waiting for a miracle.

 

Summary:

During Shmi's funeral, Anakin struggles to grapple with the heavy grief before leaving to rescue Obi-Wan.

Notes:

Hi, hello. I am finally posting something new! This is based off of Waiting on a Miracle by Post Malone. When I first heard that song, I could not stop thinking about the shot of Anakin kneeling in front of her grave, and then I made myself more emo. Like my Lazarus Drug piece, I took some creative liberties.

Posted on AO3 & Tumblr.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, locations, or anything within the Star Wars universe. All rights go to the correct owners and creators at Lucasfilm, Disney, and partners.

A decade ago, the dual suns of Tatooine would warm his chest with hope. Hope to leave, escape the planet and never look back. Then, he did escape, but there was a catch. Always a catch.

His mother couldn’t leave, and he had that hope to traverse back to the wastelands to free her when he was older and stronger. Days stretched into weeks which dragged onto months and became insufferable years that settled into a decade. Their bittersweet farewell clouded his thoughts everyday, and every day, he hoped and prayed to the Force that he could be at peace with it. It threatened to blind him, hinder his judgment and hope within the Order the longer they didn't attempt to free more slaves. He had stopped asking long ago if there was any way they could go back to at least help Shmi, and the bitterness was planted in place of the hope.

The nightmares began shortly after his nineteenth birthday. Muddling the celebration with worry as the Order gave well wishes on the special day, but he couldn’t stay present. Days later, Obi-Wan and he were sent to Ansion and he had to continue pushing it away. The nightmares sunk their claws into his mind more while on Naboo, taunting him during the security detail he was assigned to. He kept moving, kept searching for threats around the corners and in the shadows. The nightmares only grew stronger, leaking into the daylight and terrorizing him at the lake. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, the deep set fear burrowing further into his chest and belly. His appetite waned even with the lavish foods provided in Naboo, and his sleep had constantly been plagued with the visions to the breaking point. He had to find her. Nothing in the Netherworld or Chaos would stop him from that.

He found her. Bleeding, broken, and on the first step of Death’s door before relief flooded her features at recognizing her son. It wasn’t enough, and he couldn’t save her in his eyes. If only he ran to the speeder, barreled his way back to the farm - there could have been a chance! There would have been a chance … right? In the end, blinded by the grief and heartbreak, he didn’t fully mull over the final moments with Shmi.

It wasn’t his choice to make.

It never would have been. It was hers.

She had the relief of finally seeing him for the first time in a decade, and with that, she could let go. He would get her back to the farm. He would be okay, but she knew that she couldn't hold on longer than she had.

Anakin wouldn’t uncover the entirety of the torture his mother endured, but the foggy memories as a child after a mistake with Watto suddenly became crystal clear at seeing the wounds on her hands and face … Perhaps Watto’s rare anger was a mercy compared to this.

No. He was sure it was.

Watto wouldn’t have hurt them like this. He was a businessman in the end, and needed his slaves to do their duties.

This was torture.

His memory burned with the puckered, swelled skin muddled in black and blue compared to the golden tan she had from being outside. Crimson caked into dark russet on her skin where new bright streaks smeared over what had been dried. Her hair was matted, dulled and her cheeks - despite the swelling - had noticeably sunken in more.

 

The dual suns shining above as Cliegg, Owen, Beru, Padmé, and the droids stood meters away from the grave in the funeral that had stretched out slowly as the suns began to lower. Slowly, boots carried Anakin closer to the marker as the heat burned at exposed skin. Sand kicked with his steps before lowering himself down, knees sinking into the earth as blue eyes stayed on the stone marker.

Shmi Skywalker-Lars. Beloved wife and mother.

He briefly shut his eyes as the grief began to claw at his throat one more time. Forcing himself to look again, he leaned down, fingers slowly curling through the rough sand, lifting it up while his thumb rubbed along the granules.

“Ani, what did you do?”

The seven year old was beaming as he held up a lizard, rainbow scales shimmering in the bright sunlight as he was coated in sand from chasing after it. “I finally caught what’s been stealing our meat scraps!”

Shmi softened as she watched the squirming creature in her son’s grasp,” Go release it.” As he bounced out, his steps only released more sand onto the floor that she had finished sweeping. Still, a smile lingered on her lips as she shook her head while he glanced back with a grin as bright as the suns.

Blinking the memory away, his chest felt like a bantha was sitting on it as the grief threatened to make him snap again. Shoulder shook with the threat of the wave of grief to pull him back into the black cold waters to choke his lungs with more depression. Everyone noticed the change, even 3PO and R2 had seen the sharp shift from just hours ago.

“I wasn’t strong enough to save you, Mom.” Shoulders stiffen once more, as his eyes tightly shut while the remaining grains fell from his fingers. Maybe it was all a nightmare. Maybe, just maybe, he would open his eyes and find himself on Coruscant in the Jedi Temple. Yet, he still felt the blinding heat beating on his neck and hands, the dry heat wanting to suck the moisture and air from his body and lungs. The freshly turned mound of sand greeted him as he opened his eyes, lips thinning as he took a shaky breath. “I wasn’t strong enough, but I promise … I won’t fail again.” Would this feeling go away? Standing in the driest land yet feeling like he was drowning in the darkest depths? He pushed away the speculation, looking down to the marker before his eyes traced the mound’s outline. “I miss you so much.”

There was a soft breeze then, warm but cooling from the harsh sunlight as he felt the braid drag across his chest. Turning his head towards the winds, his eyes shut again from the glaring suns as the somber landscape seemed to wrap around him in a soft hug. Perhaps this was a mercy from the Force. He should be grateful for the time they had, happy that she had made a life for herself in her freedom, but her final month alive shouldn't have been bound and tortured.

He noticed R2 coming over, and within minutes after the funeral, they were in route to Geonosis to save Obi-Wan.

Anakin leaned back in the chair, eyes fixed ahead as he absently messed with a carving he had given Shmi that Cliegg had returned to him.

Something to keep her close. Reminder of where you come from - no matter the distance you travel. We’re always here for you, son. You can always come back and visit.

His gaze moved to the piece, carved from some bone and stained with paint with familiar markings of protection that had been developed by the slaves. The ship beeped to alert to the gradual arrival to Genosis as he turned towards R2. “Can you hold onto this for me? I don’t want to lose it.”

Happy beeps came from the droid as a flap of blue metal opened, letting Anakin deposit the carving inside. “Thanks R2.” Standing, he brushed some sand from the dark brown robes he sported while lifting his gaze to Padmé. “You should stay here. Regardless of Obi-Wan’s predicament, I still need to protect you.”

Despite that, he didn’t leave the ship alone.