She could not move, could not cry out. She could only watch him helplessly as her son walked towards his bedroom, preparing to leave her forever.
Shmi felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder. "Will you be all right?" the Jedi Master asked.
It was ironic that the man who had brought so much turmoil into her life would ask her such a question. She wanted to hate him, to blame him for stealing away her son. But she could not. She could only feel gratitude to him, for all he had done for her.
So she nodded, afraid to speak that her voice might betray her. It hurt to feel gratitude to him. Hating him would have helped, crying would have washed some of the pain away. But Shmi had never hated and would not start now. And she would not cry, at least not until Anakin was gone. In spite of her resolve, she could feel her eyes filling with tears at the word, the finality.
He placed two strong finers under her chin, forcing her gaaze to meet his. Shmi wondered if he could see the thin sheen of tears that veiled her cinnamon eyes. But he would sense her grief anyway. He was a Jedi.
"And much good it does me to be one," Qui-Gon murmured. "If it cannot help me to free you."
Shmi was afraid she had spoken aloud. Then, she recalled the fact that Jedi could read minds. "Doesn’t that make life rather confusing?" she asked, attempting to bring some levity to the situation.
He almost smiled, but returned to gravity. "Shmi." She loved the way he said her name, soft and strong, like a desert wind. "There is something that I must tell you."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"We gambled, Watto and I, over whether I would free you or Anakin. I . . . affected the result."
A brief smile graced Shmi’s face at the thought of Qui-Gon cheating at gambling. Then the full force of his words hit her. "Oh," she whispered. She spared a fleeting thought to dreaming of being free. But she could never have been happy leaving Anakin to a life of slavery. She whispered, falteringly, voice breaking, "You made the right choice."
She looked up at him, standing so close now. There was no one else she would entrust her son to, no one else who loved him as much as she. He might have been Anakin’s father, she thought, distantly. Ani loves him, so he’ll be happy. And I- I love him too.<7i>
The world seemed to spin at this sudden revelation. He was staring at her, and she belatedly remembered that he could sense her thoughts. Before she could speak, he cut off her words with a kiss.
He kissed her deeply, as if attempting to fill her with the love that no man had given her. Until now, when it must end. Gently, she pulled away, tracing his features with one hand. "Thank you," she murmured, words soft and simple.
There was no time to exchange further words, as Anakin rushed in. If he noticed that the two adults were in such close proximity, he gave no sign. Mutely, he offered his hand to her mother. She wrapped her fingers tightly around it, offering her other hand to Qui-Gon. He looked at her for a long moment, then took it firmly in his. Slowly, the three made their way outside, into the desert sunlight.
DISCLAIMER: Sorry, don't own these characters or the setting. I do own most of the dialogue.