Disclaimer: I don't own.

Warnings: nongraphic violence and referenced abuse of a minor; mild language.

"What she needed was just one person, one wise and sympathetic grown-up who could help her."

Luckily for both Anakin and Mr. Kenobi, the lunch sessions started on a successful note. On their first day, Anakin lapped up the new material with an eagerness that took his teacher by surprise, and in the first ten minutes of the break, he could already recite back a few major events of the past decade with only the occasional mistake.

"And what year signified the end of the Slave Uprising III on Tatooine?" Kenobi shuffled some old test questions on his table, and then bent down to look for something in the lowest drawer.

Anakin answered readily, but he cocked his head when something metallic was shoved against the wood with a clunky rolling sound. Oddly, Kenobi's eyes flicked up to meet his, assessing, before he ducked down again and asked him to clarify further.

While Anakin couldn't remember anything of his birthplace, slavery would always be something that would get his attention, and this rebellion in the Outer Rim was already considered by modern historians to be one of the last few pushbacks against the injustice of slavery: the consensus overall was that the unfair system was on the outs and was no longer prospering at the huge numbers it had before. Anakin wished they were right, but while the systematic nature of slavery was slowly dying out, slavery obviously still existed. Prime example number one: Anakin Skywalker.

He didn't say any of that, though, only outlining a summary from what he could remember from the news a while back. Threepio's radio was good for something, at least.

"Very good," Kenobi complimented, the sound muffled slightly, and then he raised his head with satisfied expression. He stacked a pile of holotests on his table along with a bulky lunch bag. "I think we can take a break from current events. What do you think?" It seemed like he actually wanted to hear Anakin's opinion on the matter, and that little consideration felt like the nicest thing anyone (excluding his droid) had done for him in a while.

Anakin shrugged, his eyes falling on the bowl of juna berries his teacher was pulling out of a small plastic bag. "Uh, sure, we can start with whatever other subject you think I need help with," he finally said, forcing himself to stare out the window so he wouldn't have to watch the older man eat.

"Anakin?"

The teen's eyes slid to the edge of the table, and he kept his gaze downward. "Yes, sir?"

There was a silence, but it wasn't full of anger or demands, it didn't stifle the air around them. Another beat of calm quiet. Anakin slowly raised his head to see Kenobi patiently holding out a small cup filled with the sweet fruit. They looked delicious, round and plump, and he immediately wanted to reach out.

"I'm not a charity case," he said instead and folded his hands in his lap so he wouldn't be tempted.

Kenobi leaned back in his chair, rubbing his beard. "Consider it compensation for these long tutoring sessions."

Anakin furrowed his brows. It should be the other way around; Kenobi was the one going out of his way to make sure Anakin was caught up on the material. "I dunno," he mumbled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. But the berries were starting to look more and more appealing the longer Anakin tried to not look at them. Kenobi probably thought he'd forgotten his lunch or something, so maybe accepting the food would be okay if it was only a one-time thing.

"Okay," he decided resolutely. Anakin reached out and took the cup. He dropped a handful into his mouth, tasting a sugariness he rarely indulged in. "Thanks, Mr. Kenobi."

"My father loved juna berries," Kenobi revealed. Anakin chewed, relishing the brilliant taste, watching his teacher curiously. "We went to Gala for vacation one time when I was teenager, and it was the first time either of us had tasted such a sweet flavor."

"That's nice," Anakin said sincerely, and it wasn't until hours later when he was on the train that he realized he had honestly enjoyed listening to the man divulge the secrets of his everyday life.

"Shall we get back to it?" Kenobi wondered once the teenager polished off the pile of food. The red-haired man sounded like he would accept a 'no' just as much as he would a 'yes' answer, but Anakin was ready for more.

"I'm ready when you are."

When the lunch break ended and the other students filtered back into the room, Kenobi greeting them at the door, Anakin tucked his extra homework into his backpack before any of his peers could see. They looked at him warily as they ambled into the classroom, skirting around desks so they wouldn't walk directly past him. Someone mouthed "Chosen One" with a sneer.

Whatever. Friends were overrated anyway, and he wouldn't want to be friends with these snobs anyway.

Anakin sighed as he pulled out his cracked datapad, getting settled at his seat. When he looked up, his eyes met his teacher's, and Mr. Kenobi's face softened with something warmer than perfunctory friendliness. He smiled down at his desk.

…o0o…

When Anakin walked from the train station to the apartment, he felt like someone was following him. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling – he had gotten his share of muggings when he was younger and less street smart – but this was different: it was dark, malicious, and dangerous. Anakin didn't bother masking his movements, forcing his vibroblade out of his shoe in an obvious move so that he could grip the handle and at least be somewhat prepared for whatever was out there. It wasn't the first time he wished he had a blaster.

He had two options: lose his stalker or confront them and manage to survive.

Anakin walked leisurely down the road, nearing his apartment complex, passing two familiar death stick dealers. He eyed them, already on high alert, and they stared back at him from beneath dark-brown hooded robes.

"That stuff's bad for you," he told them, slowing to a stop. He peaked a look over his shoulder, making it seem like it was for their benefit. No one was behind him.

"Your business, that is not," the tiny one croaked weirdly. Anakin rolled his eyes. That one's brain was already fried beyond repair.

The taller one snorted, and Anakin squinted at him. A dark-skinned Human. Something in Anakin's memory hummed, asking for his attention, but he couldn't recall where he'd first seen the man.

"Well, sell your business somewhere else," he finally said, glancing around.

"You should get to work, kid," the Human said, and Anakin raised an eyebrow at the tone. It wasn't concerned, but there was a hint of something else below the surface. What death stick dealer was somewhat nice to a money-less teenager interfering with his sells?

Anakin shrugged noncommittally. They weren't his problem. But still… "You might want to get off the streets. I think something's going to go down soon, y'know?"

"The Siths?" the larger one demanded with a no-nonsense glare, abruptly giving Anakin his full attention.

He shrugged again, having no idea. Maybe his stalker was from a Family, as weird as that would be considering Anakin was just a nobody slave-boy, but what was more important than that was that whoever wanted him dead was a threat for anyone on the streets, involved with him or not. Anakin got the feeling that his stalker wouldn't care about killing innocent people to make a point or to get closer to him.

"What's going to happen?" the man requested again, grappling for his shoulders. He looked seconds away from shaking him. Anakin grit his teeth and pulled his vibroblade into view. The short addict made a peculiar "hmmm" sound they both ignored.

"Let.. go.. of.. me," Anakin ordered lowly, his eyes almost gold-like in the dark lighting of the underworld.

The man released him but didn't step away. "What's going on?"

Anakin angled away, leaning on the balls of his feet, chancing another look behind him. Nothing was there, but Anakin felt in his bones that there had just been a dark figure standing by a closed-down shop a block away, watching the three of them.

"Just go home," he said and walked over to his apartment complex, picking up three hand-sized packages and stuffing them into his backpack. He turned around to see if the two were going to follow his advice. They were gone. Good. Anakin chewed on his bottom lip as he surveyed the empty street.

It would be a monumentally stupid idea to go inside the complex. There was only one way out of the building, and Anakin didn't want to lead his stalker right to his exact doorstep or endanger his neighbors. It was also stupid idea to go to the shop. Even if his shadow already knew where he worked, the junk shop not only had only two exits but there were also crowds of civilians that could get in the way.

Anakin shrugged his backpack further onto his shoulder. He needed to get to a place he knew better than anywhere.

The swoop track.

He may have only raced once, but the track had been like a second home to him before his bike had been broken. He was well acquainted with the area's layout and the kind of people that frequented the races. It was his safest bet.

As he carefully moved along, there were still no sounds or sights out of the ordinary. No extra footfalls along the wet pavement. No dark shapes. Anakin edged his way a few blocks further to where the street opened up into a crossroad of alleyways, and he hesitated at the entrance. There were high walls with minimal comfort room; it would be a tight fit for two people walking side-by-side. The alleyway was the worst part of this route since he would be an easy target, but it was also a necessary evil to get to the swoop racing track.

And maybe he was wrong. To be fair, Anakin hadn't actually seen anyone following him, so it could just be paranoia.

He took a few steps forward before something in his ear shrieked in a nerve-shattering panic, loud and deafening and horrible. Anakin startled, tripping over his own feet, and his head slammed against dirt and broken glass with an audible smack. He scrambled upright, barely understanding the red light that fizzled in the air like an afterimage where he had been standing moments ago, barely feeling the blood on his palms. His head was still screaming at him incoherently and it was hard to get any kind of thoughts in order.

A flaming-red sword shimmered alive in the dark with a snap-hiss, thrumming with a heavy nonexistent heat. Anakin braced himself along the wall, blinking away the spots in his vision. His backpack had skittered all the way to the entrance of the alleyway, long forgotten.

"Anakin Skywalker," the thing hissed hatefully, spearing him with cold, glowing eyes.

In the back of his mind, Anakin knew there was no possible way he had done anything bad enough to get himself on a personalized hit list. But right now, all that mattered was survival.

"…You," Anakin hissed back vaguely, and he tried his most angry scowl. The assassin's eyes narrowed, becoming thin slits of molten yellow. The illuminated blade was pointed at the teen threateningly. Anakin could practically feel the immense reserves of power radiating from the dark figure.

He dutifully raised his own small vibroblade intimidatingly. The comparison was almost humorous. As things were looking, it appeared that running would be pointless; he had to fight. Anakin leaned on the balls of his feet, preparing to move.

"Brave," the thing approved, seeing that he wasn't trying to escape, as futile as that would be, "but stupid. Today you die, filth."

"No," Anakin said, and it was more because he refused to die yet - not before he could say goodbye to Threepio or Kenobi or Padmé - than any kind of trust in his combat skills. His scarred fingers, still wet with blood, curled tightly around his blade.

The red glow of the laser sword looked like an omen of death.

"DROP!"

"GET DOWN!" a strong voice shouted in tandem with the first command, barely giving Anakin the time to follow the orders. The teen fumbled to the ground in a jumbed mix of confusion and hope.

Laser bolts pelted the air in the alleyway, and the sudden attack forced the assassin to slip around the particle beams and back away from Anakin's defenseless position. Occasionally, the glowing sword deflected the energy, throwing it back at his two saviors, but it seemed they had pushed the dark figure back enough of a distance that the demon seemed to accept his losses. The red light disappeared with sizzling click and then the three were suddenly alone in the alleyway with scorched walls and smoking piles of trash.

One of the cops turned to him, the mechanical eye coverings and heavy metal armor making them seem indifferent and uncaring. Anakin had never had the bad luck to meet a hardened officer from the Underworld Police Division, but in this case, he was actually feeling very lucky.

Shaking, either from leftover fear or joy at not dying or something, Anakin sucked in dirty air and breathed out with artificial slowness. "Thank you," he heard himself say, "Thank you."

"Just… be more careful," the humanoid officer said, and his body language made it seem like he was uncomfortable with the non-fighting part of his job.

Anakin giggled hysterically, and his eyes went back to the dark alley, transfixed. In his mind's eye, he pictured the illuminated sword, remembering the melodic song of power and escape. Mesmerized by the shadows, he didn't even notice the shorter security officer disappear, leaving only the Human-shaped partner.

"Who was that?" the officer asked through a voice modulator, and he sounded robotic and harsh.

The fifteen-year-old swallowed and pulled his eyes away from his memories, deciding to rest them on the vibroblade he was still clutching to his chest like a life-line. Who was that? Who wanted him killed so badly they could afford a professional assassin with a grudge of his own? No one, Anakin wanted to say, because that was the truth, wasn't it? Apparently not.

"I don't know, officer," he said aloud, shrinking into himself, feeling cold.

Should he say more? They did just save him, but everyone in the underworld knows that you can never trust an officer of Coruscant's Security Forces to protect you. If you get yourself into trouble, you get yourself out it, one way or another. That's how it goes.

"Are you sure?" he repeated, like he didn't believe Anakin.

"Yes."

The armored officer made a displeased sound, about to push for more information, but then a message beeped urgently from his belt. The dark-tinted eye covering turned to him, and Anakin felt the glare. "Stay away from gangsters."

The officer stalked away before he could answer. Anakin never wanted to see that yellow-eyed demon ever again.

…o0o…

"So I almost died today," Anakin tried to tell Watto, but his guardian only glared at him for interrupting the call on his comlink and flew out of the room with a huff. He turned to See-Threepio. "There was an assassin with a red laser sword."

"Oh dear, oh dear," Threepio exclaimed, pacing around the room and distractedly trying to clean the mess Anakin had left on the table, mumbling about the probabilities of him dying on the streets of the underworld. They were high. Very high.

Anakin smiled over at him. He poked the rotten part of his sandwich with his fork. "But two officers saved me, even though the assassin got away."

"Thank the Maker," Threepio said in relief, as if he couldn't see that Anakin was obviously sitting at the kitchen table with only scratched palms and no other injuries. And Anakin had had much worse than rough landings.

"No need to thank me," he snarked back. Anakin chuckled at his own joke and finally cut off the corner of his moldy sandwich. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He couldn't afford a sick day, but they also didn't have any other Human-approved food in the house and he was starving. Eh, hopefully it'll be fine. Anakin opened his mouth.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Anakin jumped, his heart racing, and he heard Watto curse from the other room. If that was the police officer, he was doomed. Anakin threw his sandwich on the table without a care and raced to the door. He wished they had an eyehole. Opening the door a fraction of an inch, the chained still in place, he peered through the crack.

It wasn't a police officer. It was worse.

Would Mr. Kenobi hate him if he slammed the door in his face? Probably.

How had he even known where he lived? Was his teacher stalking him?

This was bad. Really bad.

Anakin shoved the door closed and leaned back, trying to make sense of his life right now.

"Who was it, peedunkee?"

Anakin floundered, "N-Nobody. Uh, well, it was actually a death stick dealer. Yeah. Two of 'em were loitering around earlier today and saw me, so yeah, they must have thought I would buy some. I told them to leave though."

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Watto glared. "Don't lie to me," he hissed, a promise in his words, and he flew around the teen to open the door wide. Anakin swallowed and looked away, trying to tell himself it wasn't bone-chilling fear he was feeling.

Mr. Kenobi stood in the hallway with a measured look on his face, reminiscent of when Anakin had first met the man.

Why was he here, anyway? Irrational panic started to claw its way even further into the teen's head, reminding him of when he had pushed his teacher into a wall on his first day of school, reminding him of his lackluster grades in nearly every subject, reminding him of his reputation as filthy slave in the lowest level of Coruscant. Was Kenobi going to hate him now? He wouldn't blame the man.

His teacher's eyes flicked over to him and then back to Watto. Anakin hoped his nerves weren't noticeable.

"My name's Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said. "I'm Anakin's teacher."

(Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.)

Watto grunted disinterestedly, not welcoming the man inside. "What's the brat done now?"

Obi-Wan blinked, looking stupidly startled and confused by the question. Anakin glared at him. How dare he pretend to be surprised.

"Pardon me, what did you just say?"

Watto frowned and his fingers twitched like he was debating closing the door. Anakin didn't know why that bothered him. "Did my son get in trouble?" he reworded, speaking slowly like Obi-Wan didn't understand Basic.

Anakin watched Obi-Wan's face shutter closed, and he blanched at the sudden mask. "Your son," Mr. Kenobi said flatly.

Watto didn't seem to notice. "Yes, little Ani, he's always getting into trouble and making a mess of things. Did he do something at school that I should know about?"

Pressure started to build up behind Anakin's eyes, and he rubbed them vigorously. Stop it, he told himself, you knew this was going to happen sooner or later. Except, if he was being honest with himself, he had never intended for his teacher to meet his guardian or for him to even find out where Anakin lived. This was supposed to stay his dirty little secret. There was no way Mr. Kenobi was going to continue tutoring him. If even his own father thought Anakin was worth less than the sand between his toes, surely Obi-Wan could be convinced as well.

Obi-Wan raised a hand, and a familiar backpack dangled in the air.

Poodoo, he had forgotten to pick up his things after his stalker had attacked him. This wasn't good.

The Toydarian turned his glare onto the teen, and Anakin shuffled back a few steps. "Oops," he said, grimacing.

"A friend of mine was in the area and he saw my name on a holopaper. He thought I would know where to find a Skywalker with a missing backpack," Kenobi explained, and his eyes moved past them to look into the apartment. "May I come in?"

Hope died on Anakin's tongue. So his teacher wasn't here to just drop off his backpack. Was he going to tell Watto about that time he pushed him? Surely Obi-Wan wouldn't hold a grudge from his first day of school?

"Fine," Watto grumbled unhappily, and he moved aside. Kenobi slipped by, and as he walked past them, their eyes met. Obi-Wan smiled as he handed the teen his backpack.

"I added a bag of juna berries for you," he whispered conspiratorially, "I hope you don't mind."

Real food. Anakin relaxed, finally calm enough to sense no real anger directed at him, and unzipped the bag to shuffle through his dirty and cracked things. Except, the three packages were missing. Anakin paled, and his head jerked up to stare at Obi-Wan. His teacher looked over at that moment, tilting his head in confusion at the teen's horror, and then recognition lit up his eyes. Kenobi shook his head slowly - later. Luckily for Anakin, his master didn't know the packages had been delivered today, but that excuse wasn't going to last forever. Sooner or later Watto would find out that his illegal parts were in the police's custody. Kriff.

Obi-Wan settled himself on the couch that had holes of stuffing poking out in tiny bursts of foam. Watto perched himself on a cushioned chair across from the Human. Anakin debated hiding in his room, but ultimately decided on hovering by the doorway, out of Watto's sight but still in hearing range.

"I'm sure you're aware Anakin has a very brilliant mind," Obi-Wan said. Anakin choked on his spit. Wait, what? Watto seemed similarly surprised, scoffing harshly in disbelief. His teacher continued undeterred, almost sounding fond, "I think your son likes to create the most convoluted and outlandish way to get to an answer just to prove that there are other ways to find a correct solution."

Watto didn't seem all that impressed. "Yeah, right," he agreed acerbically. "Brilliant isn't the word I would use."

Obi-Wan's expression turned pinched. "And what word would that be?"

Finally, Watto looked nervous. He shrugged, his bony blue shoulders rising and falling. Obi-Wan waited patiently, and Anakin smirked at being able to see his master not know the right thing to say. "Creative," the Toydarian said, but everyone heard the sarcasm.

Obi-Wan let it go with an indulging smile. "Yes, I'd use that word too."

Anakin laughed under his breath. Obi-Wan glanced at the doorway and stood up, making it seem like he was ready to leave. The teen caught his teacher's mischievous smile. Obi-Wan thanked Watto for his hospitality, assuring him he would walk himself out. The Toydarian seemed happy to no longer be in the man's company.

Obi-Wan made his way over to Anakin, and they shared smiles at the entryway. But then Obi-Wan's expression tightened, and he said lowly, "I heard about your stalker. Be careful, okay? I'll see you in class tomorrow."

It seemed like everyone wanted him to be careful lately. Anakin could only nod. He would try.

The closed suctioned closed behind the older man. Anakin couldn't help but think that life was much simpler when he didn't attend high school.

.

tbc

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Author's Note: Is this too crazy (or boring) with my multiple-ish plots and semi-obvious hints? Eh, I'm sure y'all can handle it.

As of now, I have about a third done with chapter 5, so hopefully in a week or two I'll be able to post the next chapter. Thanks for reading, I hope y'all enjoy your weekend! :)