Chapter 12

Padmé was woken by a loud cry. Within seconds she was up and running across the hallway, throwing open the door to Anakin's room. She had never been particularly great with staying away from danger. She always ran to it, eyes open wide, afraid and yet even more determined to protect whoever was in trouble. In this case, it was her best friend. Anakin was awake, sitting on his bis bed, various objects floating midair as he struggled for breath.

"Anakin," Padmé said, then hurried to his side, put her hands on either side of his face and guided him through his breathing. Quietly, just loud enough that only he could hear it, she counted his breaths in every language she knew and then some she could only swear in. She could do this for him, show him how to keep on living, grounded to the world. Slowly the objects he had sent flying returned to their place or at least to the ground. All while Padmé kept on talking. She couldn't tell how much time had passed until he had finally calmed down enough to speak, but by then, the sun was up in the sky and her throat hoarse.

"Anakin, what happened?" Padmé asked him carefully. "Was it—"

"My Mom," Anakin croaked. "Again. She's hurt. I know it. I can still feel it following me out of this dream and into reality. I couldn't feel her pain before but it's still there now and—"

Anakin looked as if he was going to work himself into another panic and so Padmé quickly continued speaking, letting him listen to her voice so that he wouldn't focus on his anxieties again and possibly crash all the furniture in his room. By now, the other attendants must have woken up as well; they weren't exactly silent. Padmé kept on talking about nothing and everything, continuing on and keeping Anakin in this universe as he held tightly onto her arms, his fingernails digging into her bare arms.

"Better?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied, his voice still rough. "I just—"

He stopped, took another deep breath. "Padmé, I'm so sorry, but I need to go see my mother. I need to know that she is alright and that I won't lose her. I can arrange for some protection here, I'm sure, spread myself a little thinner…"

"Nonsense," Padmé replied stubbornly. "I'm following you. Friends stick together and you said it before, we're a team. I won't leave you alone to deal with this. My family has a ship we can take. We don't have to tell anyone at all." Padmé grinned, trying to loosen the atmosphere. "It can be our own secret secret mission."

Anakin stared at her. "Your family just has a ship you can take."

Padmé rolled her eyes. "We're well-known on Naboo; of course, we have a ship. You know this. Get dressed and let's go. Off to Tatooine, it is, right?"

"Yeah," Anakin replied, his gaze far away. "Tatooine."

x

The trip to Tatooine was a short one, yet it felt much longer than it had any right to. Padmé hadn't been quite sure what to expect of this planet. Anakin had mentioned it only once or twice before his nightmares had occurred, and neither time had he sounded particularly fond of his former homeworld. Padmé understood why this planet was nothing more than one horrible experience after another to Anakin. He had been a slave here, a state of being Padmé had hardly been able to comprehend when she was younger. Slavery wasn't supposed to exist in the Republic and, foolish as she had been, she had believed it.

Even if it had been years ago, Anakin had been four or so when he had been taken in by the Jedi, the memories must have stayed with him.

They stopped the ship near the most lavish building this planet had to possess. It looked a little run-down as if years of usage had turned an imposing palace into a home, or a fortress going by the many armed guards around.

When they walked through the dunes, approaching it, they were stopped by two guards.

"Who are you?" they asked and Padmé wanted to speak up, tell a lie of omission because Senator Amidala of Naboo was not on this Outer Rim world, but she couldn't. Her voice froze as time slowed down around her, then it broke entirely like the doors of the building ahead.

"Hey!" One of the guards yelled, immediately raising their blaster. "You can't just—" But Anakin didn't listen. His mind was elsewhere as he stormed off, leaving Padmé behind. One guard ran after him as a second focused on Padmé. "Who are you?"

Right, so much for making an undercover entrance.

"My name is Padmé Amidala. I am the Senator of Naboo. My companion is the Jedi Anakin Skywalker. He is searching for his mother."

"Skywalker?" the guard repeated and dropped their weapon, face suddenly grim. "Follow me."

X

His mother looked so pale like she were dying, and Anakin could only think of Naboo and Qui-Gon's blood beneath his fingernails and no, no, no. He couldn't do that again, he couldn't, it had hurt, it had been wrong, but he loved her, she was his mother and—

"What happened?" Padmé asked.

One of the people here, insignificant little flies, how dare they live when his mother—

"We allied with three Tusken tribes to take down Jabba," one of them replied and clicked their tongue. "Good fighters, never would have thought to be planning battle with them. It all worked out so smoothly too. We held of Jabba's forces, then one set of an explosion and…." They trailed off. "Shmi saved us but got hit by the blast. We tried to do what we could, but it isn't exactly as if we have core world high tech out here."

No, they didn't.

In a trance, Anakin slowly unwrapped his mother's bandages, revealing burned skin. The worst of the wounds reached so deep, he thought he saw her bone. Behind him, next to him, a shoulder on his scales, Padmé steadied him.

"She is alive," Padmé said. "My ship has all medical supplies necessary. She will not die here."

"I know."

He did. His mother would survive, but only because they were here so quickly. Had they been just a day later… Anakin didn't even want to consider it. He had to stay calm, stay focused, listen. This was not Naboo, his mother not Qui-Gon, and the Force still wasn't guiding him.

Why was his parent still quiet? What did it want Anakin to do?

"What about Jabba?" Anakin asked in lieu of getting the answer he truly wanted.

The rebel ground their teeth. "Got away."

Got away. Anakin snarled animalistic, claws sharpening, teeth growing in length. No, not for much longer.

He focused on his mother's wounds. He still wasn't one for healing delicately, but he did well enough, or so he thought. Her flesh mended itself back together and her soul, bright and burning, ever the fighter, clung to her flesh. His mother had always been a grounded person and they had nearly stolen her away. This could not rest, could not wait.

"Where is the slug?"

"We suspect he is hiding out in his harvest residence."

Anakin nodded, then pressed his commlink into Padmé's hand. "Call Qui-Gon or master Dooku or Ahsoka if neither picks up. Mother needs to be brought back to the temple."

Then he left, storms twirling in his mind, hungry for blood.

X

When Dooku wanted to teach his lineage, they showed themselves driven but reluctant to accept his corrections. They didn't want him to point out their mistakes, yet all hoped to thrive from his teachings. His presence to them was, so it seemed, a prison as much as something they longed for.

And yet, when all of them but Ahsoka were out of the temple, suddenly he was very popular.

"Anakin," he greeted someone who was decidedly not Anakin Skywalker on Naboo, but Padmé Amidala of Naboo.

"Senator Amidala," he corrected himself, hoping he didn't show any sign of confusion. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The poor girl looked distressed, the fine mask she had crafted over the years slipping. "Shmi had been harmed. We're on Tatooine and Anakin just took off and —"

Foolish woman—

Dooku had told her that going to Tatooine on her own was a mistake, but Shmi Skywalker wouldn't be herself if she actually listened. He was already halfway out of his rooms when he realized he had never stopped the call and been consoling a stressed Padmé absentmindedly.

X

Jango Fett was an interesting man. Obi-Wan could appreciate somebody who could bullshit their way through an entire conversation, but Obi-Wan dislike liars. And Jango Fett was lying so obviously, so recklessly that he was endangering his son. Boba Fett was a cute kid and Obi-Wan could tell that Jango cared for him. Yet Boba was nothing but another clone of him, one of a million other copies in the eyes of the Kaminoans. There had to be something special about him that Jango managed to love this child, but not all the others.

Obi-Wan wondered if his aging was accelerated as well. Whether the boy had grown up together with his batchmates until Jango had picked him out because he was special.

As much as his mission mattered, Obi-Wan almost wanted to kick Jango out of the room so he could have a conversation with his son. A child growing up like this couldn't be well-cared for. Once more, Obi-Wan wondered what kind of father would raise their child in such a dark and lonely place.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the time to talk to Jango for long as the bounty hunter escaped after thoroughly dragging Obi-Wan through the dark, cold waters of Kamino and didn't appreciate being chased.

Obi-Wan usually enjoyed solo missions, he really did, but this one was starting to get on his nerves. It didn't help that he couldn't focus. Anakin's uneasiness was growing like an itch he couldn't scratch and Obi-Wan longed to know what his Padawan was doing on Naboo that he felt like that.

Sighing, Obi-Wan hoped he wouldn't have to take another mission like this for another month or so.

He needed a break.

X

Birth. Growth. Reproduction. Death. Birth. Growth. Reproduction. Death. Birth—

The screaming wouldn't end. The begging.

Anakin didn't care. Larger than himself, his ribs peeking through his flesh-skin-host-prison, he ripped into his target. They hurt his mother-teacher-guardian and he was going to eradicate them from this plane of existence until he could no longer feel them.

He roared, took the circle of life into his own hands, caused disruption, caused balance, broke and bend and made it his own because he was his own, and it all was his, no longer an extension of his parent-will-life—

His blade stopped centimeters away from his target.

Big eyes stared up at him.

Young.

Light, light-bright where this room had been so dark and ugly and blood and pain and they had hurt his mother, he could have lost he—

The child cooed at him. Their father's blood-life-birth ran through their veins and Anakin—

Anakin stopped. Returned to himself. Closed his too many eyes, let four arms become two again, the scales recede. He was not what the darkness and fear could make him, not when faced with light.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Not for himself, not for the scum, the trash, the tormentor of his childhood, but for this child. "I'm sorry I took him, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Anakin slowly sunk to the ground, the kid still staring at him, not scared any longer because the monster had disappeared, leaving only Anakin, who felt far too small and human. Anakin, whose mother was injured.

Anakin, whose heart stopped beating when he felt a bond stutter.