A/N A tip of the hat to Onimiman for helping me explore this idea while chatting :-)

It was one of those rare events in a household with a small child: a quiet afternoon. Artoo Detoo was close to dozing, powered down in a corner of the Skywalker apartment, happily plugged into a power-point and soaking in the fresh charge.

A loud crash resounded from the kitchen, jolting the poor droid out of his peaceful stupor. A moment later, young Ben Skywalker, 5 years old, sauntered into the living area, hands stuffed deep in overall pockets, as though nothing had happened. Artoo turned his single photoreceptor to glare at him balefully. The boy was learning all the wrong things from that uncle of his. Such as how to swagger while he walked, or keeping a "sabacc face" when accused of his latest wrong-doing while pointing to the nearest droid and saying " He did it!"

The little boy walked up to the centre of the room and then stood, looking around uncertainly, as if unsure of what to occupy himself with next. Artoo sighed. Well, as far as it is possible for a droid to sigh, and reluctantly withdrew his power-socket. Ben seemed to notice him for the first time.

"Oh hey, Artoo," he remarked, desultorily.

Artoo beeped softly.
Which plate was it this time?

"One o' the white ones Mom keeps on top," he mumbled, scuffing the toe of one shoe along the carpet.

Artoo continued to regard him steadily.

"I couldn't help it! Mom keeps the snack bars on top too! I couldn't quite...reach it..."
He trailed off guiltily.

She has ample reason to, doesn't she?

Ben made no reply, continuing to look away in dejection.

Why did you try to reach for the jar, silly boy? You could have used the Force!

This time the boy openly scowled.
"I'm not using the Force. I hate it."

Artoo attempted a sigh again.
Go watch the HoloNet for a bit, I'll see if I can clean it up.

Ben's shoulders seemed to slump a little more.
"Can't. Mom grounded me after I got grease all over my bed from the Falcon yesterday. That means no HoloNet."

Artoo gave a soft whistle of exasperation.
With your capacity for getting into trouble, sometimes you even put Anakin to shame!

The boy's brow furrowed.
"Anakin? My-cousin-who-died Anakin? Did he get into trouble a lot too?" he asked, a note of interest creeping into his voice.

Artoo tootled in a fluster, almost rushing off towards the kitchen.
Sure, sure he did. All you Solo-Skywalkers are the same. More in trouble than out. Makes a droid almost wish for a memory wipe!

Ben followed Artoo into the kitchen curiously.
"A memory wipe! But I thought all droids were scared of that! I know Threepio is."
He giggled.
"Try telling him Uncle Han is thinking of taking him for a flush, and he'll do whatever you ask!"

Artoo looked up from the pieces of porciplast littering the floor.
Getting too smart, aren't you, little one? You shouldn't toy with poor Threepio like that.

Ben continued to grin, swinging from the doorway.
"I don't mean it really. Have you ever got your memory wiped, Artoo?"

Artoo chose to ignore the question, which was a serious folly on his part, considering it was a five-year-old boy who had asked it.

"Well? Have you?" Ben asked again, after waiting impatiently for three seconds.

Artoo hummed tinnily to distract himself.

"Artoo!"

The droid looked up in all innocence at the boy, standing at a height level with his photoreceptor, hands on his hips and an annoyed pout starting to form on the lips that marked him out definitely as his mother's son.

"I can tell when people know something they don't wanna tell me. I'm a Jedi, you know!"

Artoo's tweetle was almost a chuckle.
Oh? But I thought you hated the Force? And besides, I'm a droid. Jedi tricks don't work on me...only lubricant!

Ben knit his small brows together, trying to look as disgruntled as possible for a five-year-old, but failing adorably.
"Dad's never given you a 'wipe that I can remember...Have you been with Dad forever?"

Goodness, little one! Forever is a long time. Even for a droid!

"Yeah, but Dad's old! Were you with anyone before him?"

Artoo beeped sadly.
Oh never you mind about all that.

"But who was your first owner? Were you in space battles before you were with Dad? What was it like when the Death Star blew up?"

Artoo realized a trifle belatedly that perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say to an overly-inquisitive child. He looked into the sparkling blue eyes of his charge and recalled an identical pair, but more than fifty years ago, looking at him with equal excitement, at all the possibilities he symbolized. All of a sudden, he felt as though his circuits were over-heating. He should never have started down this path. It only brought up all that was old and best left forgotten...

"Artoo?"

The boy was still waiting for an answer. Artoo wheetled snappishly.

I don't remember. It was a long time ago. I've forgotten.

Ben's little eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Forgotten? You're a droid! You can't forget!"

Yes, well. It's buried under a lot of data...

"Wait a minute. So you've never been given a memory wipe? Since you were bor- I mean, built?"

Ben Skywalker! I am in charge of you while your parents are away, so you will do exactly as I tell you to! Now, enough with these incessant questions! Go and occupy yourself with something constructive while I clear up this mess you made!

Ben's features arranged themselves into a heavy sulk and he slouched wordlessly out of the kitchen. Artoo felt bad for losing his temper with the boy, but really! Sometimes he could swear the boy's curiosity would be the death of him! He went back to vaccuuming up the pieces of broken plate and sending them down the nearest disposal unit. Mara would not be happy when she returned from the Masters Council meeting.


Artoo Detoo trundled out into the living area again a while later to find Ben slumped on the sofa, swinging his legs over the edge, his gaze riveted to a high-speed podrace on the HoloNet.

You won't be doing yourself any favour by making your mother any angrier, little Ben.

Ben pulled a face at him and hopped off the seat, leaving the 'Net still on. Artoo watched him wander into the room his parents used as their office-cum-workstation and start fiddling with some tools left strewn around by Luke. He switched off the HoloNet and cautiously peeped in, hoping to ensure the boy didn't accidentally hurt himself. He let out a soft enquiring tweet and when Ben continued to pretend not to notice, rolled into the workroom.

Still mad at me, little one?

Ben didn't answer, stoically keeping his face turned away.

"I'm bored," he exclaimed suddenly, jumping up abruptly from his father's workbench. Too late Artoo noticed one of the tools come flying off, knocked aside by Ben's careless hand, and lodge itself at an irritating angle within his front grille.

Ben's hand flew to his mouth in shock as the little droid emitted a squeal.

"Stang! Artoo! Hold on, I'll get it out for ya!"

The boy set to work, wrestling with the offending object, while Artoo twittered incessantly in alarm, afraid the boy would corrupt one of his internal mechanisms.

"Hold still, Artoo!" Ben grunted with the effort.
"You've got this stuck real good."

Leave it, Ben! I'll get Master Luke to get it out! You're going to break something!

But Ben wasn't a boy to give up. He frowned in concentration.
"Hang on, Artoo. Maybe if I rub a little lubricant around it..."

Ben...!

"It's moving, Artoo...Almost...out...-"

The two fell back in opposite directions onto the floor as the obstructing instrument finally popped out of the droid's grille and clattered down.

Ben stared at the astromech with wide eyes, half afraid to ask him the question.
"Um... You ok, Artoo?"

Artoo hauled himself up slowly onto his treads and started to hum silently, running a quick internal systems scan on himself. Ben watched him, chewing his lower lip, face gone slightly pale. He knew his father would never forgive him if anything happened to his trusty astromech.

All systems are a go, he beeped, signalling the all-clear.

Ben heaved a huge sigh of relief. He'd gotten into enough trouble for one day without having a broken droid on his conscience. He wrapped his arms around Artoo Detoo.

"I'm sorry, Artoo. I'll be good from now on, I promise."

Artoo rotated his dome towards the door indicating it was about time they exited.
I'll be counting on it, little one. I'm no longer as young and rust-free as I used to be.

Ben raised his eyebrows as he followed on the droid's heels.
"Hey, Artoo? How old are you? I mean, really?"

Sometimes Artoo Detoo truly wished he had the human ability to sigh.


Epilogue

"You think Ben's alright back home?" Mara Jade Skywalker asked her husband doubtfully, as they walked out of the Jedi Temple together after an excruciating meeting.
"We did leave him at such short notice."

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Luke assured her with a smile.
"He's got Artoo with him. I'm sure handling a five-year-old can't be that tough a job after all he's been through!"

Mara eyed him cynically.
"Sometimes, farmboy, I wonder whether you really believe he'll grow up to be as naive as you, or whether you don't know your own son."

They entered their apartment a few moments later to be greeted by great gouts of smoke emanating from the general direction of the kitchen space. Mara ran into it, her heart in her throat, yelling for her little boy, only to be greeted by two smoke-blackened faces.

"He did it !" was her son's instantaneous response, when confronted by his livid mother, accusatory finger pointing towards a sheepish astromech droid.

Well, he said he was hungry, Artoo tweetled apologetically.
What do I know about cooking human food?

THE END