Chapter 30 – Epilogue

Four years later

15 BBY – Corsin

"I'm not sure this was a good idea."

"Anakin, you can't be serious!" Padmé hissed as the ramp to their ship began deploying, the brightness of the morning sun causing Anakin to squint and raise a hand to his eyes.

"I just…don't feel comfortable," he whispered, lowering his hand as he looked down at the twins who were standing in front of their parents. They were practically bouncing with excitement, thoroughly impatient for the ramp to finish unfurling.

Following his gaze, Padmé frowned subtly at the effervescent twins. "Children, calm down," she ordered tersely, crossing her arms in front of her for emphasis. Luke and Leia entirely disregarded this command, electing instead to rush down the ramp the second it touched down on the mossy ground.

Anakin chuckled while Padmé's frown deepened. It wasn't like them to ignore their mother like that. With Anakin, it was a different story, but the twins almost never disregarded Padmé whom they were clearly more afraid of. The fact that Padmé was unable to instill obedience in them was testament to the extent of their excitement.

And why shouldn't they be excited? After all, they were finally going to meet their grandmother for the first time in four years.

"Anakin, we've been over this," Padmé said to him as they watched from the hull of the ship as the twins frolicked in the verdant valley in which they had landed. "The twins deserve to know their grandmother. It's not fair for you to rob her of the opportunity of being in their life."

"I'm just trying to protect them, Padmé," Anakin insisted.

"They don't need to be protected," Padmé averred, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. "She's not going to hurt them."

"You don't know that!" Anakin exclaimed. "She nearly killed both of us!"

"But she's changed, Anakin," Padmé said exasperatedly, having argued with him about this countless times before. "You heard what your father said. She's happy here."

"That doesn't mean she's changed," Anakin mumbled. Padmé evidently decided to disregard this comment, taking him by the hand and all but dragging him out of the hull and down the ramp. Following reluctantly, Anakin glanced up to his right to see the restored temple at the top of the hill where his parents had been living the past four years.

The temple truly was a sight to behold. A single cobbled-stone dome which rose up several dozen feet dominated the premises and commanded Anakin's attention the moment he stepped off the ship. All things considered, it was a rather humble structure, but nonetheless there was something about it which captivated Anakin. It was as if the tower emitted a sense of tranquility which was quickly imbued within him. In spite of his still-lingering anxieties, Anakin paradoxically felt remarkably at peace in the shadow of this serene structure.

According to his father's testament, the temple had been in a state of complete disrepair when he and Shmi had first arrived. Had Qui-Gon not told him this, Anakin never would have known; the temple appeared entirely unblemished and in perfect condition. It seemed his mother had found some way to put her powers to good use, after all.

Anakin looked away from the temple sharply when he felt something prodding against his thigh. Standing beneath him was Luke, his index finger poking his leg repeatedly as he attempted to gain his father's attention. Meeting his son's wide blue eyes, Anakin smiled meekly as he was suddenly struck with a memory of himself as a child annoying his mother in very much the same manner.

"What is it, Luke?" Anakin asked, forcing the thought of his mother out of his mind.

Luke ceased poking him and glanced up toward the hill which Anakin had just been pondering. "Why doesn't grandma ever get to leave?" he asked, brow furrowed as he squinted in the direction of the temple.

Perplexed by this question, Anakin kneeled down so that he was at Luke's eye level. "What do you mean?" he asked, sparing a glance toward Padmé who was surreptitiously watching this conversation from a few feet away.

"Grandpa comes to see us on Coruscant but grandma never comes with him," Luke told him, turning to meet his father's eyes which looked so much like his own. "Why doesn't she come with him?"

Anakin pursed his lips as he contemplated how best to answer this question. He figured saying well you see, son, your grandmother was once a psychopathic murderer who nearly killed both of your parents wouldn't be the most tactful approach, even if it was the most honest.

For the first four years of his children's lives, Anakin had managed to avoid questions about Shmi. For the first three years they hadn't been conscious enough to even register the concept of a grandmother, but over the course of the past year they had been becoming increasingly interested in learning more about her. After all, Qui-Gon loved to tell Luke and Leia all about their grandmother Shmi whenever he came to visit them on Coruscant. Anakin had asked his father to refrain from talking about her in the twins' presence, but Qui-Gon had steadfastly declined this request. He and Padmé both felt that the children deserved to have a relationship with their grandmother, and it had been their combined pressures which had caused Anakin to finally cave.

If he was being honest, Anakin wasn't so much afraid of introducing Luke and Leia to Shmi as he was of confronting her for the first time in four years. He hadn't spoken to his mother ever since that fateful incident on Polis Massa when she had nearly killed him. With her electing to go into self-imposed exile with Qui-Gon here on Corsin, it had been quite easy for Anakin to avoid her for as long as he had. Yet he knew that he wouldn't be able to evade her forever.

Qui-Gon pestered him about it whenever he came to visit on Coruscant, insisting that he was being a coward and that it was time for him to come to terms with his mother. On the last such visit, Qui-Gon had even gone so far as to threaten never to return to Coruscant if Anakin didn't overcome his fears and agree to meet with her. And thus Anakin had been coerced into coming to Corsin – not because he wanted to, but because his father, and to a lesser extent his wife, had forced him to do it.

"Daddy?"

Blinking a few times, Anakin refocused his eyes to see Luke looking at him expectantly. He must have been lost in thought once again, something which happened to him far too often.

"I'm sorry, Luke," Anakin said, smiling thinly as he reached out to ruffle his son's unruly blonde hair. "I don't think I'm the right person to answer that question."

Luke was clearly dissatisfied with this response, but Anakin didn't give him time to ask a follow up question as he stood up swiftly and took him by the hand. Clasping Luke's much-smaller hand tightly with his own, Anakin led them back toward Padmé who was waiting by the base of the hill with Leia.

"Come on," he said, his voice sounding strained as the profundity of the situation began to really sink in. This was really happening – he was going to see his mother, the woman whom he loved and despised with practically equivalent vigor – after four whole years. "Let's go see your grandparents," he added, attempting in vain to enrich his voice with a sense of excitement for the sake of his children.

Fortunately, neither Luke nor Leia seemed to notice anything amiss with him. Releasing his hand, Luke took off up the stone staircase after his sister, squealing with delight as he passed her on his way toward the temple. Anakin swallowed hard as he came to a stop next to Padmé at the base of the hill, hand held up to his eyes as he tried to keep an eye on the twins while fighting off the morning sun.

"Well there's no point in procrastinating," Padmé said bluntly as she took his hand into her own. "Come on."

Anakin said nothing as he allowed Padmé to direct him up the mossy steps toward the temple. His legs felt heavy and his throat grew increasingly constricted as they ascended. With each passing step, horrible images of that night flashed before his eyes.

Obi-Wan on his knees, hand clasping his mutilated shoulder while Elegius prowled over him with the Darksaber in hand.

Another step.

Now it was Padmé, suspended several feet in the air while her eyes rolled into the back of her skull, the invisible grip on her throat not relenting in spite of the vigorous flailing of her legs.

Another step.

His mother's incandescent eyes boring into him as she leapt down the staircase toward his prone form, activated blade held over her head, ready to strike…

"Anakin? Anakin are you alright?"

Anakin looked to his right to see a concerned expression imprinted on Padmé's face. It seemed he had frozen up, unable to take any more steps. Unable to endure any more horrible memories.

"I'm fine," he said in a gruff voice. Turning away from her, Anakin released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in. "Let's keep going."

Jaw clenched, Anakin forced himself to make it to the top of the hill without any further episodes. All the while he could feel Padmé's eyes on him, probing his expression for any signs of further distress. He tried to keep things from her, but he doubted he ever actually succeeded. She had always been far better at reading him than he was at reading her.

With her prominent position as both a senator and a key member of Chancellor Organa's coalition, he knew his wife had enough to worry about without his own demons. Therefore whenever the nightmares came – whenever he revisited Polis Massa like he had just done moments prior – he would merely slip out of bed as quietly as he could and try not to disturb her. Whenever she woke up to find him not by her side, he would simply lie and say he was tending to one of the twins. This had been easier a few years ago when the twins were infants, but now that they were old enough to sleep through the night alone, he had to get more creative with his fibs.

He didn't know why he bothered, if he was being frank. Padmé always saw right through him whenever he lied to her. Even so, she never pressured him about it. The few times she had asked him to open up to her, he had shot her down so brusquely that she had never tried again. He felt terrible about pushing her away like that, but he felt as if he had no other choice. He knew what she would say: that he needed to come to terms with his mother.

He supposed he did, but that didn't mean he wanted to do it. He knew the experience would be painful, and he had already endured enough pain for a lifetime…

"Grandpa! Grandpa!"

Roused from his dreary ruminations by the sound of his children's high-pitched voices, Anakin looked up to see that they had reached the top of stairs. Refocusing his eyes, Anakin saw the twins rushing up the gravel path toward the entrance of the temple. Standing by the door at the end of the path was the withered yet nevertheless still vibrant form of his father, Qui-Gon Jinn.

Arms held out wide, Qui-Gon kneeled down as the twins ran toward him. He and Padmé shared a smile as they watched Qui-Gon embrace both of his grandchildren simultaneously, the two twins fitting perfectly in his broad wingspan. Anakin was grateful that Qui-Gon was able to be such a big part of his children's lives. Because he was technically the Grandmaster of the Knights of Jinn, he was obliged to make fairly frequent trips to Coruscant where the new order was headquartered. Whenever he visited, he would insist on seeing the twins first thing. He absolutely adored Luke and Leia and they adored him in return.

Qui-Gon looked up to see him and Padmé approaching, a broad smile illuminating his grizzled face when their eyes met. Releasing the twins, Qui-Gon stood back up without a hint of discomfort. His physical condition had improved dramatically over the course of the past four years and he seemed happier than Anakin had ever seen him. If there was anything he could give his mother credit for, it was that she had restored his father back into the man he suspected he had been before all the hardship.

Taking a step toward them, Qui-Gon first went to greet Padmé. "It's lovely to see you again, Your Highness," he said glibly as he took both of her hands and he leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Padmé rolled her eyes yet nevertheless still smiled radiantly at Qui-Gon's facetious greeting. "Likewise, Master Jinn," she replied, tongue-in-cheek.

Their relationship had improved greatly over the years, much to Anakin's relief. They had initially been rigid and uncomfortably formal around each other, perhaps on account to long-lasting residual tension from thirteen years prior when the two had butted heads on numerous occasions. Nowadays, however, the two were on remarkably amicable terms in spite of Qui-Gon's insistence upon referring to Padmé by that defunct honorific.

Upon turning away from his daughter-in-law, Qui-Gon gave Anakin a warm smile as he extended his hand. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Anakin," he said while they shook. "Your mother is so happy."

Anakin pursed his lips and nodded absently, unable to find any words in that moment. Perhaps detecting his ambivalence, Qui-Gon's grin faded and he retracted his hand. "Why don't you and I take a walk first," he suggested. "Padmé, how about you take the twins inside? Shmi is so excited to see them."

Padmé glanced at him before nodding her acceptance. "Come on, Luke. Leia," she said, shooing the children forward toward the entrance. "Let's go meet your grandmother."

Too excited to spare any thought as to why their father wasn't joining them, Luke and Leia rushed ahead of Padmé toward the temple. Anakin and Qui-Gon watched them silently until the three of them disappeared through the door, leaving them alone in the courtyard. When the door closed shut behind Padmé, Qui-Gon sighed audibly and placed his hand on Anakin's shoulder.

"I know how difficult this is for you, Anakin," he told him. When Anakin merely nodded at this, Qui-Gon released his shoulder and extended his hand palm up. "Come," he said. "Let's walk."

Falling into step with his father, Anakin was led around the side of the temple along the perimeter of the hill's flat apex. For a long time neither said anything as they plodded along, the fragrance of the slightly damp earth serving to distract Anakin momentarily from his troubles. Corsin truly was a beautiful planet and he was genuinely happy that his father had been able to live here undisturbed with the love of his life.

"How is the Duke?" Qui-Gon finally asked once they had reached a small garden behind the temple. Anakin's mouth twitched in amusement as he ran his hands through a field of chrysanthemums, a gentle breeze causing the pink and yellow flowers to dance about cheerily.

"You know he hates it when you call him that," Anakin said, causing Qui-Gon to chuckle.

"Well he shouldn't have married a duchess if he didn't want to be called that," Qui-Gon quipped.

"That's fair," Anakin conceded, a much-needed sense of levity developing as Anakin thought back to Obi-Wan's wedding on Sundari a few weeks prior. "I haven't seen much of him. He spends most of his time on Mandalore nowadays. He's happy, though. Happier than I've ever seen him."

"That's good," Qui-Gon said, his voice rich with pride for his former Padawan. "And what about you?" Qui-Gon asked after a brief silence. "Are you happy?"

Anakin hesitated, the seemingly innocent question catching him off guard. He had never before asked himself this. And why should he have? There had always been more pressing concerns in his life than happiness. He suspected his childhood as a slave had inhibited his proclivity toward self-reflection. His mother had always been stern with him whenever he complained about things – whether it be because of a lack of food, lack of adequate air conditioning during the sweltering summer months on Tatooine, or just the sheer boredom of working in Watto's shop. It was because of his mother that he had learned humility and how to come to terms with the meager and the mundane alike.

"I suppose I am," Anakin said finally after a long period of silent contemplation. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Qui-Gon give him a skeptical look. "What, do you think I'm lying?" he asked defensively.

"Of course not," Qui-Gon said as they approached a quaint wooden bench at the end of the row of flowers. Leaning forward, Qui-Gon grabbed the curved armrest to support himself as he sat down, sighing audibly as he did so. Anakin remained standing, his hands held behind his back as he looked down at his father.

"Stand a little to the right, why don't you?" Qui-Gon told him, squinting mightily as the sun bore down on him. Complying, Anakin took a step to his right, blocking out the intense sunlight with his body. "Ah, much better. Thank you."

"I am happy," Anakin insisted with greater force now that his father was fully in the shade. "I have a family and a cause. Why wouldn't I be happy?"

"I never insinuated that you weren't," Qui-Gon said smoothly.

"But –"

"Anakin, stop," Qui-Gon said, holding up a calloused hand. "I understand your predicament perfectly."

Anakin furrowed his brow at this, not understanding what it was his father was talking about. "I don't have a predicament," he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and adopting a surly frown.

Qui-Gon smiled thinly at Anakin's reticence. "It's okay to admit it, Ani," he said. "You miss her, don't you?" Anakin swallowed hard and remained silent, unsure how to react to this question. "Believe me, I know what that feels like," Qui-Gon said wearily. "For nearly half my life, I was missing her."

"I don't –" Anakin started to stay, but Qui-Gon interrupted him.

"You can be happy and still miss her, Anakin," he told him. "When she disappeared for the second time, I didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, I was devastated that I had lost her again. But on the other, I got to be a father for you." Qui-Gon paused, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at him with a proud, almost cloying expression. "Believe me when I tell you that discovering that you were my son was the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me."

Anakin did believe him. Not once had he ever doubted his father's love for him. Out of all the wild vicissitudes that made up his life, that was perhaps the one constant which he could always rely on. "I felt so guilty about that, though," Qui-Gon continued. "It didn't feel right for me to be happy with you when she wasn't by my side. Do you understand that?"

Anakin nodded, thinking back to the days when he had practically raised the twins all by himself because Padmé had been so busy with restoring the Senate in the aftermath of Elegius' coup. After having overcome his initial frustrations about the twins not taking to him like they did to their mother, Anakin had found himself in a state of utmost bliss when he was alone with his children. He had never before felt as fulfilled and as content as he did when he was caring for Luke and Leia. The guilt of not being able to share that experience with Padmé, however, had tainted his joy for the longest time.

"It wouldn't have been fair to you if I had allowed myself to wallow away in self-pity," Qui-Gon said, forehead creased as he stared blankly at his knee. "You needed me to be a father, and that's what I forced myself to become. Not a husband, but a father." Qui-Gon paused and looked back up to meet Anakin's gaze. "You need to make that transition as well," he said.

Anakin narrowed his eyes, a curious mixture of indignation and puzzlement rendering him silent for a few moments. "What are you trying to say?" he asked finally, a slight edge to his voice as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Anakin, I know you are a wonderful husband and an even better father," Qui-Gon prefaced. "But deep down you still identify yourself as your mother's son." Anakin opened his mouth at once to object, but Qui-Gon didn't give him the opportunity. "There's a reason why you were so reluctant to come and visit us and why it's taken you four whole years to confront her," he said. "It's not because you hate her, but because you love her."

Anakin opened his mouth, but no words came out as the veracity of that statement caught him by surprise. "You're right," he said finally, jaw clenched as he elevated his chin. "But that doesn't mean I don't hate her also."

"Of course not," Qui-Gon agreed. "But you only hate her so much because of how deeply you love her." Once again, Qui-Gon continued on without letting Anakin interject. "What I think you need to come to terms with is the fact that your mother no longer is the central actor in your life," he said. "I know it can be hard for you to admit this, but the sooner you do, the better off you'll be."

"I don't even know what that's supposed to mean," Anakin said haughtily, beginning to grow frustrated with his father's pontificating.

"Anakin, for your whole life your mother has been the most important person to you. Even when you were with me on Coruscant, it was Shmi who you really wanted by your side, not me."

"That's not true!" Anakin insisted at once.

Qui-Gon held up his hand to stop him, smiling thinly as he shook his head. "It's perfectly alright, Anakin," he said. "Your bond with your mother has always been and will always be deeper than your bond with me. There is no point in denying it." Anakin very much wanted to deny this particular claim, but he knew there was little point in arguing with Qui-Gon about it. "The point is, your life up until now has been defined in terms of your relationship with your mother. That is why you were and still are devastated by what happened on Polis Massa."

Anakin swallowed hard and looked up from his father to peer off at the horizon, a thin sheen of perspiration emerging on his forehead in the morning heat. "So what do you want me to do?" he asked after a brief silence.

"Commit yourself to your family," Qui-Gon said without pause. "Let go of the past and embrace your new life as not only a son, but as a father and a husband and a friend."

Anakin closed his eyes and lowered his head. He had never been good at introspection or at understanding why he felt the things that he felt. Despite instinctively wanting to reject what his father was saying and insist that his mother was no longer a fundamental part of his life, he knew that he couldn't. Everything made so much sense when he attributed Qui-Gon's lens of analysis to his life. There was a reason why he to this day continued to be haunted by nightmares of Polis Massa and there was a reason why he didn't feel fully happy despite having what many would consider a perfect life.

"You should talk to her at some point," his father had told him that fateful day after Elegius had nearly killed him. "It doesn't have to be now, nor does it have to be at any point in the immediate future. But eventually, you need to talk to her."

"I suppose it's time," he said aloud as he opened his eyes.

Qui-Gon smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling with that familiar expression of pride. "Indeed it is," he confirmed. Extending his hand to him, Anakin grasped it and helped his father back to his feet. Squeezing his hand firmly, Qui-Gon reached up with his left hand and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Let's go talk to your mother," he said.

"They're absolutely beautiful, Padmé."

Her daughter-in-law merely smiled in response and glanced away toward her children who had just run off to explore the rest of the temple. As the joyous twins' footsteps faded, Shmi pursed her lips and looked down, feeling supremely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"I'm so sorry that you haven't been able to meet them until now," Padmé said, prompting Shmi to look back up sharply. "If it were up to me, you would have been a part of their lives."

Shmi contemplated Padmé's genuine expression for a moment before sagging her head once more. "You are a remarkable woman," she said heavily. "After what I did to you and Anakin –"

"I know that wasn't you, Shmi," Padmé interrupted, her voice emblazoned with ardor whereas Shmi's was wavering with frailty. "That was Elegius."

Once more, Shmi forced herself to overcome her shame and look back up at Padmé. Meeting her eyes, however, Shmi was overwhelmed by a surge of guilt and awkwardness. She had never been good at making conversation nor at keeping eye contact, and the fact that she had nearly killed this young woman four years ago served to amplify her preexisting social anxieties.

Perhaps detecting Shmi's tension, Padmé attempted to soothe her by reaching out and placing a hand on her forearm. Instinctively, Shmi flinched at the gesture. Padmé's hand was placed directly on the intersection of flesh and metal where her hand had been sliced off by Windu's blade, the sensation of the gentle touch shocking her to the core.

The tense moment was mercifully cut short when the soft pattering sounds of Luke and Leia's footsteps suddenly reemerged. Both women turned their heads to the right to see the twins approaching. As they ran through the circular atrium and toward the hallway where she and Padmé were standing, Shmi's upper lip curled upward at the sight. The twins were alight with that same buoyant enthusiasm which she had once cherished in her own son…

"Mommy! Mommy!"

"What is it Ani?"

"What is it Leia?"

"Look what I found!"

"Look what Luke found!"

Padmé met her children's smile with equivalent ebullience as she kneeled down so she could be on their eye level. Shmi swallowed hard and turned away, the symmetry triggering a flash of bittersweet memories. Unable to bear it, Shmi found herself walking away – her one fleshed hand trembling while her mechanical one remained conspicuously motionless.

Padmé was calling after her, but Shmi drowned the voice out as she fled. Pressing her hands to her ears, Shmi took a turn down another hallway and out of sight. Eyes shut tightly, Shmi's breathing began to accelerate and her chest heaved as she marched on.

She had known this was going to be a mistake. At Qui-Gon's insistence, however, she had acquiesced. Of course she wanted to meet her grandchildren, but she didn't feel ready to confront their parents yet. Oddly enough, it had been even worse than she had envisaged because Padmé had been so cordial with her. She had anticipated, and perhaps even hoped that she would have hated her. She had every right to do so. But she didn't. She instead said she forgave her.

How? She had strangled her! She had been so close to killing her and taking her away from her children. Those beautiful children never would have known their parents had Shmi succumbed to her impulses. She would have taken them for her own and trained them to be ruthless machines just like their grandmother.

It was somewhat of a relief to her that Anakin hadn't adopted the same mindset as his wife. She wanted him to fear her. She wanted him to know that she was a monster and that he had to do everything in his power to avoid her fate. Yet at the same time, she missed him so much. Life with Qui-Gon on Corsin was wonderful, of course, but every day she yearned to be reunited with her son whom she had been separated from for over half of his lifetime.

She hated how weak she was. She knew it was wrong for her to want Anakin back in her life, but she didn't have the discipline to stop herself. She had no right to ask for his forgiveness! And yet she desired that above all else…

Wrenching the door to the meditation chamber open, Shmi rushed inside. Sealing the door behind her, Shmi exhaled deeply as she felt her stress begin to melt away inside this serene room. Whenever she was struck by the memories or the guilt, she would come here. Whenever Qui-Gon wasn't around – whether he be on Coruscant or merely outside in the garden like he was now – Shmi took solace in the Force to ameliorate her pain.

But that's all it was: a bandage. Shmi knew that the pain would never leave her until she came to terms with not only Anakin, but with herself.

That was the crux of her conflict: she despised herself. The natural power she commanded revolted and terrified her now whereas it had once intoxicated her. She had seen what that power could do, how it could taint and corrupt even the purest of intentions. She wanted to be free of this power and with it, the pain.

Qui-Gon wouldn't let her, though. He was a fool for loving her, but who was the greater fool? Him for loving a monster or her for allowing herself to love him in return? Who was she to love him after all she had done to him and to his sons? Nearly killing Anakin was bad enough, but she had actually stabbed Obi-Wan in the shoulder without a hint of remorse! She had known that Qui-Gon loved his former Padawan in the same way in which he loved Anakin, and yet she had disregarded that fact and tried to kill both of them anyway.

Every single day for the past four years, Shmi had had this very same debate with herself. It was the most agonizing form of torture. She couldn't tell Qui-Gon about it because he refused to hear her tell him the truth: that she hated herself. He couldn't bear to know that and she couldn't bear to tell him. The lie worked, and Shmi was entirely willing to keep up the façade for as long as Qui-Gon wanted her to. They were happy together – he somewhat more so than her, but wasn't that always how their relationship had been?

But perhaps Qui-Gon wasn't as happy as she thought he was. After all, why would he be so insistent that she and Anakin come to terms? Perhaps Qui-Gon knew that she had been lying to him all along…

Shmi's eyes flew open at the abrupt sound of a brisk knock on the door which echoed loudly in the high-ceilinged chamber. Without waiting for her to admit him entry, Qui-Gon opened the door and walked over toward her swiftly, a frown imprinted on his face as he looked down at her. As she was seated cross-legged on the floor, she had to crane her neck considerably in order to meet his discontented glower.

"What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly when he came to a stop a few feet in front of her, his shadow entirely subsuming her figure. Shmi opened her mouth to explain, but no words came to her. What could she tell him? That she had felt too guilty to speak to her daughter-in-law and too terrified to properly greet her grandchildren? That was the truth, but the truth wasn't the medium through which she and Qui-Gon most often conversed.

Detecting her reticence, Qui-Gon's countenance smoothed out as a more solicitous expression replaced the formerly judgmental one. "Padmé told me what happened," he said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone like that."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she said at once in a husky voice. She meant that. Any apology from Qui-Gon was undue in her mind after everything she had done to him.

"Come on," he said as he extended his hand to her. "We should do this together."

Shmi swallowed hard as she eyed Qui-Gon's hand with apprehension. "Is… is Ani out there?" she asked in a small voice.

Qui-Gon contemplated her pained expression for a few moments before affirming her question. "He is," he said simply. "It's time, Shmi. Let's go talk to our son."

Shmi clutched her husband's hand fiercely with her fleshed left one as they walked solemnly down the hall and toward the main atrium where Anakin and his family was waiting for them. With each successive step, Shmi felt increasingly anxious and afraid. Were it not for Qui-Gon's guiding presence, she would have turned and fled long ago.

But she couldn't do that. She owed it to Qui-Gon to do this.

What even was 'this' though? Was she going to apologize? Or was Anakin supposed to apologize? If so, what for? And how were either of them going to find the strength to face each other after four whole years?

No answers presented themselves to her as she plodded forward with Qui-Gon's assistance. Taking a turn into the main aisle, Shmi inhaled sharply when she turned her head and saw him for the first time.

Anakin was standing in the center of the atrium next to Padmé, the top of his head basked in a warm golden light from the circular window at the top of the temple. He looked just as nervous as she felt, wringing his hands as he stared determinedly at the floor. Padmé got up on her toes and whispered something to him, prompting Anakin to look up sharply to see them approaching.

Shmi stopped walking abruptly when their eyes met. She was frozen in place, unable to move just like she had been that terrible day…

Shmi, no!

Mom, don't…

Shmi! Stop!

"Shmi? Shmi, are you alright?"

Shmi's momentary paralysis was broken when Qui-Gon gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Taking a shaky breath, she looked away from Anakin and up to her husband.

"I…I'm okay," she said unconvincingly.

Qui-Gon gave her a knowing look before nodding. "Come on," he mumbled softly. Allowing him to lead her onward, Shmi instinctively attempted to get closer to Qui-Gon, her rock. She was practically leaning against his shoulder when they emerged from the hallway and into the atrium. Shmi blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the natural light of the spacious room.

"Hello, Mom," Anakin said woodenly, he too grasping his partner's hand tightly for support as they looked at each other.

Shmi tried to reciprocate the greeting, yet found that she was unable. Her mouth felt dry and her tongue utterly immobilized. All was silent as Shmi looked back and forth between Anakin and Padmé, feeling choked up all of a sudden.

Shmi, please…

Padmé's eyes were rolling back in her skull as she struggled against Shmi's inexorable grip. She had mere moments before her neck would fold in on itself like Dooku's had…

This ends now.

Anakin was standing over her with the unactivated hilt of his father's lightsaber in hand. His eyes were burning with fury yet also stinging with hurt for what she had tried to do to his wife.

I won't kill you, Mom. I won't do it.

Weakling.

The mellifluous sound of laughter startled Shmi back to the present, the dulcet tones ringing loudly in the atrium. Tearing her eyes away from Anakin and toward the source of this plangent music, Shmi saw the two twins running toward their parents from the opposite hallway.

Padmé and Anakin both turned around to face their children. "Luke! Leia! No running in doors!" Padmé said tersely. "Don't make me tell you again."

"That's quite alright, Padmé," Qui-Gon said with a slight chuckle. "I run up and down these halls every day for my therapy, you know." Padmé turned and gave Qui-Gon a withering glare, clearly not appreciative of his interjection. Realizing his mistake, Qui-Gon hastily made to correct himself. "I mean, er… you should listen to your mother, children," he said to the twins.

Luke and Leia smirked at each other yet offered no objection to this. An awkward silence ensued, the tension in the room so palpable even the twins must have detected it. Finally, Qui-Gon cleared his throat and spoke.

"Hey, Padmé, why don't I give you and the twins a tour," he suggested, giving Shmi a side glance as he did so. "Let Anakin and Shmi do some catching up."

Shmi's eyes widened at this proposition and she tightened her grip on Qui-Gon's arm so as to prevent him from leaving her. Anakin looked similarly distressed by this proposal and he opened his mouth to object.

"I don't think that's –"

"That's a lovely idea, Qui-Gon," Padmé interrupted her husband in a loud voice. She gave Anakin a pointed look as she released his hand and took a step toward Qui-Gon. "Lead the way?"

Qui-Gon grimaced slightly as he managed to wrench his hand out of Shmi's ironclad grasp. "I'd be delighted," he said, flexing his fingers gingerly behind his back. Shmi and Anakin both watched with horrified expressions as their respective spouses walked away speedily.

How could he have betrayed her like that? This must have been Qui-Gon's plan all along! That blasted nerf herder…

For a full minute, neither Shmi nor Anakin said anything as they listened to the footsteps retreat and finally disappear entirely. Realizing she had no choice but to talk with him, Shmi reluctantly looked up at her son.

He evidently had not been as bold as she as his eyes were still fixated on the horizon where Padmé, Qui-Gon, and the twins had gone. Feeling her eyes on him, however, Anakin slowly turned his head back around to meet her gaze.

All was still. They just stared at each other for the longest time, neither knowing what to say nor how to say it.

"You look well," she said finally, her voice cracking midway through.

"You do too," Anakin commented.

Shmi nodded and looked away as she fought against the urge to run. She so wanted to go hide in the meditation chamber once more, but she couldn't. She could run away from everyone else, but not Anakin. She couldn't run away from her son. She never could.

"Ani –" she began to say, but he cut her off.

"Don't call me that," he said brusquely.

Shmi winced and nodded. "You're right, I'm sorry," she apologized at once. "I didn't mean to –"

"Why did you do it?"

Shmi caught her breath and looked up at Anakin, the bitterness in his tone causing her lower lip to tremble. He hated her. Of course he did.

"Why did you try to kill me?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head vigorously. "Don't ask a question you already know the answer to, Anakin," she told him. "You know very well why I did what I did."

"Actually, I don't," Anakin said bitingly as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I resisted it, Mom. I felt the darkness, but I didn't give into it like you did. Why couldn't you reject it like I did?"

Shmi's voice caught in her throat when she saw that Anakin's eyes were mirroring her own, glistening with unshed tears as he looked down at her. It crushed her to see him like this. Even though she had managed to press the trigger just in time to stop the Darksaber from plunging through him, she had hurt her son deeply by bringing the despicable weapon down on him at all. In that moment, her son's perception of her had finally been shattered completely.

That must have been a devastating experience for him. She knew that Anakin had always looked up to her as his idol. Beyond that, Anakin had loved her in the purest possible way. The bond between mother and son had been so strong that it had taken only the most barbaric of acts to sever. And that's what she had done. She had performed the most heinous act of barbarism imaginable; she had tried to kill her own child.

"I don't have an answer for you, Anakin," she confessed as tears began to stream down her cheeks. "All I can tell you is that I feel horrible. I feel so, so horrible for what I did to you. Every single day I'm haunted by what I did."

Anakin gulped and looked down at his feet. "I'm haunted too," he said in a voice that was barely audible. "I still have nightmares of that night."

Mommy, I'm scared.

What are you afraid of, Ani?

I had a nightmare. A bad man was coming to get me.

It was just a dream, Ani. No one is going to get you. I won't let them.

"I want to be free of this pain."

"And I want to be free of this guilt."

"So how do we do it? How do we gain our freedom?"

After all this time, they were still slaves. And it was all her fault.

She had been the one to turn herself into the slave traders, and she had been the one to reinforce their chains even after they had left Tatooine behind.

She was responsible for it all.

"There's something you should see."

Shmi wiped her eyes and sniffled loudly. Looking down, she saw Anakin reach into his robes. When his hand reemerged, Shmi's eyes widened in disbelief when she saw what he was holding.

"We found it at the base of the Senate building," Anakin told her as she stared down in awe at her old Jedi lightsaber which she had never expected upon seeing again. The lustrous material of the familiar hilt sparkled in the golden light in which she and Anakin were basked.

"There, uh… there was a hand attached to that," she said weakly. "Did you find that too?"

"Erm, no. No, we did not," Anakin said uncomfortably. Shmi blinked a few times as she looked up from her beloved hilt to her son's face. "I wield this blade as my own now," he said as he rotated the hilt slowly in his hands. "I want you to tell me if that is a mistake."

Bemused by this question, Shmi tilted her head curiously. "I don't understand," she said.

"In my left, I bear the blade of my father and in my right, that of my mother," Anakin said solemnly. "I keep the memory of those who raised me wherever I go." Anakin paused, his eyes oscillating rapidly as he scrutinized her strained expression. "Was the mother I loved ever real? Did you ever love me like I thought you did?"

Shmi was stunned speechless by this question. So that's how he felt? He thought that she had lied to him his whole life? While she was horrified to find out that he felt that way, she couldn't really blame him. After all, what type of a person tried to kill someone they claimed to love? A monster, that's who.

"Well? Did you?" Anakin asked, the hostility in his tone belying his evident distress. She could sense that for Anakin, everything was riding on her answer. He needed to know the truth. He would never be able to fully heal without this answer – whether it be the one he wanted or otherwise.

But the answer wasn't otherwise. Not once had she ever lied to him about that.

"Of course I did, Anakin," she told him, doing everything in her power to convey the candidness of her words. "Everything I ever did, I did it for you. I just got so… warped by my own power that I lost sight of what mattered most. I…I… " Shmi trailed off, her chin trembling so badly that it was difficult to speak. "I've always loved you, Ani," she finally managed to say, her voice garbled and thick with emotion. "And I… I forever will," she concluded with a rather inelegant sniffle.

Bowing her head in shame, Shmi covered her eyes with her hands as tears began to flow freely. Her shoulders began to shake as great sobs wracked her body, the trial of this ordeal taking its toll upon her like none of the others had.

"Very well."

Shmi lowered her hands from her eyes and looked up at Anakin. He had returned her lightsaber to his belt and was meeting her gaze with a firm resolve.

"If you really mean that, I am willing to move on."

Shmi gave a hearty sob as she hastily wiped away the snot from her nose with her quivering left hand. "I mean it, Ani," she insisted with the utmost desperation. "I mean it, I mean it. I love you, Ani. I love you."

Anakin nodded once and his lips twitched in the subtlest of smiles. "I know," he said.

Unable to stop herself, Shmi threw herself into Anakin's chest and wrapped her arms around him with all the strength she could muster. Her eyes were shut tight, but the tears continued to flow unimpeded. Anakin too seemed to be crying, but he had managed to maintain his dignity far more so than she had.

They rocked back and forth in the center of the atrium for minutes on end, each of them relishing the restoration of their bond. Pressing her forehead against Anakin's neck, Shmi was unable to cease murmuring her apology into his ear. To her great relief, Anakin didn't try to stop her like Qui-Gon would have. He must have understood how good it felt for her to say those simple words.

I'm sorry.

And she was so, so sorry. But even more so than that, she was happy. For the first time in perhaps… ever. She was happy. The fracture she had inflicted upon her family had finally been mended.

That didn't mean that everything had been made right. It hadn't. What she had done could never, and should never be forgotten.

But it had been forgiven.

And because of that she was free. Both of them were now free.

Their chains were no more.

THE END

Author's Note: When I first sat down to write this story this summer, I never imagined that it would span thirty years and over 200,000 words. Once I got started, however, I found it impossible to stop. Writing the ending was therefore the hardest part for me. I delayed writing the last two chapters as long as I could because I didn't want to say goodbye to these characters with whom I have spent so much time. Perhaps you might have a similar feeling. Regardless, now that the deed is done I would like to thank each and every one of you for reading and providing feedback. It's extremely gratifying as an author to receive criticism of any kind, so I appreciate all of your reviews.

The original conception of this story featured Shmi Skywalker as the estranged Sith apprentice of Darth Plagueis who had ran away to Tatooine after becoming pregnant with Anakin. It would have been a fairly simple story, with Qui-Gon discovering Shmi and Anakin on Tatooine without knowing about Shmi's dark past. I felt that this would have been a disservice to Shmi's character, however. I find it to be a much more fulfilling story to have a character descend to the darkness and return to the light only after much tribulation rather than merely being dark in the beginning and being redeemed at the end (*cough* Kylo *cough*). Therefore I restructured the story. I made Shmi a Jedi rather than a Sith. I gave her an endearing yet flawed personality which I hoped the readers could relate to. In short, Shmi's life was full of contradictions. She was accomplished and powerful, yet also shy and unconfident. She was dogmatic and devoted to the Jedi Code, yet also blatantly defied it by marrying Qui-Gon. The most crucial contradiction of all, however, was that she loved her husband yet was unwilling to commit herself to him until the very end.

Ultimately, this is a story about love and family. In fact, Star Wars as a whole is predominantly about these things, or at least for me it is. That's what makes it so powerful and poignant despite also being objectively fantastical and ridiculous to an extent. Shmi may be a lightsaber-wielding space wizard, but nevertheless we can still relate to her on a deeply intimate level. You can feel sorry for her even after she commits the most heinous of offenses and you can root for her even when you know she is traversing down the wrong path. She is simultaneously the protagonist and the antagonist. You can hate her and love her at the same time like Anakin does. And at the end I hope you can come to forgive her.