Chapter 5

Padmé hadn't been sure what to expect of their Jedi protectors when she had first met them. They had certainly protected them well against the invading droids, but they had still come too late. Her planet had been invaded, her people hurt, beaten, and forced to endure whatever cruelties she didn't even dare imagine.

And all of that because the Jedi had been too late and hadn't been able to talk to the Trade Federation.

For the first few minutes, adrenaline rushing through her veins, fear clinging to her heels and guilt squeezing her throat shut, Padmé had been angry like a child. She had been so incredibly frustrated at them and her own helplessness, even though intellectually she knew very well that it was not the Jedi's fault that Naboo's situation had come so far. If anything, she should be glad the Jedi had come at all.

Without their aid, Padmé would likely be rotting away in a cell now, or perhaps even be tortured, or be forced to watch her best friends be hurt just so that the Trade Federation would gain whatever advantage they were aiming for.

For the first time since she had been made Queen, Padmé truly doubted her chosen path. She wondered if any of the other candidates would have done better than her, but when she looked at Eirtaé she only saw the same worries staring back at her. In that split second Padmé was glad that it was Sabé acting as the Queen and that she as Padmé, the Handmaiden, could allow herself a moment of weakness where she didn't have to hide her emotions.

It had been easier to be Queen when she was a mere representative of the government and not its whole body. The emergency laws now in power gave Padmé much more power than she should carry. They had been created when entertaining the possibility of an invasion, not because they had actually thought it would come this far.

Naboo was a part of the Republic – what use was the Republic if it could not protect its own?

She was bitter and exhausted and she wanted to go home. Not back to the suit in the palace, she wanted to go home to her family. She wanted to hug her parents and play games with her sister and leave this all behind and for once let somebody with more experience deal with it.

Unfortunately, this was not meant to be.

And whatever she had hoped to achieve in the Senate had also crumbled to dust with the Trade Federation once more speaking out against her. Bastards that they were, Padmé wanted to take out her hairpin and stab it right into the representative's chest, see how he liked it when his heart broke as his people suffered and starved.

"Do you think going back is really the wisest option?" Sabé asked her as they got dressed. Padmé became the handmaiden once more as Sabé took on the appearance of Queen Amidala. It was really been a miracle and a blessing to have Sabé at her side. The Naboo were skilled in hiding their faces and their intentions, but Sabé and her had a special connection, or so it felt at times.

They were closer than sisters. Padmé would even go as far as to call them soulmates, two halves of the same mask.

"I'm not sure," Padmé replied. She ought to be lying, to be reassuring her friends, but they would all just see through it. They had been taught to read her entire mind by the curl of her painted lips. "But what other option do we have?"

"Think the Jedi will come with us again?" Eirtaé asked. "They were useful, even little Ani."

Rabé snorted out loud and tugged her hair beneath her hood.

"'Can I fly the ship? Do you know what planets are in this system? Have you ever had Alderaani pudding?'" Rabé's voice was a little high pitched as she tried to copy the voice of the boy. "'Do you know what makes a star collapse?'"

They all sobered up at that last question.

Anakin had truly chattered endlessly during the whole trip, seemingly untouched by the events that had taken place around him. While his sunny demeanor had been nerve-wracking at first, Padmé had come to enjoy it. It was nice to focus on something that wasn't politics for just a few hours at a time. Besides, Anakin had been so sure that they would manage to save her people. He had looked so serious as he had said it then, as if it was a fact already. Something about that had just made her want to believe him.

Truth be told, Padmé hadn't thought that Anakin was old enough to be accompanying them, he was so young for such an undertaking. The Naboo were known for getting their children involved in politics at an age most systems wouldn't even consider doing such, but he had still looked so much younger than them. Nevertheless, Master Kenobi and Jinn had treated him as their full mission partner.

But who was Padmé to judge the Jedi for their practices, especially after they had helped them so?

"I don't know, but it doesn't hurt to ask," Padmé replied. "And Sabé never did get to share her famed pear pie recipe with him."

"Oh, don't remind me!" Sabé groaned. "I'd kill for one of those now!"

The group of girls descended into blissful laughter, the death threats hanging over their heads fading into the background.

X

Anakin was distracted, Qui-Gon was exhausted and Obi-Wan had to prove to the Council that he was a capable Master and that this mission had gone as well as it could have. From the way the other Jedi Masters were staring at them, he got the vague impression that he was not being as convincing as he could have been.

"-and that was when we landed here," Obi-Wan finished his statement. "Anakin has proven himself capable and followed my directives exceptionally well."

The slight joke hit its mark as it did make many Masters smile, if not outright grin. It was well-known that Anakin Skywalker was a little stubborn and all too willing to do things his own way if he thought he knew better. Oftentimes, that ended in utter chaos, for all that Anakin had the knowledge of the entire galaxy stored in his head somewhere, he was still a nine-year-old boy and kids his aged tripped and fell.

It was Obi-Wan's job to ensure he would also get up again.

"The Queen wants to return to her planet," Qui-Gon added after he'd been silent throughout the entire briefing.

Obi-Wan barely managed to hide a wince. He had taken over leading their mission briefings a couple of years ago, preparing for his Knighting. Qui-Gon only really spoke up to add to it or, in the cases that had them all stuck up here for hours, to argue about whatever conclusion he had reached and attempt to convince everyone of his opinion. In that way, he was very much Anakin's grandmaster. "She has called for a vote of no confidence after her Senator's urging."

And that move was more than just a little shady. Destabilizing the Republic leadership now was not exactly the smartest move, but Obi-Wan was not a politician and chances were that whatever upheaval would come, it wasn't going to do much to the Jedi Order. The Senate leadership had become stagnant over the years and their relationship with the Order hadn't changed much. With every changing terms, the Order maybe got some more requests from Senators that were usually talked over as everybody else was busy gearing up for a campaign. Involving Jedi in your political campaign was always a risky move as public opinion of the Jedi tended to vary a lot. It was a safer bet to keep them out of politics.

"They have requested that we accompany them again," Qui-Gon finished.

"A wise course of action you think this is?" Master Yoda asked. "Tired Padawan Skywalker is."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both looked down at Anakin. He was exhausted, yes, reaching to somewhere far away, zoned out right up until Yoda addressed him.

"I need to go," Anakin insisted, back straight. "It's important."

Obi-Wan actually wouldn't mind handing the mission off to another pair of perhaps a more experienced Knights, but he knew that expression on Anakin's face better than anybody else. He was determined to see this through and there was no telling what he'd do if he wouldn't return to Naboo. Perhaps sneak onto the ship of the ones who would go.

"Are you sure?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded, his sun-kissed face oddly pale. "Something's coming. I need to be there."

His tone of voice was ominous, his words dripped from his lips like a poisonous prophecy. The Force called and Obi-Wan heard its echo.

And with that their decision was settled.

X

They made a small stop at the crèche to greet Ahsoka. The excited youngling lit up as soon as she saw them and excused herself in only a short few words before she rushed into Anakin's waiting arms. From there she quickly climbed upon Obi-Wan's back and let herself be carried throughout the temple. They didn't have much time here, not for more for a meal which they had to eat in the cafeteria as Shmi was apparently not in the temple.

"Where is Shmi Skywalker?" Qui-Gon asked the nearest Jedi, a Nautolan Master only a few years younger than himself, as he got something to eat for himself.

"Padawan Skywalker you mean?" the Knight asked, their eyes twinkling with amusement.

Qui-Gon stopped shoveling fruit salad onto his tray. "Padawan?"

The other Jedi Master grinned. "Oh, yes. Haven't you wondered why Yaddle didn't attend the Council meeting? She decided to take on Shmi as her Padawan. It was the most brilliant thing."

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin, who had been caught up in a silent conversation with Ahsoka, miles and two realities away from where they were. "Did you know?"

Anakin tilted his head at the question and closed his eyes for a brief moment, concentrating. When he opened his eyes again, they were a kaleidoscope of colors, a thousand worlds within his sight.

"Yes," he said his teeth just an edge too sharp in Obi-Wan's vision. "The kyber's whispering to her now. She's going to bring the cleansing fires." Anakin's eyes faded to their usual blue color, though the flicker of sunlight didn't leave them as he reached for Ahsoka's hands, holding them tight. "It's not going to like it."

"It? Who?"

But Anakin stayed silent.

X

After their meal, Qui-Gon got the notification that the Queen's departure was delayed and so they had another two hours to relax. As expected, Qui-Gon was dragged back to the Skywalker's rooms where Anakin and Obi-Wan repacked for their mission. Qui-Gon spent that time napping on the Skywalker's sofa with little Ahsoka sitting on his stomach, rambling about what she had been up to since they had left the temple. Qui-Gon was fairly sure that when he had been her age, his teachers hadn't let him even touch a training saber, but the child described in detail how much fun she had had training with one. Saying goodbye to her again hurt a little and silently Qui-Gon vowed not to abandon his lineage or active mission duty until he got to see Ahsoka fight and grow into the terror she was bound to be.

They took a speeder to the hangers of the Senatorial suits where the Queen's party was already waiting for them. Qui-Gon was glad to see that all the girls were accounted for and visibly perked up when they spotted the Jedi approach them.

"Master Jinn, Master Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker," one of the Handmaidens greeted them formally. "We are glad you've decided to return to Naboo for us."

"Of course," Qui-Gon retorted. "That's what we are here for."

"Still," she replied. "The Queen is aware that you are doing more than we can ask of you three."

Qui-Gon inclined his head and opened his mouth to speak when suddenly the world shifted-

Pain ripped through him, through the Force, sharp as a lightning strike. A sudden nausea overtook him and Qui-Gon felt as lost as he never had before, not even after Thal's death. He thought he was drowning, lost in a storm, suffocating endlessly. Something was pulling him into the dark depths of an endless ocean. The void engulfed him and no light from the surface fell into his eyes, leaving him not just blind, but deprived of all sensations. Ice froze his flesh, broke it to pieces, chipped away more and more of himself until only his very soul was left and even then, sharp claws dug into him, pressed intensely into his mind like needles. His consciousness began to bleed, red drops of innocent compassion dropping to the floor like raindrops, becoming muddled with darkness and dirt on the ground.

He vaguely registered Obi-Wan next to him, Anakin too, his shields frayed and bleeding out like a body on a surgical table. Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan reaching out, tugging at his own light and crafting bandages out of them, helplessly wrapping them around Anakin's very being in hopes of mending the never-ending number of cuts. Where he succeeded, the shields that had always been a little like mirrors, transparent glass reflecting your self in the Force, became durasteel walls of protection, cutting Anakin off so rashly that Qui-Gon was caught off balance. Anakin's presence in the Force was near unbearable when they had first met him, but his absence was even worse, leaving Qui-Gon a starving man in the desert. On unsteady feet, Qui-Gon stumbled after Obi-Wan and Anakin, whom he thought to see running into the ship, fleeing from the monster they had uncovered.

"Master Jedi?" He thought he heard the Handmaiden ask.

He wanted to reply, and perhaps the words 'security check' did leave his mouth, but he couldn't be too sure, caught in this cruel spiderweb where every move only entangled him more, a prey ready for slaughter. He just walked forwards, hand pressed to his mind, clinging to the cool walls of the hsip, trying to stitch together what had been ripped wide open.

When he came to, he found himself rushing towards the fresher.

Obi-Wan sat there in the small room, looking so much like the boy he had taken as his Padawan in the aftermath of a terrifying trial he shouldn't have had to go through in the first place. Qui-Gon had been so blind then and now he found himself struck with the same blindness, except the image that was starting to unravel was even worse.

Obi-Wan had collapsed against the wall and Anakin was half in his lap, clammy fingers holding onto Obi-Wan's robes while his head was lowered above the toilet, vomiting up the few greens he had eaten for their last meal. His whole body seemed to twitch unnaturally like there was something hidden beneath his skin which was even paler than before. Anakin appeared like a ghost only inhabiting this shell for as long as it served its purpose, something much too grand pressed into this small body and rebelling against its constraints. Anakin kept throwing up until only acid burned his throat. He cried, tears running over his cheeks as the cold got closer and closer, so much that Qui-Gon expected to see his own breath as a hazy fog.

"Sssh," Obi-Wan tried to calm his Padawan, his own eyes bloodshot, the afterimage of a night terror. "All is well, I'm here, we're warm, we're safe, all is well, I'm here…"

His ramblings were almost meditative, repetitive, drawing the same pattern, guiding Anakin towards steady breaths as much as they grounded Qui-Gon.

It took another few minutes, or perhaps hours, time slipped away as easily as the light of stars already dead thousands of years, Anakin managed to calm down. He was still a shivering mess in Obi-Wan's arms, but he was no longer vomiting up his guts or crying uncontrollably.

"What-" Qui-Gon couldn't speak. He didn't know how to describe it, this pain, this agony, the-

Poison, darkness, decay, tor, burn it, BURN IT, IT IS KILLING ME, US, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY CHILDREN-

"There was nothing," Anakin mumbled his soft voice a contrast to the screeching in Qui-Gon's heart. "It was nothing, just the absence, the end of space and of time and of life and he will deplete us of everything and there will be darkness and there will be no death, there will be nothing!"

Anakin'S voice grew more frantic, louder until Qui-Gon wasn't sure if Anakin was truly speaking anymore or just carving his words into Qui-Gon's mind.

"It's infecting us, I'm sick, sick, bilious, and all that bubbles up my throat are decaying orbits. It's devouring my flesh and I will leave and the fractures and bigger and bigger and it's ripping me apart and I can see my heart beating!"

At this Anakin began to curl into himself, placing his hands on his heart. His eyes were glassy, seeing a world Qui-Gon couldn't perceive and he couldn't shake this double vision off. "It's awful, take it away Obi-Wan, I don't want to be here, I want to go, I want to go, it's hurting me, I don't want to be bound anymore, help me, Obi-Wan, please-!"

Anakin began to cry again, scratching at his own skin, deeper and deeper until the scratches turned red.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, his voice in a realm beyond panic. "Anakin, no, no, no, dear one, don't do this."

He took Anakin's hands in his own, so he would stop harming himself, but Anakin only began trashing, resisting. They needed to sedate him and they needed to do it now.

"Sleep," Qui-Gon ordered, focusing on Anakin.

He'd always been good with mind tricks.

Slipping into another's mind, finding cracks where to insert your own thoughts and demands. His Master had been worried about it when Qui-Gon had been young. It was an ability easily misused, an ability that made him quite valuable in the right circles if word got out about it and his Master had been keen to protect him from it.

Qui-Gon would be the last to claim that he didn't rely on it a little too often, but he was also one of the Jedi often sent into the worst of the worst situations. He had never dared to use it on another Jedi, would never think of using it on Anakin whose mind was an uncomfortable place to reside in even when he was peaceful.

There were certain boundaries in every mind. They shifted ever so slightly in every person depending on what you had experienced, but with Anakin, it was simply as if they had never been there in the first place. Qui-Gon didn't want to look at what rifts ran through Anakin's mind because he wasn't sure they wouldn't lash out and pull him in and swallow him whole. He'd be entrapped in the universe, in the melting point of a star, the heart of existence and he wouldn't be able to escape.

But what other choice did he have?

"Obi-Wan," he said, his Padawan's name command, prayer, and apology all at once. Obi-Wan was the only one so deeply connected to Anakin that he could bear to stand in his revelation. He understood Anakin as much as anybody ever could, to a degree that was foreign to even Shmi and would likely also never be within Ahsoka's reach. The bond Anakin had forced upon Obi-Wan when he had been driven more by instinct and need than wisdom and control sang with power.

Qui-Gon begged for the same strength.

There was no gentle way of doing this with Anakin.

Qui-Gon took one last breath of sweet air, then he stepped into the wildness of space. It was freezing, but not the all-consuming cold of before, that took from him until he had nothing left, not even his mind. This was cold of existence, the contrast between the endlessness and points of existence near stars that were just ticking bombs, waiting for their final explosion.

All of this was Anakin and Qui-Gon didn't know what to reach for.

He followed a path of broken glass, sharp emeralds, kyber, dug into his bare feet, leaving cuts all over. Every step was agonizing, depriving him of his strength and taking more than a century. Around him planets were born and destroyed in the same breath as Qui-Gon moved past them into the tangled cadences of orchestras, strings tugging him in different directions, asking him to follow their tune. His vision swam with colors repainting the world he saw.

And still, despite it all, he carried on. The temptation was sweet, he knew he could be home here, in this place where he had been born and where he would go once he ended.

He was one with the Force and the Force was with him, always.

But Qui-Gon refused that they truly wanted him to remain here. This was like Ilum, the innermost sanctums of the temples he had visited, a trial to prove himself.

And Qui-Gon would not fail this child who needed him.

He pushed through another door and found himself embraced by the most humbling of experiences.

"How cruel they were," Qui-Gon muttered, gazing upon eternity imprisoned in a mortal mind. "Forcing you into this."

Anakin wept and tried to tear at the chains pinning him down, keeping him constraint in the body that had been crafted for him. He was a mess of blood, stars, nebulas, stories written in languages that had never been spoken and never would again.

Anakin hadn't been meant to possess a consciousness, Qui-Gon realized. He hadn't ever been supposed to exist at all. The Force had pushed a scalpel into itself to carve out something that could eradicate all its other infected wounds, but, as with all self-inflicted injuries, this action too had damaged it.

It was the utmost cruelty, to themself and to the being they had created. This task was too much for one person. The entire galaxy was a bleeding, festering wound and Anakin couldn't be enough to clean it, never mind do all the stitches to close it afterward.

And here Anakin was now, trashing because he had become aware of the darkness growing right beneath their noses. He was panicking because he had glimpsed upon his purpose in this world and had understood down in his very core that he was lacking despite all the gifts he had already been given.

Anakin cried and cried, and Qui-Gon had to watch as the same gentle feathers he sometimes saw flickering outside his vision on his Padawan's back were trying to cover Anakin's many all-seeing eyes, take away that horrible truth he had choked on.

But Obi-Wan, for all that he likely understood more of the Force now than Qui-Gon had up until now, was still so young and not strong enough.

Qui-Gon didn't know if he would be strong enough, but what kind of Jedi would he be if he didn't at least try?

"Let me teach you one last thing," Qui-Gon muttered.

Messing with memories was a delicate task. Qui-Gon had read as much about it as the temple archives had permitted him too. He had been terrified at fifteen that he might overpower his hold on another's mind and would erase their self completely. That in his demand of obedience the Force had gifted him with, he wouldn't heed its gentle encouragements and push beyond all reasonable requests.

The Jedi were skilled when it came to the manipulation of ones' self or mind. Revan came to mind, a Jedi made Sith and forged into Jedi again. It hadn't been perfect, hadn't been stable, but this needn't be either.

It just had to be enough.

Qui-Gon laid one hand on the first chain tying Anakin down and tugged at the Force and the way they bound the world together. He just had to reshape it, turn cold metal into warm blankets, not keeping him chained up, but giving Anakin a place to rest and retreat to. If Anakin forgot that these chains were meant to bind him, then perhaps he would cease struggling against them.

One by one Qui-Gon reworked the chains into sweet comforts and watched as Anakin closed his eyes, returning to a peaceful slumber. The child, so much larger than Qui-Gon in his own mind, impossible to entirely understand his beginnings and endings, didn't grow any smaller. He nevertheless calmed, stopped struggling so that Qui-Gon had to worry less and less about Anakin accidentally cutting himself at these manipulations.

Only the future would tell how long these would hold him back and grant him peace of mind.

Or if Anakin would ever forgive him for this once he discovered how Qui-Gon had warped his reality just to keep him tied to them a little longer.

"It is done," Qui-Gon announced, his voice echoing in the small fresher.

His knees buckled under him and he caught himself on the washbasin only in the last second.

Anakin was asleep in Obi-Wan's arms, dead to the world.

"Is he- is he alright?" Obi-wan asked, clinging to his Padawan as much as Anakin was holding onto him.

Qui-Gon observed the steady rise and fall of Anakin's chest, then sighed only tiredly. He felt much older than the years he had counted, the millennia within Anakin's heart not fading away as quickly as he'd like them to.

"He will be," Qui-Gon promised.

He didn't know if he was lying, but he knew he was not speaking the truth either.