The Nurse and the Assassin.

A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing! :)

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As Anakin stepped over the threshold of the nursery, he felt the sickening echo of his nightmares overtake him right there in his waking hours. He saw the anguish on his beautiful wife’s face, heard her dying cries and felt the pain in her heart. Though the vision was nauseating, leaving him dizzy and slightly taken aback, it only strengthened his resolve to finish what he had started. The sheer fact that those images had come to him still, meant that he had not yet done enough to save her. The last remnants of the Order, their light barely registering like the phosphorescent plankton of Mon Calamari, breathed yet in that very room. Their fate gave Anakin no pleasure; It was just a bargain. Life for life.

“Who’s there?”

The unsteady voice of the infant nurse brought Anakin back from the ghastly premonitions in his mind. He would give her the name she knew him by.

“It’s Anakin Skywalker.”

For a moment, he contemplated drawing his lightsaber and ending it all in a split second, but somehow that wouldn’t be right. Obi-wan had always said that a man chosen to wield power over life and death must be a gentleman. If not, he is nothing but a murderer. An animal like those Tuskans who killed his mother. He would give Siti what Shmi had been denied; a graceful death.

Siti stumbled before him, her arms outstretched, shaking like reeds in the swamps of Naboo. He could feel the rush of relief come over her when she heard him speak his name.

“Thank the Force you’re here! I didn’t know if I could hide them, Anakin.”

That comment twisted something in the hateful vortex of Anakin’s stomach. She had come close to fooling him and that angered him, washing away any last bit of sympathy he still had for her.

Though Siti knew her way around the nursery perfectly, her fragile state of mind had left her slightly disoriented, causing her to trip over one of the children's’ toys as she rushed towards the Jedi she thought to be her savior. She hit her face on the power console next to Anakin and crashed to the floor in a heap. Siti sprang back up, ignoring the steady flow of blood from her nose with an undoubtedly adrenaline-fueled vigor. Anakin regarded her with detachment as she clutched his vest and tried to pull him in the direction of the sleeping infants.

“Come, we haven’t any time. I still sense danger. We must hurry.”

Deciding that it would be cruel to leave her hope intact any longer, Anakin put his arms around Siti and held her steady. Her small body felt tense with fear and it took some effort to hold it still.

“Shhhh. There is no more need to rush, Siti.”

He could feel the realization dawn upon her, the realization that he was her assassin, not her protector. Her emotions screamed out into the Force. Fear, desperation, betrayal, but most poignantly, pain. A jolt went through her and she struggled frantically in Anakin’s arms. To no avail though, he was much too strong. She pushed his chest, trying once again to free herself.

“Shhhh. Are you going to fight me, Siti? Are we going to do this the hard way?”

His voice was calm and cold as Hoth’s glaciers. It was pointless to resist and Siti went limp in his arms with surrender.

“That’s better,” he said as he released her.

The clickety-clack of boots signaled the arrival of the two clone troopers who had grown curious.

“Dear Force, Anakin, not by blaster! We are not animals, you and I!”

Anakin snapped around.

“I told you to wait until you were summoned,” he sternly told his troopers.

He shared her indignation; this was a private affair. The matronly tone of her voice had surprised him somewhat, drawing his thoughts again to his mother. Had she been this brave when those Tuskans violated her? He liked to think she had.

“Don’t make them suffer. I don’t want them to suffer.”

Anakin beheld her and nodded curtly. He raised his hand at the infants and cut off their air as they slept. It was over within a minute.

Siti breathed a sigh of relief. She had been dead the minute the temple was attacked. With her disability and no family to care for her, she would have been left to beg on the streets. Or worse. She knew it, as did Anakin.

“And you, Siti? By my blade?”

She stood quiet for a moment, choosing her own end.

“No. By my own,” she said, as she swiftly drew one of the fruit knives from her robe and stabbed it in her solar plexus.

She looked up at him with those ghostly eyes, like a doll’s eyes.

“I seem...to have lost my strength. Will you help me pull this knife out?”

In what could undoubtedly be considered the last act of compassion of his life, Anakin stepped forward and grabbed the knife’s handle with his left hand. He hadn’t realized Siti was out for revenge and had the other fruit knife still hidden in her robe. With a quick, unexpected swish, the second knife brushed past his arm. Had he used his right hand, she might have struck him.

“Oh no. You’re left handed.”

Her last words before Anakin quickly gave the blade inside her a twist, ending her life.

He stood up, turned and wiped his hands on his robe as he brushed by the two clone troopers, signaling for them to follow. His work was done.