Star Wars 1. Prologue

**A/N:** Welcome to my first Star Wars fanfiction! I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

**WARNING:** Birthing! in the very last scene. If that grosses you out then you should skip it. It is not necessarily important to read it to understand the story, I think.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own the idea of the Star Wars universe nor do I make any profit by publishing this story.

* * *

**"You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star." Friedrich Nietzsche**

**Prologue (Shmi's POV)**

* * *

Her new owner wasn't as bad as she had feared but as a slave she had learned early on to expect the worst. As soon as someone was in a position of power it immediately started to corrupt them. Of course there were exceptions like Pi-Lippa, her previous owner. She treated Shmi Skywalker like a fellow human-being and not like the sand that just got _everywhere_ here on Tatooine.

Pi-Lippa's son was not as kind as his mother who had promised her freedom but died before she was able to fulfill Shmi's deepest desire. She was to clean up his and his wife's household, cook the meals, and help out with the small food shop that her master owned. Whenever she was at the shop she was mostly stacking the goods in the back of the shop, organizing the incoming ware and so on. It was a lot of work. While not overly strenuous, it was time-consuming and made her fall like a dead heap on top of her mattress at the end of each day.

But this didn't explain why she had been feeling especially tired for the last two weeks. Often times getting off the floor mattress was the hardest thing to do in the morning and the exhaustion wouldn't let up throughout the day.

Her master hadn't noticed yet as she had been trying to put on a façade for him whenever he was close by. As long as she got the work done she could live from day to day. This must be a phase after all – nothing serious. The only thing that worried her were the beatings she would surely receive for slacking off.

With a sigh she continued stacking desert sages on top of each other in the back of the shop. Soon it was time for her master to do an inventory control again to make sure that she hadn't stolen anything of the food. Slaves were tightly rationed with water, food and other supplies. Pi-Lippa had never cared about controlling her food rations but her son made lists that said how much rations she was allowed to receive a week – it always felt as if it was never quite enough.

Maybe that was the reason for her tiredness: As a none-native she had always had problems with the heat and the little water she was allowed to drink. Every single little drop became precious in her eyes and she tried to behave as best as she could so that she couldn't get punished with a lessened water ration. Hopefully, everything would go well with the inventory control, which was all she could hope for.

* * *

When she first noticed that she had missed her cycle Shmi didn't worry too much. After all, stress and the relentless tiredness could do that to any woman. She hadn't been with a man for many years so there was nothing to be anxious about – other things had her much more worried.

Like the open welts on her back that she had received this afternoon after organizing the foods in the wrong order, again. The inventory control had gone well, however, there was always something wrong with whatever she did. She would never be able to please him completely and her master thought, if the lessons didn't stick verbally, well, they might just stick in a more physical way. After all slaves were told to be dump – they would always learn best with something physical to prove it.

Shmi just wished that this constant tiredness would go away soon. It had caused her to be careless and unconcentrated which had brought her into the latest no matter, she would clean her wounds with the little drinking water she had left for the rest of the week. She was a slave after all and slaves didn't receive bacta. Slaves were not worth the money spent on them, she thought bitterly.

* * *

Three months later the tiredness had receded. But something else was preoccupying her mind now. As she washed her body with a damp cloth during the monthly cleanings, her hand traced over her lower stomach just right above her pelvic area. She hadn't gotten anything more to eat – just enough to keep her ribs from showing. But right there was a small rounding and a slightly harder than normal fat bump. It couldn't be right; the Tatooine suns must be given her hallucinations. There was just no way this could be possible.

"Shmi! Hurry up! The floors don't get clean by themselves!" shouted her mistress. She was far less impatient than her husband but still liked to backhand her subordinates. Shmi hurriedly put on her worn old and loose dress.

The small bump was quickly forgotten in the haze of the beating suns and the stinging smell of cleaning solutions.

* * *

The other slave living next-door with her master said what Shmi had been trying to ignore for weeks now. On a rather unremarkable day the question had come out of the blue.

"Shmi, I worry about you and I don't want to see you hurt. That is the only reason I'm asking you this."

Concern shone through her eyes as she looked Shmi up and down and eventually let them rest on Shmi's abdominal area were a small belly was produding. As a slave she knew from experience that food was never too plenty to restock the fat reserves. She hesitated a little bit until she dropped the bomb and asked: "Shmi, are you pregnant?"

That question was like a slap to the face. She had been brushing this off, the steadily growing bump that was now more like a well-rounded belly. Her hands immediately traveled towards her stomach as if to make sure that this was real. That this was not an imagination. Haja, if other people were able to see this…

"Don't worry, Shmi. I'll keep your secret! We slaves must stick together! But who… I mean, I have never seen you with anyone..."

Who was the father?

That was a question Shmi couldn't answer. At first she had thought it was a tumor, or that her belly was just bloated. But she hadn't had any other symptoms other than the tiredness and even that was not a typical symptom. And then she had been reminded of her missing cycles that had always been regular throughout her life.

"There was no father", Shmi answered with hands clenched over her belly. She felt so alone, so desperate during that moment. What was her master going to do with her when he realized her condition? She would receive the beating of her life. Oh, Haja! She couldn't let that happen, what if she miscarried because of that?

Her friend looked at her in confusion but then her eyes suddenly became wide and infinitely sad shortly afterwards. Shmi could see pity and compassion glittering in them and she wondered why.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you. Don't feel guilty! It was not your fault!"

What was she talking about? Oh. She thought that Shmi had been raped. How else could her friend rationalize her response? Shmi decided to leave her in that belief since she wouldn't believe the truth anyways. The truth that her child had been conceived without a father. Without seed. Without love. But that wasn't quite true. She would love this child, even if it wasn't created in the natural way. In fact, she thought that she already loved the child that was steadily growing inside of her.

And suddenly she remembered an evening a few months ago. She had been gazing up to the stars because had been so exhausted after another hard day. She had simply lain down on the way from the shop to the small cell with the worn mattress in it. The sand was a soft ground for her hurting back, that was throbbing after lifting and bending it all day, and it welcomed her like a mother would welcome her child. It was pleasantly cool since the twin-suns had already set a few hours ago.

The stars had been so beautiful that night and she simply had rejoiced in their beauty. She had lived in that moment - in that moment of awe as the universe looked down at her. Shmi had felt so small but at the same time her heart had opened up to all that existed. She had closed her eyes only to open them in shock and utter panic when she had felt something cool and leathery sliding up her right leg and onto her stomach.

Her eyes had slowly traveled towards her middle section in fear where she had caught sight of the unmoving eyes of a serpent. Its scales had gleamed in the darkness and its tongue had shot out to taste the air. Both animal and human had stared at each other as if they had been removed from time and space. It had seemed to last forever but the moment had been over before any rational thoughts could have been formed when the snake had slid off her stomach and disappeared into the darkness.

Shmi had almost forgotten about his encounter until her friend started talking about the father. Could it be possible that her child had been conceived that night? On that magical, out-of-the-ordinary night?

She dropped her hands from her slightly rounded belly and smiled at her friend.

"Don't worry, everything will be alright."

She didn't know from where she had gotten such a conviction but she was certain of it. Everything would be just fine.

She turned and brought the water cans with her that she had been ordered to get for her mistress.

* * *

As it turned out, everything would not be 'just fine'.

When her master found out that she was five months pregnant because she simply could not hide her showing belly anymore she was sold to a slave trader. After all, a pregnant woman was useless and a baby would just be a distraction, extra expense and extra work. Shmi was only happy that he hadn't decided to beat her.

After she realized that she really was carrying a child beneath her heart she was elated, scared, and awed all at the same time. There was no use questioning how it had happened so she decided to drop the question of the "How" and to live in the moment. Day by day as each sunrise her stomach grew bigger.

Being for sale was another issue: She couldn't be sold, the slave trader soon realized. Nobody wanted a slave that was obviously in no condition to work hard and as a result he gave her less food so that she wouldn't be much of a burden to his money sack anymore. Shmi worried about the baby and she prayed to whatever force there was out there that it would be born healthily.

One day the slave trader and his helpers huddled all the slaves into a tiny ship that would carry them to Mos Espa, the biggest city of Tatooine. Business hadn't been good lately and that destination was promising.

During meal time Shmi was gnawing on the small piece of bread that she was given. All too soon she was finished and looked hungrily to the other slaves who still had a little bit more to eat.

"Here, you can have half of mine. You need it more than I do," an old rough voice said.

Startled, Shmi looked up into the kind eyes of an elderly woman. Her hair was snow white decorated with beads and small braids, her skin darkened and wrinkled from the twin-suns. Her old coarse hands held another piece of bread that she was offering Shmi.

"Thank you," Shmi whispered gratefully and took it to her mouth and began to bite and chew the gift carefully.

"Do not worry, young one. I've born children of my own and I know what it's like to be in that constant hunger," the elderly woman smiled kindly at her.

"It is so rare to find true kindness in this harsh life," Shmi stated gratefully with one hand on top of her rounded belly. It had cicked a little bit as if the baby wanted to thank the woman as well.

And thus a long-lasting friendship was established.

* * *

As the end of her pregnancy arrived Shmi felt – instead of nervousness – an increasing amount of calm. She knew that the baby must be developing properly but she wasn't be able to explain why she knew that. Shmi began to simply lie on the ground during the nights, gazing at the stars, rubbing her dropping belly in deep trance. The stars enchanted her, whispered to her in languages that she couldn't understand.

Her dreams were always of a rushing but comforting wind. It was nothing like the harsh sandstorms of Tatooine that often ravished the lands. This wind calmed her, made her feel truly warm and loved – a feeling that she hadn't experienced throughout her whole existence as a slave.

The serpent visited her in her dreams as well. It would always stare at her with its cold unmoving eyes. However, Shmi was never scared of it. The opposite was true in fact: She felt comforted by its knowing gaze.

She asked Jira if it was normal to feel so calm shortly before the birth of her first child. The old woman only smiled and said that every birth is different and unique to mother and child. So she let herself be carried by calming waves of warm winds that were comforting her in her dreams and by the presence of the snake.

* * *

Thinking back, Shmi thought that Jira had knew that she was in labor before she had knew it. The whole day she had been shifting and sighing, letting out small moans of discomfort when she felt pressure on her large abdomen. It was night time again when the contractions started in earnest.

At first, the pain was excruciating. Jira tried to calm her down but she could only hear the blood rushing in her head whenever another contraction hit her. This didn't feel right. This was not how it was supposed to be: Her body was shaking in exertion and pain. Sweat was dripping down her forehead while she tried to control her breathing as Jira told her to. It felt like hours until there weren't any breaks in between the rushes anymore. Her muscles had completely clamped up to expel the baby within her body. She was barely lucid enough to register that something was still wrong.

And with a load groaning exhale she looked up to the stars – and was captivated. Suddenly it all was so easy. Finally she understood their language.

Give up control, they whispered. Your body knows what to do. And she did give up. She changed positions, let the pain ebb through her, used it as a conduit to greater power. Suddenly she knew.

The pain fell off and the only thing mattering in the world was the baby and herself. She could hear nothing but the rushing wind of her dreams and feel nothing else but the pressure and love. She opened herself up and haja! How the universe embraced her! With renewed strength she pushed. And it was perfect.

Jira caught her baby as it was pushed out so carefully but without hesitation – not too fast and not too slow. Simply perfect.

And Shmi cried and laughed at the same time as she held her beautiful baby son for the first time.

Jira murmured to herself: "It was perfect. Haja, it was beautiful!"

But Shmi only had eyes for the miracle that she held in her arms and she thanked the stars and all that was holy that he was born, save and unharmed. A gift given by the stars.

And a name slipped out of her mouth before she could think of it.

"My Anakin. My beautiful Ani."

* * *

A/N: I have always thought that Shmi's unexpected pregnancy must have been a real shock for her and for her to be able to love Anakin like she did is truly amazing. I've always admired that and so I tried to work this into the story. I have four more chapters written out but they all need to be edited while I simultaneously write more chapters. Hopefully I will be able to stick with this story. Wish me luck :-)


	2. Being A Slave

**A/N: **Here is the first chapter. Thanks to _Jedi Master Misty Sman-Esay_ for dropping a review. I hope you all continue to enjoy my story.

* * *

**Chapter I: Being a Slave**

* * *

The first time they took her son away from her was when they implanted the transmitter beneath his skin. She screamed and raved, wanting to be by her son's side when it happened in order to at least hold his hand but she was held back by some healers. When she received him back and held him close to her bosom she saw that there were tear tracks of pain running down Anakin's chubby cheeks but his skin was unmarred. No slave was to know where their implant was to be located so this was the one and only occasion a slave received a bacta treatment. Shmi quickly rewrapped her son back into the tattered blanket that she had cut out from her own blanket in the slave quarters.

Soon after her son was born Shmi was bought by Gardulla the Hutt and her life consisted out of serving and pleasing her new mistress. Oftentimes, she was separated from Anakin whenever he wasn't quiet enough and got on Gardulla's nerves. Those were worse than the beatings – to be prevented from being a good mother to her son who was still so helpless and needed her so desperately. Many times Anakin had cried out towards her throughout the day, wanting to see his mother because he was so hungry. Then she quickly stole herself into their small room, breastfed him and left again. Every time she left him behind a little something of her heart broke away. However, things couldn't be changed. She was at the mercy of Gardulla and it hurt her so much that her son but be at her mercy, too, when he grew older.

During the nights she held him especially close, trying to soothe the nappy rashes that couldn't be prevented because she wasn't allowed to carry and care for him all the time. By that time, Anakin was oftentimes so exhausted from crying all day that he fell asleep as soon as he had finished feeding.

Gardulla soon realized that Shmi had experience with electronics and machines so she was sent to an outer post of her droid collection to repair them. There, she received odd jobs every now and then to repair things. Those were good times. Not only was she out of the evil clutches of Gardulla but also could she carry Anakin on a sling all day and sooth his needs as soon as they arrived.

During that time Anakin stopped crying. Whenever he wasn't sleeping he looked up with his big blue eyes, watching her, as to not let her out of his sight even though he was pressed tightly against her body. Around that time she was also gifted with his first smile. It was so beautiful to finally see him happy and without pain that she started to cry. Her son's smile only widened in response.

* * *

When Anakin started to become more aware of his surroundings, Shmi noticed that something was different about him. Oftentimes his childish babbling was interrupted by bouts of silence. During those times it seemed as if he was listening to something and possibly even seeing things that Shmi couldn't make any sense of. His eyes became so wide and intense; little fists were reaching out towards the wind. Gentle air caressed his face and ruffled his baby hair - this never failed to make him smile. Many times he began to laugh out of nowhere; the times he cried were reduced to almost nothing. He seemed to be a genuinely happy child if there wasn't that eerie silence that unnerved Shmi from time to time. But soon she learned to brush it off, accepted it as part of her son and learned to not interrupt these moments because they made him so happy.

* * *

One day she was cleaning up the mess in the workshop when she saw something very odd. Anakin was laying on the floor, playing with some soft cloth that wasn't dirty with machine oil, while another soft cloth was hovering over his head. Her son was staring up in delight while making some bubbly laughing noises and smiling his toothless smile. The cloth dipped and twisted, tossed and turned.

Shmi could only stare with wonder and a little bit of fear. What was happening to her Ani?

She quickly walked over to him and picked him up, thus distracting him. As soon as his gaze broke from the cloth it dropped down to the floor as if it had never been lifted by invisible hands. Shmi only shook her head.

"Aren't you full of surprises, little Ani?"

Shmi was never too scared of Anakin's strange abilities, though. Every now and then she was pleasantly surprised and even a little bit prideful: Since he wasn't conceived through normal means she had accepted that he would never be completely normal and always a little bit different from everybody else. This didn't make her love him any more or less – she just accepted this as given and continued to love him.

* * *

Soon he began to crawl and utter his first word "Mama". Soon after that he started to walk. He was a really quick learner and she constantly talked to him whenever she wasn't loaded with work. She was so proud of his first step and she couldn't be prouder of his fast grasp of the language – both Huttese and Basic. Most of the times he would start one sentence in one language and end it in the other. Shmi only laughed and answered him in one language or the other.

He had stopped hovering objects over his head but his periods of silence still prevailed. If not, they became more pronounced whenever he stopped talking in the middle of a sentence and stared off into nothing.

One time she caught him smiling softly during those times, reaching out his arms and a soft wind would tousle his blond hair. Whenever the wind did that a soft laugh would escape his lips and soon after that a small pout would pass over his face since the sand just slipped_ everywhere_.

At those times Shmi smiled to herself in amusement: Her son was just too cute!

* * *

When he turned four she recognized his passion for mechanics and technology. In the beginning she began to instruct him in the basics and she let him watch her at work but soon she realized that he was much more talented than her. Anakin started building little things from scratch – it seemed like he let his instincts guide him to do the right things. His hands worked so certainly as if he had been doing it for years. Shmi was surprised by his fine motor skills but brushed it off like all the other things that were so strange about her child because nothing could stop her from being the proudest mother in the world.

Soon after Anakin developed his mechanical skills Gardulla lost them to the Toytorianer Watto who owned a junk shop in Mos Espa not far from where they had lived so far. On the day they moved to their new destination Anakin developed a small fever which got gradually worse throughout the day.

Shmi felt helpless and didn't really know what to do since he had never been sick before even in the slightest bit. No sneezing, no coughing - he hadn't even experienced a common cold before. Only looking back she noticed how unusual that must have been. Nevertheless she didn't know what to do but when their new owner took just one glance at him he said: "He has Dust Fever. Why do I always get stuck with the useless ones? Gardulla must have done that to spite me. No matter. He will be fine in a few days. I expect you to come to work at the shop as soon as he his healthy enough again!" And the Toytorianer flew off.

Shmi had never felt so grateful in her life. Her Ani would be fine, she told herself and tried to sooth her own worries.

During the first night her son tossed and turned, sweat soaked his skin and he was clammy all over. Whenever he woke up from his strange dreams he was either staring into nothingness or crying silently with big tears rolling down his round cheeks. When she tried to sooth him and take him in her arms he thrashed around himself, not wanting to be touched. She soon realized that he wasn't really conscious of his surroundings and that he was caught up in those strange dreams.

"A storm's coming", he would whisper in low moans. He repeated that sentence several times that night but around the morning the fever went down and Anakin fell into a deep healing sleep unlike the restless ones he had been experiencing beforehand. She wondered if it was normal for the Dust Fever to be cured that quickly because she never experienced this illness herself. She hadn't grown up on Tatooine so she had never experienced that illness that was specific to that planet and to their younglings growing up on it.

For now though, she could leave Anakin alone and start her work for Watto. She had a feeling that he wouldn't be a kind owner like Pi-Lippa but he would also never be as cruel as Gardulla. Maybe he would dish out some occasional swats but hopefully he wouldn't beat his slaves just for fun – she didn't think that that was in his nature and normally Shmi was a very good judge in characters.

When she returned from the junk shop that evening she didn't expect Anakin to be out of bed yet but he sat there at the small table on the singular chair that was in their small room. As he saw his mother he sat up on wobbly feet and began to walk towards her. Shmi hurried up to him and pulled him into a comforting embrace.

"Anakin, how do you feel?"

He looked up with his eyes full of hurt and sadness. "I was all alone," and tears rolled down his face. Shmi hugged him again, tried to solace him.

"You weren't alone. I was there the whole time."

"But you wasn't there.* You died. I was alone. I was alone in that big sandstorm…" his small voice seemed to fade into nothing.

"Hush, don't think things like that. I won't die – at least not in many years when I'm all old and wrinkly like Jira" she tried to smile at him but failed when she saw how her attempt was not appreciated.

"Do you promise?" A hopeful expression. How could she say no? And how could she say yes when the future for a slave was so uncertain? Her decision was made in a heartbeat, though.

"Yes, my Ani. I promise," and a soft smile warmed her face.

He tentatively smiled back but didn't let go of her all evening.

* * *

"Anakin, what are you doing?"

Shmi had gotten out of the small house that they now owned thanks to Watto who didn't want to deal with them at his own place and so granted them a small house in the slave district of Mos Espa. She had left the protective cool of the house to see what the racket outside was all about which was disturbing her deserved hours of peace. She was disappointed to see Anakin in the middle of a fight with another slave boy – and apparently winning by choking the poor thing!

"Anakin, stop it right there!" she shouted but her order fell on deaf ears.

She acted quickly, pulled him off the other boy and dragged him away from the crowd. As soon as they were inside their home she spun around and slapped him across the face.

"What were you thinking? You could have seriously hurt that boy!"

She was so disappointed! Never in her life could she have imagined her innocent boy hurting someone else intentionally.

Anakin was looking up at her in shock with a hurt expression and with tears in his eyes.

"Oh no, young man! Your crocodile tears won't get you out of trouble this time!" Shmi yelled at him. Anakin stayed silent though, tears now leaking down his face. There was a stubborn glint in his eyes that showed that he wasn't sorry at all for what he had done.

"Alright. Go to your room. There will be no dinner for you tonight until you are ready to talk about why you did that to that boy!" She was frustrated and also feared for her son. How could he have done that? Had she not raised him right? Where had she gone wrong?

Anakin scrubbed his eyes furiously and ran into his room. Unfortunately it didn't have a door so she could hear his desperate sobs throughout dinner. After getting ready for bed she felt a lot calmer than a few hours ago. It had broken her heart to hear his crying but she had to be strong. She shouldn't give in to his childish bouts. He had been the one hurting another and lessons needed to be learned. She knew that it must have felt like betrayal to be hit by his own mother after being mistreated and beaten by Gardulla his first years in this life so she decided to ask him again.

Shmi entered his dark room and sat down on his bed. Anakin's huddled figure hid under a thin blanket.

"Anakin. Tell me why you did that to that boy?"

The small form beneath the blankets stiffened but other than that gave no reaction.

"Please, tell me. Ani, I love you. You know I cannot stay angry with you for a long time."

A loud sniff broke the silence after that until she saw swollen blue eyes peeking out from beneath the covers.

"I just-," he began to hiccup softly, "I just got so angry!"

She sighed at that non-telling admission.

"I know Ani, but why? No kind of anger justifies this kind of behavior."

"They were talking bad things about you!" His eyes turned away from her staring at the various mechanics laying around his room.

"What kind of bad things?" Her hand soothingly went down his back to rub in small circles. Suddenly she had an armful of Anakin as he flung himself into her embrace.

"They say that you are like those girls in the South of Mos Espa! They say that I am not a child created out of love!" Now he began to cry in earnest again.

Shmi was shocked that little children knew about brothels already. It was no wonder, though: Slavery robbed them of their innocence very young and easily. These children lived in an environment of adults and so they quickly knew their way around adult-behavior.

"Anakin. You know that's not true. I was never a girl like that," Shmi started to rub his back again.

"But who is my father then? Why isn't he here?"

"Oh Ani. I wish I could tell you who your father is, but not now. I will tell you when you're older. When you will be able to understand. But remember, you are the most wonderful thing that has happened to me during my entire life. I love you and nothing will ever change that."

Anakin looked into her eyes to see if she was lying. He had always had an instinctual knowledge about truth and lies.

"Yes, Mom. I love you, too. Can you stay with me tonight?"

"Yes. But tomorrow you are apologizing to that boy and you will promise me to never do that again. Never give into this kind of anger again. I taught you better than that."

Anakin looked at her hesitantly but nodded anyways. He was a good boy at heart.

"Mom, why did you slap me?"

"I am so sorry about that. I guess, I also reacted in anger. I promise to never do that again. I love you after all."

"I forgive you, Mom."

A relieved smile grazed her lips. "I'm so sorry, Baby."

"I'm no baby!" She laughed a little shakily at that exclamation. He must be feeling better if he can already feel insulted abou this wounded pride.

"Oh yes, Anakin, you are my Baby", and she hugged him tighter to herself and lay down next to Anakin's small form. Both drifted off to sleep quickly. Tomorrow would be a long day full of work while teaching Anakin to read and write and doing basic math problems. It was hard but somehow they got by. Time would wash away the pain and sorrow that was inflicted today – Shmi firmly believed in that.

* * *

* Little children do make mistakes with their Grammar. Just to let you know that this wasn't a mistake :-)

Next update is going to be next Sunday! Thank you for reading!


	3. First Lesson

**A/N: **From this point on we are quickly diverging from canon. I hope you enjoy :-) Thanks go to _Jedi Master Misty Sman-Esay_ (what a long name) and _JACarter_ for reviewing!

* * *

**Chapter II: First Lesson**

* * *

As long as Anakin could remember he had always heard voices. Sometimes even emotions that were not his own - but most of the time it was voices. Loud ones were singing and dancing to foreign songs, quiet ones were saying prayers in many different languages and every now and then he could hear the very first cry of a baby as it was born and listen to the last sigh of someone leaving this world. All of those strange noises sang and called to him and funny enough, he understood them – not on an individual basis but on a basic level. He knew instinctively that there was something bigger out there, something far more complex and at the same time far more simple than he could ever hope to understand. It was there with every breath he took; it penetrated his very being and yet it has never hurt him before. This feeling sometimes left him all warm and fuzzy, almost as if it was protecting him – enveloping him in its gentle embrace. Other times it was like a raging sand storm, needling him with loud shrill noises and yelling of no external source.

His mother didn't know about this because he couldn't put this feeling into words. This _being _outside and inside of him was without words and thus could not be explained. He always felt warm when it decided to share its memories with him, when he heard an especially beautiful song, or whenever he saw glimpses of different planets that existed in the galaxy. And since no other person knew about it there was nobody to question it because for Anakin this has always been what his life was like: It was beautifully chaotic and with structure at the same time.

Every now and then there were nights wherein he couldn't sleep; the voices were too loud, the laughter, the crying - the emotions were all just too much. On those nights, when these emotions would overwhelm him – and this happened only at night – he would sneak outside, knowing that the attempt to sleep was useless anyways. He would wonder to the edge of the slave district where Mos Espa ended and the desert began. There he would lay down on top of the cool sand, look up to the stars, and lose himself in those emotions, feelings, and impressions. Sometimes only for a few minutes, sometimes for hours on end until it was almost time for the twin-suns to rise and for him to return home.

Anakin didn't know if his mother knew about these nightly excursions but if she did, she never said anything against it.

Today was one such night. He had had to wait a little bit, until his Mom was asleep but then he had sneaked out. Avoiding the Southern part of Mos Espa he walked the path he would always walk and lay down on his usual spot.

Today's feelings were not calm or happy, no, they were of nervousness, of elation, and also a little bit of anxiety. As soon as he gave himself up he felt himself pulled and stretched far away from the sand ball that was Tatooine. He was pulled into a circular room. Outside there were many speeders flying on invisible roads through the evening sky. In the room there were about a dozen people – most of them sitting in a ring around two persons kneeling in the very center of the room. All of them wore very strange clothes that he has never seen before. The youngest of them all was almost shaking as the other person in the middle was cutting off the younger one's braid behind the back of its ear. The older one doing the cutting was moving his lips but Anakin could barely understand him. It was like he was in a protective bubble; he could see everything but hearing was very hard.

Nonetheless, the young boy listened closely to the strange words that were uttered in Basic:

"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no death, there is the Force."

Anakin didn't quite understand but before he could really think about it he was distracted by the youngest member of that club that had gathered in that strange room.

The young one was happy, however, he was also a little bit sad. Why Anakin couldn't understand. Was it even possible to feel those opposite emotions at the same time? But before he could ponder it anymore he was quickly pulled back towards his own body. It was a slight tearing feeling, a little bit uncomfortable but not overly so. As he could see things through his own eyes again he realized why he was pulled back into his own body:

Someone was watching him. No, it was something. A big black serpent lay curled at his feet and gazed down at him from its raised head. Its cold black eyes seemed to stare right through him but Anakin knew that there was no evil intent so he looked right back into its yellow eyes. Anakin almost felt hypnotized by the intensity of the serpent's gaze. The animal even swayed a little bit and after some time left his side and slithered away into the darkness of the night. He followed the reptile with his eyes as it moved down the moonlit path, already tinged a little bit with orange because one of the two suns already was beginning to rise.

The young boy shook his head a little bit. The serpent wasn't that strange if you thought about it. After all, who else could hear voices that aren't there and who else could leave their body behind to experience something completely different?

He slowly got up and made his way home. After an episode like this he always felt refreshed and full of energy. The young boy almost started skipping along the way but he didn't want to be seen since it was already dawning.

Anakin quickly crept back into his bed although he knew that sleep was hopeless in such an elated state of mind and body.

He couldn't wait for breakfast and the beginning of the day!

* * *

It was the Rojo Fever, a fatal illness for many, that had broken out in the slave district. They had all been evacuated and quarantined to an old abandoned hospital. There were only four healers for about a hundred slaves that all needed immediate treatment. But slaves were expendable after all since other, newer, _healthier_ slaves could be easily bought again. Therefore no great amount of effort was put into treating a fatal illness. Watto certainly wouldn't cry for them – maybe he would be a little sad because he would lose Anakin since the young boy had proven to be a fantastic mechanic; even at the young age of seven.

He was staying at his mother's bedside. For days her health had been deteriorating. The once sun-burned woman was now pale beneath her tan, the ashen face sunken in with angry red spots all over her body. The high fever was slowly burner her out. Tubes were giving her just the bare minimum to survive just for the next second, minute, hour.

It was late at night and Anakin couldn't sleep. He was laying next to his mother, refusing to sleep in another bed when his mother was in so much pain. He hoped his closeness would help her in some way. He knew that he was only a small child and what could a small child accomplish when trained healers couldn't help? But he realized the seriousness of the situation. He feared that if he let her go for just one second she would leave him forever. And he knew with utter certainty that his mother would leave him if something didn't happen soon.

She would leave him like Kitster's father. He had left his son, too. Anakin had seen how his unmoving body had been put in a box and then had been lit along with other boxes of similar sizes. He hadn't understood it then. He had asked his mother why Kitster's father didn't resist being trapped in a box, why there were no screams coming from the inside of the box, and why he didn't come out of that box but his mother had only shaken her head. Only later he had realized that his spirit had left the physical body behind.

The first time he had finally understood the concept of someone dying was during one night, when he hadn't been able to sleep and he had gone to his favorite spot in the sand. But instead of seeing one singular scene like he usually did, he experienced something bigger - something of much more magnitude. It had felt as if the entire universe was breathing, in and out and in and out. He felt how different things started to exist; it was like the birth of those babies he sometimes witnessed, but this time he saw so many of them. And not only babies of different kinds of intelligent species but of all kinds of animals as well! Even seeds of plants participated in that great heartbeat of the world!

So many new lives! But then he also saw how those lives disappeared. Old ones, young ones. They all seemed to disappear. But they didn't simply vanish. They entered something else. Something beyond him, something greater. It felt as if they returned to the origin of which they had come and thus their transformed life was all around him. It was sad to see, even terrifying. That was the first time he had feared for his mother's death because he didn't want his mother to experience this. She had promised him not to die until she was old and wrinkly! His mother would never break a promise!

Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he found a fitful sleep full of nightmares. When he woke up the in the middle of the night he felt so lonely and abandoned and so he clung extra hard to his mother's arm.

In the morning his Mom woke up when one of the healers came in. He looked surprised as Anakin told him that he wasn't feeling bad at all. He took his hand and led him to his mother's side. He had just quickly left her to get the healer, he hadn't abandoned her, he told himself in his mind.

"Please, you have to help Mom!" he demanded fearfully.

"Young one, there is not much I can do for her. The only hope for her is for her fever to go down."

Anakin knew that those chances were really low since he had heard the stories about that fever before. He just knew that this advice wouldn't help his mother at all! He clutched her hand tightly to his chest but even the skin of her hands was so hot.

"We can only hope for a miracle," said the healer who was dressed in weird suite with a mask on his face. He patted his head, tried to be reassuring. Soon he left and the slave boy was alone again with his mother in that stuffy little room smelling of sickness and fever.

"Mama, please don't leave me..."

He had tried to be so strong – but it wasn't working. He broke down next to her bed, holding her weak hand to his face, crying because of all of his fears and uncertainties. Why couldn't anybody save her? Why, why, why?

He begged to that unknown thing that he had been seeing for years now.

"Please, please don't take my Mama away! She is a good person! She gives the best hugs! She loves me when nobody else does!"

But there was no answer. He stayed alone, with his mother's ragged breathing that grew weaker and weaker. In the evening his mother opened her eyes. She tried to smile at him but she failed. She was too weak to smile. His strong, fierce Mom who had always known how to sooth him, how to make the pain go away. And it broke something in his heart to know that she was too weak – that she couldn't protect him anymore. That soon he would be all alone.

Another bout of heavy sobs threatened to break out of his mouth but he would stay strong. If his mother couldn't be strong then he would be strong for the both of them.

"Ani…" she whispered. He moved closer to her and put his head on her chest so that she could speak into his ear. Her chest was falling unevenly as if it was a great struggle to keep going.

"I… love you. I wanted… to… see… you… grow…" She closed her eyes in exhaustion. Anakin looked up horrified as she took in a ragged breath, and then another and then… nothing. She was surrounded by that… power. It would take her away from him.

"No, NO! DON'T TAKE HER FROM ME! NO!", he screamed and yelled. He tore his head away from her chest and grabbed both of her hands and held them close to his body. But it was too late. He could feel something pass. Through the fearful haze he could feel how all of a sudden LOVE surrounded him – all that his mother ever felt for him. It passed right through him, warmed his heart that was threatening to burst because of all of these emotions. The power left him, but a small glimmer stayed with him. And he realized that that was his Mom. His Mom's love. She was right there; in and around him.

But this was not enough. He couldn't touch her anymore! She wouldn't be able to give him kisses and hugs anymore! Those wonderfully warm embraces that he had loved so much – they were gone. Nobody would ever be able to replace them!

"You took my Mommy away from me", Anakin cried brokenly. He fell forward to lay on top his mother and tried to make her arms go around his back in an embrace. But her arms fell off of him as soon as he didn't hold them anymore. He screamed in frustration and anger as wild sobs racked his little body.

So when he felt a small pulse of love going straight through his heart he suddenly felt an overwhelming anger. As tears still leaked down his cheeks he yelled: "This will never be a replacement for my real Mom! Never! Can you hear me?" And with that he locked that small tendril of love away – that shadow of love that seemed to mock him from afar. He threw it into the deepest recess of his mind, hopefully to never feel it again.

That strange power didn't answer. It had abandoned him as well and took his mother away from him. He could feel her transformed soul being whisked away, far far away from him. He would never forgive it for taking away his Mom! Never!

He lay down next to the now motionless body that still smelled like his mother even though the stench of sickness hung over it. That night, he felt his Mom get colder and colder. He tried to warm her up by rubbing her arms, sides and legs, but nothing would work. He knew that it was useless but every now and then he called out to her unmoving chest, her still heart and her sagged lungs; he begged them to move again but nothing happend. Crying, he curled up next to her now cool body; weeping for a mother that had been taken away from him forever. His little fists clung so tightly to her side that the next morning he could barely move his fingers at all.

That night he had dreamt of his mother. She had smiled at him, had taken him into her warm arms one last time and turned her back towards him. She had walked away.

So in his fitful sleep, a voice, older than man, even older than the world, whispered softly into his ears in a language that nobody knew yet everybody understood at the same time: **"This is your first lesson." **And it disappeared again as suddenly as it had appeared, not to be seen for years to come.

* * *

They had to tear him away from her body.

"Hush little one, she is gone now. Clinging to her body won't save her," a healer told him in an unfriendly way but this met not the logic of a seven-year-old child. He was fighting them all the way until there was no strength left in him. They put him in a singular quarantine to see if he had become infected as well but after a few days they realized he was healthy and he was allowed back home. During that time the broken boy had gazed at the wall for hours, whimpering and sometimes screaming for a mother that wouldn't come.

As he was almost kicked out of the hospital by that same unfriendly healer Anakin wondered: Where was home now? The only other friend his Mom had ever had was Jira. Would she take him in? Was she even alive? At that thought he began to panic – not another one! Not another precious to him dead! Headlessly, he ran through the dirty streets until he finally arrived at her little home in the slave district she shared with another family.

Please let her be there, please, let her be there! Those were his only thoughts as he pounded against the door. The door slid open and Anakin's eyes widened. Before he knew it he jumped forward.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…" he spoke it like a mantra, like a drowning child that had finally reached land.

"Little Ani! You are back! And healthy!" Jira smiled in joy. She had feared that she wouldn't see any of them ever again since the Rojo fever was a relentless sickness with few survivors. Her heart fell, however, when she realized that the boy was alone and crying his eyes out into her old worn dress. She knelt down to look him in the eyes.

"Ani, where is your mother?" She asked with trepidation not really wanting to know the ugly truth but she had to know for certain. When the boy simply shook his head she knew everything that she needed to know.

"Come inside. You will live with me from now on."

She put her hand back on his tiny shoulders, noting how small they were and how they seemed to carry the weight of the world.

"You look so thin, Anakin. I have some dinner left – you are eating some of it and then you are going to go to bed. I'm arranging a mattress for you, don't worry. I won't tell Watto that you're home and healthy yet. You need some time to recover."

He simply nodded, accepting any kindness he could get. But there was one thing he wanted her to know.

"Please, don't call me 'Ani' anymore", he requested in a small voice. Jira understood. 'Ani' was what his mother had always called him. If she hadn't been a slave for almost all her life she would have started to weep at the loss of innocence. It hurt her in that small soft spot that hadn't hardened over all of those years in pain and suffering, that a soul so young could sound so hopeless and without joy of life.

But she nodded. This was the request of an adult and she would respect it because the moment Anakin's mother had died the boy had entered the world of the adults. It was a cruel and unforgiving world but from now on Anakin had to bear it like a grown up would bear it – in stoic indifference.

Jira could never hope to replace that bond that Anakin had had with his mother; she could only hope that time would heal Anakin's wound. Her job was to provide for his further survival from now on. With a heavy heart she turned around and followed the boy into her small living quarters.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

**A/N**: Now, I bet you didn't expect that. Next week I'm not so certain when I will be able to update. I've gratuated this weekend and next week I'm moving. I hope I'll find a chance to edit the next chapter around next Sunday of the next week. Real life can be so amazing and at the same time so bothersome...


	4. The Arrival Part I

**A/N: **Hey guys, sorry for the break. I moved this week and everything was quite hectic and I'm still getting used to living completely on my own the first time in a big city. Tomorrow I'm starting work - so wish me good luck with that. I'm going to toss out the next part of this chapter upcoming Wednesday. Right now I don't have the nerve to edit 7000 words (This chapter is the longest so far). Happy reading :-)

* * *

**Chapter III: The Arrival - Part I**

* * *

It has been two years since his mother's death. Many things had changed, but many also stayed the same. The fact that he was still a slave couldn't be altered, unless there was a miracle. And Anakin didn't believe in miracles anymore. But he could have had it much worse. Jira for example, whose master owned a small shop of fruits that she was to sell all day long. Only recently there was a shade installed to the moving shop so that she wouldn't have to stay in the heat rays of the twin-suns for hours on end. No, he thought, he really didn't have it that bad with Watto as a master. Sure, he was impatient and he handed out little kicks and swats every now and then but he was nothing like Gardulla.

Plus, he was able to collect junk that nobody wanted to buy anymore so that he could finally finish his pod racer and protocol droid C3PO. The latter was supposed to help Jira with the shop and the former he just built to see if he could actually do it. Mechanics have become his life since they were the only thing bringing him closer to the early memories of his mother. She used to explain to him all different techniques and motor skills in order to repair and build droids. In a way, it was both painful and exciting to work on these projects because of his confusing emotions. Sometimes he wished he could just wish all of his emotions away so only peace would remain. He had asked Jira once if that was possible.

"Well, Anakin," she said, "Have you ever heard of the Jedi before?"

Of course, he had heard of the Jedi before! They were warriors with light swords – people who defended the galaxy. Sadly, no one being born on Tatooine had ever seen one. The Outer Rim, after all, was not a part of the Republic.

"I have heard stories of them: how they never get angry, how they are in total control of themselves and their emotions. But those might be romanticized stories of pilots who have never seen a true Jedi before."

Anakin nodded. If he were to ever meet a true Jedi he would ask them if it was true that they could make their emotions go away.

* * *

It was night and he couldn't sleep. The whispers have become louder again. They were murmuring and singing in different languages; too many for him to understand but he didn't want to understand them! He just craved silence.

Before this power took away his mother, he had loved it, feeling this connection with all the other creatures of the galaxy. But now he didn't enjoy it anymore – no, couldn't. How could he enjoy something that had taken his mother away so cruelly and had shown him how utterly powerless he was to stop it? If he could feel and see all these things in the world, why hadn't he been strong enough to save his own mother?

So each night this power was tormenting him with peaceful visions of other galaxy systems. How could he feel peace when it was his inability to stop this power from taking away his mother? How could he ever live again without this heavy guilt hanging over him that told him that he was too weak, too powerless to stop his mother from dying?

On the other hand though, he missed it. This connection. This connection with every living being in the world. But Anakin would stay strong. He would fight against this power – his whole life if he had to! He had promised that on his mother's grave.

Fighting it, however, seemed to be easier said than done.

He had tried talking inside his own head to drown out the other voices. That, however, would only work on nights when the voices weren't that loud. When they were beginning to sing and celebrate he had tried to build up walls – walls in his head that were so thick that nothing would be able to penetrate them. From that point on, he only heard them muffled and saw small flashes of impressions and very quick images. Anakin quickly managed to squash those whenever that happened, though.

These walls would never hold out long and as soon as he lost concentration they would fall apart. So as soon as he slipped off into sleep these visions would haunt his dreams; sometimes with happy dances and singing, sometimes with funerals of strange creatures he had never seen before and other times with another being that seemed to sit completely still without doing anything for hours. Those were always the most calming dreams he had but he refused to enjoy them because its source was that Power! And so he built up his fragile walls again which would fail as soon as he didn't pay attention to them anymore.

Nonetheless, the little boy was proud of his small accomplishments. But why did these small victories over that huge Power feel so hollow? What he really craved from deep inside was a hug from his mother or even a sign from her because he knew that she was with that Power like everybody else who died. Why hadn't she contacted him? He knew that it was possible. He had tried reaching out to her, but the only result he would get were those strange impressions of different worlds he would always get – only amplified and much stronger. Nothing but noise. And beyond that noise, there was silence.

Anakin knew that Jira worried about him. What was he supposed to tell her? Not even his mother knew about those strange visions that he had had all of his life, only that he sometimes could move things without touching them and sometimes knew things that she hadn't taught him.

He liked Jira quite a lot; she was kind and patient and always hugged him whenever he needed it. It just wasn't the same as being with his mother, though. And so he lay on his cot at least once a week (because he never knew when one of those visions would hit him) not being able to sleep and if he actually managed to sleep then his dreams were not his own. So whenever he woke up in the middle of the night, he was able to feel walls closing in on him that were slowly constricting him and were taking away the oxygen that he needed in order to live.

* * *

He was cleaning the fan switches of an old speeder that he intended to repair when he heard his master yell out to him. What had he done wrong now?

He quickly ran over inside the shop to see what had happened when he saw the three strangers. The human was very tall with long hair and a beard. He looked very intimidating when Anakin gasped and stood stock still. He was like himself! He could also see things that weren't actually there, he could feel! He didn't know why he had known that – just that on some basic level he felt a connection to him that he had never felt with another living-being before. It was a good feeling that made him feel a little bit more at home. This man was more home than the flat with Jira could ever be; he felt safe, and he hadn't felt so safe since…

"Boy, what are you staring and gaping around like that. I bought you to work! Now stay and watch out for the shop while I shop the customer my goods," Watto yelled at him in Huttess.

Anakin grimaced. Well, at least he hadn't done anything wrong and so he wasn't in for a punishment.

As he walked over, he noticed the beautiful girl standing next to an amphibian creature – she must be an off-worldlier. No Tatooine woman had time for such an intricate hair style. Still, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hazelnut eyes were brushing over the messy inventory of the shop, never stopping in its curious track as if she had never seen something like it before. Maybe she truly never had.

"Which planet are you from?" Anakin asked curiously when Watto and the tall man disappeared into the back of the junk shop.

"Excuse me?" She turned and her tied-back hair flowed in the motion.

"I asked you: Which planet are you from?" he asked again a little impatiently. He didn't like to repeat himself.

"I'm from Naboo."

"I've never heard of it. I've never been anywhere else than on Tatooine. Can you tell me about it?"

He had always loved to listen to tales of other planets. Whenever Jira would go to bed early because of her aching bones he would sneak out and go to the hangars. Most pilots loved to listen to their own voices and they were most obliging to have an avid listener when they were spinning their tales.

The girl smiled at him.

"It's rather small planet in the Mid Rim of the galaxy. When you first look at it from outer space you can see almost only blue. There is so much water on Naboo, something which must be very strange for someone living on a desert planet like Tatooine" she mused. Anakin only nodded. He had seen planets like that but he didn't like to be remembered about that.

"In fact, there is so much water that the core itself consists out of it. You can even travel through it but it is not advised to do that – there are many dangers lurking in the core of our world. I think, one of the few survivors who came out of the core alive is standing right in front of you", she nodded her head towards the amphibian creature who was roaming around the shop and had just activated a droid.

"Really?" Anakin said incredulously. "What kind of species is he?"

"He is a Gungang, the other species that lives with us humans on that planet. They prefer to stay beneath the water though. His name is Jar Jar Binks."

The activated droid was now running loose and Anakin gave Jar Jar the tip to hit the nose. Surprisingly it worked. The girl laughed and whispered conspiratorially into his direction: "They are not know for their intelligence but he has his heart in the right place."

Anakin smiled a little at that, but then realized something.

"My name is Anakin. What's your name?"

"I am Padmé and it is very nice to meet you."

Before he could reply, though, the tall man returned from the back of the shop with Watto on his heels. He passed them briskly and said: "Come on, let's go."

After saying a few quick good buys Padmé and Jar Jar followed him quickly outside. Watto was grumbling and muttering to himself while scratching his head.

"Boy, you can go home now but come back early in the morning. I won some new deals just yesterday and I want you to inspect the new goods. Go now!"

Anakin quickly scrambled off and since he was very intrigued by the tall man and his companions he started to follow them. Maybe they were in need of a guide that could help them find their way around. Mos Espa can be dangerous if one doesn't know his way around.

And just as he finished that thought he saw how the Gungang ran straight ahead into a Dug, a very dangerous one at that who was known for killing his fellow competitors during pod races. He quickly ran over to defend the clueless Jar Jar and fortunately they were left off the hook.

"That could have gone very wrong," Anakin murmured to himself.

"Indeed, so thank you, my young friend."

The tall man suddenly towered over him but Anakin stood his ground. The power of their connection was so intoxicating and made him feel so… safe. Happy even. The boy bent his head back and said: "I'm glad I could help you. Say, do you know your way around or is it your first time here?"

"I'm afraid this is our first time. Do you want to show us around?"

"I'd like to. I'm off work for today and there is still a little time until the sandstorm is coming." He had been feeling that storm brewing for quite some time now. "If you don't have a place to stay you can come with me. I'm sure Jira wouldn't mind."

The man raised his eyebrows. He certainly hadn't expected such an open-hearted invitation. Padmé looked curiously at Anakin. "How do you know there is a storm coming? I'm not seeing anything wrong with the weather right now."

"Can't you feel it, too?" Anakin asked the man but he just looked down at the boy as if he was going to ask why he would know such a thing. The boy was a little disappointed that the tall man couldn't feel such things; he had had such premonitions all his life about the weather, even if it never changed much on Tatooine. It only changed from one sandstorm to the next. He had never seen rain before but he was told that it was a glorious thing to witness.

Anakin shrugged.

"Come on, I'll let you taste the best fruits in whole Mos Espa!" He grabbed Padmé's hand and pulled her towards Jira's shop. Anakin felt strange. He hadn't felt so light-hearted since... It must be the presence of that man. But no matter. He felt really great for the first time in years! He almost wanted to giggle.

* * *

Jira had been surprised when she saw Anakin arriving at her shop with three other strangers. Usually the boy preferred to stay on his own. He had been estranging himself from almost all of his friends, except for Kitster. It made sense – they both had lost their mothers and so they felt strong kinship towards each other. But while Kitster still played with other children Anakin remained isolated from the others. Anakin's grief was no wonder, though; he had had an exceptionally strong bond with his mother that had never diminished over the years and when it was suddenly ripped away from him… Jira had tried to heal the gaping wound of his aching heart but she felt as if she hadn't even scratched the surface of his pain and suffering yet. It was such a pity; he had such a big heart but she feared that it was bleeding out.

She had seen him becoming more and more tired over the two years he had been living with her. She knew that he suffered from insomnia and that he sometimes cried at night.

He was such a bright star the night he was born, but soon he was threatened to burn out if nothing changed. And Jira feared the death of a star because stars never died quietly; they left with a great explosion, destroying everything in its wake.

* * *

**A/N**: Oh, oh... premonitions...


End file.
