ℝ𝔸𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ𝔸𝕃 ➵ o. kenobi {my only hope; book 1}

【 ELEVEN 】

Shmi smiled gratefully at me as Qui-Gon made his way into the next room for some privacy.

Anakin's mom turned out to be a very pleasant, wonderful woman. As we prepared dinner together, we chatted, discussing our lives growing up. Eventually the subject turned to slavery, and Shmi enlightened me with her own story.

"I grew up in slavery, too," she admitted as we added some water to Qui-Gon's food capsules. "It was a fate I didn't wish on my son, but I'm afraid it was unavoidable." She shook her head, sighing sadly.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "It sounds like you had a very rough upbringing. No one deserves to be a slave."

Shmi sighed, staring down at the counter. "No," she agreed. "But it was a fate I couldn't escape. My parents and I were abducted by pirates and forced into slavery when I was just three years old."

I inhaled sharply. "That's awful. I'm so sorry."

"I've gotten used to it." Shmi smiled sadly, beginning to chop up Anakin's fruit. "At least I got to explore the universe as I did so. Me and my family had to have been moved at least every other year when I was young." She shook her head again. "Anakin's been stuck here since he was three, poor boy. All he wants is to see the world."

My heart ached. Anakin's longing was a familiar feeling to me. I turned to Shmi. "If you could free him--let him go, explore the universe, grow up outside of slavery, even if it meant you'd never see him again... would you?"

Shmi smiled. "In a heartbeat." She sighed in contentment, as if imagining her son living the life he deserved. She began to smile, but her feeling of positivity was short-lived. "But I'm afraid it's impossible." She dropped her head again, continuing to chop the fruit.

I smiled wryly, turning my head down as well to help her with the fruit. That was another key difference between me and the boy. At least Anakin's mother cared about him--so much so that she'd be willing to sacrifice her own happiness for his. My father had never cared about me for who I was... only who I could be. And my mother... she hadn't seemed to care at all.

"Well, if I know anything from how I grew up, it's that nothing's impossible," I assured Shmi. "There may still be hope yet for you and your son."

Shmi smiled again, but this time, it didn't reach her eyes. "That's a nice thought."

"Emeré."

Both Shmi and I turned to see Qui-Gon standing in the archway, his eyes urgent. He had just finished putting his comm back in his pocket, meaning he was done talking to Obi-Wan, but whatever it was they had discussed had been important, based on the look in Qui-Gon's eyes.

I glanced from Shmi to the Jedi Knight, torn between wanting to help finish dinner and cheer up Shmi, and wanting to follow my responsibilities as a Jedi Padawan. Shmi noticed my hesitation and nudged me.

"Go," she insisted "I'll be fine." I shot her one last look, but yet, she still smiled. "Go!"

Finally, I nodded, and made my way over to Qui-Gon. As I left, I turned to Jar Jar, who I'd noticed had been examining Shmi's previous supply of food in the fridge. Before he could steal any and make the Skywalkers' lives even worse, I snapped my fingers at him. "Jar Jar. Help Miss Skywalker with dinner, will you?"

Jar Jar looked shocked. "Mesa?"

"Yes, yousa," I replied. "Now, go. I have to talk to Qui-Gon."

I shot Shmi one last smile before disappearing around the corner, following Qui-Gon to a more private room. As soon as I was sure Shmi couldn't hear us, I turned to the Jedi. "What is it? What happened?"