PART III


When Obi-Wan woke up with a start, face down in sand, he wasn't exactly surprised. Nothing had so far gone easily with their incredible journey through time, and he didn't expect it to change anytime soon.

His insides on fire, Obi-Wan struggled to stand, and the ensuing agony was like a hot knife, cleaving him in half. This third transition through time had confirmed what he had already suspected: each new move to a different time and place was harder, more painful than the previous. He had a theory about that, one that he really hoped would prove to be untrue. However, he couldn't concentrate on something he had no power over at the present – it was imperative he ascertain where and when he was instead, and more importantly, if Anakin had been transported to the same place.

Obi-Wan took deep breaths and gathered the Force around him like a shield, pushing the pain out of his mind with every exhale. Slowly, but surely, the searing agony morphed into a steady, thrumming ache, and Obi-Wan could focus his senses to the complex nuances in the Force all around him. There were many living beings nearby; he turned around and saw lights in the distance, a sure beacon in a pitch-black night. It was a town. He reached further and got a distinct feel of his surroundings: wilderness, rocks, desert. Nothingness. He was still on Tatooine.

Next, he carefully opened his end of the bond that tied him to Anakin, peeling back the barriers between them layer by layer. Despite everything – all the secrets, conflicts and frustrations – the bond was strong, vibrating with a steady beat. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, just for a moment letting himself draw comfort from the bond's numerous strands of light, beautiful and vivid. With it, he was never truly alone.

But you will be, the image of old Ben reminded him.

He turned away from the hard truth, discarding it with more difficulty than the physical pain, and followed the bright strands resolutely, searching for the unique presence of his Padawan. There! Anakin was somewhere near, but that was all Obi-Wan could sense. The boy was still shielding so strongly his end of the bond, that it was impossible to locate him with any accuracy. Which was all kinds of foolishness in their current situation, and implied Anakin was still very troubled over whatever had happened with Obi-Wan's counterpart.

Obi-Wan sighed. He could do nothing about it until Anakin either opened the bond or Obi-Wan managed to find him. He gathered his robe around him more securely and started to walk towards the lights in the distance. The logical thing to do was to go into the town, find out the when and the where, and then take stock of the situation again. It was more than likely that Anakin would be doing the same.

It didn't take very long to reach the town, which was too big to be an ordinary settlement. Obi-Wan realized that it had to be one of Tatooine's spaceports. Even in the early hours of the morning there were movement and sounds in the dusty streets, a few ships taking of, people starting to stir from slumber or just staggering off to sleep. The shops and workplaces he passed were closed, but he soon came upon a cantina that was obviously still open; yellow light, with a faint beat of music, spilled out from the windows of the measly looking tavern.

Only the bartender and few of the patrons watched with interest as Obi-Wan strode across the room to the bar. The rest were either too drunk or asleep to notice the new, unfamiliar customer. He settled on a rickety bar stool, drawing an air of inconspicuousness around himself. Nothing to see here, he lightly suggested through the Force, and the rest of the patrons dropped their gazes and turned their attention back to their drinks.

Obi-Wan rummaged through the pockets of his robe, his fingers finally closing around a credit ship that he had half-forgotten about. But the moment he placed it on the bar, the burly human bartender snorted derisively. "We don't take credits."

Well then, desperate times and all that. Obi-Wan put the credit chip back into his pocket and leaned forward, eyes on the weather-beaten man. "You will offer me a drink of brandy."

"I will offer you a drink of brandy," the bartender agreed slowly and reached to take a blue bottle from the shelf behind him.

"Your best brandy," Obi-Wan amended. The man stopped in his tracks and then took a much cleaner looking bottle from under the counter. He poured a generous amount of the liquor into a glass and set it in front of Obi-Wan.

"I'm much obliged." Obi-Wan took a long drink of his brandy, enjoying the pleasant burn of alcohol. "This is the good stuff. Tell me, my dear fellow, in which city your fine establishment is situated?"

"Huh, what?"

"I mean, where are we, right now? Which city?"

The bartender stared at Obi-Wan, gobsmacked. "This is Mos Espa. The desert has really fried your brain or you are way more sloshed than you seem."

"And the date, the year?"

"Right," the man huffed, "I can see when someone is pulling my leg." The bartender moved away from the counter and started to clean the tables, studiously ignoring Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan took another long drink, trying to untangle his mixed thoughts. Mos Espa. He had never been there before, but the name of the spaceport was etched into his memory. He had waited just outside the city, when Qui-Gon, Padmé and Jar-Jar had gone to the spaceport to find parts for their hyperdrive. Although it had been many years since then, he still recalled how the wait had felt endless, full of uncertainty and a strange darkness in the Force. Eventually, the party had come back with the needed parts and with Anakin Skywalker in tow. And then Darth Maul had revealed himself – it had been the beginning of the end. He hadn't just known it then.

But he knew it now, and what if – heart bounding, Obi-Wan finished his drink, not daring to really hope – but what if he was there now, in that time, and his old Master was there, making crazy plans about betting their ship on a podrace? What if he could change the course of events by confronting Maul here instead of Naboo?

What if he could save Qui-Gon? What if he could save all of them?

He reached out with all his senses, through streets and alleys and houses and numerous living beings, searching, until finally his eyes, which he hadn't even known had closed, popped open in wonder. He had hoped, he had expected, but still, the bright presence was a true surprise.

He left the cantina without saying a word, following the luminous thread.

-o-

Anakin watched the night sky and counted the stars, until the intense sounds, feelings and images he had gotten from Ben faded, becoming just a jumble of disconnected flashes. The devastation dulled into a distant ache, a half-forgotten misery. Sufficiently calmer, he stood up, but was immediately overcome with another shock. Mos Espa was a familiar outline against the dark sky. Anakin stared at the city, feeling like he was in a free fall.

He had to see – he had to –

Trying hard not to think of anything, Anakin trudged into the spaceport and through the sandy-coloured streets, until he reached the small hovels stacked atop each other. The Slave Quarters. He was home.

Unerringly, he went to one of the hovels, pressing his palm against the door. The sun would soon rise; she had to be already up. Gripped by a sudden fear, he could not move from his spot – he could not step back into the shadows, neither could he open the door. What if she was not there? What if she was?

Anakin rested his forehead against the battered door. Calm. Here and now. He already knew the answer to his questions. He could feel his mother's presence inside the house. She was putting away the dishes from a meagre breakfast, getting ready to begin the chores of the day.

I can save her right now, he thought wildly. I can free her, take her far away from here.

Suddenly he was jostled from his place against the door, and he quickly stepped back, ready to flee, but too late – the door slid open and he was face to face with Shmi Skywalker. His mother's warm eyes met his, full of light and kindness. Anakin could hardly breathe. He stared at his mother, drinking in her beloved face, which was as beautiful as it always should have been, devoid of agony and death.

"Yes?" She was looking at him inquiringly, no doubt wondering what he was doing there standing dumbly at her doorstep.

"I…" His throat tight, he couldn't say anything, even if he had known the right words.

"Do I know you?" His mother asked, clearly puzzled, taking in his dishevelled appearance.

"No…forgive me…I think I'm lost…forgive me," Anakin stumbled and turned away, overwhelmed.

"Wait!" His mother's voice halted him in his tracks. "Are you alright? Do you need any help?"

"Thank you, I…I'm fine…" He could not turn back to see her; if he did, he wouldn't be able to leave. "I think I know the way now." He forced himself to walk away from the house, from her, breaking into a run the moment he was out of her sight. He ran blindly through the streets, not caring where he was going, just that he was going away.

When Anakin couldn't run anymore, he stopped in an empty, dirty alleyway. It could have been one of the numerous alleys he had been driven to as a child, ready to defend himself with fists and curses against much bigger bullies.

It was not fair.

Nobody was there to see him hit the wall with his bare hands, repeatedly, until exhausted, he collapsed against the wall, breath hitching. Nobody was there to see him wipe his wet cheeks with shaking fingers.

None of it had ever been fair.

Master, where are you?

-o-

The bright thread led Obi-Wan in front of a junk shop. Even if the building hadn't been distinctly different from its neighbours by its bell-shaped apex, he would have known immediately it was Toydarian junk dealer Watto's store. The lopsided sign in Huttese, "No money, no parts, no deal! No credit chips! Cash only." was a dead giveaway.

Suddenly inexplicably nervous, Obi-Wan steeled himself as he pushed the door open and stepped inside the cramped shop.

"Mister, we are not open yet," piped a clear voice. The small boy was looking at Obi-Wan with curiosity, his tousled-haired blond head not even reaching the top of the counter he was standing against. The boy was clearly younger than nine years, perhaps as young as four. Obi-Wan shoved his disappointment aside and focused on the situation before him. There had to be a reason they had come this far back in time.

"My apologies, I saw the sign at the front and wanted to see what you've got here." All true, from a certain point of view.

Anakin wrinkled his snub nose. "We have everything. This is a junk shop."

Obi-Wan's smile widened. "I can see that."

The intense blue eyes continued to watch him; Anakin was clearly trying to decide if Obi-Wan was making fun of him and if he should be offended. The boy was such a blinding presence in the Force, their junk filled surroundings were easily dwarfed by his small, vibrant frame.

"Is the owner here?" Inwardly, Obi-Wan grimaced. He had meant the shop's owner, but instantly realized it could also mean Anakin's owner.

"Watto's asleep." Anakin's tone made it clear he did not want to wake the Toydarian up.

"I wonder, if you could help me then."

"I guess." The boy sounded uncertain.

Obi-Wan made a show of looking around. "I'm trying to find something for my friend. A present."

"From here?" Anakin asked incredulously, evidently unimpressed by Obi-Wan's gift buying skills.

"Well, he likes to build things. Anything mechanical and he has to tinker with it."

"Like me!" Anakin exclaimed, suddenly delighted. "I'm going to build the best droid to help mom."

"I'm sure he'll be great," Obi-Wan said dryly.

Anakin darted next to high shelves full of various small machine parts, tangled wiring and assortment of odds and ends. "I know what to get for your friend! Your friend will love it!"

Amused, Obi-Wan watched as the small boy started to clamber up the shelves.

"What's your name?"

"Anakin, what's yours?" Came the rapid-fire answer, despite the fact that Anakin was currently teetering precariously on the second highest shelf, rummaging a box.

"You can call me Ben. How old are you Anakin?"

"I'm –" The eager answer was suddenly cut short. "My mom said I'm not supposed to tell." The boy looked sheepish.

"Quite right."

Anakin beamed, clutched something in his fist and started to come back down. In his haste, the boy slipped on the next to last shelf, tumbling over and landing bum first on the floor, thankfully missing any of the bigger machine parts left on the floor.

Obi-Wan rushed to him, already assessing the boy through the Force, and quickly ascertained that apart from a few bruises and a smarting backside, Anakin was fine. In relief, he touched the boy's messy hair, not foreseeing that Anakin would flinch violently backwards, eyes suddenly wary.

Obi-Wan stepped immediately back, heart aching. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I'm not afraid!" Anakin claimed hotly.

"Nonetheless, I'm sorry. I just wanted to see if you're hurt."

Mollified, the boy pushed himself to his feet. "I'm ok. Once, I fell from up there –" he gestured animatedly to the upper shelves, "– and I didn't cry one bit!"

Obi-Wan nodded solemnly, trying to look suitably impressed with the feat. Anakin thrust his grubby fist towards him, holding a small steel tool. Obi-Wan took the offered instrument, examining its sharp edge and minuscule inlaid grooves. No doubt, it was a most useful tool for tinkering.

"Thank you, Anakin. You're right, my friend will love this."

"I knew it." The boy gave him a brilliant smile, but it dimmed, when he noticed the credit ship Obi-Wan offered him. "Watto doesn't take credits."

"Well…this is all I have. It's alright, I'll find something from somewhere else." Obi-Wan set the tool gently on the counter, but did not put the credit ship away. "However, you have earned this, for being such a great help. Give it to your mother for safekeeping."

Eyes round, Anakin took the credit ship and clutched it in his hands. Obi-Wan smiled at the stunned boy and turned to go, but was halted by small fingers grasping the sleeve of his robe.

"Wait, you can take it. Watto doesn't even know we have it."

"Thank you, I think I shall." Obi-Wan took the tool and carefully put it in his pocket. "It was a pleasure to meet you Anakin."

"It was nice to meet you too. Maybe we'll meet again?"

"I'm sure we will." With one last glance back to the grinning boy, Obi-Wan stepped outside to the shadowy street. The first of the suns was just climbing over the horizon, bringing the dawn.

It was hard to leave the small boy behind to toil away in the junk shop, slave to another. Only the thought that they would meet again, made it in any way bearable. He was distracted from his dark thoughts however by a veritable flood of emotions that halted him in the middle of the street.

Anakin had finally opened his end of the bond.