A/N: What do you get when you mix listening to too much of the same album and thinking way too much about Star Wars? You got it, another fanfiction idea. I know for a fact that the "real" characters in this story are probably not going to be portrayed perfectly (although, I've never been that good at it) but I hope you enjoy it anyways. I have a few weeks off college and I thought I'd celebrate with more-than-a-page fanfic. Hope you enjoy and may the Force be with you! (No constructive criticism, this fic is meant just for fun and to get the creative juices flowing. This is an AU fanfic and is only meant to be a work of a nerdy teen with way too much time on her hands. I can write better than this but when I want to have fun, this is as good as it's getting. I hope you enjoy anyways ~Emily)

Chapter One: Running Away.

"Araben, where do you think you're going?" Araben Kenobi scoffed and threw a knapsack over her shoulder. "Out."

"Out? You're going out?" growled Kali, an old Twi'lek-Human that spent the last thirty-six years taking care of young orphans on the tiny planet of Isla-9. She was a caretaker, but she wasn't exactly the most kind of "carers". At least she gave a damn where her younglings went… even if what they were doing wasn't exactly "legal".

One of her younglings hated the fact that she had to be looked after and that child was Araben. She had been an orphan since she was an hour old. Sure, she could take care of herself since the moment she could walk but that meant nothing to Kali. Araben was like a block of Old Republic gold to the Galactic Empire… or trash, depending on the point of view.

"Yeah Kali, out! Now leave me alone!" Araben grabbed an old Clone trooper helmet and stuffed it over her head before leaving the house. Isla wasn't the best of planets that was for sure. It was the land of thieves, trouble and outlaws and Araben fit right in.

She adjusted the old trooper helmet on her head, one that she had spray-painted over and over a few hundred times. While most kids spent their adolescence coloring their hair every other week, Araben thought the idea just made them stand out. On a planet like Isla, that just couldn't be. However, a neon helmet? That would work! So, since Araben was ten years old she'd spend hours using her small allowance to buy old cans of paint to color this old helmet any color she could dream of. It made her stand out, that was for sure, but in a pinch she could throw the helmet off and look like a regular bystander. No teenaged brat could do that with their own hair, that was for sure.

Araben buried herself in the crowd, scoping out the horizon for anything interesting. She was a thief, plain and simple but today was different, today she wasn't looking for food or spray paint, she was looking for a ship. She was eighteen now, she wasn't going to deal with Kali's overprotective tendencies anymore! She didn't know why Kali put Araben above everyone else but she did know that she was tired of it! So today, she was running away.

As she made her way through the busy streets she'd sneak a piece of fruit here and there, usually before the shop keeper could even tell something was missing.

However the further she made her way out of town the worse she began to feel. Something wasn't right, it wasn't right at all…

"Araben! Hey!"

She stopped in her tracks as an old Human called her out. "Hey, what are you doing out here all by yourself?" Asked Ez as he wobbled out of his shop, "Kali taking you shopping?" Krif, thought Araben, swallowing hard in nervousness. She needed an excuse and fast.

"Oh, no, Ms. Kali isn't here today, I came to buy some paint you see, just some paint." She coughed out, hoping that her anxiety couldn't be seen through her mask. Fortunately it could not and the half-metal old man bought it. "Oh really? Well, I think you'll like this, gimme a second." Ez grumbled behind a thick grey beard as he made his way back inside.

"Uh, listen Ez, I gotta go-"

"Here it is!" Ez rushed as best as he could with an old bottle of spray paint in a worn metal hand. With a cheeky smile he handed it to her, almost dancing in his place. "I thought you might like this! Sixty years old! All the way from the depths of Coruscant itself, probably used by one of those Jedi or something." Jedi wouldn't use spray paint, She wanted to say but she just nodded, taking the gift and after a moment of goodbyes, left.

She made her way back into the crowd, hiding the can into her sack and did her best to look over the heads of Wookies and Humans alike. Finally, in the distance she saw what she had been looking for. A tiny SG1- freighter sat under a meter of muck in Isla's dim rays. The owners of it were probably just a bunch of dumb-ass farmers from Tattooine. No one would even know Araben was there and best part? She'd be able to hitch a ride to any planet but Isla.

She boarded the ship through a tiny removable plate usually used for more "secretive" cargo – and by secretive that meant drugs. Occasionally it was just guns but usually just the most-wanted of drugs.

However, something wasn't right here to Araben… there wasn't any drugs or guns in this packed-full cargo hold. They were just empty crates…

Krif, they're so innocent they can't even carry some guns to the nearest planet. Probably a bunch of wrinkly old Twi'lek's like Kali. I almost feel bad… almost.

She hid between the wall and a group of boxes before laying another neatly over her head, making a tiny little cocoon that was just big enough for her to sit with her knees up. Now, she had to wait for the ship to take off…