A/N So, hello. I came up with this idea while I was bored and daydreaming, so I hope it is as entertaining to other people as it is to me.

Basically, this is what would happen if Obi-Wan had been raised as a Skywalker, alongside Anakin.

I've changed the age gap between Obi-Wan and Anakin, so I realize that it is different.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars in any way, shape, or form. (Accept the novelizations and a toy lightsaber, I do own those.)

Qui-Gon blinked in the bright light of the two Tatooine suns. He was relieved to find that they were arriving at the junk shop that the Force had been leading him to. Despite his slight impatience, he kept his stride short enough so that he would not mistakenly leave any of his companions behind.

He gently ushered the young queen disguised as a hand-maiden, Padme, into the cooler interior of the shop and nodded at Artoo Detoo as the astromech droid passed him. He resisted the temptation to roll his eyes at Jar Jar as the clumsy Gungan trailed behind, wiping one foot on the ground with every other step and muttering something about goo. Blinking a few times to allow his eyes to adjust to the shadowed room, Qui-Gon took in his surroundings.

It looked like any of a million junk shops spread throughout the galaxy. Odds and ends lay scattered about, with a few working droids milling about and a few others laying in pieces and mixed with ship parts of all kinds spread out over every available flat surface. The only sentient he could see was a little human boy who was sitting on the counter. He looked to be in the middle of cleaning and reassembling one of the broken droids, but had paused to look up at their entrance. He eyed them curiously for a moment before calling out the open back door in Huttese.

An irritable voice called back in the same language, after which the boy nodded and gave what Qui-Gon gathered was a short agreement before turning back to them. "Watto's busy right now, but he'll be in here soon. Go ahead and look around while you wait."

Despite knowing that there was nothing of use to him on the shelves, Qui-Gon nodded. It clearly wasn't the boy's fault that they would have to wait. "Thank you, young one." He bowed slightly, making the boy giggle in surprise. He turned to look at the parts on display, keeping one wary eye on Jar Jar.

"Are you an angel?" he heard to boy ask suddenly, making Qui-Gon have to stifle a grin.

"A what?" Padme asked in surprised amusement.

"An angel. I heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They're the most beautiful things in the universe. They live on the Moons of Iego, I think."

"You're a funny little boy."

Qui-Gon missed some of their conversation as he had to stop Jar Jar from knocking over an entire shelf of scrap metal. Once the Gungan was safely banished to an area with a smaller potential for calamity, Qui-Gon tuned back in to the young ones' conversation.

"How long have you worked here?" Padme asked. Qui-Gon was sure it was meant to be an innocent question, but if his suspicions about the boy's situation was correct, it was about to open a very uncomfortable topic.

"Since I was very little," the child answered guilelessly. "Three, I think. My mother, brother and I were sold to Gardulla the Hutt, but she lost us betting on the pod races."

Padme looked horrified. "You're a slave?!"

The child frowned, clearly offended by her outburst. "I'm a person and my name is Anakin."

As the young girl promptly apologized and assured him that she meant no offense, an annoyed looking Toydarian flew in from the back. "Yes, yes, what do you want?" he asked in heavily accented Basic.

Once Qui-Gon had explained what part he needed. The Toydarian nodded curtly. "Yes, we have that. You're lucky you came here, we're the only ones in Mos Espa who would." He turned to Anakin, and his expression almost seemed to soften. "Get those shelves dusted off, and you and your brother can go home after this sale is done."

"Yippee!" the little boy called cheerfully, hopping off of the counter and grabbing a dust rag. Qui-Gon could hear him continuing to chat with Padme as the Toydarian lead him out into the yard.

"Boy!" he called gruffly. "Get over here!"

"Yes, Watto?" A young man replied from the far side of the yard, wiping his hands on a greasy rag as he jogged over to the older beings, dodging around piles of spare parts and scrap metal. Qui-Gon regarded him curiously, realizing that he must be the brother that Anakin had mentioned.

Something about the boy seemed oddly familiar to Qui-Gon, although he couldn't fathom why. He'd never been to Tatooine before, and rarely had reason to come to the Outer Rim. There was no way he could think of that he could have encountered the young slave before. But something in the Force seemed to be insisting that he did know the young man, so he obediently studied him closely.

He was roughly a decade older than his younger brother, his hair sun bleached and cut in the same floppy style, though it was redder than Anakin's straight blond. His eyes were as blue as his brother's, framed in a heavily freckled face.

The boy eyed Qui-Gon curiously for a moment before turning to his master. "What do you need, Watto?"

Qui-Gon started to answer, but Watto cut him off. "Before we get into that, let's discuss payment, shall we?"

Qui-Gon was careful not to show his sudden nervousness. "Of course, I believe Republic Credits should be sufficient."

Watto's face twisted and the slave boy looked amused. "Republic Credits?" he spat. "Those are no good here! Either get something worth trading, or forget about your precious ship parts."

Qui-Gon sighed as Watto flew away. It was just his luck that the only junk shop that had what he needed was run by a Toydarian- one of the few races with a natural immunity to Force suggestions. The young man gave him a sympathetic look before nodding politely and returning to the work that Qui-Gon's presence had interrupted.

Qui-Gon felt quite discouraged as he collected his companions and left the shop, hearing Padme call a farewell to Anakin. He took a deep breath and called upon the Force to calm himself. The Force would provide a way, he reminded himself sternly. He just had to be ready and willing to follow as it lead.

Apparently, the Force found Jar Jar just as annoying as Sentient beings did, because that guidance came at his expense. By the time Qui-Gon had noticed the angry Dug looming over the hapless Gungan, little Anakin had stepped in and defused the situation before it could turn violent. As Qui-Gon unfortunately didn't speak Huttese, he had no idea what the child said, but the Dug slunk off with nothing more than a dirty look.

"Hey," Anakin greeted his new acquaintances. "Your buddy here was about to be turned into orange goo. He picked a fight with a Dug, an especially dangerous Dug called Sebulba."

Qui-Gon smiled at the boy, ignoring Jar Jar's sputtering. "It's good that you were here to help him, Anakin." The Force seemed to be pointing him in the direction of this child and his brother. Now it was Qui-Gon's job to figure out why.

"Ani." Speaking of the brother, the red headed teenager had just arrived, putting his hand on his younger brother's shoulder and pulling him slightly away from the group of strangers. "Jira says there's a sand storm brewing, little brother. We need to get home before it hits if we want to avoid scaring Mom half to death."

The small boy nodded. "Yeah, you're right." He turned to Padme. "Do you have shelter?"

Padme smiled at him. "Our ship isn't too far away from here."

"Well where is it?" Anakin asked.

"Just a few minutes out of town."

Anakin frowned. "You'll never make it to the Outskirts in time. Sand storms are very very dangerous. You come to our house to wait it out, if you want."

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protest, but the older brother nodded. "Anakin is right. If you try to make it to your ship now, you'll be caught in the storm and most likely killed. You will be safe with us, and our mother will not charge you for shelter like most would."

"Well," Qui-Gon gave in, "it does sound like our best option. Lead the way, gentlemen."

The storm was definitely starting up by the time the two boys lead the group to their small slave quarters. They quickly ducked inside to escape from the stinging grains of sand. Once the door was safely sealed behind them, the two boys paused briefly in the entryway to dust the sand off their clothes and out of their hair. As Qui-Gon and Padme copied their actions, Anakin and the older boy entered the main area.

"Mom!" Anakin called. "Mom, we're home!"

A woman appeared from what seemed to be the kitchen, her loving smile clouding slightly in confusion as she caught sight of the strangers in her home.

"Obi, Ani, who are these people?" she questioned. Her voice was soft and pleasant, her face lovely if somewhat careworn from years of hardship. Her dark hair and eyes didn't match that of either of her sons.

"These are my new friends, Mom. They needed a place to wait out the storm," Anakin explained. Qui-Gon noticed that she glanced at her older son- Obi, she'd called him- and relaxed slightly when he nodded in agreement to his younger brother's explanation.

"I hope we aren't intruding, Madame," Qui-Gon apologized. "But your sons were kind enough to offer us shelter once they learned that we were in danger of being stranded in the storm."

The boys' mother smiled warmly at the somewhat bedraggled group. "And they were right to. Desert sand storms are vicious. They can easily kill anyone unfortunate enough to be out in them."

"Hey, Padme, do you wanna see the Droid I'm building?" Anakin offered suddenly, apparently growing board with the grown-ups' pleasantries.

The gentle girl allowed herself to be dragged off by the rambunctious little boy, and Artoo followed after them with a cheerful whirring sound. Obi and the boys' mother both gave fond smiles at the child's antics. Qui-Gon turned back to their hostess. "Thank you very much for offering us shelter, Madame. If the sand storms are truly as dangerous as you say, I'm very glad not to be out in it."

"It's no problem, really. I'm just happy to know I've raised them well enough that they are willing offer help to others," she returned, reaching up to fondly ruffle Obi's hair. The teenager rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't protest his mother's display of affection. "Not many on this planet would, especially in the cities."

She shook her head suddenly, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, in all the excitement, I seem to have forgotten my manners. My name is Shmi Skywalker."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "It's no matter, I seem to have forgotten as well. I am Qui-Gon Jinn. It's nice to meet you and your family."

Shmi didn't react outwardly, but Qui-Gon could feel a burst of recognition and unease run through the woman. His brow furrowed in confusion as she nodded at him. "It's nice to meet you as well, Mister Jinn. If you will make yourself and your friend comfortable out here, I will begin cooking dinner for us."

"I'll help you, Mom," Obi offered immediately. "We'll need more than usual with our unexpected guests."

Shmi smiled at him. "Thank you, Obi. That's very good of you."

Before the boy could follow his mother out of the room, Qui-Gon offered him his hand. He still couldn't shake the feeling that he should know the teenager, and he hoped to gain a bit more information about him. "I don't believe we were introduced either, young one. What's your name?"

The redhead sighed, looking strangely defeated, before taking the Jedi Master's hand. "My name is Obi-Wan, sir."

Qui-Gon felt as if he had been struck by lightning. "Obi-Wan," he whispered too softly for the boy to hear him. That name, he thought in a daze. But it can't be!

Almost desperately, he reached out with the Force. He was immediately greeted with a Force signature that, though he had only known in passing, he had committed firmly to memory out of repentant grief. This was the boy who had been lost over a decade ago. The boy he had terribly wronged.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi." Qui-Gon nearly choked on the name in his haste to get it out in the open, to get confirmation that his kriffin' pride hadn't actually resulted in the death of an innocent child as he had thought for all those years.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. My name is Skywalker. I have been a Skywalker for most of my life, and I have no intention of changing that now."

"But you were lost! Taken by pirates! Killed or, or ..." Qui-Gon trialed off, taken over by a sudden understanding.

Obi-Wan nodded, looking amused of all things. "Sold into slavery," he finished with a disturbingly casual air. "Or had you forgotten my family's standing, Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon was starting to feel a bit light-headed. He sat down heavily on the threadbare couch in the Skywalkers' sitting room and tried to release his emotions into the Force. When that proved impossible for the time being, he settled for a few deep breaths and a simple meditation exercise to calm himself.

"You remember me?" Qui-Gon questioned softly.

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied. "It's hard to forget the man who destroyed your childhood dreams." Despite the harsh words, Qui-Gon could detect no trace of bitterness in the young man. Qui-Gon's head fell forward, dragged down by a sense of guilt he thought he had banished years ago.

"I'm sorry, youngling," he said, the same words that he had whispered to an empty funeral pyre ten years ago. "I wronged you terribly. I am so sorry for all that you suffered because of me."

"Mister Qui-Gon hurt you, Obi?" Anakin's young voice broke in, sounding confused but still utterly indignant on the older boy's behalf. Padme stood silently next to him, but it was clear that she wanted an explanation as well.

The children had evidently heard the commotion and come back into the room to see what was going on. R2-D2 was just behind them, along with what looked like a pieced together protocol droid with no outer covering.

Obi-Wan smiled reassuringly at Anakin. "He didn't really hurt me Ani. Yes, he did some things that lead to me being hurt, but that was a long time ago. It doesn't matter anymore."

Anakin didn't look very convinced, and neither did Padme. Jar Jar, for once, looked to be trying his absolute best not to make himself noticeable, sitting on a kitchen chair and not moving an inch. "But what did he do?" Anakin asked. He took a step away from Qui-Gon, and subsequently closer to Padme, and eyed the man with sudden distrust.

Before Qui-Gon could gather his thoughts, Obi-Wan spoke. "Anakin, do you remember the story I told you about my life before I met Mom?"

Padme looked utterly confused as Anakin tilted his head curiously. "You mean when you were owned by the Jedi?" he clarified.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Exactly. You remember how I ended up being sold?"

Anakin nodded thoughtfully for a few moments before his expression cleared in understanding. "Oh. He's that man. I understand."

"Well I don't." If Qui-Gon hadn't already figured out that Padme was the real Queen of Naboo, her tone right there would have given her away. It was very clearly that of someone who was well used to giving orders and having them obeyed in a timely manner. She looked to Obi-Wan, and her tone softened considerably as she addressed the young man. "You were a Jedi?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, much to Qui-Gon's confusion. "No, ma'am. I never made it that far. I was a Jedi Initiate as a young child, yes, but I was thrown out when I was Anakin's age."

"Thrown out?" Padme repeated incredulously. "What in the galaxy could a little boy do to be Expelled from the Jedi Order?"

"Obi-Wan didn't do anything!" Anakin piped up angrily. He gave Padme a betrayed look, like he couldn't believe she would accuse his big brother of doing something wrong. "It was those sleemo Jedi! They're the ones who-"

"Easy, Ani," Obi-Wan soothed, walking over to his brother and scooping him up into his arms. "I'm sure Padme didn't mean it that way." He rested the little boy on his hip with the ease of long practice. Anakin immediately cuddled closer to Obi-Wan and rested his head on his shoulder, relaxing in his big brother's calming embrace.

"I certainly didn't mean anything bad about Obi-Wan, Ani," Padme agreed apologetically. "I'm just trying to understand. I can't believe the Jedi would throw out a child for any reason." She gave Qui-Gon a measuring look, searching for something the man couldn't identify. Evidently, he came up short, as she gave a frustrated huff before turning to the Skywalker brothers. "Would you be willing to explain what you are talking about, Obi-Wan? I'm afraid I am very confused."

"I think I would like to hear this story as well, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon added a bit hesitantly. He felt he needed to know what exactly had happened to Obi-Wan. It had been his fault, after all. He needed to know of the consequences the poor boy had faced due to his actions.

Obi-Wan sighed and gave Shmi an apologetic look. "It looks like I won't be helping you prepare dinner after all, Mom."

Shmi smiled and kissed her older son on the forehead. "It's alright, Obi. Go ahead and tell your story. It's not often that you get a chance for closure, after all."

Obi-Wan frowned. "I don't understand, Mom. I've not been bothered by the past in years. Honestly, I rarely even think about it, aside from the bedtime stories I tell Anakin sometimes."

Shmi just smiled. "I didn't mean closure for you, my son." With that, the woman pressed a kiss to her younger son's hair as well and turned into the kitchen area to begin preparing the evening meal. Obi-Wan sighed and shifted Anakin on his hip, still looking rather baffled by his mother's odd statement.

"Well, I suppose we should take a seat, Milady," he told Padme with a smile. "It's a bit of a long story." He sat down on the couch beside Qui-Gon, arranging Anakin comfortably on his lap.

Qui-Gon, feeling a bit awkward, quickly stood up and offered his

seat to the young queen, grabbing a kitchen chair for himself. Shmi had given Jar Jar a bowl of crushed fruit and instructed him to pick out all of the small seeds, which was just simple and tedious enough to keep the Gungan occupied and out of trouble.

Obi-Wan took a calming breath, looking at the two strangers that he was about to share his life story with. Briefly, he wondered why he felt the need to give into their requests for answers, but felt that the Force wanted him to. Despite being a simple slave boy for the last ten years of his life, he still held onto a few-albeit very few-of the Jedi teachings that were drilled into him as a young child, and following the will of the Force was one of them.

After all, doing so had been instrumental in keeping his family safe in the past. From knowing the best way to stay on Gardulla's good side and avoid extra beatings, to being in the right place at the right time to be randomly selected to fill the Hutt's gambling debt to Watto, who was a much kinder master.

So, nineteen-year-old Obi-Wan Skywalker took a calming breath, and began his story.

A/N Well, there you go. This will probably be about two or three chapters, depending on how the editing turns out. I think I'm nearly finished with writing this, so, barring any unexpected rebellions by the characters, it should all be up within the next week or two. I hope.

Anyway, reviews are always appreciated!