of the Raiders turn to them, felt the cry rising in his throat, before he leapt into action.
Using his influence over the herd's minds, Ben shoved as much panic and alarm into the Force as he could, simultaneously shrieking his best impression of a krayt dragon call. The result was instantaneous. Half the herd started bellowing and many began to run, panic-stricken. They ran in the direction they knew home was in—all but one. Ben instead turned the head of his and Shmi's bantha straight back toward the sandstorm.
Ben was counting on the near stampede he had caused to slow down the Raiders' pursuit of them, and he was counting on the sandstorm to stop it entirely. He only hoped that the Tuskens didn't consider the recovery of them and this one bantha to supersede the need to get back to their settlement and out of the storm.
Miraculously, Ben's gamble paid off. The pursuit did not materialize, not with an enormous sandstorm bearing down on their position. And it was enormous, easily the biggest sandstorm in ten years. And also much closer than Ben had anticipated, he realized with a sinking feeling. There was no way they could make it to safety before it hit.
Ben would have to change tack. There was an outcropping of rock ahead that would at least provide some shelter if they could get to the lee of it. He steered the bantha in that direction.
They might have made it. If Ben were stronger, or better able to clear his own mind in order to keep command of the bantha, they could have made it. However, as soon as they turned in the direction of the storm, everything became ten times harder. Ben had to fight against the beast's instincts in order to get it to run headfirst into a sandstorm, which required a great deal of concentration and will. But the most difficult thing was that the Force, which had been getting more troublesome with each league the sandstorm advanced, had now become almost completely unmanageable.
Ben had never felt anything like it. The Force whipped and roiled around him, like the wind itself. One moment, he could hardly feel it at all, and the next his connection to it would be blown wide open, nearly flattening him with its overwhelming power. He sensed things in the gale that he knew could not possibly be anywhere nearby, the Force buffeting him with sounds and sensations that had somehow become caught up in the storm. When he tried to shield himself off from these extremely distracting fluctuations, he was alarmed to realize that he didn't seem to be able to. His shields were incredibly difficult to raise, and seemed to be largely ineffective against the wild Force beating at them.
It was just before the line of the storm hit them that the panicked bantha finally slipped Ben's control and threw them. Ben twisted as he fell, trying to gather Shmi to him so that his body would break her fall. He mostly succeeded, at the cost of knocking the wind out of himself and possibly cracking a rib or two as his back impacted the ground hard.
He cursed as he staggered to his feet, watching the bantha run wildly away. Shmi was already standing and winding a cloth around her head to protect her nose and mouth from the sand, face grim. Ben pulled his headscarf over his face and then grabbed Shmi's hand, turning them toward their only hope—where the rock outcropping was a minute ago, and was now obscured by dust.
"Don't let go!" he called to her, and she nodded back, gripping his hand so tight he may have bruises. That was all they had time for before the sandstorm engulfed them.
The sandstorm raged for the entire night and most of the next day. It was another day before searchers found them, curled up together in the meager shelter of the rock outcropping and nearly dead from exposure and dehydration.
On the third day after he walked into the storm with Shmi, Ben awoke on a cot in the medic's ward in Gardulla's palace to the realization that his connection to the Force…was gone.
"Stay still now, Ani. Let me clean this cut." Despite the very long day the boy has had and how hard he has worked during it, Anakin is still full of beans when Qui-Gon tries to sit him down and tend the scratch he got from some sharp mechanical part—a consequence of being buried to the elbows in his pod for half the day.
"There's so many!" Ani isn't paying attention to what Qui-Gon is doing. His gaze is fixed on the stars. "Do they all have a system of planets?"
Qui-Gon glances up at the stars, clearly visible from where they sit. The slave quarter of Mos Espa has very little light pollution. "Most of them."
"Has anyone ever been to them all?"
"Hm. Not likely."
"Someday, I'm gonna discover a new planet, maybe even a whole new system!" Qui-Gon returns the boy's smile. This is good. Anakin's declaration shows that he is feeling confident.
"Ani, bedtime," Ben calls from inside the house.
Qui-Gon uses Ani's distraction to quickly take a blood sample. The pinch causes the boy to flinch, but Qui-Gon keeps hold of his arm and applies an adhesive bandage. "There we are. Good as new."
"Ani!" Ben pokes his head through the door for a moment. "I'm not gonna tell you again."
Despite his father's warning, the boy lingers. "What are you doing?"
"Checking your blood for infections," Qui-Gon says mildly. "Go on. You have a big day tomorrow. Sleep well, Ani."
Once the boy is inside, Qui-Gon comms Ric Olié back on the ship. He should probably be calling Captain Panaka, but the captain has been rather hostile to him throughout their ordeal. Olié is more willing to trust him, and besides, he is more familiar with the ship's systems.
Qui-Gon walks the man through how to do a blood analysis for midi-chlorians. Olié has never heard of midi-chlorians, but he's an adept pilot and a deft hand with the ship's computer. He'll be able to figure it out.
As he waits for Olié to install the correct application, he is surprised to feel a concentration of energy in the Force quite close by. He closes his eyes and reaches out, searching for the source, and realizes that it is coming from the one tiny bedroom, where Ben and Ani are meditating together. Qui-Gon observes them in the Force for a moment, noting how young Anakin, though still just a novice, instinctively allows Ben to lead them both into a calming trance, compartmentalizing the day's events and settling their energies in preparation for sleep. They fall into the steps of the simple meditation easily, and Ani's concentration rarely wanders, which tells Qui-Gon that meditation is part of their regular routine. He allows himself to drift just outside their sphere of calm for a bit, relaxing his own mind in a half trance, before he pulls himself away to help Olié.
Getting the result of the analysis takes several more minutes, as the application is purposely not at all intuitive for others to use, but Olié is determined to figure it out. "Well, I have a result, but I think I must have gone wrong somewhere," Olié finally says. "Or maybe these readings are typically off the charts? This chart goes to twenty thousand, but according to the reading I got, this sample is higher."
Qui-Gon feels something heavy settle in his stomach. "That would be…highly unusual."
"I can run it again."
"Thank you, Mr. Olié, but that won't be necessary. Unlikely as this result is, I feel that it is nonetheless correct."
"What does that mean?"
Qui-Gon suddenly senses the attention of another, and looks up to find Ben leaning against the doorframe, watching him with narrowed eyes.
"…I don't know," he tells Olié, and ends the call.
Qui-Gon looks at Ben, wondering when he and Ani had wrapped up their meditation, and how long the young man has been there, listening to his conversation with the pilot. Ben, for his part, looks right back, letting the silence hang between them for a minute.
"I know that Anakin and I are only slaves," Ben finally says, "and therefore we have no rights. But just because I am not allowed to make decisions about what happens to me or Anakin does not mean that I wouldn't appreciate you asking me before taking blood from my child." Qui-Gon bows his head, a hint of shame growing in his chest. "Besides," Ben continues, "you don't own us. What right do you have to take Ani's blood?"
Qui-Gon looks up again to meet Ben's hard gaze. "You are right. I should have asked you before testing Anakin's blood. I was carried away by my own curiosity." He shifts on the low wall. "You may not have the legal right to give this permission, but as Anakin's father, it should be yours, regardless. It would be yours, if we were in a more civilized system. I apologize for not respecting that."
Ben studies him a moment longer, then his stance softens and he comes to join Qui-Gon on the wall. He sits with his legs dangling out over the buildings below, turned towards Qui-Gon, balancing gracefully on the narrow ledge in spite of his injuries.
"How much of the conversation did you hear?" Qui-Gon asks.
"More than you think I did," Ben responds.
Qui-Gon briefly wonders if he should ask Ben if he knows what midi-chlorians are, but decides to assume that he does. Ben has a surprising amount of knowledge about the Force for someone raised outside the Temple. "Does it surprise you that his count could be so high?"
Ben shrugs. "Ani is…extremely strong in the Force. Has been ever since he was a baby. His mother and I ran ourselves ragged trying to hide his abilities. We lived in fear that Gardulla would discover that he was Force-sensitive."
Qui-Gon shudders. He is keenly aware of what a Force-sensitive child is worth in the slave trade, and of the dreadful fate that often befalls enslaved Force-sensitives. He is grateful to whomever taught Ben the skills he needed to keep himself and Ani hidden.
Ben's response reminds Qui-Gon of another question he has been meaning to ask. "Who was his mother? Was she also Force-sensitive?"
"Her name was Shmi Skywalker," Ben says. "And no, she wasn't."
Qui-Gon nods, not too surprised. While midi-chlorian genes are passed on solely through the maternal line, actual midi-chlorian count and resulting Force-sensitivity are more complex, and depend on the father as much as the mother. "Do you know your midi-chlorian count?"
"It's not quite thirteen thousand."
Qui-Gon nods again. That's within normal range for a Jedi Knight. He laments again that Ben had not been born in the Republic, that he had not been found by the Order. What a Jedi he would have made.
"Did you and Shmi have any other children together?" Qui-Gon asks.
Ben is silent for a long time. Qui-Gon braces himself for a tragic story.
"Anakin isn't my biological son," Ben finally says. Qui-Gon releases the breath he had been holding. This was unexpected. And yet, hadn't Qui-Gon thought when he met Ben that he seemed rather young to have a nine-year-old son? "Shmi and I were close friends. We were both sold to Gardulla at around the same time, and neither of us had any family or other connections, so we stuck together. But we never…Shmi was like a sister to me."
"Do you know who Ani's father was?"
Ben takes a breath, looks Qui-Gon straight in the eye when he says, "There was no father."
Qui-Gon can feel the young man's sincerity in the Force. Ben is telling the truth. Qui-Gon can feel his own heart pounding. Could it be…?
"Neither Shmi nor I can explain what happened. Just…one day she found out she was pregnant. She carried him, she gave birth…I don't know how it's possible, but that's how it happened."
Qui-Gon takes a deep breath, ancient prophecy ringing in his ears. Born of no father…
Ben peers at him. "That means something to you, doesn't it?"
Qui-Gon clears his throat, unsure how much he should tell Ben. "Perhaps," he says, but does not elaborate. "Does Anakin know—?"
"He knows that I am not his biological father, but I'm not sure if he understands that he has no father. I didn't really explain—it's not like I have any explanations to give him. I didn't know what to say."
"But he thinks of you as his father."
Ben shakes his head. "People just assume that I'm either Anakin's father or his brother. I'm the closest thing he has to either one, so we let them. It's the easiest explanation for our circumstances when others need a story."
Qui-Gon nods again, deep in thought. This is a fascinating development. If Ben is not the father of Anakin, then it was extremely good fortune that this young man, a trained Force user, came to be in a position to protect and guide this extraordinary boy during a vulnerable childhood. Good fortune, or perhaps…the will of the Force.
"I know what you're thinking," Ben says softly. "You want to take Anakin with you when you leave. You want to train him to be a Jedi."
Qui-Gon meets Ben's eyes. The young man looks at him steadily, assessing. Qui-Gon turns his torso to face him. "Yes, that is what I wish. But as yet I have seen no opportunity to do this. Under the current circumstances of my mission, it is unlikely that I will be able to free Ani." He does not mention that he wants to free Ben as well. It means little when they both know how impossible it is.
"There will be an opportunity," Ben says. "All that remains is for you to decide whether you will take it." Ben speaks calmly, with conviction, as though he is certain of this outcome. Has he had a premonition? A vision? Prescience is not one of Qui-Gon's talents, and he is often torn between being skeptical of an ability that he fundamentally does not understand, and fascinated by what those who can look ahead see in the future.
"I am the closest thing Ani has to a father, but I am also a slave," Ben says. "If you decided to take Ani, whether you buy him or steal him or get him by some other means, there is absolutely nothing I could do to stop you." Ben exhales shakily. Qui-Gon's heart goes out to the young man. It is clear that this is a fear Ben has struggled with a long time.
"There is only one thing I can do, impotent as it may be," Ben continues, holding Qui-Gon's gaze with intense blue eyes. "I ask you to promise that when Anakin is declared too old, or too attached, or too emotional—too angry," Ben's voice breaks a little on the last word, and he has to pause a moment to take a breath and compose himself. "If it is decided that Anakin is not fit to be trained as a Jedi Knight—promise that you will not allow him to be lost, or cast aside. Promise that you will find a good place for him, where he can grow up safe. Please, look out for him when I can't anymore."
Ben finally looks away, out across the darkened slave quarter of Mos Espa. "I know that's a lot to ask. Your code may not allow you to make such a vow. But please, if you can't agree to this—" Ben looks again at Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon's heart hurts to see the pain in the young man's expression. "Don't take him. Don't take Anakin and then leave him alone. He's resourceful and clever, but he's still just a little boy. He needs someone to be there for him."
Qui-Gon is deeply moved by Ben's plea. The profound care and love the young man has for Anakin, tempered by the understanding that he is powerless to protect and provide for the boy in the way he most wants, threatens to bring tears to the Jedi Master's eyes. He can hear in Ben's voice and feel in the Force the years of fear for his charge and frustrated longing to be able to provide a good life for the child he considers as good as his own. Qui-Gon takes a deep breath and consciously releases the emotion into the Force. Then he reaches out to Ben, settling a hand on the young man's shoulder and wrapping him in his presence in the Force. Miraculously, Ben does not push him away, but accepts the comfort offered. When Qui-Gon reaches further into his mind, Ben opens to him and allows Qui-Gon to help him release some of the soul-deep pain that he has carried alone for so many years.
Ben is so beautifully responsive to him, following his direction easily and opening and raising his shields around both of them as they commune together in the Force. This is not only a result of Ben's previous training, but a sign of compatibility between them. If things had been different—so many, many things—Qui-Gon thinks he might have taken Ben as his Padawan learner, in another life. He quietly releases the lingering pain of his previous failed attempts at training a Padawan into the Force before Ben can pick up on it.
As he begins to withdraw, Qui-Gon senses a hint of Ben's loneliness. He sees that it has been many years since Ben has encountered any Force-sensitive other than Anakin. And though this kind of comfort is something that he has given to Ani, he no longer remembers the last time he received guidance from a master like this. Qui-Gon senses the young man's gratitude as they separate their minds, Ben's now lighter in spite of the great burden he carries.
Qui-Gon lets the silence linger for a moment, lets them both settle back into their separate spaces before he speaks. "You need not worry about Anakin should I take him with me. I am confident that the Council will see what I see in him and approve his training."
"With you?" Ben asks.
Qui-Gon hesitates. "Ideally with another. I believe I am not the best choice to train Anakin." Then, seeing that Ben is not satisfied with this answer, adds, "But I will train him, of course, if there is no better option."
Ben nods. "And if he is too old?"
Qui-Gon sighs internally. Ben is clearly not to be distracted when it comes to Ani's welfare. He wonders again how it is that Ben is so familiar with the Jedi Code and practices. He must have been trained by a Jedi. Why won't he name his teacher?
"I do not believe the Council will refuse Anakin training. But whatever happens, we will look after him. The Jedi do not abandon our younglings."
Ben squeezes his eyes shut as though in pain, but he finally nods. He moves to leave, slipping out from under the hand Qui-Gon still has on his shoulder. He does not bid Qui-Gon goodnight, and Qui-Gon is left with the unaccountable impression that he has somehow said the wrong thing.
"Ben. I think I'm pregnant."
Ben's heart froze in his chest. He stared at Shmi in dawning horror, at her wide, wet eyes and mouth closed tight, trying to hold everything else in after that momentous pronouncement.
Ben sucked in a breath. "Shmi, what happened?" How could he have missed this? He would never forgive himself if he had failed to protect her from this, especially if he had failed so badly that she wouldn't even tell him about it when it had happened.
"I don't know." Gathered tears quivered on her lashes. "I—I don't remember—anyone—anything happening, I—" A teardrop broke free and rolled down her cheek.
Ben pulled Shmi to him and wrapped her in his arms, where she buried her face in his chest. He just held her for a moment, reaching out instinctively to the Force for comfort and a little surprised when it allowed him to wrap its protective light around them both. He was still having trouble accessing the Force. Even weeks after the insane sandstorm that took them away, only some of his abilities were coming back very slowly, and none were back up to his previous levels. He was beginning to think that this wasn't just an advanced case of Force exhaustion, but that he would never again be able to reach the Force as he once had. It was yet another loss that he had experienced in these last three years, and yet this one might hurt the most. He had come to rely on the Force for so much—he had so little else reliable in his life. He may not have consistent safety, rights, support, family, friends, or sustenance, but the Force had always been there. He had never felt so alone and bereft than he did now with the Force's seeming abandonment of him.
"Please tell me, Shmi," Ben murmured, stroking her hair. "I will help you. Whatever you need, I will help, just tell me what it is."
Shmi took a shuddering breath against his chest. "I was hoping you could tell me," she said quietly. "I don't remember anything happening. I haven't—not in a long time. I'm afraid that I was…drugged or something."
Ben cast his mind back over his memories of the last few months. "I don't remember you ever disappearing, or seeming out of sorts, like you were drugged or like someone had been messing with you. But then I'm usually away from you for most of the day, so I might not have seen. Are you missing any time? Anything that felt off in your memories?"
"No, nothing like that."
"That's good. You would have noticed something if you were drugged. What makes you think you're pregnant?"
"I have the symptoms. I'm nauseous, I get tired quickly, I feel bloated and crampy, my breasts hurt. I can't stand the smell of fuel fumes anymore. And I've missed my last two periods."
"That is some pretty overwhelming evidence. Have you talked to anyone else?"
"I asked Ma Jira to examine me. She says I am too."
Ben nodded, rubbing a comforting hand over her shoulders. "And we know Ma Jira knows what she's talking about. The stars only know how many babies she's helped deliver."
Silence fell between them, Ben deep in his own thoughts as he held his friend, trying to get his brain to think past the sheer shock of this new development.
"Ben?"
"Hm?"
"Is it possible for a woman to have a child without a father?"
"I don't know. I've never heard of such a thing happening."
"Me neither. I just thought…maybe the gods…" Her voice lowers to a whisper. "Or your—your Force…"
Ben took a deep breath. After the sandstorm, Shmi was the only one who knew that he was Force-sensitive, but they never spoke openly of it. "One of my teachers was fond of saying that 'with the Force, possible all things are.'" He smiled. "I'm not sure if this is what he meant, but—maybe. Maybe we can chalk this one up to Force shenanigans."
Shmi pulled away from him a bit to look up at his face, and he could see that she was smiling, face dry once more. "You know, Ma Jira thought you were the father."
Ben's brain screeched to a halt and his mouth dropped open—completely without his input too, which rude. Shmi started giggling at whatever stupid expression his face was making. Ben shook himself out of his second shock of the last fifteen minutes and started chuckling too. It was pretty funny, after all, and he was glad that Shmi was smiling again after their mutual panic.
"Really. Me? Ma Jira knows you can do better."
"It makes sense, though, I guess. We're together a lot, and now that you're allowed to bunk in the household slaves' wing, we usually sleep together—I mean, we share a sleep pallet—"
Ben tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Shmi stumble over her words. "You told Ma Jira that I'm not the father, right?" Shmi's face was slowly turning red, and she was looking anywhere but at him. Ben took her by the shoulders and gently leaned her away from him so he could look her in the eye. "Shmi, you did tell her that I'm not the father, right?"
Shmi's blush only deepened. "I didn't know what to tell her! She assumed, and what was I supposed to say, that I didn't know who the father was?"
Ben groaned as he hung his head. "Well, that's certainly hit the gossip mill by now."
"I'm sorry, Ben." Shmi took both his hands in hers, holding them between their bodies. "Do you want to tell them it isn't yours? We can try to stop people talking."
Ben snorted. "Stop a juicy rumor like this? Not likely." He glanced up at Shmi. "You don't want to tell them it isn't mine?"
Shmi fell quiet a moment, considering her words. "I don't want anyone to know that this baby is…different." Ben winced. The child would be born a slave and sometimes differences were exploitable. It would be disastrous if people knew. "So it has to have a father. I could make something up, some anonymous man who left without giving me his name, but the more likely explanation is still you. No one will believe anything else. Besides—" Shmi squeezed his hands, and he looked up, meeting her eyes. "If you're the father, you have a good excuse to be near us. And I want you in our lives, Ben."
Ben swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. What had he done to deserve this woman's trust, that she would welcome a boy so lost as him into her family like this? He bowed his head, pressing his forehead to hers and letting his eyes fall shut as he felt her breath.
He twitched the fingers of his hand in hers. "May I—?"
Shmi nodded, understanding immediately, and drew his hand down to place it on her belly. Ben reached out to the Force, since it was behaving for him for once, and almost immediately he felt it: that small spark of potential that signified a new life. Tears pricked at his eyes, but his cheeks ached with how wide he was smiling.
"Hello there, little one."
He heard Shmi's gasp, and opened his eyes to find tears on her face again. "It's beautiful, Shmi. It's just perfect."
Then Shmi's arms were around him, hugging him tight. "Thank you, Ben."
Ben wasn't sure how long he stood there, returning her embrace and basking in her presence and the light of the little life she carried. He had not felt the warmth of family since he was sent away from the Temple three years ago. He had thought that maybe this was something that he just was not meant to have anymore, like so many things he missed from his previous life. But thank the Force, he had been wrong.
Finally, they separated, wiping at their eyes but still smiling. Ben cleared his throat. "Ma Jira is going to be after my hide for knocking you up."
Shmi gave a watery laugh. "No, she won't. She likes you. I think she approves, mostly, just thinks you're a bit young."
Ben laughed as well, a little breathlessly. "A bit? I'm way too young to have a kid. I'm fifteen, Shmi, I haven't even finished growing yet. What do I know about being a father?"
Shmi just waved away his concerns. "No one really knows anything about being a father until they actually are one. Besides," she said, smiling, "If fatherhood doesn't work out for you, I guess you'll just have to be the protective big brother."
Ben smiled at her, heart giving a heavy thump. "I can work with that."
By the time Shmi was due to give birth, Ben thought he had prepared himself for the coming child as well as he could. He had talked with all the grandmothers, mothers, fathers and grandfathers, who were both pleased and amused at being asked for their advice. It seemed that many of their tips, though, were directly contradictory to others'. Were there really so many different parenting methods?
He had also spent some of his sparse free time helping look after the other slaves' younglings to get some practical experience. This he enjoyed, but he found to his dismay that he was always glad to give them back to their parents at the end of the day. Ma Jira just laughed when he expressed this concern to her. "It's different when it's your child," she told him. Unfortunately, that didn't really reassure Ben, as he knew Shmi's child wasn't really his.
Most of his time not spent in training or working with the beasts was spent with Shmi though. She found Ben's endeavors to "study up" being a parent highly entertaining, but what else was he to do? His earliest training had been to seek out knowledge when confronted with a task he was unprepared for, and that's what he fell back on now, knowing how wholly inadequate he was to the challenge of childrearing.
Though he treasured any little bit of time he got to spend with Shmi, he liked the quiet moments best. Curled up together on their sleep pallet, or sitting around the kitchen with fellow slaves sharing cups of broombush tea, he would wrap his arm around her and rest his hand on the side of her burgeoning baby bump, the better to sense the little spark inside her. Shmi was amazed the first time Ben was able to calm the restless little one's kicking with a touch.
"The baby is growing, becoming more aware of…me," Ben explained to her, skirting around the topic they tried not to bring up. "I think that it's like me, in that way."
Shmi nodded, frowning slightly. They had both guessed that the child might be different, given what they suspected about its conception, but Ben was pretty sure by now that it was indeed Force-sensitive. The baby knew his Force presence, and frequently responded to him reaching out to it with little curls of recognition and innocent happiness that always made Ben's breath catch when he felt it.
What's more, Ben's connection to the Force had been slowly coming back bit by bit, and he soon realized that it had something to do with the child. The little one was the first being he was able sense in the Force clearly and consistently, and his awareness and connection to the Force seemed to grow stronger as the baby grew. Ben hoped this meant that his Force abilities would make a full recovery. If this child was strong in the Force as Ben suspected it to be, he would need all his powers to protect it.
"The grandmothers say that children in the womb can hear the voices of those around them," Shmi said thoughtfully. "This little one hears my voice all day. Perhaps it should become familiar with your voice too, not just your touch."
Ben blinked. "You want me to…"
"Talk to it, yes," Shmi smiled.
It was a strange thought, to talk out loud to Shmi's unborn child. Something about it made him almost nervous, like he was inserting himself where he didn't belong, filling a role that wasn't his place. But Shmi wanted him to try, so he would.
At night, when Shmi lay sleeping, curled into him on their shared pallet, Ben bent his head to talk to the child inside her. Reaching out to it in the Force first, he smiled to find the babe sleepy but awake enough to reflect his happiness.
"Sometimes it doesn't even seem real, that you're almost here," Ben murmured. "That I'm going to be a part of your life, and you'll be part of mine. Your mother would have it so. She is so caring and kind to me, though I'm just a lost boy. After everything that's happened, after everything I've done…well. You both deserve better than me, but I'm pretty much all you've got. Sorry about that."
Ben breathed for a moment, taming the emotions this exercise released in his chest. "I won't lie to you, little one. The world you wait to join is a difficult and dangerous place. I have seen a lot of such things. Too much. Enough to believe my heart when it tells me that I am meant for infinite sadness. I don't know what your destiny holds, but this isn't what I want for you. I want you to be happy. I want you to find peace. It's not going to be easy, you'll have to work hard for it, but I promise that I will help you as much as I can. I'll protect you until you become the kind of person you want to be—someone better than me."
Ben swiped a hand under his eyes, wiping away the moisture there. "I love you, baby. You're not even here yet, but I already do. And I'm pretty sure that I always will, no matter what happens to us. So yeah, infinite sadness is probably an accurate premonition. But I'm also happy now, because of you, and your mother. So it's worth it, I think. It will all be worth it.
"Good night, sweet dreams, dear one. You are loved. And we will see each other soon."
Soon after, Ben felt the tiny presence slip off into slumber, and he followed, allowing the child's bright light to lead him and feeling, for once, at peace.
After so much preparation, Ben was as ready as he could be for the baby. Which was to say, he wasn't ready at all.
He felt the shift in the Force when Shmi went into labor. He could hardly concentrate on his training after that, but knew better than to ask the head trainer if he could leave early. He considered allowing himself to get injured on purpose so that he could go, but discarded the idea after considering that the medic would probably hold him in the medical ward all night out of spite. And Shmi probably wouldn't be too happy with him being hurt either.
When he was finally released from training, he skipped latemeal to go directly to the household slaves' quarters. He found Shmi, calmly waiting for her labor to progress, surrounded by Ma Jira and her helpers. They soon had him seated in a chair, with Shmi seated in front of him between his legs, his arms wrapped around her chest so he could support her as she leaned back against him.
Time seemed to both slow and speed up as Ben moved and shaped himself as Shmi needed. Her pain and determination swirled around him, her needs conveyed to Ben through the Force—when she felt the urge to push and when she needed to rest. He breathed deeply to encourage her to do the same as she braced herself against him, hands clenching on his thighs as she strove. The Force was poised in anticipation, like a breath held before a leap.
Finally, Shmi groaned loud and long as the Force blazed with light. Ben was so disoriented by the sudden rush that he almost missed the small, pale form Ma Jira passed to one of her attendants. But he clearly heard the cries of the child and the Force singing with it.
When all was finished and Ben had carried Shmi to their sleep pallet to rest, Ma Jira brought the baby to Shmi, tucking the child in against the bare skin of her chest. "A boy," she told them, smiling softly.
"Anakin," Shmi named him. Ben smiled. Anakin. Anak u akin. Light in darkness.
Ma Jira nodded. "Anakin Skywalker Luckbringer." Ben was surprised to hear his own name appended to the child's after Shmi's in the traditional place of the father's name. He had left Kenobi behind long ago, and like many slaves who did not know or wanted to forget the name they were born to, he had been given another name by his elders. 'Luckbringer' is what Ma Jira herself had called him, after the first time he brought her medicinal gushagrass in time to aid a sick child.
Though it was clear little Anakin had his mother's whole focus, Shmi quickly grew tired and gave the baby over to Ben so she could sleep. Ben cradled the tiny child against his chest, marveling at how small and perfect Anakin was. He finally reached out to him in the Force, finding the motion with an ease that nearly startled him after his months of struggle. The child's presence in the Force answered his with a very familiar sense of recognition and innocent contentment.
Ben's breath caught, and he found himself swallowing back tears. This really was him, the little one that he had watched grow these last months, who he and Shmi had awaited with such anticipation, who he now held in his arms. He reached out and with astonishing ease drew the Force around them both, for comfort and calm, sending baby Anakin the joy he was feeling, the warmth he felt in his heart. It was then that he realized that his sense of the Force had fully returned, perhaps stronger than ever. With Anakin's advent, he was whole again.