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jasontoddiefor · 5 years ago

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Title: the kind that was burned first [chapter 5 & 6] Summary: The last two characters wondering about what secrets time travelling Obi-Wan and Anakin are hiding. AN: And this little 6 chapter project is finished. It was fun!

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#5 Shmi Skywalker

The last time Shmi Skywalker saw her son, he was walking into the desert at night. He’d been hurt all over and decided that he would not survive another day under their Master’s hand. Their Master wouldn’t dare to blow him up, so hopefully Anakin would make it through the night and off this awful planet quickly enough. Shmi had kissed him goodbye, filled his pockets with everything useful and sellable they had and saw him off.

She hadn’t been able to fall asleep after, too worried for him, and yet forcing herself to prepare for the beating that would await her in the morning. Their Master would be upset and Shmi would have to bear it, but at least her son would be free.

She held onto that thought come morning when their Master came to demand their service and began shouting at her, his face turned red. It almost made Shmi miss Watto. The Toydarian had hurt them as well, but he had never raised his voice so much. She’d been able to ignore him then, focus on the pain and lullabies she hummed beneath her cries.

“Where is he!?” Their Master had screamed into her face.

“Here.”

Shmi looked up from the ground and stared at the entrance to their small home where Anakin stood. He looked so much older than he had last night and much more exhausted too. But there was also something else lingering just beneath the surface that she couldn’t name. It reminded her of the hours before a sandstorm when the wind chimes still played their songs but the air was already becoming hard to breathe.

“Leave her alone,” Anakin said, voice flat.

He didn’t sound like her son, Shmi realized. That was what disturbed her. His intonation was off, his body language strange. He stood straight like he wanted to draw attention to himself. No slave stood so proudly, so sure of themselves.

This wasn’t her child anymore.

Their Master’s face twisted into an angry growl. “How dare you, boy!? Where have you been? Answer your Master!”

He hated Anakin, always had, and used every opportunity to ruin her dear son. Every day Shmi had always been forced to watch, to ask Anakin to please bear it so he might survive another day. Their Master only kept Anakin around because his worth as a mechanic outweighed his costs.

The spirit who had taken hold of her son was more powerful than her child. Anakin would fall on his knees, apologies and beg as he swallowed his rage, but the spirit did no such thing.

“You are not my Master,” The spirit snarled.

Their owner took a step forward and then he suddenly stopped. His hands went to his throat and he began choking. His eyes were wide in shock, drool ran out of his mouth and Shmi watched as their tormenter dropped to his knee and died painfully. It was just like in the stories of slaves disappearing into the desert, returning with the storms to wage war on all the Masters.

The spirit’s breathing calmed and cold blue eyes stared at the body on the ground.

“Have you come to free us?” Shmi asked the spirit.

He turned to look at her again, all coolness suddenly disappearing from his face. As if thunder had struck him, he took a step back, helplessness overcoming him.

“I-“

Whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by two piercing cries. He jumped up and rushed outside only to return with two crying bundles. Almost panicked, he began to rock them, but the cries wouldn’t subside.

“Please,” he begged. “I know you didn’t ask for this, please stop crying.”

But the children, newborns if Shmi were to guess, wouldn’t calm.

“May I?” She asked.

The spirit wearing her son’s face observed her, then, hesitantly, gave her one of the children. Dark brown hair covered the babe’s head and their scream was as loud as that of the krayt dragon. Softly Shmi began rocking the child, singing and walking around the small room until they stopped. The other child calmed as well, though the spirit’s attempts at caring for them were by far not as eased as hers. He was like a japor tree, too stiff and harsh, like he was standing only because he was still forcing himself to.

“I used to do the same with my son,” she told the spirit. “Is he still in there?”

The spirit froze, but it was all the answer she needed. Her dear Anakin was gone then, had disappeared into the dunes and left a shifter his body so he may do what Anakin couldn’t.

“Someday, again, maybe,” the spirit answered. “I don’t know. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, I just wanted to erase my mistakes and myself, not this.”

He looked at the child in his arms. The babe was wide awake now, but silent. Their eyes were as blue as her son’s had been, as the spirit’s still were.

“What are their names?” Shmi asked instead of lingering on the spirit’s distress.

“Luke and Leia, they were my children once.”

Their names were beautiful, strong too. The spirit had chosen well for them, they would survive even the harshest of droughts.

“And now they are not anymore?”

The spirit looked lost. His expression reminded Shmi painfully of Anakin. He’d lost that openness as he’d grown older, but as a young boy he hadn’t been shy to show what he was thinking. He had been so bright then already, his being much too big for his small frame.

“They shouldn’t exist,” the spirit said, his voice full of hope despite, or perhaps exactly to contrast his spoken words.

He loved his children, that much was clear to Shmi. She didn’t want to imagine what he’d do to the person who would dare to come in-between him and these two young souls. He had killed their old Master with ease, she doubted he’d afford the same mercy to whoever chose to hurt them.

“My son shouldn’t have either,” Shmi said. It was a common story in the slave quarters, but for Shmi it held true in a way it didn’t for most. “He doesn’t have a father. You’ll find a lot of impossible things in this galaxy.”

“I know,” the spirit replied. “But I stole their rightful parents in my selfishness. I wanted them to grow up happy and safe, nothing more, and yet here they are again, suffering for my mistakes.”

Her Anakin would probably smack the spirit upside the head now. Slaves couldn’t afford to pity themselves or wallow in regret. It was a lesson they learned early on, the spirit must have forgotten it.

“Then perhaps this is what you are here for, to make up for your mistakes.”

The spirit laughed bitterly. “I can’t fix the whole galaxy.”

Shmi thought of her son flying through Beggar’s Canyon and counting the stars at night, even when his lungs ached and his feet were bleeding.

“My Anakin wanted to.”

“I know,” the spirit repeated once more. “He was a fool.”

Anger rushed through Shmi and the spirit, as if sensing the suns burning his flesh, startled, tearing his eyes away from Luke to look at Shmi instead. Shmi could tolerate a lot, her life had been nothing if not a lesson in patience and endurance, but the shifter in her son’s skin wouldn’t talk badly about the gift he’d been given at the cost of another.

“But he has something worth living for. Can you say the same of yourself?”

“I’ve lived four more years for my son and I wanted to erase time for my daughter,” the spirit said slowly. “I don’t know how to do anything but live for others.”

“You ought to learn it then, and when you have, return my Anakin to me.”

The spirit’s lips twitched upwards, an echo of a smile shining through. “Are you bargaining with me?”

The storms settled. The colors slowly disappeared from the sky and left behind the vibrant blue of a new day.

“You spirits made the rules of this desert, I am merely following them. Accept what you have been given to do your work, return when you are finished.”

“I don’t know how to finish, I’ve never known where to start or stop.”

The spirit was being difficult on purpose. Shmi huffed and handed him his daughter back, helped him adjust his hold on her. He needed some sort of carrier bag or perhaps a scarf so he could wrap both children to his chest.

“It seems to me like you are I need of a teacher then. I cannot teach you freedom.”

Shmi looked at her dead owner lying on the ground. She would take her tracker from him, cut it out of herself be free. She could hardly recall what freedom was, she’d been too young when she was captured to understand what luxury she’d been living in. She had to figure that out for herself first before she could show another.

“Do you know someone who can show you?”

“I-“ The spirit’s eyes clouded over and then he closed them. “He’s alive.”

“You know where to go then?” Shmi asked him.

“Yes,” the spirit answered. “Yes, I know where to go. Shmi Skywalker, I promise you, you will see your son again.”

“I will hold you to that promise then.”

Her son returned to her almost two years later. He couldn’t stay, but Shmi had always known he was meant for something greater than the dunes of Tatooine. He was still holding onto the spirit’s children, walking and talking chubby toddlers by now, but he also brought a stranger with him. The man that was introduced to her as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, had the same old eyes as her son.

Spirits, Shmi learned as she watched the two interact, left their marks.

+1 Count Dooku

Isn’t the most tragic love story

the one that never had the chance to become? The kind that was burned first, Came crashing down after, And finally bled to death in the cold ocean deep Before even one word could be exchanged?

- Thoughts about Icarus & Apollo

Dooku had spent three miserable years imprisoned, wondering when and where it had all gone wrong. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t oblivious to his own flaws. He was well aware that he could be arrogant at times, a trait not even Master Yoda’s many meditations had been able to get rid of, but his solitary confinement did force him to occupy his thoughts somehow. With the control he’d learned from birth, he forced himself to go through his every memory, examining even the moments he loathed to remember. Dooku knew now that he never should have let Sidious influence him for so long, Fall for his manipulations instead of Falling for his own beliefs. Created darksiders were never quite as mentally sound as those who had come to the dark on their own. Ventress had been a good example of the latter. Never a true Sith, no, she wasn’t worthy of that title, but her darkness had left her sane where many others of Sidious’s acolytes had submitted to madness.

Now that even the last cracks Sidious had left in his mind had healed, Dooku was beginning to reevaluate his situation and found that he had significantly more power within the safety of his prison than he has assumed. He easily could have been sentenced to death, but the Republic’s new and so Palpatine-distant leadership had spoken against it. Too much death had marred their space, or so they claimed, and Dooku would be a good source of information, should he decide to speak. He hadn’t so far as there was nothing to gain from it. He had been promised a lot, certainly, but while he had enjoyed the riches that came with being the Count of Serenno, he had been brought up as a Jedi. He didn’t need life’s comforts to keep thriving. Nowadays, with his mind clearer and sharper than it had been since before his Fall, Dooku knew that there was something he wanted enough to break his silence. He was plagued by a never-changing vision he was forced to relive in his every nightmare for years now. He wanted answers so he could finally put it to rest.

“I’ll be taking my leave then, Dooku,” Qui-Gon announced.

Like a clockwork, his former Padawan showed up once a month, first asking whether Dooku was willing to give up any final Separatist and Sith secrets, then continuing to speak about their lineage. The news he brought of Obi-Wan were truly fascinating. Dooku had regretted being unable to secure the young man as his apprentice. He was clever, but now Dooku was aware that Obi-Wan was much smarter than he had given him credit for during the war. Truly, he was a master negotiator now walking the fine line between debate and manipulation.

He was certainly a credit to their lineage.

“Bring your Padawan and his partner with you the next time you come,” Dooku told Qui-Gon. The Jedi, ever the diplomat Dooku had raised him to be, didn’t show even a hint of surprise. “I might feel inclined to share some details.”

Qui-Gon only nodded shortly, then left the room, his brown robes flaring behind him. Such dramatics for a man so keen to claim he only sought peace and calm.

Satisfied, Dooku bid Qui-Gon farewell. Neither the Senate nor the Council would let Dooku wait for long. Back in his cell, he fell into a light meditation and waited.

He had become very patient in the last years, the days passed so quickly they were hardly worth counting.

It took barely a month for his request to be fulfilled. Dooku wasn’t surprised to see that his own Master had come along, likely he was there to attempt to get a read on Dooku’s reactions. He didn’t particularly care about hiding his own intentions. In fact, if it became clear that he wasn’t here to lie and spread dissent, it would only work in his favor. Dooku wanted honest answers and Kenobi and the supernova called Skywalker would be able to provide them, at their own expense.

The two of them were a sight to behold as they entered his humble cell. They moved in total synchronicity, something you hardly saw these days anymore. It took years to master such control and affinity. He would have enjoyed dueling the two of them at least once. Obi-Wan was already a terror on his own, but with the backing of Skywalker’s endless power, they could have been the content of legends.

Yoda had accompanied them as well but waited outside. His former Master had only visited him once during the beginning of his imprisonment and their discussion likely would have ended with them crossing blades if not for the fact that neither had been holding onto their ‘sabers. Yoda had to hand his own over and Dooku was certain his own was back in a holding cell in the temple. Obi-Wan and Skywalker both sat down at the table.

“I welcome you to my humble abode,” Dooku said. “How are the two of you?”

Skywalker was the impatience to Obi-Wan’s serenity. He hid it well, let Obi-Wan speak for him and hardly contributed to the small talk, no matter how many questions Dooku directed at him.

“Count,” Obi-Wan finally gave in. Skywalker’s annoyance must have been wearing him down as well. “What do you want? You’ve been refused to speak for years, what changed?”

“I’ve grown annoyed with Qui-gin’s visits and ramblings about your children. Really, Obi-Wan, I’d never have taken you for a revolutionary.”

Skywalker’s eyes narrowed as soon as Dooku mentioned the twins. Truthfully, Qui-Gon hadn’t said much about them, but the way he spoke about them said enough.

“What do you want?” Skywalker hissed.

Dooku leaned back in his chair. Their chit-chat was over, Skywalker was agitated and would misstep if Dooku just played his cards right.

“You see, when my Master died, I was allowed a glimpse into his mind,” Dooku began to speak. This time, Skywalker wasn’t quick enough. He tensed and straightened his posture. “I saw so much shock, not a surprise considering his visions of grandeur, but also a lot of hatred and anger, the latter largely not his own.”

It had overwhelmed Dooku in that moment, sent him to his knees and left him wondering if that was the true darkness. Depths so horrid he wouldn’t ever be able to reach them, no matter how furious he was at the state of the galaxy. It had been so deeply personal, the hatred that stemmed from being entirely unmade.

“I’ve been puzzling about that moment for three years now, hoping it would become more clear-sighted. The longer I’ve been left here on my own, with only my thoughts and Qui-Gon’s incessant ramblings, the more did the vision take shape. I saw a man standing above Sidious. He was young, eyes burning, flickering like the colors of the skies. His words were the most confusing though.”

Skywalker and Obi-Wan had paled considerably. Happy with himself, Dooku smiled in content as he quoted the words that used to sound like white noise back at them.

“‘You will not enslave the galaxy again.’ Tell me, does the Order know it’s been harboring a Sith all these years?”

Skywalker flinched and Obi-Wan rose quickly as if they were in a duel and not seated at a table. So the Order wasn't aware of Skywalker’s nature. Curious, Dooku would have thought it was a reason they let Obi-Wan get away with so many transgressions when it came to Skywalker while the rest of the Order was still so slow to change and accept its own amendments.

“Anakin is not a Sith,” Obi-Wan replied fiercely in defense of the other. The argument would have been more convincing had he kept his calm.

“I have been wondering why Qui-Gon has been so insistent on visiting me all these years, and I believe I have found the answer.”

The Jedi were taught from birth that there was no returning from the dark side of the Force and yet Qui-Gon had been entertaining him when he really should have just let go of Dooku, washed his hands clean of him as Yoda had. Instead, they had talked more civilly with each other lately than they had when Dooku was still a Jedi.

Qui-Gon hadn’t just begun tugging at a non-existent bond for no reason, he had been hoping for a change. It had been this thought that tipped Dooku off. Someone must have planted the thought that Dooku needed to be saved in his mind. Unfortunately, he couldn’t even claim that his former student was wrong. Dooku couldn’t reach for the light, not yet perhaps, it still knocked the air out of his lungs, but the dark wasn’t exactly comfortable still either.

“You might not be a Sith anymore, but your once were,” Dooku told Skywalker. “The taint of the dark never really leaves. Somewhere in between killing Sidious, finding Obi-Wa and returning to the Temple with him, you crawled out of the deepest pit of the dark side, breaking centuries of Jedi teachings while you were at it.”

Skywalker’s hands were clenched to fists. Dooku didn’t need to hear him say it, he had his answer already. No matter how much Obi-Wan would attempt to deny it now, perhaps even attempt to skillfully manipulate the situation in his favor, Dooku knew the truth now.

“Were you Sidious’s other apprentice? I assumed he would have a back-up in case I decided to betray him. He was not much of a banite Sith unlike his own Master,” Dooku continued. “I wondered about your words as well. Was it a vision of the future that forced you to destroy him? Or something more? His thoughts were a mess, but his confusion at your appearance clear. I just can’t tell whether he was shocked you were there at all or because he couldn’t recognize you.”

Skywalker kept silent as Obi-Wan once more started speaking. “Do you have anything concrete you’d actually like to say-”

“Vader.”

The word echoed through the otherwise silent room.

Obi-Wan looked at Skywalker with great concern, but Skywalker was staring at his hands.

“He named me Darth Vader.”

Skywalker looked up and there it was, all that righteous fury, that anger Dooku recognized.

“And I executed you at his behest.”

Obi-Wan took one of Skywalker’s hands. “Anakin-“

Skywalker shook his head. “You want the truth?” He asked, unnecessarily.

“Be my guest.”

“He told me to kill you and I did. I razed the Jedi to the ground. The old, the sick, the young, all of them slain by my blade. I didn’t stop, I hunted them all down to the last member. I killed my wife, I attacked my Master and for over two decades I did every cruelty my Emperor demanded from me. I watched as entire worlds were annihilated, I tortured my daughter, I injured my son because Sidious ordered his apprentice, his slave, to do so. I did it all and worse, nightmares you can’t imagine that make the Clone Wars look like the joke it was.”

Obi-Wan was visibly struggling to keep his breathing under control the longer Skywalker talked, revealing every cruelty he had committed with so much honesty that Dooku believed it even when he knew it couldn’t possibly be the truth. And yet, the Force was not protesting. No, it was weeping with every word, crying for all the souls lost. It sounded like madness, like a horrible vision, a nightmare come alive-

“Time travel,” Dooku finally breathed. “Are you seriously suggesting you and Obi-Wan what- traveled through time? Ripped half the galaxy and its flow to shreds so you could right your wrongdoings?”

Skywalker shrugged, the gesture entirely too boyish for how his hard gaze was fixating Dooku, pinning him to his chair and this gruesome conversation.

“I was dying and begged the Force to take me. I never should have existed in the first place, a child created from nothing. It seemed reasonable to me at the time that something as grand as the power that binds the galaxy together should also be unable to unravel it like threads of yarn.”

“But you’re here.”

“Because of a shatterpoint, maybe. In one timeline Qui-Gon found me on Naboo, in another he didn’t. I didn’t ask for Obi-Wan to come with me, nor did I deserve my children’s presence, but here they are, keeping me tethered to the light. I’ve never been able to hold onto causes for long, I need people around me. You were right when you said that the taint of the darkness will always cling to me. When I faced Sidious, I was so ready to Fall again, return as Vader and ruin myself once more for others.”

Dooku turned to Obi-Wan. “You interfered. I thought I had heard a second voice call out, but I believed I had imagined it.”

Obi-Wan only frowned. “Yes. As soon as I felt Anakin arrive on Coruscant, I knew what he’d do.”

“So you stopped him.”

The conclusion was easy to reach, but Dooku suspected that it hid a thousand more declarations. Obi-Wan would have left the Order for Anakin, perhaps even would have stayed with him had he Fallen again.

“So I did,” Obi-Wan agreed.

Their gazes rested heavily on Dooku’s shoulders. Who would believe him, should he ever reveal the truth that had just been laid bare in front of him? And what more, what would he gain from it? Nothing, Dooku realized. All he’d earn would be Skywalker’s fury, which was so immense it compelled the Force to fulfill his wish, even if not in the way he had wanted it to.

“Why tell me?” Dooku asked once he found his voice again. “You had no reason to.”

“You would have gone digging anyway,” Skywalker replied. “And you’re the only one who figured it out despite being locked away. The others in the temple just got too used to us acting oddly I suppose. I hardly recall what the code actually is and Obi-Wan has been taught better by my son.”

“And you can’t necessarily do anything with this information,” Obi-Wan added. “All you know now is what awaits you when you side-step.”

Yes, Dooku could see that with stunning clarity now. Perhaps this confrontation had been of use for him after all. He didn’t think Skywalker would let anyone who was a threat to his family stay within his reach for long. Dooku would have to reevaluate his plans for the future. He wasn’t a hopeless fool who fought battles he couldn’t win.

“If you were Sidious’s apprentice, I assume you know about his Sith secrets?”

Skywalker snorted. “Yes, but only those he ever saw fit to show me.”

“I am relieved to hear his teaching methods didn’t change then. I shall tell you what I know, you may add whatever intel you have to present to the Council and the Senate.”

Obi-Wan actually looked surprised. “Why?”

“Insurance,” Dooku replied. “And I promised I’d share information with you if you showed up, didn’t I?”

Dooku had made no such promises, but Obi-Wan and Skywalker were kind enough not to call him out on it.

“And I have some knowledge of Separatist groups within the Senate still that might prove useful if you are willing to listen.”

Obi-Wan and Skywalker let him talk for almost an hour, interrupting only a few times to ask questions. At the end of their interrogation, they left the room with an abrupt goodbye. Dooku didn’t think he’d see them again, he was fairly sure he also didn’t want to meet with them again. The burden they were carrying was so heavy it threatened to crush him. There were kinder conversations he could be having.

“Impressionable, they are, hm?” Yoda asked him.

Dooku would have laughed if the knowledge he’d gained wasn’t still twisting his thoughts.

“Very much so,” he replied instead. “Tell me, have they spoken to you about returning from the dark side? I believe their theories have merit. I shall attempt to test them out.”

Yoda smacked his stick against the ground. “A troublesome student you were, troublesome you still are.”

“If you say so, Master. What has Qui-Gon been up to? He has spoken with much enthusiasm about the Order’s more recent reforms. How well are those actually going? He has always had a tendency to embellish his tales.”

Though, with Obi-Wan and Skywalker around, perhaps Qui-Gon’s impossible claims were more truthful than not.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #shmi skywalker #obikin #count dooku #fanfic #aaand this story is finished

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