Chapter Text
Soundless lightspeed drives flung the ship through hyperspace, the climate controls circulated air with the faintest murmur, and he was totally alone in the forward hold. Nonetheless, Anakin Skywalker could find no peace.
He felt suspended between uncertain future and incomprehensible past. Just a week ago he’d been on Tatooine with his mother, sadly resigning himself to missing out on this year’s Boonta Eve Classic podrace. Now he was onboard the Queen of Naboo’s personal starship, joining her on a desperate mission to liberate her homeworld from the Trade Federation. A week ago he hadn’t even heard of Naboo.
He’d heard of the Jedi, but only vague tales. They said Jedi were heroes who could right any wrong, and he’d often fantasized about a Jedi coming to Mos Espa to free him and his mother, and all the other slaves. Sometimes he’d dreamed he was a Jedi, wielding a blazing sword and righteously casting down judgement on those who deserved it. But those were just dreams, he’d told himself.
When a Jedi had come to Mos Espa it hadn’t been anything like he’d imagined. That one Jedi- long-haired, bearded Qui-Gon Jinn, whose calm demeanor shielded secrets and mysteries- had dispatched no righteous judgement. He had, instead, taken Anakin from Tatooine to the very bright center of the galaxy. On tower-studded Coruscant, Anakin- just nine years old- had watched Queen Amidala speak before thousands of senators from across the galaxy. He’d watched the sun go down on miles-deep spires and he’d stood before the Jedi Council and been judged.
They said he was not to be a Jedi. They said he was too old to be trained, and more, they said there was too much fear in him.
Maybe there was. Anakin feared for a lot of things, most of all his mother, left behind as Watto’s slave on Tatooine. But as he’d stood before the Council Anakin had sensed something else; the Jedi were afraid of him, too.
He didn’t understand that, but he’d known it was true. He’d felt so unwelcome in the grand, elegant halls of the Jedi Temple. Even Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon’s apprentice, acted coldly toward him, though Anakin sensed less fear and more annoyance there. The only Jedi who seemed to welcome Anakin was Qui-Gon himself.
Anakin understood none of it. Part of him still wondered whether everything in the past week- everything since Qui-Gon and Padmé had wandered into Watto’s shop- hadn’t been an elaborate and vivid dream. It often seemed the only explanation for the strange path his life had taken.
The past was incomprehensible. The future was frightening. The Trade Federation was a powerful foe. Qui-Gon and the Jedi Council both suspected there were more nefarious forces at work. Sith was the word they’d used for it, though Anakin still didn’t understand what that meant. He only knew the Jedi feared Sith even more than they feared him.
He’d never been feared before, and never wanted to be, except by evil slavers. He didn’t understand how this could be. He’d always known he had small special talents, which had made him so good at podracing. Now it seemed like those small things were bigger than he’d ever imagined.
It made no sense. It had to be a dream, Anakin thought, as the boy restlessly paced the forward hold, wondering how many more hours it would take before they reached Naboo.
His unhappy reverie was broken by the rear doors opening. As he turned Anakin knew there were only two faces he wanted to see: Qui-Gon’s or Padmé’s. This was the former. Dressed in his brown Jedi robes- similar to the shabby tunic he’d first seen the older man in but somehow more stately- Qui-Gon stood in front of Anakin and smiled gently down at the boy.
“I knew you were here,” Qui-Gon said. “I felt your restlessness from the other end of the ship.”
He remembered Master Yoda, admonishing him for his fear, and lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Qui-Gon, sir.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Qui-Gon dropped to a crouch, robes pooling around bent knees. He placed one hand on Anakin’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “You’ve been through so much these past few days. I know it’s all very overwhelming for you.”
This Jedi, at least, always seemed to understand, and Anakin brightened. “Are you really going to train me as a Jedi?”
“I swear it.”
“The Council told you not to.”
“The Council has told me many things.” He smiled faintly. “They know better than anyone that I don’t always listen.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”
“Anakin, you are not trouble at all. Far from it. I think…” Qui-Gon trailed off. His expression became uncharacteristically veiled.
“What is it?” Anakin prodded.
“The Jedi Council is timid, Anakin. They see your potential but are afraid to embrace it.”
“You told the Council I might the ‘Chosen One.’” He remembered shuddering as he’d heard those words. “What does that mean?”
Qui-Gon exhaled and took a minute to gather his thoughts. “Anakin, this is a dark time in the galaxy.”
He remembered the gleaming spires of Coruscant, the endless sprawl of wealth and elegance he’d never imagined on Tatooine. “It seems bright to me.”
“There is a darkness in the Force, Anakin, like the Force has been imbued with it. The Jedi have felt it for some time, and it has clouded our judgement.”
“I don’t understand.”
“None of us do. Not even Master Yoda, which is why it’s hard to decide what to do about you.”
The fact that some things were beyond even the wizened green Master’s ken gave Anakin faint warmth. He didn’t feel so overwhelmed knowing others were overwhelmed too.
“There is a darkness in the Force,” Qui-Gon repeated, “And some put faith in a very old prophecy. It holds that one day, when the need comes, a child will be born by the Force itself. Carrying the purest essence of the Force inside them, they will heal that wound and bring balance to the Force.”
“And that’s me?” He felt very small again.
“Your mother explained to me how you were born. How there was no father.”
Anakin looked away. That was one thing he’d never understood; deep down he’d suspected his father was dead, and his mother just didn’t want to talk about him. Weakly, he asked, “Do you really think I’m the Chosen One?”
He waited for a long moment before Qui-Gon said softly, almost tenderly, “Yes, Anakin, I do.”
“And you think I was born by those… medi… midi…”
“Midi-chlorians. I believe so, Anakin, yes.”
He wanted to jerk away. He wanted to shout that he was just a boy. He was nine years old, was good with machines, loved podracing and his mother and watching Tatooine’s twinned sundown. He wanted to protect the people he loved; he’d never wanted to heal the Force, whatever that even meant.
Qui-Gon gripped him by both shoulders, firm but not hard. “I know this is very difficult. Anakin. That’s why I promise I will train you, no matter what the Jedi Council says. For your sake and the sake of the Force.”
“I… I’m sorry, Master, sir, I-”
“Anakin, you should not be sorry. You are a gift.”
He remembered his mother telling him that, those same four words. He’d never imagined how true they might be.
“Sometimes,” he admitted, “I feel… like there’s more I was meant to do. I wanted to be more than a slave… I felt like I was more too. Like it was my…”
“Destiny,” Qui-Gon finished. “I believe you have a destiny, Anakin, but that destiny may not be decided yet. The future is always in motion. That’s why you need a guide.”
Anakin dared look him in the eyes. From other Jedi he senses fear and resentment; from Qui-Gon there was a stunning devotion, almost as deep as his mother’s. He knew then that Qui-Gon, like his mother Shmi, would gladly trade his life for Anakin’s.
And in those eyes, like his mother’s, Anakin saw something else. Alongside devotion, irreparably paired, was love. They said Jedi didn’t love, that they couldn’t or weren’t allowed, but he knew what he saw in those eyes. It was only the second time he’d seen it, but he knew it for what it was.
For a second Anakin felt like he could cry, but he settled himself. He was just nine years old but destiny demanded he be more than that. Destiny would begin as soon as they reached Naboo.
“Thank you, sir,” Anakin said, voice trembling. “I won’t forget that.”
“I know you won’t.” Qui-Gon smiled that soothing smile. “We’re less than an hour from our destination. It’s time to get ready.”
“What happens when we get to Naboo?”
“Well, hopefully we’ll sneak past the Federation blockade and land. After that, our friend Jar Jar will try and make contact with the other Gungans. The queen will need allies in this fight.”
“Are you sure that will work?” The boy screwed his face. From what he’d heard, humans and Gungans on Naboo didn’t get along well.
“I believe it will,” said Qui-Gon. “The humans and Gungans need each other and always have. They are symbionts, and what’s good for one is good for the other, even if they don’t always realize it.”
Anakin recognized that word, symbionts. Qui-Gon had used it before to describe midi-chlorians and the human bodies they inhabited. He still didn’t understand, and said, “The humans and Gungans don’t even like each other.”
Qui-Gon smirked. “And yet they need each other. That’s what symbiosis means, Anakin. Everything is connected, not only lifeforms but the vast, complex tangle of events that makes up our lives. Those connections themselves are the stuff the Force is made of. You and I are, in our way, symbionts.”
Anakin frowned. “You… need me?”
“In my way I do.” The smile went wistful. “We all need you, Anakin. I know that’s hard to believe now, and frightening, but you’ll discover the truth in time.”
The boy nodded, doubtful. He felt no surer of anything now, but when he talked to Qui-Gon like this he felt less afraid. Maybe he could know what to do without understanding.
The Jedi rose from his crouch. “Everyone is starting to get ready in the main hold. Let’s go join them.”
Anakin nodded. Qui-Gon let a hand dangle at his side for the boy to take, and he took it. Together they walked out the door, to their waiting fate.