Anakin Skywalker: The Chosen One

Love & Loss

She wasn't seeing much with her eyes. They were caked with blood and swollen from the beatings, they would hardly open. 

Shmi Skywalker wasn't hearing much with her ears, for the sounds around her were harsh and threatening, relentlessly so. 

She wasn't feeling with her body, for there was nothing there but pain.

No, she  had fallen inside herself, reliving those moments long ago, when she and Anakin had lived their lives as Watto's Slaves. It was not an easy life, but she had her Annie with her, and given that, Shmi could remember those times fondly. 

Only now, with the prospects for ever seeing her son again so distant, did she truly appreciate how much she had missed the boy over the last few years.

All those times staring up at the night sky, she had thought of him, had imagined him soaring across The Galaxy, rescuing the downtrodden, saving planets from ravaging monsters and evil tyrants.

But she had always expected to see her Annie again, had always expected him to walk onto the moisture farm one day, that impish smile of his, the one that could light up a room, greeting her as if they had never been apart. 

Shmi had loved Cliegg and Owen.

She truly had. She still does.

Cliegg was her rescuer, her dashing knight, and Owen had been like the son she had lost, always compassionate, always happy to listen to her endless stories of Anakin's exploits. 

And Shmi was growing to love Beru, too. Who couldn't? 

Beru was that special combination of compassion and quiet inner strength.

But despite the good fortune that had brought those three into her life, improving her lot a millionfold, Shmi Skywalker had always kept a special place in her heart reserved for her Annie, her son, her hero. 

And so now, as it seemed the end of her life was imminent, Shmi's thoughts focused on those memories she had of Anakin, while at the same time, she reached out to him with her heart. He was always different with such feelings, always so attuned to that mysterious Force. 

The Jedi who had come to Tatooine had seen it in him clearly.

Perhaps, then, Annie would feel her love for him now. 

She needed that, needed to complete the cycle, to let her son recognize that through it all, through the missing years and the great distances between them, she had loved him unconditionally and had thought of him constantly.

Even if he wasn't hers.

She knew he wasn't hers...

Not truly. She always knew that he was from somewhere else.

She never knew where he was truly from. She knew he was placed inside her, she knew that she carried him, birthed him, fed him, raised him.

But he wasn't hers.....

It's not like she cared. Annie was her comfort, her place to hide from the pain, those Tuskens had inflicted, upon her battered body.

Everyday they came in and tortured her a bit more, prodding her with sharp spears or beating her with the blunt shafts and short whips. It was more than a desire to inflict pain, Shmi realized, though she didn't speak their croaking language. 

This was the Tusken way of measuring their enemies, and from the nods and the tone of their voices, she realized that her resilience had impressed them.