Ornamenti: Part 13
Wow, this process is taking a lot longer than I thought it would. Whew!

Part 13: In which Shmi makes a request and there is trouble.



The further up they walked, the tighter Anakin's grip became; he could sense the power and the strength draining out of the elder Jedi, and he had no intention of letting him fall.
"Easy," he murmured, as they reached the top, and he leaned over and hit the close button with his free hand. "Still all right?"

"Ah, yes..." Obi-Wan Kenobi thankfully let the illusion fall, his own eyes, face, hair and motions returning back to him in a wave of grateful return. Sad then, that his legs had suddenly decided to buckle. "...I may need help to the medbay once more."
He seemed almost bemused as the strength left him; holding the illusion hadn't been tiring at all until it was no longer needed, and the aftermath of exhaustion swept in with an overwhelming force.

Despite his preparation Anakin nearly lost his balance as Obi-Wan sagged, but he managed to get himself resituated well enough so that there was balance, and neither of them was going to fall. "Easy," he repeated. "I've got you. Just hold on, okay?"
It wouldn't be too difficult to maneuver him back into the medbay, but Anakin wasn't happy that this was necessary in the first place. For all the stupid things he did, for all he was pleased and relieved when Obi-Wan came to his rescue, there was little he hated more than seeing his teacher hurt, weak.

"...Anakin, it's not necessary for you to be so worried." Obi-Wan carefully put one senseless foot in front of the other, marveling that the phantom limbs would hold his weight. He mostly relied upon Anakin's support to stay upright, however. "...I doubt I'll be useful for a few days, but-"
"Useless, are you?" Shmi Skywalker had had enough of waiting in the medbay while Gardulla's henchmen threatened her son; she was gratified to see him well and his teacher merely exhausted when they both could have been much, much worse.
"Madam, I-"
"Hush." Shmi moved to the other side of Obi-Wan in a strange echo of Padme's earlier help when the Jedi was first wounded in the stomach. "The lovely blonde handmaiden tells me they're preparing to take off." She smiled a little against the red-brown of Obi-Wan's robes. "You'd best be safe and snug before then, Master Kenobi."
Obi-Wan had no reply; unconsciousness nestled him in its peaceful grip.

Anakin sighed, and then lifted his head to give his mother a small, grateful smile. He'd dragged Obi-Wan out of danger alone, before, when they only had each other to depend on, and it was strange to receive help for this now. His teacher had become his center, his home, his safety net, but before there had been Obi-Wan, there had been Shmi Skywalker.
His smile grew.
"He used up a lot of energy," he explained, as together they eased Obi-Wan back into the medbay and onto the bed again, but he wanted to be sure that his answer was fully correct; he gripped the elder Jedi's shoulder lightly and closed his eyes for a moment, letting power touch the center of the wound in his stomach. He found no irritation of the injury, and relief flooded in.

"What did he do?" Shmi smoothed Obi-Wan's hair in a gesture familiar from Anakin's childhood. Yes, she'd accepted this man as her son's caretaker, but she was concerned that he seemed to become injured so often.

"He disguised himself," Anakin said, slowly. "As Qui-Gon." The idea still floored him. He hadn't known it was possible. "Qui-Gon raised him from a child... They were together for a very long time." He was looking at Obi-Wan's face, frowning slightly. "...I can't imagine how it must have felt."

"...It must have been a revisiting." Shmi took Anakin's hand, eyes soft and even, reassuring and wise. "Perhaps the revisiting was painful, but it could not have been bad."

He looked into her face, pressed her hand between both of his.
"Qui-Gon's death destroyed him. I don't know if he's even really all right about it now, even. I don't ask him. I don't even talk about it. I don't want to hurt him. He means so much to me, Mom."

She touched his face. "I know, An."
Obi-Wan lay deep in sleep, somewhat paler than should be healthy, though despite Anakin's warnings about covering up he'd become a little sunkissed upon Tatooine.
"...The death of his Master affected him deeply." Shmi was quiet. "He hasn't let go."

Anakin shook his head in agreement. "A Jedi's Master is everything," he told her, softly. "Parent, teacher, friend... there's only one tragedy worse than losing a Master, and that's losing a Padawan."

"Promise me he will not have to endure that." Shmi's hand upon his face was insistent, in her own subdued way. She requested this not only for Obi-Wan's sake.
A Master losing a Padawan was like a parent losing a child.
In Anakin's case, it would be both.

Her son looked her in the eye, and there was the weight of experience behind his gaze now. When he'd left her, he'd been nine years old, brave and reckless but innocent of the real harshness of the world, of what it meant to have blood on his hands.
He'd killed since then, had been wounded, captured, tortured. He'd made war against the darkness of the world, had come to understand that, every once in a while, some things in life are worth more than courage.
But it remained: Anakin Skywalker had changed in ways his mother could not quite lay eyes on.
"I promise, Mom," he said softly, and leaned into her hand with eyes closed, with a depth of sorrow not previously achieved.

She leaned forward to meet her son, their foreheads touching softly in the nightly ritual they'd had many years ago when Anakin could not sleep. "Also promise me this: when my time comes, you will let me go."

That stilled him, and he opened his eyes, giving her a weak smile. "You're not going anywhere, not yet."

She hugged him. "No, not yet. But I'm sure you will feel it, wherever you may be. I don't wish you to wallow in pain."

Anakin did not respond to that. It was clear the very idea upset him, though he returned the hug, tightly.

"An."
There was a slight chuckle to the childhood name, as though she could read his mind and knew all the reasons he'd returned her words with silence... And she knew the reason behind those reasons. "I love you. I will always love you. Even..." She squeezed him. "Even if we never see each other again. I knew what it meant to give you up to the stars, Anakin. Your heart is too big, your gifts too great for me to have kept you to myself. I had to share you. I had to let you go."
She petted her son, eyes shining with pride and unshed tears. "Please do the same for me."

"Mom," he replied, voice quavering faintly. It seemed to be all he was capable of; as badly as he might have wanted to promise, he could not bring himself to guarentee her that he could simply let go of her that easily.
AraiYasha: She kissed his cheek, smiling. "...When that happens, I'll be with you. I'll see all those strange, far-off worlds through your eyes." Shmi played gently with his hair, faintly sad that it was too short now to twist around her fingers.

"You're always with me," Anakin replied, quietly firm. "Even if we can't be together."
The engines were beginning to rumble beneath them; apparently the cruiser was lifting off.

Shmi smiled, admonishing. He had not yet answered her request. "...Promise me you will not let part of yourself die with me, Anakin." She squeezed her beloved, loving son once more, eyes gentle and serious. "Even if the time is years from now. Tell someone. Grieve, but don't grieve in silence." She patted his face. "Don't lock me away and let yourself suffer."
Cliegg had been hoping for that other machine part; they'd just have to make do with what was on the farm.
Mos Espa was falling away behind them quickly.

"...I'll try, Mom," he said at last, smallvoiced and unhappy with even having to commit to just that. "I'll try my best... but you have to promise /me/ you're going to live a long time, okay?"

She kissed his cheek, hugging him hard. "I'll live as long as I can. I'll try, Anakin."
Then Shmi sat back a little, not relinquishing the hug, and murmured, "...I know what I've asked of you is difficult. You would rather not consider the possibility of my passing. But-" Here her voice rang serious and comforting, the quiet tones she would use when explaining some great wrong in the universe of their lives when Anakin railed against the unfairness. "-the time will come, and I refuse to let you face it without knowing I want you to move on." She smiled, fingers tracing the contours of his face. It used to be so round and full of babyfat. "You have Obi-Wan to care for you, and a whole galaxy to care for. Letting my passing kill part of you would not prove your love for me any more than cutting off your own arm."
She kissed him gently again. "...Understand?"

He looked at her in silence, brow furrowed- the face so adult and so young at the same time. What she asked of him was impossible. If she died, it /would/ kill a part of him, just as much as Obi-Wan's death or Padme's death would shatter him. Some people simply could not be released from his life, and Anakin had always been the sort to fight against that which caused pain.
"Yes, Mom," he said quietly.

Shmi saw his promise for what it was; an acknowledgement of her desires, if not the capability to follow them through. It did not fulfill her request, but it was enough.
Time for something else.
"She's pretty." Shmi said.

Well, it was certainly enough to snap him out of his melancholy. Anakin blinked at her, blue eyes widening just a little.
"Who?" he asked, rather too innocently.

Shmi was hard-pressed to not chuckle. "Anakin." His name was a gentle tease. That innocent look wasn't fooling anybody, least of all his own mother. "You're still taken with her."
Only one handmaiden had met Shmi Skywalker during the first Naboo trip to Tatooine.

He narrowly avoided a cringe, but the expression on his face certainly agreed with her statement.
"It's not allowed," he said, carefully. "Jedi are forbidden from attachments. That includes falling in love."

"That doesn't stop it from happening," observed Shmi serenely. Her eyes half-closed in careful consideration. "...I like her."
Shmi smiled.

Yoinomyoujou: (*LOL* Ani's like MOM YOU AREN'T HELPING)
AraiYasha: (Shmi's like, "TEEHEEZ. I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I LIKE HER. :3")
AraiYasha: (Shmi Skywalker, like Qui-Gon Jinn, is inwardly hilarious.)


"...."
Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, to ensure that he was still sleeping; he replied, quietly, "I like her, too," without looking away from the Jedi Knight. "She's a good friend."
And whatever she was upset with him for, he figured, they could talk out, later.

That later might as well have been now; Padme knocked quietly on the doorframe. "...I'm sorry to intrude, but Rabe needs the coordinates for your home."
"Ah." Shmi stood pleasantly. "May I show her myself? Our farm is small and easy to miss."
The handmaiden seemed surprised that Shmi would willingly give up some of the precious time with her son. "...Yes. I see no reason why you shouldn't." Equally mystifying was the pleased expression the older woman had as she passed Padme en route to the control room.

Anakin looked after her for a long moment, as though trying to memorize her, capture her immortal in his memory, much fresher now than she'd been when he was smaller. Then he glanced at Padme, and hesitated before giving her a small, uncharacteristically shy smile.
"Well," he said, feeling awkward but working to hide it. There was still a faint flush to his cheeks.

Shmi had that same queer, puzzling, comforting quality of Qui-Gon's to make one feel both completely stripped and completely safe at the same time. The sense of scrutinizing, all-knowing love stayed with you long after she passed. It required a bit of an adjustment afterwards to return to the business of -not- being underneath a benevolent microscope.
Best do it now.
Padme stepped forward. "I wanted to apologize to you." Now it was her turn to be shy. "...I was avoiding you earlier, and it wasn't fair."

The boy tilted his head at her, slightly, tapping a hand rather nervously against his knee.
"Why?" he asked, and then, as though deciding the question was too forward, he added, "Did I do something to make you angry?" He couldn't think of anything in particular, unless he'd been more obvious than usual about his feelings... ...well that would certainly explain her upset. His smile dropped. "Wait, no. I'm sorry. I did do something, didn't I? I made you... uncomfortable, somehow, or..."

"No! No. I mean you didn't-" Padme paused and reached for composure. "...Helping the children tired you out, that's all." Her next words were absolutely honest. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. It wasn't your fault."

There was that slow stilling of motion, the sudden focus of his eyes that meant he'd been caught off guard. "...What wasn't my fault?"

A raised eyebrow. "My reaction."

"Your reaction to what?" He /had/ done something stupid. Something that had nearly driven her away. "Was it something I said?"

That caused a blink.
Then Padme smiled at him in her unique soft way, faintly ironic. "...I come to apologize, and you insist on doing the same." A coil of rich brown hair bobbed beside her ear. "It's not important now, Anakin."
And all the uncomfortableness, all that brief distance between them, melted away in the wake of one happy fact. "You've seen your mother for the first time in eight years." The girl shrugged a little, shoulders shifting to find a better purchase on the medbay wall. It was a strangely shy gesture. "I don't want to monopolize the time you have with her."


Yoinomyoujou: (HEE. I LOVE THAT WE CAN DO WHATEVER WE WANT. ....pheremones.)
AraiYasha: (SEX LIZARDS)
Yoinomyoujou: (I FULLY ENDORSE SEX LIZARD BOUNTY HUNTERS)
Yoinomyoujou: (YOU WILL NOT HEAR THAT OUT OF ME ANY OLD DAY)
AraiYasha: (*LMFAO* WOO!)
Yoinomyoujou: (IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO FF :D)
AraiYasha: (:D ...Aww, can't we just have them attack NOW? When it's most incovenient? It doesn't have to be a sex lizard bounty hunter! It can be one we can blow up without any characterization at all!)
AraiYasha: (INCONVENIENCE IS THE LAW OF STAR WARS.)
Yoinomyoujou: (IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO ENDANGER ALL THREE OF ANAKIN'S FAVORITE PEOPLE AT ONCE? :D HE MAY GET RAGEFUL.)
AraiYasha: (................Oh honey. That was a rhetorical question to end all rhetorical questions. :D)
AraiYasha: (Of course we'll endanger all three at once. What else are AUs FOR?)
Yoinomyoujou: (*dies* WOW TRYING TO SUMMON THE SITH LORD ARE WE? VERY WELL, CARRY ON)

"You aren't."
He smiled back, though still a little uncertain by her sudden reversal, and rose to his feet. "I don't have a lot of friends," he explained, and moved forward, touching Obi-Wan's shoulder very briefly as he passed him. "Spending time with you makes me happy." Honest, himself.

Padme grinned from her station at the wall and would have replied- if the ship hadn't suddenly dipped and spun and come up short with a sudden jerk.
A female voice up ahead in the control room swore gutturally in the sharp Southern dialect of Naboo, loud enough to be heard back in the medbay, and the wild swerving continued.
Something smelled of smoke.
And there were exploding noises from outside.

Anakin's lightsaber was out and in his hand, though not ignited; he moved immediately between Obi-Wan and Padme, and the door, expression tense. "What the-"
No time for questioning. He stretched his senses, touching his mother to ensure she was all right, reaching for Sabe, who was as angry as Rabe had sounded, and also on alert, and trying for Eirtae as well.
What's happening?

Shmi only bore a few bruises from the escapade; her position in the pilot's area had given her prior warning for some of the evasive maneuvers. She was fine.
As far as conversation went, Eirtae was receptive enough. ...seem to have an angry bee following us- The woman flying the plane bellowed something at the blonde and she lost focus on Anakin for a moment. ...everything tied down? I'm going to check the children- they should have been wearing harnesses in-flight, but you know young ones and rules...
Padme moved unsteadily to her feet as the craft suffered another violent jerk; she narrowly missed banging her head upon the corner of Obi-Wan's table. One hand steadied herself on the table, another took hold of Anakin's robe. "We're under attack."
Sure and calm now, Padme maneuvered her hips around the med table where Obi-Wan lay, first strapping him in with a careful chest harness just in case Rabe needed to take more extreme action. Nasty curves and twists of the floor delayed the operation with scrambles for stability and sheer annoying gravity fluctuations.

Anakin steadied himself against the edge of the table, and gestured with his free hand, assisting those straps with careful application of the Force. He paused only long enough to lay hand on Obi-Wan's cheek, to touch his Master's mind with quiet reassurance and then the carefully Force-backed command to sleep, keep sleeping. One of the simplest Jedi tricks there was; Obi-Wan did not need to be up again. Not now.
"He'll be all right," he murmured, letting his hand drop. "Let's go see what's after us."

Padme nodded and moved out into the hall, one hand upon the smooth soft walls for balance in the face of sudden jarrings and whiplash turns, then two. Even crouching low couldn't prevent her from being turned into a living pinball, and suddenly...
The ship had been moving parallel to the ground. Mostly.
Now it took a sharp 90 degree angle down.

Even a Jedi couldn't keep his feet under such circumstances, and Anakin was no different; he landed rather ungracefully on his rear end and slide the rest of the way down the hallway, letting go of his lightsaber in surprise. He slammed hard into the far wall and all the breath left his lungs in a painful whoosh, head spinning with the impact.
Well... at least Obi-Wan's strapped down-

Padme made a "whuff!" sound nearby; she'd fallen as painlessly as she could, but the swerving beat anything not tied down like a whisk whipping eggs.
"Rabe!" The control room was much closer now that they'd nearly landed in it. "What are you /doing/?!"
The handmaiden was busy. "Trying to avoid our attacker- Hold on to something."
Padme latched onto the door, and just in time.
The dive reversed.

Anakin gave a very loud and most un-jedi-like swear and attached himself to the nearest accessible grip in the wall-turned-ceiling he could catch. "Maybe I should fly it, huh?!" he shouted in irritation, booted feet scrabbling for purchase. "There are /better ways/-"

A small explosion rocked the whole ship.
"Well, it looks like we've got more than one following us." Eirtae seemed absolutely cheery from her death grip to a nearby harness; Shmi had been given a much safer berth in an actual chair. "And they're very tiny ships!"
"I'd be more than happy to let you fly, Skywalker. Come get the controls." Rabe loosed her harness. "I'm going to blow them out of the sky."

He growled, and stuck his foot in the closest hold he could find, pulling his way up and into the control room. "Fine, fine, just try not to crash before I get there-" Despite his grumbling he seemed eager to be at the controls; he latched on to the pilot's seat and slid in when Rabe vacated, buckling himself in as though he'd been born to sit in the chair. Immediately he was touching controls, pulling up charts and readouts and giving them only the briefest of cursory glances, as though just that was enough to memorize them. The ship righted itself, dodging to the left to avoid fire from one of the enemy fighters.
"All right, let's do this."

Rabe didn't reply to the new pilot, only latched herself into a new harness (this one with a rope and carabiner instead of attached to a sitting area), grabbed a rather formidable blaster from the display case, freed a panel from the ship wall and dove inside the wiry hole.
"She's not-" Padme lurched in, hand upon Anakin's seat for balance though she looked after Rabe with concern.
Eirtae seemed perfectly unbothered. "Of course she is."
Words were cheap; Padme swiftly took a blaster of her own and slid into the metallic depths of the droid corridor.

Steering the ship was no longer an issue, nor was how they were going to escape enemy fire, because the entire cruiser had suddenly become an extension of Anakin Skywalker's hands and intentions. His expression was perfectly calm, almost pleased, as he took them through swift, expert loops, graceful dodges and drew in close enough for the handmaidens to get off the shots they needed to fight off the tide of tiny fighters. He muttered to himself from time to time in a combination of Huttese and Basic- at times he seemed to be counting.

Shmi's reaction to this rather exciting situation did not evoke the typically expected concerned look of alarm prevalent in most middle-aged mothers faced with life-threatening danger. It was the first time in her life she'd ever been chased in an intergalactic cruiser by a small posse of angry bounty-hunting aliens, after all, but Anakin handled the ship beautifully with the same effortless touch he'd had when he raced the volatile pods.
Yet another thing to be secure in. And proud of.
"Thanks, Skywalker. The angle was perfect." The wind whistled in the mouthpiece of Rabe's radio. Any farther out beyond the droid door leading out over the cruiser's fuselage, and wind would be all one could hear. Distantly, a cloud of black smoke rose from a burning dune.
Eirtae checked the scanners inside the control room, counting scanner heat signatures. "We've still got four- I think they're trying to avoid the girls."
Padme ducked as a white line of sparks skipped just barely over her head and scattered upon the Noobian ship's gorgeous reflective shields. "...or they could be aiming for us." She shot back; the tiny ship zoomed out of range and another one circled in to the attack.

"Just hold together a little longer- let me know if it gets too much." Anakin was unware of his mother's eyes on him; his focus was here and now, speaking to the ship and letting it speak to him in turn. He swooped low over the dunes, dropped the cruiser suddenly in a deep canyon, and sent another of the small ships crashing cockpit first into the canyon wall. Another quick loop and he was spiraling out again, pushing the cruiser to the limits of its maneuverability.
"I'm leading him left-" this in reference to the nearest fighter, which Anakin was teasing closer and closer. "Line it up if you can-"

"Got it..." Rabe took careful aim-
Only to be completely thrown off her mark and thrown /out/ of the mechanic panel by a violent upthrust from below the wing. Her rope snapped taut from the pipes she'd tied it to; Padme narrowly missed the whiplash catching and crushing her fingers in-between rope and droid hatch.
The target craft moved to slide below the wing, probably to join its compatriot which had caused the bump.
Rabe was a sitting duck there, hanging off the flying ship like a kite beyond Padme's blaster range.
The following ship of the remaining three had taken notice of this.
The other handmaiden would have to deal with this problem creatively. A swift leap, a skid across seeming-molten metal, and an even faster release of the belt cord holding her to the space crusier sent Padme flying onto the ship Rabe had been trying to shoot.
The brown warthog-headed alien inside squealed angrily, furious at the sudden invasion.
Then she punched him.
And dumped him into a nearby dune. The surface wasn't so far off now. Interesting.
She slipped into the pilot's chair, gratified to discover the controls were pretty basic humanoid mechanisms, nothing too fancy. First things first- right the aircraft so it didn't crash with her on it.

"All right over there?" This was aimed at Padme, and without panic- he wasn't underestimating her ability to handle herself in this situation, by any means. "If you get a chance, see if you can dog out those last two ships, they- Whoop!"
He'd let his concentration drift; cannon fire scoured a wing nastily, evoking a brusque swear from the boy. "Sorry about that..."

AraiYasha: (HE'S ADORABLE.)
Yoinomyoujou: (*L* She totally turned him on just now.)
AraiYasha: (*L* She did something amazing and dangerous, just like he does often.)

"Yeah, I'm fine."
The rust-brown aircraft skimmed the sand dunes, sending a spray of tiny sharp grains flying high; Padme righted it and swooped up in a swift arc until she was behind the ship threatening Rabe, who'd wrapped one arm firmly in her rope and kept that trigger finger locked on her blaster.
The handmaiden may have been a sitting duck whipped around in the wind, but she was an /angry/ sitting duck.
The hairy warthog had to keep dodging her shots; being caught in a pincer between the roped girl and the hijacked ship couldn't have been pleasant for him either. He wavered back and forth, trying to shake Padme and avoid Rabe's blaster aim.
Padme's voice was concentrated and calm across the radio as she flicked switches. "Just finding the weapons controls-"

Anakin wasn't going to show him any quarter, either- he swung the ship around in a wide arc, disorienting his careful position. "Hit it! Now!"

Rabe slammed into the side of the Naboo cruiser and clung there, safely out of harm's way.
Padme did.
The echoing fires of the explosion seared at the open-air cockpit as she zipped by, but otherwise she emerged from the cloud of flames unscathed.
"Well. That was exciting," observed Shmi Skywalker.
Then the aircraft that had been shadowing the cruiser from the bottom leapt up right in front of Anakin's window and started firing.

Well, there /was/ one clear response to that- Anakin ground his teeth together, and hit the reversal thrusters on the left side, sending the tail of the cruiser into a hard, vicious turn, effectively slamming the final fighter into dunes below in an explosion of fire and sand. It took him a moment to realize exactly what he'd done, but when he did, he grinned hugely, and slumped back in his seat.
"I think that's it."

"Well done." Eirtae was typing at the scanners again, fingers held delicately to her headset. "Artoo, could you check with systems in your sector? I'm reading a malfunction there, but it won't tell me what."
A series of cheerful beeps replied to her request, and Eirtae happily went back to accounting the wounded or not-wounded. "Is everyone whole? No open cuts or broken bones?"
Rabe's radio had a little fuzz. "None that I can feel for sure."
"Get back inside and we'll make sure. Padme?"
Her radio crackled instead of fuzzing. "No problems here. Everyone accounted for in the cabins?"
"Oh yes, I've been communicating with them the whole time. They're very well." Eirte smiled and turned to Shmi. "Now it seems, ma'am, that we've gone a little off-course to take you home. Would you be so kind as to give us those coordinates again?"
Shmi looked very prim indeed. Inwardly amused, but outwardly very prim. "No, I do not mind."

"We should do that soon." Anakin's voice was all seriousness and business, his eyes on the control panel, braid swinging low against his right cheek. He was touching screens and twiddling dials carefully, guided by that strange inner voice that seemed to show him the way with anything mechanical. "The ship's not feeling too well." He let Force sense play out carefully, seeking the issues that were sending small, beeping red alerts playing across his viewscreens. "...rudders are damaged. We're not going to be able to leave the atmosphere."

"Hn." Rabe clambered down the slippery side of the crusier, heading back towards the droid portal. "Estimated time for repairs?"
Anakin's assessment of the situation obviously posed as an important one to these fearless and capable women.

"Depends on if the thruster on that side got banged up, too." The Padawan was apparently taking for granted that his advice here was valuable and would be taken into full and important consideraton. His eyes were narrowed in concentration; he glanced up at Rabe at last, serious. "We'll need parts, but if you give me three hours I can probably rig something up."

"We may not get three hours." Padme coasted around the cruiser in her stolen vehicle, radio crackling. "They had plenty of time to message for help."
Rabe shook herself out of the harness, absently working out the stiffness in her arm from where the coiled rope had worked as a tourniquet. "Wonderful."
The handmaiden actually seemed pleased at this intimation of future violence; being flung willy-nilly in the wake of a powerful space crusier apparently hadn't been enough excitement for her today. She fitted a new plasma battery to her blaster and locked it firmly in place, a faint grin crossing her normally stolid features.
Ever pragmatic, Eirtae keyed in the coordinates Shmi whispered to her. "We'd best start as soon as possible, then."

Anakin tilted his head, addressing Padme. "Does your fighter have a radar? Have you got some way to tell if there's more incoming? I can take us in to drop off my Mom, but until we find someplace to hide and conceal this thing, we need to keep moving."
He touched Obi-Wan's slumbering mind briefly, checking him for injury; as long as he was unharmed and secure, Anakin had every intention of remaining in that pilot's seat.

"Yes." Padme clicked a few buttons; residual sound came through from her headset. "I'll keep an eye out behind you."
Obi-Wan Kenobi slept on peacefully; even the bucking, rolling insanity of the ship's last offensive move couldn't budge the Jedi from his exhausted unconsciousness.

"Thanks, Padme." A glance at the navscreen confirmed that the coords had been entered as necessary; Anakin keyed up the autopilot and locked it in, then sighed and sat back in his seat, turning the chair around so that he faced his mother again, with a little smile.
"A little taste of my life now."

The son's little smile was easily matched by his dark-haired mother. "It's very exciting, An." Dangerous, her eyes said, But I can tell you enjoy helping people this way. I'm so proud of you.
Out of an unspoken agreement, Eirtae and Rave decided to politely ignore any and all comments made by Shmi and her son to each other; the two may as well have been conversing in complete blissful private in the control area for all the notice the two busy handmaidens took of them.

He understood where her concern came from, and it was half the reason why he wasn't exactly overflowing to tell her about all his adventures.
The Karkar story would probably be enough for her to want to rethink her choice to let him go.
Anakin's smile widened, warmed a little, though his eyes were still serious. "Don't worry about me, okay?" he told her. "I have good people looking out for me, and I'm not exactly helpless."

"That I can see." Shmi nodded her pleased approval. "It eases my mind."

He grinned, and patted the ship's console as it beeped, signaling that their destination was near enough to land- they hadn't been so far off in the first place and the high speed chase had only brought them closer.
"Then that's what really matters," he said, and turned back to initiate the landing sequence.

Shmi smiled a little, murmuring softly, "I can't wait to tell your brother about this."

Anakin paused, and glanced over his shoulder, after a moment.
"...my brother?"

"Your step-brother. His name is Owen."

The single blue eye that was visible widened. "I have a step brother? ...What's he like?"

Shmi smiled. She'd often compared the two boys in her mind, never having a chance to share her thoughts aloud. The contrasts only made her happy. "He's very like his father- tied to the land. He'll keep the family farm going when it becomes his." The mother's smile deepened. "I tell him stories about your adventures out in the stars. Now I'll have a real example to work from."

The boy paused, considering this idea for a long moment- a brother, blood related or not, was something new.
But at last his smile returned, briefly, a moment before he turned his attention to the console again. Family was a good thing. It meant he was even less alone than he'd been before.
"I'm sorry I won't get to meet him."

"So am I." Shmi had often wanted to line her two sons up beside each other, to delight in their differences and discover new similarities that memory hadn't already drawn.

There was a bump and the settling sound of injured machinery as the ship landed; Anakin gave a wince of sympathy without thinking about it. "Sounds worse than I thought," he muttered to himself, and hit the intercom. "Sabe? Are you at the ramp?"
"I am," came the reply, a moment later. "I'm opening it now."
"Thanks." Anakin unstrapped his harness and stood to look at his mother, tall and beautiful and well on his way to becoming a man. "...I suppose this is it."

She unbuckled as well. "Yes."
Shmi stood and admired her son, not yet willing to let this moment pass.

He looked down at her for a long moment, and then he stepped forward, drawing her into a tight hug and pressing his face against her neck, as he'd done so many years ago when he was hardly more than a toddler and seeking his mother's warmth.
"I love you," he said, with all the feeling he had in him for the words. "And I won't ever forget you."

"Oh my Anakin."
And her voice thrummed as full and rich as always, always full of love for him. She laid a hand against his head, gently pressed his face into that place of comfort. It was comforting to her to know her son still remembered their old traditions, even after so many years apart. "...do you remember the songs I taught you?"
You are my beloved son.

"I don't sing so much anymore," he said, and it was so hard not to cry then. Suddenly, desperately, he didn't want her to leave. He didn't want to leave, himself. "But I remember the songs."

"You should sing more often." Shmi touched her fingertips to Anakin's strong cheekbones, memorizing the new angles for the rest of her life. "It calmed you."
I know you don't want me to leave. But I must. Your friends need your help. Your protection.
There was no doubt in Shmi Skywalker's mind that Anakin could give these people the protection they needed.

"Maybe I will," Anakin said softly, turning his head to kiss her fingers. He was crying, a little, but there was no sound to it, only a few tears. "You should go."

"Please do." She stood on tiptoe to kiss away the tears on his cheek. The words she spoke in Huttese before pulling away were equally soft, oddly melodic for a language known for its vulgarity and coarseness.
Shmi blinked away her own tears.
"Keep safe, Anakin."

"I promise." This in the same language. He could not move to follow her to the ramp. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

She understood.
His hands, oh so grown now after eight years of distance, were strong and firm when she squeezed them goodbye and slowly backed out of the room and towards her loving farmer husband, second son, and quiet life.

Yoinomyoujou: (Now he gets to spend the next few minutes trying desperately not to cry like a baby.)

For a moment he only stood, watching her until she'd disappeared, until the light over the cockpit went off, signaling that the ramp was closed, and that they were once more ready to depart.
Then he drew in a deep and ragged breath, pulled his hand across his eyes, and let it out again. "We'll hide first," he said, evenly. "Beggar's Canyon isn't far from here- we can tuck into one of the overhangs and disappear for a while. I can take a look at the ship-" Maybe get an hour of sleep, If there's time...

"Good idea." Rabe settled into Shmi's vacated seat, checking systems right along with Eirtae. "Lead on, Skywalker."

He smiled fleetingly, suddenly very tired, and settled back into the pilot's chair, swiveling back around and tapping his headset. "Padme? Follow my lead. I've got a place for us to hide out for a bit."
The ship groaned as it left the sand, but Anakin did not look down again.