Shmi Skywalker ruffled the hair of her only son. "Aw, Mom" he said, but he did not squirm away like he usually did. She stroked his face gently, her fingers lingering on the softness of his round cheeks.

Oh, Anakin, she thought. Do you know how much I love you? And how much I fear for you, for me.

"Is everything ready for tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yep. With the power pack Qui-Gon gave me, I'm sure to beat Sebulba this time."

"Anakin, promise me you won't take any unnecessary risks."

"Mom, you say that every time I race."

Shmi hugged him then, suddenly and fiercely. "I know I do, sweetheart, but this time---"and she stopped. She was not going to trouble Anakin with her fears.

Anakin looked up at her with his wide, clear eyes. "Nothing'll happen, Mom. I promise."

Shmi sighed and kissed his forehead. She poked him gently between his eyes. He giggled. "Now close those eyes. And get some sleep."She pulled the blankets up to his chin. Reaching over she pressed off his lamp and stood up. "Good night, Anakin," she said.

"Good night, Mom. I love you."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

She closed his door softly behind her. Turning, she walked down the short hallway to the room where Padme was sleeping. Finding room for her, Jar Jar and Qui-Gon to sleep had been difficult, but not impossible. Padme was sharing her room, Jar Jar was sleeping comfortably in the small storeroom in the back, and Shmi had laid out a pallet for Qui-Gon in the front room.

As Shmi walked slowly down the hallway, she thought about how today should have been a day like any other in her and Anakin's life. Anakin should have come home from Watto's shop to find his dinner waiting for him. As they ate he would have told his mother about his day at the shop, how many customers he had helped, what pieces of broken machinery he had fixed, what he had seen and thought and felt that day, his voice breathless in his rush to tell her everything. Then after they had cleared the dishes and finished up their chores, the two of them would have sat outside their quarters, breathing in the soft coolness of the evening air, listening to the voices of the other inhabitants of the slave quarters, she telling him stories from her childhood, he looking up at the stars and telling her of his dreams to see them all.

But today had been different, and although she had not expected it, she had also not been terribly surprised to find a gangly alien, a beautiful young woman, and a tall bearded stranger standing in her home.

Maybe she had dreamt that moment long ago and had forgotten it, she thought, that was why it had seemed so familiar. Because for a brief moment, as she stared at the strangers, she thought she recognized the girl. In a dream she had once had. A dream of a small, dark-haired young woman, dressed all in white, with features similar to the shyly smiling girl who stood before her. The girl in her dream had been in danger, she remembered, frightened, alone, yet defiant. And there had been another presence in the dream, a tall, dark being, its face covered in a black metal mask, its breath hissing through a mechanical apparatus, looming over the frightened girl, demanding that she give him something it wanted, threatening her with violence and torture if she did not. And for a brief, terrified moment, Shmi thought she recognized that menacing creature leaning over the young woman, but she had woken up, breathless with fear, before she could identify that terrible, cold, implacable voice.

Anakin's bright voice had pulled her out of her remembrance of that terrible dream as he pulled the young woman to his room to show her that droid he had been tinkering with. The tall man introduced himself as Qui-Gon Jinn, explaining in a courteous voice that Anakin had been kind enough to offer them shelter from the sand storm raging outside. He had then reached beneath his poncho and graciously given her food rations for their dinner. She had been thankful for that. Shmi was not one to turn away anyone in need, but there was usually only enough food for her and Anakin, even on the best of days.

She sighed again as she quietly entered her room. She could hear Padme breathing evenly. The girl was so beautiful. And there was a serenity and a refined gentility about her that did not fit with her rough-hewn clothing. Shmi smiled when she thought of the way Anakin had watched her every movement, his eyes following her wherever she went. It was obvious that Anakin was very impressed with her. As Shmi herself was.

Shmi quietly slipped out of her workday clothes and into a soft, though slightly worn, nightdress. She pressed the roomlight off and slid into the bed next to Padme. The girl turned slightly in her sleep, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. Looking at her, Shmi wondered what it would have been like to have had a daughter of her own and watch her grow up. Would she have been as beautiful as this girl was?

Shmi sank her head gratefully onto her pillow. It had been a long day, but then all the days of a slave's life were long and hard. The darkness was soothing to Shmi after the harsh brightness of the day. Although she had long grown accustomed to the merciless glare and heat of Tatooine's double suns, she relished the coolness and darkness of the night.

She turned slowly onto her side. She coiled her arm under her head and knew that sleep would not come quickly this night. The presence of the strangers in her home, the race tomorrow, and the fears that accompanied such thoughts weighed on her mind. Tomorrow would not be just another race. Tomorrow, she knew, would change her and Anakin's life forever. The tall regal Jedi who slept in her front room would have a hand in that, she suspected.

Qui-Gon, she thought. An unusual name for an unusual man. He was powerfully built, but there was a gentleness in his voice and his eyes that had immediately set Shmi at ease. She smiled in the darkness. Leave it to Anakin to discover that their guest wasn't just some wandering trader or for-hire freighter pilot. The man who slept in her front room was a Jedi Knight, the fabled defenders of peace and justice in the Republic. That he was a Jedi had also explained the aura of power and strength Shmi had sensed about him. Anakin had often told her about his dreams in which he was a Jedi Knight.

"I had a dream I was a Jedi, Mom," Anakin would say to her at least once each month. And she would smile, and say something noncommittal, but each time he had told her about those dreams a strange coldness had wrapped itself around her heart and she had imagined that instead of her son's bright, clear voice, she heard the mechanical breathing of some dark, angry presence in the room with her.

Shmi stared wide-eyed in the darkness. What would happen tomorrow? Would she lose Anakin? Would she have to watch him finally crash his pod racer into the desert, his body broken and bloodied? Was she mad to let him do this? What had compelled her to tell Qui-Gon and Padme that Anakin was meant to help them? Where had those words come from? She wrapped her arms about herself and trembled. She was going to lose her son. She knew that with as much certainty as she knew that the double suns would rise in the morning.

Tears welled in her eyes. Yet how could she lose something that had never been hers. She had never been able to explain Anakin's conception, even to herself. But she knew from the moment she had felt the first fluttering of his tiny life within her, that he was very special, and that he had a destiny that would never be fulfilled as long as he was a slave on Tatooine.

She kneaded her pillow with her hand. She could stop him. Forbid him to race. Insist that Qui-Gon and Padme find some other way to obtain the parts they needed for their starship. But she knew she would not. Could not. There was no other way. Not for them. Not for her. What ever happened tomorrow was meant to happen. It was written in the stars.

I will be brave, she thought, for his sake and for mine.

Soon, Shmi was asleep, lost in her dreams, her tears drying on her face.

The End