Disclaimer: George is sitting in a vault counting money at the Skywalker ranch, I'm obviously not him.
A/N: A bit of a mean chapter and one swear word. You have been warned if the rating is wrong and I'm not supposed to type swear words. Anyway hope you like it. And Tony +10, mate. Thanks for reviewing.
Anakin pushed his way through the excited crowds, struggling to find a path that would take him of this Force forsaken ship. 'Qui-Gon forgot to mention that that was such a …….. pleasant trip,' he grumbled to himself as he was yet again shoved in the back. Resisting the urge to throw a glare over his shoulder he instead focused on the open doorway he could see in the distance, longing for the moment when the fresh air would hit his face, when he could move without been jostled from every side. Ignoring the sweat that was trickling down his back, he pushed resolutely forward.
It was not so much the hot, humid, atmosphere that got to him. Rather it was that he had to share those conditions with so many people in such a confined space. He had heard that space was cold. He had never been told, never even imagined, that been locked in the hull of a starship, lined wall to wall with people, would be so hot. So aggravating. It had seemed like endless torture and an assault to his senses that had left him stunned. From the wailing children, to the overfriendly fellow passengers, to the food and climate, it didn't stop. The worst part of it was that despite the security presence that ships like that had, if you didn't keep a constant eye on your belongings they were liable to go missing. Which, of course, had meant that he could not remove his Lightsabers. Sleeping with two foot long cylinders of metal strapped to your sides, he had learnt, was near impossible.
So, with his cloak hanging limply behind his back and his meager belongings thrown over one shoulder in a simple bag, he was finally about to be free. On the other hand what he sensed through the Force suggested that his problems were merely beginning. Coruscant, seat of the Galactic Republic, felt like a chaotic, streaming, mess of life. As the bottleneck of people crowding the exit finally gave way, he through one last glance over his shoulder at what may as well have been his prison for the last three days, taking in the bleak, nearly empty vessel, he said a silent prayer to the Force and descended the ramp, only to stop dead, all thoughts of fresh air forgotten. The sight that greeted him through the slate glass windows that housed the space port forcing all others do a distant whisper, to be recalled later after he had dealt with this shock to his system. The Force, it seemed, could not do Coruscant justice.
Slowly, like a puppet drawn by a string, he was pulled to the window. Barely noticing the looks he was receiving from those that passed him by, some of amusement, some just irritated as he stepped in front of them. He made his way through the crowd of people that flowed like the oceans of Naboo, threatening to swallow everything in their path, to stand before the windows. Ordered chaos, that was the best description that he could think of for Coruscant, ordered chaos. After having grown up on Tatooine, Naboo had seemed wondrous; Alderaan had effortlessly taken his breath away at the sheer amount of people that resided there and so much more. But as Naboo and Alderaan were to Tatooine, Coruscant was to Naboo and Alderaan, to him it was utterly incomprehensible.
From the haphazardly designed towering skyscrapers that seemed to stretch into the outer atmosphere, to the endless lines of traffic that piled atop each other, every single inch that filed his vision seemed to be utilized and exploited. Looking down he realized that he wasn't even on ground level, the traffic passing constantly below streamed relentlessly, obscuring his vision, he couldn't even see the ground. Distantly it occurred to him that, at any given second, he would be able to look at more people than resided on Tatooine. As Coruscant's sun was setting in the distance the sky was awash with an orange glow, the last vestiges of pure sunlight could still be seen bathing the taller skyscrapers near their tops.
Suddenly he caught his own reflection in the glass, a shadow, dimly portrayed, as if mist. He was encased in the orange light, his black robes shimmering as the light reflected of the dust they had accumulated on his clothes. His brown cloak and boots were dull, almost invisible. Right hand holding his sack over his shoulder, left hand poised to grip a Lightsaber at an instances notice. His hair was held behind his ears, his blue eyes almost comically wide, the expression on his face was one of fright. He was intimidated, he realized, by the sheer magnitude of this planet-city.
With pure determination he collected himself and, vaguely recalling directions from Qui-Gon, turned to his left where in the distance he could see an elevator. As he let the steady current of the crowds carry him forward he decided that now was as good a time as any to check his Force shields. His mentor had surprised him by appearing suddenly, while he was en route to Coruscant, cautioning him against moving freely around his destination without adequate protection in place. He had been adamant about making sure his Force signature was hidden, apparently for his own protection. So that, as Qui-Gon had put it, 'Anyone searching within the force for a change in such things would be none the wiser to your arrival, whether the person doing the searching was doing it with malice intent or not.'
The only frustrating part of the whole exercise, apart from explaining to his fellow passengers why had jumped at Qui-Gons unexpected appearance, was that he had already planned on doing so. But then again his mother had always told him to do things that he had already been planning to do, so why should Qui-Gon be any different? So, as he walked alongside the massive blue transport towards the elevator, he checked his shields. The tight, overlapping, walls were the strongest he could make. They shielded his mind from intrusion and, just as effectively, they removed his signature from the Force. To any other Force user he what appear as a normal person, at least that was what Qui-Gon had told him. Having never meant one he could not be sure himself, Qui-Gon hardly counted, the man was appearing from the netherworld for Force sake.
He pulled himself out of the flowing stream and into the open doors of the elevator. As quickly as possible he made his way to the back, but not before checking that this elevator was heading to the ground floor, the last thing he needed now was to be floor hopping for the next half hour. As the limited space filled up and he was once again left feeling agitated by the lack of room as the doors slid shut, he reached out with the Force to take in his surroundings and, after feeling no warnings through the Force about the people in the elevator, waded deeper than he previously had, searching for what he had glimpsed earlier.
The feeling of the descending in an elevator at high speeds was soon matched by the feeling in the pit of his stomach. What he saw, or rather what he felt, made him uneasy. 'So this is why Qui-Gon was so high strung, because of this…… whatever it is.' The Force itself was ….. darker here, as if a shadow lay over pure water. It still seemed the same, calm, smooth and peaceful but it was as if it could, at any moment; change into raging torrents, sweeping all before it.
Impossible, he knew, but the feeling was still there. Almost immediately he knew what it meant and he could imagine the words coming out of Qui-Gons mouth in his rich voice, 'this is the effect of the dark side of the Force, a shroud that suffocates the light, bringing darkness to all it touches.' He had felt none of it on Tatooine, but as he had come closer to the core he had begun to feel it. At first he though it was just his imagination. On Naboo he had felt a whisker of something, an impression, but he had dismissed it. Now there was no doubt in his mind, there was something terribly wrong in the Galaxy, and more so with Coruscant. Qui-Gon asking him to come here and baby-sit an old friend seemed far more reasonable now, even understandable. It may have been caused by the war, he could almost fool himself into thinking so, but he knew, the darkness indicated the influence of the Sith.
As the Elevator reached the ground floor and he headed for the doors he was for once glad at Qui-Gons nagging, although he would have put his Force shields up, there was a chance, however slim, that he would have forgotten. Or that he would only be putting them in place now, after feeling what was in the force, perhaps to late. If the Sith were here or had supporters anywhere on or near Coruscant, then the last thing he wanted was to come to their attention. The war was not his fight, never would be, he wasn't even a republic citizen, though now technically he was. The only way it ever would be, he reflected, was if either the Sith or Jedi did something to drag him into it, even then he would only fight long enough to extricate himself, to gain his freedom once more. It was something to precise not to fight for and now that he had felt its wonderful serenity, something he was determined to never lose again.
As he passed through the door his first thought was of the blissfully cool mid afternoon air that hit is face. His second was what the hell happened to Coruscant? Were had the Coruscant he had seen from the space port evaporated to? From there it had seemed a new, clean, modern city with industrially influenced architecture, full of opportunity that glowed with promise in the sunlight. From ground level it was, derelict, dirty and dark, the only light source been artificial. And whatever in the name of the force that smell was, it wasn't pleasant. The people, be they human or otherwise, looked ragged and lifeless, hard and unforgiving. Looking up he could just barely make out patches of the sky between overhanging buildings and the lines of airspeeders and transports. It was as if there were two Coruscant's, one that started a mile-high for the rich and famous, the other on ground level, where the poor people live and the sunlight never reaches.
Sensing in the Force that this was indeed where he was meant to be and remembering the directions he had been given that his new …. employer was in a building in the direction of the senate, which he recalled been to his right, he quickly got his bearings and trusting in the Forces guidance, started down the road the force wanted him to take. After all, it was apparently his ally, not his master, as Qui-Gon had so often had to point out; it had to work for him eventually.
He had not gone ten paces before someone had come up to him to offer him to sell him a deathstick, whatever that was, which he declined as politely as possible, but not before his personal deathstick salesman had attempted to discreetly rob him. He hadn't needed the Force's warnings to know what was happening and one knowing glare had been enough to send the man on his way. Something he was glad of, starting a fight within ten paces after coming out of a space port would have been a new record for him. 'Just,' he added mentally before chuckling to himself.
Not wanting to attract anymore personal assistances and wanting to scare of any would be muggers; he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, leaving his face in darkness. Hoping he looked threatening he started of again towards the senate building. Keeping as much to himself as possible, he avoided all the randomly placed vents that were pouring steam up into the air, avoided offending the beggars and the shop keepers who yelled the wares out hoping to attract business. The noise of the place was unlike anything he had ever heard, a buzz that never ceased. It grew louder every time he approached a cantina, or workshop and faded back into the normal dull roar when one receded into the distance. Visually it was an assault to his sensors, neon lights were flashing everywhere, be they names of establishments or warnings. Screens' playing what was on the holovid where spewing forth random bits of information, none of which interested him and he barely paid it any attention, until, that is, a news report came on about a certain senator from Naboo.
The woman reading the news had been talking about something as he had been passing the screen, and by chance he had looked up as the screen changed from the newsreader to a video of the story and he froze. For the life of him he couldn't have said what that story was about, or what the newsreader was saying even when he was paying attention. It was a slow frame recording of Amidala in the senate, as if it was too short to be played at real speed and still let the newsreader finish the script. It was the first time he had seen her in over decade and he was momentarily stunned. When he had last seen her she had been but a girl, now he looked at the women and the change shocked him, all thoughts of the past evaporated from his mind. Her long her cascaded down her back and a smile danced across her lips, lighting up her face, making her big brown eyes shine. Force she was beautiful, she-. The thought died though as a little voice began incredulously in the back of his mind, growing louder as it gained provenance, 'what the hell are you thinking Skywalker? Get a hold of yourself. Forget how she looks, she still left you to rot on Tatooine, despite all you did for her. She does not deserve your admiration, not now, not ever.'
Letting the sense of resentment rush through him, as it always did when he thought of her, he turned away from the screen. He felt a small pang of regret at having done so but managed to convince himself he didn't want to look at her any longer and even if he did, he was pretty sure he would be sick of the sight of her before too long anyhow. He hadn't taken a step however before a desperate plea reached him through the Force, something needed his help and whatever it was it was coming from the alleyway beside the screen he had just been watching. Distantly wondering if he had stopped because of what was on the screen or because his 'ally' needed him and he had arrived a few minutes early, he cautiously started up the alleyway. 'Besides,' he though grimly, 'at least this will take my mind of Amidala.'
As he moved further up the alleyway the street quickly disappeared behind him, silently praying that whatever it was he could handle himself, and as the sound of a wailing reached his ears, then two smacks and a rough voice shouting, he quietly put down his bag to free both his arms. Checking that both Lightsabers were within easy reach and were easily able to be removed, he started forward once more. The scene that eventually meant his eyes filled him with disgust.
A tall, heavily muscled man was holding a child by the hair while a heavy set man with a dark black beard was swinging a backhanded slap at the child. As the hand made contact a loud smack echoed in the confined alleyway, followed by another wail. To Anakin's horror black beard didn't seem finished, and recalling just how many smacks he had heard as he had come closer, didn't seem like he was going to stop for a while yet. The child on the other hand looked a mess, sagging as if the only thing holding it up was the hand in its hair, it was shaking and crying, while at the same time was trying to shield its face with its arms. The loud moans that were coming from the little mouth were heartbreaking. The force was pleading with him to help the child.
So as black beard shouted, "'ever do it again, you good for 'othing waste of space, do you hear me?" and his hand reached the pinnacle of its arch, and started it's downwards path once more Anakin decided that now would be a good a time as any.
"Hey," he shouted, "what do you think your doing?" the hand stopped in mid air, thankfully, before both man turned, startled and glared at him. When they saw it was only him black beard sneered and muscles started laughing.
"Run along boy," black beard said angrily, his eyes flashing, "this is between me and the runt, you hear, leave, unless you want some yourself." He finished with a smirk, as if he thought Anakin would do what he wanted and enjoyed the feeling of power that gave him.
Muscles was doing his best to intimidate him, holding the child in one hand and trying his best to look threatening. But as black beard noticed he wasn't going anywhere he slowly turned from the child and straightened to his full height, before trying again, "You hear me boy? This runt tried to stow away on my ship, needs to be taught a lesson, it does," he indicated the weeping child as if that was proof, before continuing in a quite voice, "Head back the other way, unless you want trouble."
The child was watching him now, sending him a pleading look. The eyes were green he saw, funny what you notice at times like this. For his part Anakin just stood their trying to decide how to solve this, he could try diplomacy, what Qui-Gon would have wanted, but he didn't think someone who likes hitting kids would respond well to that, on the other hand there was strength and then it was simply a matter of which kind. Sighing he tried diplomacy, "Don't you think you've done enough? I'm pretty sure it won't be stowing away on your ship anytime soon."
His mother had always said that sarcasm was not the answer and judging by the reactions he got she was right. Muscles tossed the child into the wall as he laughed, before mumbling something, it sounded like 'I'm gonna enjoy this' but he couldn't be sure. Black beard just sneered and started rolling up his sleeves before saying "'ave it your way then," before both slowly advanced towards him.
He knew that a Jedi would have tried a simple mind trick at this juncture but he was no Jedi. His personal philosophy ran something like, if people wanted to be assholes they deserved what they got, after all, why do the crime if you can't do the time? As the two slowly advanced and the child watched on fearfully from where it had been tossed, Anakin was desperately trying to decide which form of strength to use. Quickly deciding that a Lightsaber would be too heavy handed, and he didn't think they should die for what they had been doing, he raised his right hand, drew the Force into him, which he soaked up like water on the sands of Tatooine, and pushed.
As if a giant had kicked them as hard as he could, muscles and black beard went flying backwards, up into the air before hitting the wall a good thirty meters away, where the alleyway turned to the right, and crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Through the force he could sense they had no serious injuries, just a few cracked ribs and concussions. Just punishment for beating up a small child he decided, speaking of which, the child was now looking at him as if terrified, realizing that it had no idea what it had just seen and was now sacred of him, he tried to ease its fears, he raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes as far as they would go in what he hoped would be a comical expression and said with a smile on his face, "Whoops."
Nothing. Not one giggle, not even a hint of a smile or the flicker of an eyebrow, nothing. Deciding to try a different tactic he moved towards the child, which he now saw was a little girl, and squatted down to her eye level. Or at least he tried to, that is. As he moved closer she moved away scrambling back until her back was pushed against the wall, she was looking around as a caged animal would, looking for a place to run. As he got a better look at her, his heart broke all over again. She was the dirtiest child he had ever seen, tattered clothes, no shoes, her hands and feet where almost black with the soot that covered this part of Coruscant and she had smudges on her checks that her tears had made tracks through. Her brown hair would have been curly had it not been so dirty, and not so short. She had scrapes and bruises all over her, they only normal thing about her seemed to be her eyes, which blazed a brilliant green. Eye's that seemed to be open as far as they would go, eye's that were terrified. She was a street kid he decided, probably had no place to go.
He sat down in front of her and asked in a gentle voice, "What's your name?" The only response he got was for her to swallow, hard, and try to push herself further into the wall. Sighing he tried again, "How old are you, you can't be more than five?"
That got the response he had been looking for; she forgot to be scared as indignation flooded her small features and she found her voice, "Am not, I'm 'even" and she held up eight fingers as if to prove her point.
Anakin chuckled as he replied, "So you are, my mistake." She didn't look seven, but he supposed that a life on the streets was not conducive to being well nourished. As he spoke she went back to been frightened, the terrified light reentered her eyes. Sighing he continued, "Are you hungry I'm sure I have something back here," he turned to his back pack, too late remembering that he had left it behind, and, as he turned back to find himself sitting alone on the ground, to late he remembered that she had been looking for a way out. As the sound of the girls retreating footsteps could be heard echoing down the alleyway as she ran, he shoke his head sadly before picking himself up and starting back the way he had come. After finding his back pack he once more began the long walk towards Amidala's apartment. Ironically, he realized, in a world so full of people, he had never felt so alone.
It wasn't until half an hour later that he realized he had a shadow and it wasn't until an hour later that he found himself at Amidala's building been told come up to the top floor through the intercom. Looking up he smiled darkly, 'Of course she lived above a mile-high, looking at that thing she's way above it.' As the door slid open he decided to have a little fun, he turned to where his shadow was 'hiding' waved and yelled, "See ya later, green eyes!" He was rewarded with a shriek and the brown hair quickly disappeared from view. Chuckling he stepped through the open door and walked down the small corridor to the evaluator.
He quickly sobered up as he realized just who would be waiting at the top of the building. As he stepped into the elevator and punched the number of the highest floor he double checked that his Lightsabers weren't showing. Ever so quickly, too quickly, the elevator was running up the side of the building and as it neared the top his thought process had evaporated into a string of huttese curses, every single damn one he knew. This was the last thing he wanted. He didn't hate her exactly, just disliked her. Extremely disliked her. She was the one person he had ever met that had the means to help him, especially after he had helped her, and she had not. In truth he wanted nothing to do with her, but Qui-Gon had asked. Touching the necklace he wore again, he calmed himself, he didn't have to like her to keep her alive, 'Just think of the money Skywalker,' he told himself, 'just think of the money and you'll be fine.'
Far too soon the doors hissed open and to his eternal surprise, he came face to face with Amidala and just like that she was back in his life. As her eyes' fell on him a smile graced her face, somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that she was flanked by what seemed to be a large security detail and what he would later refer to as handmaidens. Unable to do anymore than frown, as a cold feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach, he watched as she studied him. He also noted that the holovid could not do her justice. She nodded once to herself than addressed him, "You must be Mister Walker," she paused and he nodded, the cold feeling vanished as quickly as it had come, he had been afraid she would recognize him he realized. Mentally laughing to himself at how irrational it would be for her to recognize the nine year old boy she had met on Tatooine as him, he listened as she introduced herself, "I'm Padme Amidala."
His response came far too coolly, but he could do nothing to warm his voice, he was gazing at a vision that had tormented him for so long, "Senator." He gave a small bow to go with it, hating himself for doing it, and then looked questionably behind her, "is something wrong?"
She frowned at his tone then at his question before realizing exactly what he meant, "Oh no, we," she gestured to the man behind her, "were just leaving, a session of the senate is scheduled to start soon. But please call me Padme, at least when your not in uniform," she finished with a small smile. He decided he never would, just because she had asked. Then his gaze fell on the guards and all other thoughts left his head, he heard Amidala giggling softly at the expression on his face.
"Those are the uniforms?" he questioned in dismay, as he brought his eyes back to her face, only to see her unsuccessfully struggling not to laugh, eventually she had to resort to holding a hand over her mouth as she nodded. The other guards were glaring at him but he didn't care the uniforms were….. purple. And, oh Force, it even had a hat, that just so happened to be purple as well. He was going to have to wear that? 'Qui-Gon,' he mentally shouted into the Force in desperation, 'Qui-Gon if you're watching this isn't funny. You never mentioned uniforms, if they can even be called that.' There was, of course, no response.
"Ah, they're ….nice?" he tried, only to see her snort. This time she bite her lip to keep from laughing and avoided looking at him, it seemed the floor had suddenly become interesting. In the end it was a man he would later come to know as Typho that rescued them both.
"Milady, if we don't leave now we're going to be late," he said and she nodded and entered the elevator, then he address him, "Owen, if you don't mind me calling you that, why don't you wait here for us to return? We'll fill you in on everything when we get back." He nodded dumbly and stepped out of the elevator as they filed in.
As he turned back to look at them he noticed that the guards were still glaring at him, and for some reason one of the woman was smiling broadly, though it was Amidala that addressed him, "We'll be back in a few hours, why don't you have Artoo show you around?" at his confused expression she indicated a small blue and white astromech droid that he hadn't noticed before. From the dusty recess of his mind he recalled having seen this droid before, his full designation was Artoo Detoo, if memory served him correctly. At the mention of his name Artoo let of a low whistle then a series of beeps. Anakin acknowledged him absently with a wave of his hand.
"Sure, sounds like fun," he replied with more confidence than he felt, "I guess I'll see you when you return?" Amidala just nodded and as the doors slid shut he noted that there was still a small grin on her face. As soon as they were alone Artoo extend his front wheel and started moving away, apparently to start to tour. Anakin ignored him for the moment, there was only one thought running through his head as he spun around, trying to get his bearings, 'What in the name of the Force had just happened?'
A/N: please read and review.