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Chapter Text

The wind howled outside.

"It's been hard raising him," Shmi finished with a sigh, leaning against the Jedi. Somehow, at the exact same moment in the middle of the Tatooine night, she and Qui-Gon Jinn had entered the kitchen seeking something to drink.

"My apprentice has more than a few antics of his own, believe me."

They were sitting in the corner of the wall with glasses of blue milk beside them, his serape draped around her shoulders.

"He can't be worse than my Anakin."

"The Healers have a bed on constant reserve for him because he gets hurt constantly. Granted, there's one on reserve for me, too, but..."

His face was scarred and lined, but in a way that made him seem wise instead of old. There was something about him, something that made her feel safe and warm inside.

Shmi Skywalker had never felt that way before.

Is this what it is to fall in love? Watto had never encouraged such things; he griped enough about the food Anakin and Shmi required that she knew another mouth, however valuable on the slave-market, would never be accepted by Watto. Besides, she and Anakin were happy together. Well, as happy as two slaves could be. Watto was better than the Hutts, at the very least!

She smiled and closed her eyes, lulled by the rhythm of his words.

He was an off-world stranger in need of help, but maybe...

...when this was all over...

...just maybe...

She hardly felt it when he carried her, almost asleep, back to her room.

...

Two days later...

Shmi could hardly believe her ears.

Anakin... free!?

"Here's the proceeds from the sale of the podracer." Qui-Gon placed the small bag in her hand and she felt the weight of the money inside.

Not enough on its own, but...

"What about Mom?" Anakin was looking right at Qui-Gon.

She saw the Jedi swallow, hard.

"Your mother will do just fine. Qui-Gon, go by Watto's with him and do whatever needs doing." Not having Anakin freed before I try this could put his freedom at risk; there isn't enough for both of us. "Then, come back here."

Qui-Gon nodded and they left.

Shmi pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk, heaving out the bag there.

The bag she had saved money in since she and Anakin had been sold to Watto and she had been allowed to clean electronics for money whenever Watto did not need her work for himself.

With the money Qui-Gon had given her, there was nothing to stop her from buying her freedom. Her value was a set number in the documentation both Watto and the city held. While Watto could raise that number all he wanted for anyone trying to buy her, he was allowed only that in damages if she was killed and that price held if a slave should be capable to buy freedom.

And the work she had done on the side was documented as well.

If she went to the city office itself, Watto could do nothing about the procedings. At all.

If Watto tried anything, the Hutts would seize his property. Probably the reason they let that law exist in the first place.

She left a note on the table and left.

With any luck, I'll be back before they are.

...

She sat, sheaf of papers in her lap and meager bags at her feet, waiting for her son and the Jedi to return.

Soon, Qui-Gon steered a crying little boy into the small quarters.

Anakin stood there for a moment, sniffling and peering out through tears.

And then he smiled.

Shmi laughed at the look on Qui-Gon's face. "The credits from the podracer weren't enough for my freedom... but the credits I've saved for years and the credits from the podracer were!"

...

As he helped her and Anakin carry their things to the waiting ship, Qui-Gon looked out of the corner of his eye at the newly-free slavewoman.

She really was quite lovely, even more so considering what that beauty had been made to endure over the years. She was strong of heart and bold, as well. He admired her desire to help others even when she herself had troubles.

Much would have to change, even to just train Anakin.

Maybe there was a chance...

Just maybe...

She caught his gaze and smiled.

He couldn't help but smile back.

Chapter Text

"You don't have to do this..."

Padme caught Shmi's hands in her own. "Shmi, it fits you and I don't need it anymore. Believe it or not, you need more than two dresses, three tunics, and a pair of pants out here."

"It's just so extravagant..."

"You've never seen the queen's wardrobe. That's extravagant."

Shmi twirled in front of the mirror. It was a simple outfit with a dark brown skirt and a brilliant blue tunic. "It's wonderful."

"It's yours."

"Thank you."

She stood there, just staring at herself. Only a day since I bought my freedom, if that, and so much has changed. Even used... I've never owned anything this beautiful before, this well-made.

She smiled wistfully. What will Qui-Gon think?

One of the other handmaidens stuck her head through the open door. "Shmi, the Jedi wanted me to let you know dinner is ready."

She started for the door, then turned to the handmaidens.

"Go on," Padme encouraged her. "We eat with the queen."

...

There was a set of gasps as she walked into the small dining room. The Jedi ate separately from the other occupants on the ship and Qui-Gon had invited the Skywalkers to join them at meals for the duration of the voyage. Shmi supposed it was mostly to keep her and Anakin from becoming overwhelmed with either royal manners or the dealings of the crew; part of her secretly hoped it was because Qui-Gon wanted to be near her.

The young apprentice she'd heard so much about during the sandstorm was staring, open-mouthed.

Anakin was grinning. "Mom!" He jumped up and ran over, hugging her waist. The reality of their new life had finally hit him, and the little boy had been bouncy for hours.

She locked eyes with Qui-Gon for a split second. He was smiling softly at her, but there was something positively mournful in his eyes.

"When are we going to arrive at Coruscant?" she asked, detatching her son and sitting down at the small table.

"We aren't going to Coruscant," Obi-Wan muttered.

"Given the transmission received while we were on Tatooine, and reports Queen Amidala has received about the current situation in the Senate..." Qui-Gon began.

"Jar-Jar's got an army," Anakin blurted.

"Jar-Jar Binks does not have an army," the young Jedi snapped.

"The Gungans may be able to help the Queen," Qui-Gon finished. "Right now, it seems like a better shot than going to the Senate."

"I wish he'd let us know before we even left Naboo," Obi-Wan muttered.

"Padawan, apologize. These people are free because we left Naboo, and the Queen's entourage would have likely died if we had not left Naboo's system."

"And now you think of breaking the Code, not simply bending it!"

"Padawan, please leave until you can treat other civilized beings as such."

"Master..." Obi-Wan ground through barely clenched teeth.

Qui-Gon pointed towards the door. "Padawan Kenobi, GO!"

He left in a huff.

"Qui-Gon, what was that about?"

"Jedi aren't allowed to form attachments to other beings. Master-apprentice relationships are the closest things we ever have to family. I... I should have let you know." He pushed away from the table. "I am sorry, Shmi," he whispered, then left.

Shmi held Anakin close. "Finish eating, Anakin. I'll be back in a little while."

She stumbled through the ship, back to the door to Padme's quarters. Shmi wasn't sure how long it was before the very young woman came around the bend in the corridor.

"Shmi! What happened?"

"Just need to talk..." She wasn't sure what had made her turn to the handmaiden like this, but it was like the girl had become a surrogate daughter in the few short days they had known each other.

Half an hour later, Padme wrapped her arms around the former slavewoman. "If I had known you felt that way about him, I would have warned you. Qui-Gon is known for bending rules, but I doubt he'd dare break them. Helping the universe as a Jedi is so important to all of them..."

"He is a very special boy..."

Shmi's eyes hardened, tears still falling.

If they want to train my son, it will be on my terms.

...

Qui-Gon walked around the tiny observation room late that night.

I should have told her.

How much of a fool could I be, thinking there was a chance?

How many generations would it take before someone else would shake the Council, if I left?

My own desires, or the good of all the Jedi?

I can't choose her...

I've only hurt her by not letting her know.

He tried to hold in a rare Jedi sob.

I hurt Shmi.

There was a swoosh as the Queen of Naboo entered the room, alone.

"Good evening, Master Jedi."

"Good evening, Your Highness."

She walked over to a viewport. "The universe is so peaceful out here."

"Indeed it is."

They stood in silence for a long moment, each lost in thoughts of what would come all too soon.

The Queen turned to leave. "Take care not to break her heart, Master Jedi," she whispered as she left.

Qui-Gon stared after her. How did she know? Did Padme tell her?

What am I going to do?

He settled into a meditation posture and tried to touch the Force, to slip into a relaxation meditation where it would be as if none of this ever happened...

Every time he almost reached his goal, he saw her.

It was late in the night when he finally gave up, lying down on a couch with his legs hanging far over the end and trying to get some sleep.

...

Shmi lay quietly in the small room aboard ship she and Anakin shared, trying not to wake the small boy.

Why did I have to be so foolish? The Maker has given us our freedom, which is more than we could have ever dreamed of even a month ago.

Her dreams had been haunted by the long-haired Jedi, holding her close, telling her of all the wonders of the universe.

She was afraid for him, even given all she had learned so harshly.

Tomorrow, there would be fighting. While she hoped Anakin and herself could find a safe place to stay, somewhere safe from the fighting...

You can never have him, Shmi, so stop worrying about him!

Qui-Gon Jinn would be on the front line.

Chapter Text

Shmi quietly wandered the abandoned corridors, the blaster rifle she'd been left with in hand. She had been told to stay in the hangar by the Jedi with her son and the two droids, but when the fighter Anakin and Artoo had taken shelter in took off on autopilot and C-3PO shut off in fright... well, she might as well find someplace a bit more hidden to stay.

Something worried her about the man, if he was a man, that the Jedi had run off fighting. He was too skilled. The Jedi were too evenly matched. Even Shmi's unexperienced eyes could see that.

Too many things had gone wrong. She had seen the tiredness in the Jedis' eyes that morning. They hadn't seemed to have expected any sort of opposition like that, just the Trade Federation's droids.

No one was ready for a man with a lightsaber.

The Jedi clearly hadn't been ready for anything at all beyond droids and normal people.

Shmi knew one thing for sure, Qui-Gon had been in no condition to fight anything that morning.

She heard the sound of sabers clashing nearby.

Shmi started running as well as she could, keeping to the shadows.

She didn't know what she could do.

But she had to do something.

...

Qui-Gon had never faced a challenge like this before.

He knelt, taking advantage of the moment's respite...

...for beyond the red laser barrier paced what must certainly be a Sith.

He had to fight. With a Sith, or something certainly as bad as a Sith, on the loose... And Obi-Wan could not hope to beat such a fighter alone.

Even if all the others won, the counter-invasion would fail.

And all the others would die.

The Queen.

Anakin.

Shmi.

He could not hope to win. Even if the Force was on his side today, he could only hope to wear his enemy down. Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to make it through all the barriers in one run. If he could wear the fighter down, Obi-Wan might have a chance.

He opened his eyes, looking at the Sith with unwavering gaze.

He knew he was likely looking at his death.

I'm sorry, Shmi. I just hope you and your son are safe where we left you.

He jumped to his feet and lit his saber.

The barrier cycled open.

...

Obi-Wan ran forward, following his master.

He slid to a halt just as the final barrier slid into place in front of him...

...and could only watch helplessly as Qui-Gon fought, outmatched by circumstance and his apprentice's unwilling absence from the battlefield.

Even handicapped, Obi-Wan had never seen Qui-Gon fight with such form and power.

Festivals and tournaments could never compare to the real life-and-death struggles of the battlefield.

The best fight of Qui-Gon Jinn's life was for it.

His enemy's double blade moved a certain way and Obi-Wan found himself gasping for air, seeing full well what was about to happen.

Qui-Gon's face began to shift into an expression of shock as the recovery from the last blow moved his opponent's blade farther back and around.

And from the other side of the room, in a tiny access hallway none of the fighters had cared to notice, came a scream, as if someone's soul was being ripped in two.

...

Shmi really hadn't meant to scream. But even she could see what was going to happen.

She lifted the rifle, trying to look dangerous.

The strange robed enemy shifted his grip, running the tip of the saber across Qui-Gon's abdomen.

QUI-GON!

The Jedi dropped to his knees and tipped over, landing on his side and falling onto his back, limp.

Shmi heard Obi-Wan scream.

The stranger turned, striding towards the Tatooine woman, sneering.

She stood firm.

The laser barrier began to cycle when he was halfway there.

Obi-Wan ran forward the moment the way was clear, saber out and ready.

Black robes swirled, their owner turning to face the greater threat of the Jedi.

Shmi squeezed the trigger.

The next thing she was consciously aware of was the young Jedi padawan helping her up, quickly but carefully escorting her towards Qui-Gon.

And away from the crumpled body of the attacker.

Shmi looked down at her hands. I... I did that?

Then, all her thoughts were for Qui-Gon.

She knelt at his side, forcing herself to look at the long, blackened slice through him. "No bloodspurting. He's got a chance." He seemed to notice she was there and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Obi-Wan, get his legs elevated. There's no way he's not either going or gone into shock."

"Jedi don't go into shock."

"And Tatooine slavewomen don't kill beings wielding lightsabers. Get those feet off the ground, at the absolute least."

...

The padawan obdiently pulled his master's lower body into his lap, holding the elder Jedi's hand in his own.

"Do we have a way to tell anyone we're down here?"

Obi-Wan couldn't help but notice the way one of her hands had strayed to his hair just behind one of his ears, palm resting on his neck, or the way Qui-Gon's eyes softened ever so slightly from the contact.

Code breakers.

"I've got a commlink..."

"THEN USE IT!"

There was a buzzing at his waist. "This is Captain Panaka. We've secured the Palace. The Nemoidians are in custody."

Obi-Wan fumbled for the commlink. "Panaka, we need medics in the generator complex right now. The area is clear, but there's a Jedi down. I repeat, requesting medical aid for a Jedi down...."

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan was slumped aginst the wall of the waiting room, breathing quietly. Shmi was sure he was either meditating or had passed out from adrenaline rebound. He even looked a little like Anakin did when he passed out after podraces. He's had a hard day. We all have. And what Qui-Gon said... Qui-Gon's probably the only family he's ever had.

She glanced worriedly toward the door. Qui-Gon...

There had been no information since they had come here, other than that they were taking him straight into the operating room.

The news about Anakin, however...

He may be an official war hero, but he's only 9-years-old and nothing says he is not grounded for life as soon as I get my hands on him! He could've been killed!

She hopped up and started pacing.

"Shmi?" Padme's head was poked in the other door, the one leading to the rest of the healthy world. Tears were streaked down her face. "Can I talk to you?"

Shmi was a little uncomfortable around the girl--after all, who was a recently-freed slavewoman to talk to a queen?--but Padme hadn't changed from the girl she had befriended on the flight from Tatooine. She walked over to the girl, put an arm around her, and led her over to the couch Shmi herself had vacated only a moment before. "What is it?"

"The camps... My family..." Padme suddenly buried her face into Shmi's shoulder and the older woman held her close. "They're gone," she gasped, shaking from heaving sobs. "All of them... mother, father, sister... The moment we left the planet the Trade Federation found where they were and..."

Shmi ran a hand over the young queen's hair, slightly confused but trying to comfort her anyway. Both parents? But she's a queen...

"I shouldn't have run in that election. I should have just stayed a regular kid like my sister and then none of this would have happened..."

"'Election'?"

"Elected monarchy. I'm the youngest ruler we've ever had. Dad was so proud, Mom was crying..."

Shmi held the girl close. "Shh. You had no way of knowing what would happen. I doubt even the Jedi could have known what would happen. They are gone but the rest of your people are free."

They sat there together for a long while.

Finally, Padme quieted somewhat. "Any news about Qui-Gon?" she whispered through still-falling tears.

Obi-Wan's head jerked up. "Huh?" His eyes went wide when he saw Padme crying, and there was this little tremble in his lower lip...

Oh dear... Shmi mouthed to him, "Her family, not your master." She ran a hand over Padme's hair again, shifting her weight under that of the younger woman. "There is no news about Qui-Gon yet. There has been no news about Qui-Gon."

Obi-Wan stood, stretching. "It's been hours."

"And if that had been a straight metal wound, uncauterized, and medical care had not been available, he would have been hours dead by now, Obi-Wan. I've see people die that way in the slave tenements." Shmi felt tears run down her face as she said it. "Be glad for what you have."

Obi-Wan looked away, blushing with embarassment. She barely heard him whisper, "I can see what Master sees in you."

A medic--finally--poked her head through the door. "Master Jinn is stabilized and resting as comfortably as anyone on that many painkillers and mild sedatives can. The Trade Federation removed all bacta from the planet after they invaded, so he's going to be in the medcenter for a while."

"He's going to be okay?" Obi-Wan's voice wavered a bit.

"After about a month's bedrest and a good deal of physical therapy, probably. With the muscle damage, I doubt he'll ever fight comfortably again."

"When will he wake up?" Padme asked, head still pillowed on Shmi's shoulder.

"As far as we can tell, whenever he feels like it. He's on heavy meds, but the sedatives are mostly to keep him from moving around too much. He's probably most likely to wake up sometime tomorrow morning; it may take a while for the anesthesia drugs to wear off. He's in Room 38 down Corridor 11. No more than two in there at a time, and no causing stress while you're in there." She left.

"Who will take the first watch?" Shmi asked softly.

"I must thank him for my people, if only for a moment. Sabe is charading as queen right now."

"He's my master. He needs to know what happened, stress-causing or not stress-causing."

"And I have an annoying little war-hero brat of a son to find. I'll trade off with one of you in a few hours."

Padme got up and headed out.

Obi-Wan stood. "Yes," he whispered, "I think I see what he sees in you. But it is still against the Code."

"I thought I was the one seeing things in him. He certainly apologized enough for not making me see such things were impossible once we left Tatooine!" She got up, storming for the outside door.

As she left, she heard him whisper, "What have I done?"

...

Shmi wandered into Room 11-38 late that night.

Padme filed out at her approach. "He hasn't stirred,"she whispered. "How's Anakin?"

"Firmly placed in a windowless bedroom with two guards at the door. Worried about Qui-Gon. When he gets tired enough, he'll sleep."

"Should someone stay with him for a little while? It has to be strange, going from slave quarters to a palace in just two days..."

"Anakin should be fine. He bounces back from eveything quickly." Shmi hugged the younger woman. "For as long as I am near, if you need someone to talk to," she whispered.

Padme smiled slightly and left.

Shmi entered the room. Obi-Wan was sitting beside the bed, face faintly lit by life monitors. "He hasn't woken up, but he had a nightmare about an hour ago," the Padawan whispered. "We had to hold him down, try to calm him."

"Any clue what it was about?" she whispered, sitting on the Jedi Master's other side.

"He muttered your name. Several times. I think... I think he was dreaming you were dead." The young Jedi stared down at his feet.

Shmi finally forced herself to turn her attention to the injured Jedi lying in the bed.

There was a sheet pulled up to his upper chest, arms lying on top of it. Under, it appeared he was completely cradled in pillows. His shoulders were covered by the hint of a pink-spotted medcenter shirt, but it removed none of his dignity. The lights from the machines monitoring him flickered aross his face, the oscillation of the respiratory monitor running up and down his nose. His hair was gathered into a band and tucked gently around his face and lay there against his broad shoulder. There was an oxygen tube curled around his face. An IV line led to his left hand, lying on Shmi's side of the bed, warm tan skin against the cool, crisp whiteness of the sheets.

He moaned slightly in his sleep.

If he really does think I'm dead...

Shmi got up, then knelt at his side. She gently took his hand in one of hers, her other hand drifting to the side of his face. "Shh. Qui-Gon, this is Shmi. I don't know if you can hear me right now, but I'm okay. Obi-Wan's here too, and Padme was here a while ago. Anakin's asleep in the Palace. We're all okay. Just worry about yourself, Qui-Gon. Everything else is taking care of itself."

He almost seemed to grunt at that.

Shmi just stayed there, gently squeezing his hand. "I think he's trying to wake up, Obi-Wan."

"Just remember, we have to let it happen on his own time." He knelt as well, and Shmi saw him gently curl Qui-Gon's right hand around his braid before covering his master's hand with his own. "I'm here, Master. I'm okay and untouched. Shmi's here as well. We're anxious for you to wake up, but you just sleep as long as you need to. Agressive negotiations have been concluded; the danger is gone."

The elder Jedi's eyes drifted slightly open. "Obi-Wan?" he murmured weakly.

"Here, Master." Shmi saw the dim light glint on a tear snaking its way down the young Jedi's cheek.

The sides of Qui-Gon's mouth twitched upwards. "And our opponent?"

"His body lies on a slab, awaiting a Jedi investigation into his identity and affliations. Initial response from the Archivist is that it is likely he was Sith."

Shmi's eyes flicked down to her own two hands. I... killed a Sith? Me?

He smiled, a full smile this time, and sighed. "Good job, Padawan."

"I wasn't responsible."

Qui-Gon tried to lift his head in startlement, but Shmi reached up with her right hand and held his forehead down. "You suffered muscle damage. There is no bacta on the planet. Try to keep still; painkillers can only cover up so much."

He beamed suddenly, unguarded. "Shmi!" It was faint, but enough.

And then the Jedi emotional guards raised again. Shmi could almost see it happen. One moment he was grinning, the next he was hiding again.

His forehead bunched. "But how... what happened?"

"The Sith was going to impale you. Shmi screamed and the Sith changed his mind. Straight slash across the gut, Master, I have no clue how deep it was, I only know it took hours to piece you back together. His attention was on her. The barrier cycled, I became the greater threat, and he turned his back on a woman with a blaster rifle."

Qui-Gon's eyes went wide for a moment. "Shmi..."

"I'm fine. He never got close enough to hurt me."

"Shmi, you could've been killed!" Even in his weak voice, she could hear the fear.

Could he... could he really care?

"Master," Obi-Wan whispered, "it's..."

Suddenly, the Jedi apprentice's head was lying next to his master's right hand.

...

//Master, what'd you do that for?//

//Don't you dare tell me that being worried about the fate of someone who probably saved my life is against the code.//

//I wasn't going to say that.//

The injured Jedi Master let go of his apprentice's braid. So tired...

"Qui-Gon, you've only been out of surgery for a few hours. The medics thought you wouldn't wake up before morning." She squeezed his hand. He felt the needle move in his hand and flinched.

Shmi looked down and loosened her grip with a whimpered, "I'm sorry."

"The needle is still in the right place, and it certainly hurt less than that." He glanced down as far as he could, trying not to wonder what the uncomfortable numbness of his middle was covering up.

"Master, between last night and how long you've been unconscious today, you are still in sleep debt. You are injured. Some of the senate and the Jedi Council will be here in about a week to investigate what happened. Sleep now, worry then. The medic said she thought you'd be on bedrest for at least a month with this."

There was something in Obi-Wan's eyes, something Qui-Gon hadn't seen there before. "Padawan, what is it?"

"Nothing. Just worried about you, Master." He smiled weakly, patting Qui-Gon's hand. "But it's going to be okay now." Qui-Gon saw the younger Jedi stifle a yawn.

"Obi-Wan, you need to rest, too. You've been awake this entire time, if I know you. Go. FInd someplace more comfortable than a medcenter chair; you fought just as much as I did today."

The young Jedi got up after untangling his braid from the Master's fingers. //Rest well, Master.//

//Rest well, Padawan.//

Obi-Wan left.

"Shmi, you shouldn't have been there," he murmured.

She sat back on her heels, letting go of his forehead and hand. "So, you would have preferred to have been impaled, watch your apprentice be killed as you lay on the ground dying, and then watch from the other side as I, Padme, and everyone else on the planet were hunted down like wild animals? I may not know much about the Force or the Sith, but I know there was bloodlust in that things eyes, and it wasn't just for the blood of you two Jedi. And, for your information, I was seeking a safer place to hide when I found you all."

She saw the blood run out of his face. "You could have stayed where you were."

"Anakin was in a ship that went up on autopilot. That hanger would have been crawling again in minutes. I had to get out."

"You could have stayed silent, waited for an opening."

She was silent.

"Shmi..."

A sniffle. He saw the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. "He was going to kill you." Her head slowly lowered to the edge of the mattress. "He was going to kill you." Her shoulders shook.

He slowly moved his hand to her head, thumb resting on her cheek. "And he didn't."

She pulled away, placing his hand back on the mattress carefully as she did so, tears streaming down her face. "Don't. You. Dare. Taunt. Me. With. What. I. Can't. Have."

She feels like that? I wasn't imagining it, or wishing it? "Shmi..."

"Qui-Gon, you know this isn't possible."

"According to the rules and the current Code."

"You are not risking your way of life for me!" she quietly hissed. Something strange passed over her face. "'Current code'?"

"Before a round of editing a few hundred years ago, the Jedi Order was run a bit differently than it is now. Less centralized. Fewer rules, more feeling the Force's will. Jedi could marry, procreate, even raise and train their own children. Things changed when the Jedi aligned more closely with the Senate. I've been trying to push things back to the old ways for years. It likely would not do much damage to see if what happened here might change the answer if I ask the Council one more time."

"And if things change, Master Jedi?"

"Then I and my fellow Jedi must decide what we wish to do with our lives. And for that, I am in no condition to make any promises, Shmi. But at least we could look at each other without my Padawan and my Order calling me a code breaker."

He felt his eyes drifting closed.

She let her hand drift onto his again. "Shh. You need to rest."

"So do you. How's Anakin?"

"In a soft bed with two of the queen's best guard making sure he stays there."

He let himself smile, unable to deny that there was a soft spot in his heart for the boy. "Then go to him. You've had a hard day."

"And you've had a harder one, Qui. Someone needs to stay in the room with you at all times right now. And that reclining chair in the corner looks more comfortable than the beds in some slavequarters I've seen."

"Shmi..." he whispered as she walked around the room, moved the chair to the bedside, and settled in for the night.

"Much better than Gardulla's slavequarters."

When she was asleep, he quietly whispered, "No matter what happens, Shmi Skywalker, I swear I will never forget you."

He closed his eyes, seeking the solace of sleep's arms.

She called me Qui...

...

Obi-Wan lay curled up on a bed in a distant hall of the Palace, talking softly into a commlink.

"Master Yoda, I know it is late at the Temple and I know you have many things to prepare for your journey, but there is a situation here on Naboo you need to know about..."

Chapter Text

Qui-Gon settled back down onto the pillows. "Thanks for the help, Obi-Wan."

"No problem, Master." The injured Jedi had wanted to look 'presentable' when the Senators and his fellow Jedi Masters arrived on planet. Unfortunately, the ship was a day late and there were only two medcenter shirts anyone had found that fit him, and the medics were rotating which one he wore daily. One had small pink dots.

The other had small smiling mammals with floppy ears holding little balloons and was capable of inciting riotous laughter in a certain newly-orphaned and deeply melancoly queen within a minute of seeing Qui-Gon in it.

Unfortunately, the ship delay meant Qui-Gon was slated to wear the 'little bunnies from the Sith-Hells' the very day he would undoubtedly be visited by Important People. As much as Obi-Wan had heard Qui-Gon speak against personal vanity, there was no way Master Jinn would ever let anyone important other than a select group of friends see him in that monstrosity.

And since the medics wouldn't let anyone with a belly wound wear a single medcenter shirt for two days straight, they'd had to very carefully get him into a freshly laundered inner Jedi tunic, with no outer layers or belt. The medics had helped them get his IVed arm into one sleeve (which took a bit of doing--they'd threaded the shirt over the IV bags and lines, then helped him put his arm through) and then helped him get the rest of the shirt under him. Obi-Wan had then adjusted it for him.

"Comfortable again?"

"Obi-Wan, when I'm off major painkillers again, I may answer that. Right now, 'not actively in pain' is good enough for me." At least he was back in a familiar Jedi tunic again for at least a little while, the medics were letting his raise the head of the bed to a somewhat upright position, and they were finally letting him have some water orally again.

Damaged intestines were a pain in much more than a strictly literal sense. Obi-Wan understood that about as well as he ever cared to and did what he could to keep his Master's spirits up.

Anything but telling him or Shmi about the call he'd made to Yoda.

Another recent bright point: the visitor limits were lifted for daytime hours or anytime Qui-Gon was restless.

"Shall I tell the ladies that the world is once again safe from the horrible sight of a shirtless Jedi Master?"

...

The day went on as they usually had that week once Qui-Gon was reasonably aware most of the time, Padme and Shmi flipping absentmindedly through real estate properties searching for a place the Family Skywalker could occupy as their own (Padme had completely refused to consider finding a place for Shmi to rent: "The least the people of Naboo can do after what you and your son did for us is to give you both a permanent roof over your heads somewhere with decent jobs and decent schools") and Obi-Wan waiting hand and foot on his master like any good Padawan would. Anakin was in the temporary care of the Queen's Minister of Education, trying to discover how best to get him up to grade level quickly.

"Durlen's selling!?" Padme yelped. "He can't possibly..."

Everyone was suddenly looking at her.

"Mr. Durlen owns a small retreat in the Lake Country near my home village. He's retiring and wants to sell. I used to go there on school trips... So much is changing..."

"How big of a place?"

"A few cottages, with one main house. Balconies, a few piers, and a large stretch of open land leading into a planetary nature reserve with some waterfalls. The water is shallow enough that the big fish never make it anywhere near there."

Shmi seemed to ponder for a moment. "And what does it take to run the place?"

"He usually had about 10 servants living in the lower levels of the main house to help out. Pay apparently was better than most wages in the area, from everything I ever heard. Took some delegating skills and advanced social manners." It hit her. "Shmi, there's no way you'd possibly have the resources to keep it up for as long as it would take the place to settle into making a profit, and there's no way I could ask the government to pay for the property and upkeep..."

"We could go in together. I provide sweat equity for my half. You have a warm home to flop in whenever you need a vacation, and my family has a stable home that comes with enough income to live at the very least comfortably. Offer a few weekends in the summer for the orphans of this conflict to come have a happy time in the Lake Country, to give back to the people. Run it however it has been run for the rest of the year. You own half and I own half. Between your resources and whatever the Naboo people decide to give Anakin and I..."

"...it would be more than enough. With enough room for us all to stay comfortably in the main house; there are several suites there, and it won't hurt the place much to have one less rentable suite."

"What is this place called?"

"Varykino."

A medic poked his head past the doorframe. "Jedi Master Yoda wishes to see you, Master Jinn."

...

Qui-Gon tried to ignore everything rushing through his head.

This could be the start of a new stage in his life.

This could be the beginning of another laundry list of regrets.

All based on how one conversation would go.

Yoda comes alone. He didn't quite know what that might mean. It could mean a confrontation; the Council might be afraid their full might arrayed would be too much for the injured Jedi to handle in such an argument. Or it might just mean they wished to speak to him individually, to limit the stress that could slow his healing and increase his distress.

The others left, Shmi and Obi-Wan each squeezing his hand on their way out.

Yoda entered, leaning on his cane as usual.

"Good morning, Master." Qui-Gon bobbed his head slightly, showing as much respect as he could.

"Good morning, Master Jinn." Yoda Force-levved himself onto an empty spot on the mattress near Qui-Gon's hips.

"Master, I..."

"Qui-Gon, speak first I must. Your words mine may change."

"I submit, Master. Only may I ask you do not punctuate your words with the stick. Please."

"No danger. Proven yourself, you have. Doubt I do that in the Order any the authority to correct you for now." The master settled down, leaning against the siderail. "A Sith indeed you did fight. Bear the ancient marks of aprenticeship he did in his clothing and adornments. On him, none of the mastery signs he had."

"There's still one out there."

"Stronger, more sly the master must be. But struck a blow, you have. Heard indeed the Council has, of the boldness the human woman holds within. Wore him down, you did. Kill your aprentice and this woman he would have if not for you. Naboo lost would have been." Yoda gave him a rare smile. "Honored, you must be. In a millennia, the first to fight a Sith and live to tell."

"If she had not been there, I would not have lived to tell."

"This too I have heard. Tell me, Master Qui-Gon, think of this woman Shmi what do you?"

Oh Force help me. He's heard or realized something. "She is strong and bold. Particularly given all she has been through. In two days, she went from being a slavewoman to facing down a Sith. She cares deeply about her son, worries about him. From what I have seen in the short while I have known them... she has done everything possible to raise him the best she could, given what their circumstances are." He tried to keep as much emotion as possible from his voice. If the potential relationship had already been revealed, the most he could do was control the damage.

"Commended by the Order she should be. Sith, she faced down. Untrained and weak in the Force, took down the apprentice she did. The signs of the enemy of old, she left intact."

"My Padawan and I owe our lives to her ."

"Wonder you may, why a day late we were."

"The return of the ancient enemy from hiding is no simple matter, Master. I assumed you were preparing the resources necessary to investigate this incident."

"A debate we had. In the Order much has changed since a Padawan I was."

"The Order always changes with the will of the Force. It is our duty to change with the Force's will." And so you will remind me of the great changes of the past, and all my dreams will end.

"The will of the Force, never clear is. When a Padawan I was, the Temple full was. Full of Jedi. Full of life. What do you see when the Temple corridors you walk?"

"Quiet. Peacefulness. Obedient Padawans going to class. Masters debating the universe and the Force. Younglings traveling from the creches in dutiful straight lines."

Yoda seemed to be intent on studying his feet. "Things changed have. Things changed will. Numbers drop. Initiates flee the Temple when not chosen they are, statistics when in a world they know not make mistakes they do. From the will strayed we have. And seen it, we had not."

Qui-Gon had never seen Yoda with such a look on his face as was there in that moment.

The diminutive Jedi Master looked up. "My people rare as Jedi are. Long-lived we are as well. Alone of the Jedi, I remember Mother. I remember Father. I knew who my brothers and sisters were, Jedi and non-Jedi alike.

"Mine was the last generation to be so. The pain faded has among the Jedi, but gone away has not. Even when I became of the Council a member, but one vote I had. Change such things alone I could not."

"I understand, Master." And I'll be the one to explain things to Shmi personally, whether you want me to ever be in her presence or not.

A rare heh-ing Yoda laugh. "Understand you do not. For you this is." He handed Qui-Gon a normal looking envelope of the type used to secure print communications. "No pressure on you, there is. Your decision alone your reaction to this should be. Another the first to act already is."

Qui-Gon felt one of his eyebrows raise.

Yoda hopped off the bed and walked to the door.

"Thank your apprentice you should, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon's jaw dropped as Yoda left.

He fumbled to open the envelope.

A simple note, in Yoda's handwriting: "Change things together many can."

And a folded piece of high-quality flimsiplast, listing the Jedi Code in a revised form.

A revised form barely a week old.

He felt himself starting to cry, understanding in what little bit of his mind was not rejoicing that Yoda had used flimsiplast and not the more traditional parchment (for the Jedi Code, in part or in total, was a revered document) for a reason.

The attachment clauses had been replaced by a new set of paragraphs outlining disclosure of attachments to the Council and situations in which attachments would render a Jedi inappropriate for missions and incapable of performing certain roles and duties.

The attachments themselves were allowed, except in a few cases where even non-Jedi would draw the line: close genetic ties between intended lifemates, relationships with clear perennial breakers of major Republic laws, and the like.

Nothing at all to say a Jedi Master could not attempt to court a former slavewoman, if both were willing in all that occurred (the new Code had much to say about unauthorized nonconsentual mind contact and what would happen to any Jedi using mindtricks to stalk or to sneak into refreshers for the other gender).

Nothing at all to say he and Shmi could not love each other, and even marry if the Force led them there.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

...

The next day, Shmi and Padme began the process of finalizing their own plans for the future.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan drove the small pleasure-craft carefully above the waves. Padmé sat beside him, giving directions as she clutched at the keys in her hand. Shmi and his still-healing master were behind him, Shmi holding Qui-Gon upright as the Jedi winced with every accidental jolt. He was still dealing with his injury, but the medics could not do anything more. Anakin was on his mother’s other side, eyes wide at the endless stretch of water.

Only time and the Force could heal Qui-Gon. The medics had advised moving him to more comfortably surroundings, since he was now completely out of danger. What better place than the newly purchased lakeside resort owned by a young queen and a certain ex-slavewoman?

He pulled over to the dock and they all helped Qui-Gon get out. He could finally walk on his own with a little help. One of the handmaidens was there, as was Panaka. Quiet nods told everyone that the resort was safe; a Sith Master was still on the loose somewhere, and even Yoda did not doubt that an attack on Shmi or Qui-Gon was eventually inevitable.

They had almost gotten to the main house, where everyone in the group was going to stay until Qui-Gon was at least able to defend himself. Qui-Gon spun suddenly forward, arm slipping from where it had been draped over Shmi’s shoulders. She started to lean over, to help him up, as he landed on the ground, kneeling.

Obi-Wan saw his master’s other hand reach out from where it had been in his robes.

Everyone saw the flash and sparkle when he carefully flicked the small black box open.

Shmi fell to her knees, surprise in her eyes.

There was a long moment of silence, even Anakin just standing there.

And then Shmi leaned forward, embracing her Jedi and crying into his hair.

Qui-Gon loosened the grip of one of her arms, carefully moving her hand back towards her, until he could gently, slowly, slip the ring over her finger.

And then, they were both clinging to each other and crying, until Obi-Wan helped Qui-Gon stand and Padmé pulled Shmi to her feet, Anakin trying to help and not doing much good, and they all stumbled, crying and laughing, while Panaka and the handmaiden stood there without understanding much of what the past month had brought to all their lives, but still happy for the Jedi and his chosen lady, the Sithkiller and her chosen man.

...

It was late that night when Obi-Wan wandered into the main den with a tray of tisane. The few servants still present in the resort--Padmé and Shmi were giving the others a vacation at partial pay until the resort starting accepting paying guests again--were long retired to their own quarters. Padmé, Panaka, and the handmaiden had all left for Theed again once the Jedi and the ex-slaves were settled in.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Qui-Gon and Shmi, asleep on the couch with Anakin nestled between them.

A family.

Obi-Wan felt tears come to his eyes.

A family. The thing that he, as a Jedi had never really had.

Shmi’s eyes opened slightly, and she patted the couch beside her.

Could he really be a part of that? Qui-Gon was his legal guardian in the Republic’s eyes, or had been until he became officially adult, but it hadn’t exactly been adoption...

She smiled warmly at him, patting the couch again.

Obi-Wan walked over, setting the tray down on a table and settling in beside her.

Her arm reached around his shoulders until her hand gently pressed against his face and close-cut hair.

She sighed, falling asleep again.

He felt a little pull on his braid as the hand resting on Shmi’s shoulder grasped it and gave it a little reassuring tug.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, drifting into sleep slowly as he savoured the embrace of his ‘family’.

Perhaps change was not nearly such a bad thing as he had thought not so long ago...

Chapter Text

“I never thought that meeting would be over.”

“Well, they do have to check on how all the newly-married Jedi are doing, even if they have to come to Naboo, Qui.”

“It will be good to get back to Varykino. I still hurt, Shmi.”

“And the medics said the pain wouldn’t go away for another few weeks. You’re still healing on schedule. Nothing to worry about.”

“But your sense in the Force tells me otherwise... What is it?”

“You’re a father.”

“Sure, I’m Anakin’s step-father, but I can still...”

“It’s not that! Qui-Gon Jinn, stop acting Force-blind!”

“Oh, Sith. You’re...”