"Mom, Mom! I'm home--Mom! I'm home," Anakin brayed, sprinting away from Obi-Wan as the targeted sand-dusted grouping of homes came into view. The street was beginning to darken, as late afternoon melded with nightfall. The excited boy ran up to the old familiar door and pounded his fist into it, sounding off again.
"I'm sure she's near, Anakin," Obi-Wan tempered.
"But where is she *now*?" Anakin demanded. "We've traveled all this way. For her not to be here when I need to see her now isn't fair." He was about to drive his fist into the door again, when it opened. "Mom--huh?"
"Oh, my circuitry, it's the Maker!"
"Threepio?" Anakin said, amazed, squinting up at his glinting creation. He hardly recognized the 'droid with its golden metal plating. He wondered if Watto was responsible for the fitting.
"Yes, Master Anni. It is I," the 'droid confessed, thrusting out his chest.
"Where's Mom?" Anakin pushed past the protocol 'droid about the house.
"She went to market, Master," C-3P0 was helpful to inform. To Obi-Wan the machine bade, "Do come in, sir, if you please. I don't think I've had the pleasure."
The Jedi stuck out his hand to shake the 'droid's. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. I'm very happy to meet you...Threepio." Obi-Wan stood admiring his learner's dazzling handiwork, wishing to know, "Anakin, am I to understand that you built this marvel? His apprentice nodded and Obi-Wan whistled. "Very impressive. Tell me, Threepio..."
"Yes, sir?"
"Anakin built you?"
"Oh, yes, sir."
"From scratch?" The Knight pulled on his chin.
"Scratch, sir?"
"Not from any previous design."
"I believe so. Master Anni is quite gifted."
Obi-Wan watched Anakin help himself to some beverage that was a beautiful powdery blue. The blue reminded him of the downy fields of Zenyatar where Qui-Gon had taught him how to speak the language like a native. Kenobi seated himself at the dining table with its burnished surface. A sand-less puff of air wafted through the small home.
"Want some?" Anakin offered, sounding as though it were an afterthought.
Obi-Wan rose, coming to inspect. "What is it?"
"Blue Milk," Anakin told him, sounding as if the drink were universally known. It was widely known, but not universally.
"Ah, yes. But of course." He had heard of the nutrient-rich drink typical of worlds where natural resources were scarse. As a precaution, inhabitants of Tatooine would drink it in order to supplement their water-poor diets. "How's it taste?" Anakin poured his master some. Obi-Wan sniffed at it, sticking his nose into the opaque receptacle. The aroma of the pungent liquid was sweet and flowery.
"You drink it, Master," Anakin said. "You don't inhale it." He sat at the table and took a big gulp of his own.
"Yes, well...quite." After tasting the beverage, he took another swig. Despite his devotion to decorum, he smacked his lips. The stuff wasn't bad. It could have been a spot colder, though. "A bit swee--"
The door of the humble abode opened suddenly. Shmi, humming a cheery tune, and laden with parcels that varied in size, bustled in. When her eyes fell upon Anakin, she stood speechless for several moments, not quite trusting her eyesight. In time, she whispered, "Anni?"
"Mom!" The smile on Anakin's face could have rivaled Tatooine's twin sons for brilliance. He bolted from the table. His receptacle a quarter-way full of Blue Milk went flying. Overjoyed, he filled his mother's arms as parcels spilled upon the floor. No power in the galaxy would ever be able to pry him loose, it seemed.
"Anni, my love, what are you doing here?" Shmi held him so hard, her hands, roughened by hard work, were turning blue.
"I've missed you so much, Mom!"
Nodding, she acknowledged, "I've missed you so very much too, Anni." Tears glistened in her eyes, and soon they streamed from them over her wind- and sunburned cheeks. Anakin's face was flushed. Shmi held him away from herself. "Let me have a look at you," she entreated, swabbing at her face with the back of her hand. Having him home felt unreal. "Oh, my...how you've grown, Anni." Beaming, with pride plumping up the words, she exclaimed, "You're my almost all grown up Jedi son." She basked in her son's smile that could have doubled for the one he'd worn that day a long while back when he'd saved the day by winning that 'all or nothing race.'
Shmi smashed Anakin to her body again as her tears threatend to renew. Even Obi-Wan felt his eyes misting. "I'm so glad you're here." Anakin nodded against her waist, as her eyes focused on her son's companion. "Please introduce me to your friend."
Easing away from Shmi, Anakin corrected, "He's not my friend, Mom. He's my master...Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Obi-Wan rose from his seat, thrusting out his hand to shake Shmi's. "I'm so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Skywalker."
"Shmi. Please, call me Shmi."
Obi-Wan nodded with a smile. "Anakin speaks of no one else. I feel as though I've known you for quite some time."
"The pleasure is mine." She extracted her hand from the Jedi's, looking bemused. Shmi cast her eyes about the room, her face a mask of speculation. "Anakin?"
"Yes, Mom?"
"Is Qui-Gon Jinn with you?"
Upon hearing his former master's name, Obi-Wan's face fell. Shmi looked crestfallen then, immediately sensing that something was wrong. "Oh, have I spoken out of turn, Master Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan refused to give in to any sad memories. "No, no. Not at all."
Speaking up impetuously, Anakin said, "Mom, Qui-Gon was killed by a Dark Lord of the Sith on Naboo." Anakin had gone to stand by his 'droid, having wanted to inspect something that had caught his eye more closely.
Shmi looked stunned, and commiserated, "Oh, how dreadful!" Her voice had cracked.
While looking C-3P0 over carefully, Anakin went on, "It happened during the battle there. I blew up the Trade Federation's command ship." Sheepishly, he admitted, "It was kind of an accident..."
Her eyes alighted upon the empty seat Qui-Gon had once occupied, a little over two standard years ago. She had never forgotten the courtly Jedi Knight who had taken a personal interest in her fatherless boy. There had been purpose and a wellspring of understanding in everything Jinn did, she felt. She would always be grateful to him for helping to gain her son's freedom. Glumly, she slumped into Jinn's old seat. "How did it happen, if the recounting isn't too painful..."
It was, but Obi-Wan briefly supplied the sad details which, to him, felt as if his master's demise had happened ages ago. "Qui-Gon wished for me to train Anakin. I pledged that I would."
"It must have given you great satisfaction, avenging his death," Shmi awarded, searching the handsome young Jedi's face with tender eyes.
There was no point in correcting her viewpoint. Jedi never retaliated out of a sense of vengeance. He sensed the sorrow in her, a sorrow that went deeper than the loss of Qui-Gon. "I hope we were not remiss, coming to you like this, unannounced. Anakin has wanted to be with you again for quite some time. His training regimen doesn't allow for much leeway. There never was a right time to come. Two prominent members of the Jedi Council deemed now as the appropriate time, agreeing with my sentiments that he should."
Shmi brushed the wisps of her hair back from her face. She watched her son fiddling with the machine she took solace in having with her to ward off abject lonliness. Arching her question a bit, along with her eyebrow, she asked of Obi-Wan, "Has Anakin been behaving?"
A mother knows her son, whether she be Force sensitive or not, he thought, admiring Shmi's perceptive aptitude. "Shall we say...for the most part. I'd be the first to attest though that he misses you day and night. Almost to the point of distraction."
The mother called to her son. Her winsome words of farewell she had uttered many suns and moons ago filled her mind. "Anakin..."
Anakin made a beeline for her. "Yes, Mom?"
He fitted himself into her tight embrace once more. She spoke cooing words that she hoped would leave a lasting impression. "Make me proud, Anni. That is all I ask."
"I will, Mom."
Gazing upon the pair, wishing to keep the image of them just that way, always, Obi-Wan said, "He shall. I believe in him."
"Mom?"
"Yes, Anni?"
"I'm starving. Could you make some Telitar with Miasra sauce, please?" Anakin had the eyes of a beggar down pat.
His mother wore a mischievous look, and her pert eyes held secrets all their own. "Your favorite dish. As it so happens, I think I could." She tapped her left cheek. "For the right price." Promptly, Anakin kissed her. "Please pick those things up from the floor, dear. That would be a great help, and I'll get started."
Obi-Wan envied the command she had over his trainee. He reminded himself...'well, she is his mother, after all...'
"Sitro-ribee for dessert?"
"I think that could be arranged," his mother obliged.
"Yippee!"
"I hope you will find Anni's favorites to your liking, Master Kenobi."
Obi-Wan smiled warmly, unwittingly drawn into the homey atmosphere. There was next to nothing to draw upon in his own life. "Oh, I'm sure I shall. It's been literally ages since I've had a home-cooked meal."
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"Mom--Mom--Mom! No--no!"
Obi-Wan rolled over onto his full stomach on the narrow sleep pallet, vaguely aware that his apprentice was crying out. The sumptuous feast that Shmi had prepared still had him groggy. What a fine cook his mother was! Anakin had never said so, but Obi-Wan guessed her culinary talents could be added to the list of the things he missed her for. With a sluggish bearing, he propped himself into a sitting position. His hand scrubbed his face. No move did he make to stand. Before he could, a figure decidedly womanish crowded the entrance of her son's former room.
"Anni--I'm here. Sweetheart, I'm here." She streamed to her son's bed, continuing to vocally fondle him. She forced herself not to think about all the times he may have cried for her and she wasn't there for him. She looked over to the Jedi's form that was muted by the softly-lit darkness. "He has them often, doesn't he?"
Obi-Wan, regretting, nodded. As he balled up his hands, he informed, "He goes through phases. He'll go without them for long stretches." Anakin twisted fitfully while locked within his mother's strong embrace. He was suspended between slumber and wakefulness. "But then, that cycle is broken by these episodes." Obi-Wan thought to himself how Jedi weren't given to nightmares, as a rule. Sadly, his Padawan had them quite often. Obi-Wan wrestled with the paradox.
Anakin shook violently, startling himself awake. He blinked several times at the adults as though having difficulty remembering where he was.
"Anni," his mother whispered into his perspired scalp, "it's all right. You're safe, here at home."
His breath came in puffs. "I-it was awful, M-Mom. Th-they had you. They did te-terrible things to you." Anakin's gaze was tempestuous as he held his mother's eyes. "You can't stay here, Mom--you've got to come with us! You'll be safe on Coruscant." He untangled himself from her arms. He pushed to his feet and tugged on his mother's hand. "C'mon--let's go now!"
Gently, she resisted, reining him in. She welded her hand to the side of his jaw. "Who, Anakin? Who had me?"
Trembling, he shook his head, at a loss for any proper identification of his mother's faceless captors and tormentors who had perpetrated such villainy in his subconscious. "I...I" He flung Obi-Wan a desperate look. "I..." Biting his lower lip, he admitted with a shrug, "I can't...it's like I know, but I can't tell for sure. They're shadows...like Sand People..."
Shmi and Obi-Wan exchanged a clement look between them while she maneuvered Anakin back into bed. "Anni, you've had a very long trip today. You're over tired. The best thing right now is for you to go back to sleep. Tomorrow, once you're better rested, we may talk about this dream some more, if you like."
Obi-Wan made mental notes, sensing his apprentice's keen agitation. He could no more sanction Shmi's leaving to come be with her son on Coruscant than the Council would sanction Jedi marrying. He couldn't help but perceive a ripple in the Force, and shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath.
When he re-opened his eyes, Shmi watched him with Anakin clinging to her. He was nearly asleep once more.
"I'm sure you're aware that he has an imagination that hates letting up," Shmi spoke softly. "Even when asleep, it's hard at work concocting all manner of fanciful things demanding to be tackled."
"It is hoped through training that Anakin will become more adept at focusing...learn better patience..." Obi-Wan trailed off purposely. He didn't wish to appear as though he were criticizing. "He is making excellent progress," he conceded, putting a generous spin on it.
"Qui-Gon Jinn said he showed great promise." Shmi relived bits and snatches of the discussion about her son's destiny she had had with the powerful Jedi on her parapet.
"He most certainly does," Obi-Wan agreed. Promise that demanded the highest degree of perseverance that would have tried even Jinn's strenght of character, Kenobi thought with an inward sigh. Yielding though, he said, "If he keeps progressing the way he is, he will be a great Jedi, one day."
Shmi smiled a smile borne of hope and a mother's abiding love. Thinking her son had fallen asleep, she gently moved off his bed. Anakin whimpered, not as deeply asleep as his mother imagined. "Mom--don't go! Stay with me--don't go! Mom!"
This was attachment that knew no bounds, Obi-Wan considered. "I think it would make him happy if you stayed." Continuing to whisper, Kenobi, rising from the pallet, offered, "Take it. I'll lend you your privacy. The lounger in the other room will suffice."
"No, please. There's no need for you to inconvenience yourself, Master Kenobi." Her plea urged, "Remain here. I'll take Anakin to my bed. Finish out the night in his." She bundled Anakin up into her arms and stood.
Looking hesitant, Obi-Wan considered. The look in Shmi's eyes made it difficult for him to turn the offer down. It was simple to see where Anakin got his spirit of determination from. "Very well, dear lady. I shall."
When Shmi stood in the doorway, she spoke in earnest, "Good night, Master Kenobi. My son is indeed fortunate to have you as his mentor. Continue to rest well."
Obi-Wan watched after her retreating figure. He wondered what sort of childhood she had had. A prickly feeling of impending loss seeped into him, which he couldn't seem to shake. Even after he had settled himself into Anakin's compact bed, throwing the linty covers over his head, he couldn't chase the remnants of forboding out of his mind.
It was also difficult to dismiss his wanting to make all things right for this woman here in this tiny sector of the galaxy.
Soft-spoken, yet resilient as she was, she deserved that, at least...and more.
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