Her hands were calloused to the point where they felt almost like leather. Her eyes carried a sense of exhaustion and her hair was brittle and looked very unclean.

Those same hands however, stroked my cheek more softly than silk. "Anakin," She spoke again, those same tired yet passion filled eyes I don't often see. "What's wrong?"

My mind was inflamed. "I…" Was this a dream? Have I gone insane? "…I don't know."

Suddenly, I knew who she was. I have never met her before in my life, but I have seen her often. In Anakin's room. The little picture- the only picture- he has of her placed carefully next to his bed. It was Shmi Skywalker.

My gut wrenching, my breathing sped up with unknown panic. "Are you going to be sick?" Anakin's mother asked me.

I wanted to shake my head, but I realized it was a losing battle and I quickly nodded.

Shmi quickly rushed me to the refresher, allowing me to empty whatever I had in my stomach in one fell swoop. "Feeling better?"

Another nod. I was glad to see that my stomach had quieted down. Shmi rubbed my back in soothing circles. "I'm going to get you some water. Stay here."

I watched her leave from the corner of my eye. Once gone, I allowed myself to sink to my knees.

How did this happen? I was trying to convince myself that this was nothing more than a bad dream- but I knew. I knew this wasn't a dream. This wasn't a vision. I've had quite realistic dreams and visions in the past, but none as detailed and real as this.

Why did this happen? I tried to think. I killed Anakin. I gritted my teeth to avoid the grief that came with that thought. But then…he killed me. He shoved a flaming rock through my torso, killing me. I rubbed my chest and found it to be intact. No rock, no gaping hole.

I stared at my fingers. My short, stubby, tanned fingers. My nails were completely bitten off; a bad habit Anakin could never break.

What happened next? I don't know. I can't remember.

A simple problem of not remembering would be easily solved within an hour's worth of meditation. I tried accessing the Force again. No avail. There was nothing more than an awareness that Shmi was somewhere in a room to my right.

I stood up. I had to see.

The mirror was old, cracked, and covered in years of sand grime. I stared into it, my breath catching in my throat.

Anakin Skywalker stared back.

A very young Anakin Skywalker. I met my padawan when he was- what? Nine? The boy looking back at me was not nine. Possibly six or seven. Light brown hair covered my head- hair that would eventually darken from lack of sunlight. A short stubby nose dawned my face that'll eventually lengthen. And my eyes, the same ones I'd seen turn red from hate and grief, were bright, young, and frightened.

"Here," Shmi passed a cup over to me. "Rinse your mouth then drink the rest."

I did what she told me, grateful the water was cool unlike everything else around here. This is Tatooine, I thought. Of course it was hot.

The Force whispered to me of another presence coming near. A second later, harsh pounding came from the front door. "Oh damn!" Shmi suddenly cursed and she went to her feet. "Anakin, stay here."

I sense her move to the door and a moment later, this conversation took place.

"Good afternoon Watto. You look well."

"Don't bother with the pleasantries Shmi. I want to see the boy."

"Watto, please, he still need another two days of rest-"

"No! He's been resting all week! What's the point of having slaves if they're not working? Let me pass, I want to see him…"

The only time Anakin talked of Tatooine, it was either about his mother or to complain about it. He told me that even though Watto had never mistreated them, he knew the blue bastard would not hesitate selling them to a well known abuser if the price was right.

The blue bastard- the only name Anakin ever called him- flapped into the refresher. I had never seen him, but my Padawan's description of him was accurate enough. "Ani!" Watto said in a rough voice. "Glad to see you're up and about my boy! Do you feel well enough to work today?"

I looked to Shmi who neither gave me indication to say yes or no. She looked upset, crossing her arms over her chest.

I was a slave. That work struck me hard and fast. In my career as a Jedi, I've been enslaved more than once. But the duration had never lasted any longer than I couple of weeks- either I escaped or was rescued.

The situation here was different. There was no way I was going to be able to escape, not in my condition. And I seriously doubt anybody was coming to save me.

Not at least for another three years.

"I'm fine," I said, pushing myself away from the sink. Force or no Force, I wasn't about to let my emotions drive my logical side away. "I can work."

Shmi's face deflates. I guess Anakin must have a bigger pull on Watto than her.

Watto chuckles. "Good boy. Eat some lunch and come by the shop in an hour. Shmi," He nodded towards the woman before flapping away. Shmi gives me an estrange look then escorts Watto to the door.

I turn back to the mirror, back to the image of a six year old boy.

Was this a will of the Force? Or- gods forbid- was this an accident?

It has to be an accident. None of this makes sense! Even if the Force found me fit enough to be sent back, to stop all wrong doings, why did it send me back in Anakin's body?

The Force gently hummed, almost mocking me. I wasn't going to gain any answers from there.

"Anakin," I flinched at the voice. I did not sense her come back. As I turned around to face her, Shmi places a hand upon my forehead. "Why did you tell Watto you can work? You just threw up right now!"

Her voice was chastising but not harsh. Her dark brown eyes demanded an answer and I could see she wasn't going to let me go unless I said something.

"…I feel better?"

I imagined my older self smacking me across the head. Answering a question with a question. I hated when Anakin did that.

Shmi sighed. "Ani, you don't have to do this. Watto isn't going to sell us because you've been a sick for a little longer than a week. You don't have to cover for us both."

A sickening sensation settles into my stomach. Anakin never talked about his days as a slave nor did I ever invited him to. I was suddenly aware of how very little I knew about Anakin's life before I met him.

Shmi kisses my forehead and I jump. "I'll make some lunch," She says softly.

()

A/N: Sorries for the long update. I wrote this a long time ago but lost the file. And then I found it.

R/R peeps!