Hey, so its been a while. Sorry that it took so long, I just lost all motivation to write for a few months. But I feel more inspired now, so I should be quicker than before.

Italics- Huttese

Hope you enjoy,

Padmé woke to the sight of… black.

Black tiles lining what could only be the roof. Black cloth scattered all over it. Black hair falling into her eyes. Black eyes staring straight at her.

Slowly, casually, Padmé blinked, breaking the impromptu staring contest. The black eyes stayed open, retreating away and stopping just metres away. It was a human. An old woman. Her eyes were pure black, her air ash-white, crazily strewn everywhere.

"Who are you?" Padmé asked, wincing at how rough her voice sounded. The old woman ignored her, unblinking eyes turning away as she scooped an injector from the worn table next to her.

"Who are you?" Padmé repeated, struggling to sit up. She was a on a hard, black, metal bed, like the ones they used in Naboo's infirmary. But Padmé recognised nothing else in the black room, "Where are we?"

Once again, she was ignored as the old woman slowly dripped a green liquid into the injector. Bacta. Turning, the old woman strode to Padmé's side, grasping her left arm. Padmé gasped as soon as she saw her arm, her inside curling slightly at what she must have looked like before she was healed. It was covered in rags, bloody, filthy rags, a hint to the state it had been in before.

With a surprising amount of strength, the old woman speared her arm with the injector, making Padmé gasp at the sudden burst of pain. But her gasp quickly died down as the bacta entered her bloodstream, spreading a warm feeling throughout her body.

"Thank you." Padmé said, as the woman pulled out the injector turning to place it on the nearby table.

The woman turned to her, settling her unblinking stare on the young senator. Then, silently, she raised her hand, her finger pointing to a door.

Padmé looked at her dead expression, seeing no joking tone present in her face. So, wordlessly, she slid off the bed, hissing slightly when her hurt arm jostled slightly. The bacta hadn't completely done its magic yet. However, she quickly muted the hiss, setting her face into an expression of stone.

Then, she strode towards the exit, sparing the old woman a glance. The woman watched her go, black eyes following her trail emotionlessly, before swiftly turning around to her table, filled with instruments, dismissing Padmé's presence.

Opening the door, she was met with a large market, shrouded in a dark shadow. All manner of species thronged around the market, slightly illuminated by light seeping in through cracks in the… roof? Almost immediately she realised she was underground. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, small stones dotting the sides and bursting with light. They seemed to be flickering slightly, causing the shadow to come to life, jumping around with an endless vigour.

"I see you are awake." A voice drawled, "Just like humans, to take sooo long. To be so weak."

Turning, Padmé sighted a tall humanoid with three eyes protruding out of its face, all settled on Padmé. The alien was pulling a disgusted face as it stared at her, the obvious distaste for her flickering through its eyes. A Gran.

Padmé narrowed her eyes, questions and thoughts flashing through her mind. Who was this Gran? Why were they waiting for her?

"Did you say something?" Padmé replied politely, deciding not to reply in Huttese, which she had learned a while back. Always useful to know what the opposition was saying, especially if nobody knew she could speak it.

The Gran frowned, his mouth wrinkling in disgust, "I said that it is good that you are awake human. I have been waiting here for too long."

"Really?" Padmé retorted, "And what would you want with me?"

"Only that you come with me, kliraa."

"Something I see no reason I should do."

The Gran snorted, thumbing his holstered weapon, "Please! Please continue doing this kliraa. I haven't had a good excuse to shoot one of your kind in a while."

"Shoot me?" Padmé snorted disbelievingly, "Then what will your leader say."

"My wha- "

"Your leader." She repeated slowly, patronisingly, "The person in charge of you. The one who ordered you to wait for me."

"That bantha dung!?" The Gran spat, "He doesn't control me kliraa. He pays me. I do not listen to anyone except myself. Which means that I would only lose a little pay if you got hurt, and who would stop me"

"Oh," Padmé started smiling, "What about the man standing right behind you pointing a blaster at your back?"

The Gran froze, his bulbous eyes widening slightly before he whirled around, only to meet a fist heading straight to his face. With a loud thump, he hit the floor, knocked out cold.

"Sorry 'bout that." The unknown man laughed as he walked towards Padmé, wringing his hands, "Normally, I'd punch him 'round the eyes, give him something to remember."

Padmé answered with a singular elegant eyebrow slowly rising in askance, "Normally? Why not now?"

The man, who looked to be just short of two meters tall, shrugged, "He has three of th'm. Too many to choose from. It's 'is fault really."

"Just like someone from your family." Padmé smiled, "Always blaming others."

"Well. There goes my pl'n." The man smiled, rubbing his bald head awkwardly, "How did you know?"

"Simple." Padmé replied breezily, "I looked at your shoulder."

Still smiling, the man grabbed a patch of cloth of his shoulder sleeve. On it stood a distinct symbol, one that Padmé had recognised almost instantly. Three stars that rested against the backdrop of a large moon.

"I knew I forgot som'thing. Well done, Senator."

"Thank you…?" Padmé replied searchingly, smiling with an undercurrent of pride.

"Bry Ristol. But you can call me Ristol. I prefer 't." The man, Ristol replied, before saying, "Now, Senator 'midala, I ask that you follow me if you please."

"Of course." Padmé replied, walking forwards to stop just next to Ristol, waiting.

Ristol grinned, the dim light reflecting off a single metal tooth just behind his curled lips, "I h've to say Senator. It's good to finally have someone who doesn't try to resist for once."

"Resist?" Padmé snorted, "Why would anyone ever try to resist someone from your family?"

"You would be surprised Senator. Not everyone 'round here knows about us like you."

Padmé looked around disbelievingly, taking in the sight of dirt-covered, and some blood-covered, ducking through the numerous shadows that covered the area, blasters clipped to almost everyone's hips or hanging from their shoulders.

Ristol noticed her gaze, "I was surprised too Senator, I thought 'tleast a place like this would be easier to… navigate with our reputation. But it looks like we w're a bit too subtle in our dealings before."

"Subtle?" Padmé questioned, "You call attacking an inter-planetary meeting in broad daylight subtle?"

"It was only between Naboo and Estroya. Nobody would h've worried much about it. Estroya is too backwater and you w're interfering in our business operations there." Ristol replied, "You h've seen our other operations though. So, you know we're 'lmost 'lways different compared to then. That was 'n special occasion."

"True." Padmé said, her eyes narrowing, "But do you really think that I would accept that as an excuse for trying to kill me."

"Not kill. Merely 'bduct you." Ristol promised as he stepped over a corpse, Padmé choosing to skirt past it and respect the corpse's dignity, "We don't actively kill."

"And be glad for that." Padmé said strongly, "Or else it would have been your family, instead of the Gyrtes, that would have been dissolved."

Ristol grinned, "Whatever you believe Senator. But I h've to say, I was impressed with how you dealt with them. It wouldn't h've worked on us of course. But for them, it was perfect."

Padmé grinned wordlessly, her mind flashing back, back to a time when she had been Queen in the last few years of her reign, older, more confident and more powerful than she had ever been. The Gyrtes had been another family, much like Ristol's, but much less subtle and much easier to dissolve. She had never felt more alive, except for when she was with– "

Padmé shook her head. Now was not the time to think back to then. She needed to be focused, especially now that she knew Ristol was involved. She needed to find out what had happened, who had captured her and why. Although some of the answers were simple.

"Let me guess." Ristol started, looking at her amusedly, "You're busy wond'ring what happened. You don't h've to hide it, tell me what you think happ'ned. Who do you think it was?"

"Not you."

"'nd why not?"

"Like you said, I know how you work. You don't kill. You know that it instantly sets a target on your back. You wouldn't want to kill me as well. If you had wanted to you would have tried long ago. Also, I don't think your family uses Mandalorian armour, does it?"

"No."

"I thought not." Padmé said, before continuing, "Also when I woke up, the old woman, she only had worn tools, she's used them for a long time, and you wouldn't allow me to be treated with tools like that. Pride is too important to you."

"'greed."

"And who and why this happened to me?" Padmé smiled, "There will be a vote on the establishment of a Grand Republic Army soon, and as one of it's strongest opposers I would of course be targeted. That's the very reason I used a decoy in the first place."

Padmé then motioned behind her, in the vague direction where they had come from, "But I'm not dead and the Gran who waited for me mentioned he hadn't killed in a while and that he was being paid. A mercenary, and one who hates humans. Therefore, someone from the Senate ordered this."

Ristol bowed his head as they walked through the throng of people, "Well done Senator. I thought you would figure out. But do you know who exactly it was?"

Padmé thought for a moment, "Initially, I suspected Count Dooku and the Trade Federation. But it doesn't make sense for them to want the Republic to have an army."

"Yes." Ristol agreed, "Doesn't ex'ctly fit with their goals, does it? But I'm sure you'll figure it out Senator. In time."

"Time enough for me to return in for the vote?" Padmé enquired, although she already knew the answer.

Ristol laughed, "Course not Senator. We can't be h'ving that. Would break the terms of contract."

"Thought so." Padmé muttered, before shaking her head of her gloomy thoughts, but that didn't mean she couldn't escape before the vote. But to do that she first had to find something out…

"Where are we going?"

"We'll be there soon Senator." Ristol pointed one large hand at a nearby building in front of them, "It's that 'ne over there."

"Who's waiting there?"

"The boss."

"Really?" Padmé asked, genuinely surprised, "He's here? I thought he never left your base."

"He does." Ristol replied, pushing a cloaked woman to the side as she picked something up from in front of them, "Som'times, especially for cases like this, he takes charge. Too much money 't stake."

"Well then." Padmé said, drawing herself up as they reached the building. It was simple, plascrete, with what looked like normal glass, but what was likely transparisteel. It looked completely normal, it was covered in marks of age, like all the other buildings here. No outward sign that one of the most dangerous people in the sector was in it.

"Go on in." Ristol waved her in, "But it's not only the boss waiting th're for you."

Surprised, Padmé looked at Ristol questioningly, but received no answer as he continued smiling at her, inviting her in.

Stepping through the door, she followed a short hallway covered with nothing, no personal details, into a medium sized room, furnished with a small table, a few chairs and a large couch. The walls were sparse, except for shreds of cloth that seemed to be curtains next to the windows. The roof had no cracks in it, probably because plascrete was so durable.

Her gaze was drawn to the occupants of the room. One was a middle-aged man whose legs were whirring as the salvos in them moved fluidly to carry him across the room as he prowled around casually. His hair was dark and long, covering his eyes, which were a deep, fathomless black. Ristol's boss. This was the first time Padmé had seen him and she knew that he was not to be taken lightly.

But as she took in the appearance of his companion, who was sitting on a seat facing her, she froze in shock. She had dark brown hair, turning grey at the roots, her skin on her hands were wrinkled and home to many callouses. Her brown eyes were warm but carrying a deep sadness and… Padmé recognised them.

Seeing her invoked memories. Ones of a desert planet, of a blue-eyed boy who saved her and her planet, whose mother had been captured in the Battle of Theed.

Who Padmé was staring at in unfettered shock.

Shmi Skywalker.

Laxis POV

"You really have had a great string of luck recently, haven't you Skywalker?"

Lax took in the Devarorian sitting across him. His teeth were pulled into an angry snarl, reflecting the soft light cast down on them from above. The Devarorian was leaning forward, his mean eyes glaring at Lax as his horns' sharp edges glinted dangerously.

"Yes Wyller. Today just seems to be one of those lucky days. Everyone has them." Lax replied casually, acting like he hadn't noticed the increasingly growing anger and frustration of the Devarorian.

"Of course, Skywalker." Wyller growled, "Just one of those days."

Lax smiled at Wyller winningly, "Well then. Shall we continue?" He leaned forward, seemingly eagerly; his eyes filled with a burning passion.

Wyller forced his snarl down, smiling thinly instead, although anger still filled his eyes. "Of course."

The Devarorian turned to the waiting Twi'lek, "Deal the cards."

Smiling, Lax settled back into the high-backed chair, watching his cards as they were dealt to him one on one. He had been here for a while, playing sabacc. Many others had started the game with them. Around ten in total. All except Lax and Wyller.

The rest had all been cleaned out, and most were sitting at the nearby bar, drinking their sorrows away as they realised, they had wasted thousands of credits. Most were bad, some were good, one was brilliant at the game and would have won. If it wasn't for Lax and Wyller.

Lax knew Wyller was cheating. No smart club owner started a sabacc table without ensuring they had the highest chance of winning. Lax didn't fully know how, but even so, Lax couldn't fault Wyller too much. Especially as he was cheating as well.

The Force was a very useful tool in sabacc Lax had found. It allowed him to pick the stray thoughts and emotions of his opponents, retrieving information that nobody was aware they were giving. Lax didn't invade their privacy, just skimmed their minds at the barest level. He had used this trick often, mostly as a way to gain money so that he could repair or upgrade his ship, usually repair, and only from criminals and gang bosses, no one else. But sometimes, sabacc was a very useful way to gain information.

Such as now.

"So Wyller," Lax began as he picked up anxious thoughts from his opponent, "What do you say to increasing the stakes a little?"

Wyller looked up from his cards, his gaze instantly fixed on Lax, "Raise the stakes? How?"

Lax put down his cards, confidence oozing from his body, "Why don't you do something for me if I win and I give you all my winnings if you win."

"What would you want me to do?" Came the immediate response.

"Just identification of a crest and information about them."

Wyller looked at Lax searchingly, looking for the slightest hint of the trick. Lax could feel the Devarorian's thoughts whirling as he pondered on what to do. Lax smiled inwardly as he felt Wyller start to radiate confidence and victory.

"Why not?" Wyller shrugged, grinning normally now, although it still looked nightmare-inducing. "A simple favour is something I can handle."

"Good." Lax smiled, "Then I believe it's time we reveal our cards. I'll start."

With a flourish, Lax overturned his cards, at the same time he waved his hand, sending out the Force, "21."

Wyller smiled victoriously, "Close Skywalker. But not close enough."

Confidently, the Devarorian slammed his cards down triumphantly, "Twenty… three?"

A confused tone entered his voice as he looked down at his cards, confused at what he was seeing. Instead of the perfect score he thought he would get, a nine and a five greeted him, "How?"

Lax smiled, satisfied, standing up to sweep the pot closer to him, "Good game Wyller. You almost had me with that bluff."

"…Yes." Wyller forced out, "A very unlucky hand for me.

"Yip. Now, I believe its time I call in that favour." Lax responded, as he drew a piece of a belt from his pocket. On which the crest of his attackers and Padmé's kidnappers rested, the twin suns staring at Lax menacingly.

Wyller grabbed the piece of belt, frustration radiating out of him, muttering to himself about kriffing engineers and what not.

Lax waited eagerly as Wyller studied the piece of belt. Wyller was well known in the area, both for being the leader of the local gang and for having seemingly limitless knowledge about the events and people in the galaxy.

But his price was high, not what Lax could afford to gather as time was precious. He had to find out where Padmé was, so that he could help Obi-Wan and Anakin find her. Speaking of his little brother, Anakin was currently sitting uncomfortably in one of the chairs at the nearby bar, holding onto his drink tightly. Lax grinned at the sight, enjoying his little brother's discomfort. Lax had decided Anakin should accompany him on this trip, see what Lax's world was, or help Lax in case – "

"I'm done." Wyller cut in, throwing the belt piece at Lax and sitting down in his seat, "It's the crest of a group of thieves and pirates that have risen in Outer Rim. They've been active four a few years and all their members wear Mandalorian armour. They are led by a woman in blue Mandalorian armour."

"And their base?" Lax questioned, hopeful.

"Despayre."

Lax's mind shook at the name. Again, he was greeted with the name of Despayre. Wyller was saying that Padmé was likely on Despayre and he had been told that his mother was as well. But why would both be there?

"There." Wyller growled, "I have fulfilled my debt. Now, if you please, can you leave me to drown my sorrows away."

"Or why don't you just get back your money." A voice cut in from the nearby doorway.

Together, Wyller and Lax looked at the newcomer and Lax's smile dropped immediately. A blonde woman was glaring at him, her one startling blue eye accompanied by the red of her robot one. The red glow seemed to intensify when their gazes met and Lax felt the anger bubbling within her. Lax had thought she was dead. But of course, she would be here, interfering in his life.

Wyller snorted, "Leave. You know my reputation would be damaged if I did that."

"Not if Skywalker was cheating, or you can easily assume he was cheating. Which gives you right to your money back.

In an instant Wyller had drawn his blaster from where he sat, pointing it straight at Lax. On his face a twisted smile grew wider and wider as he looked at the woman, "How?"

"You see." The woman started, "I've met Skywalker before, on Nar Shaddaa, and we found out that he isn't a normal human."

Her smile grew rapidly, matching Wyller's, "But a force user."

Lax reacted instantly, using the Force to push the hidden card dispenser from under the table and Wyller's stomach. Groaning, Wyller doubled over, holding his stomach tightly as his teeth gritted in pain.

Activating his lightsaber, Lax swung the blade in a tight arc, deflecting the shots from the nearby guards and individuals who seemed to want some easy money. He broke out into a run, spying Anakin jumping into a nearby group of guards, his lightsaber flashing as it deflected blaster bolts cut through vibroblades with ease.

Ahead, Lax saw the blonde woman still smiling, drawing three spheres from her belt. In a flash she had thrown them towards Lax.

Lax hastily used the Force to push himself away as the Force screamed at him to move. But it was just too late. The spheres exploded into a sea of flames carrying with it the concussive force of a herd of rampaging banthas.

Lax was thrown backwards, spinning around in the air, by the force of the explosion. Twisting around frantically, he managed to catch a glimpse of a pair of wide, fear-filled eyes before he crashed into their owner.

Groaning, Lax picked himself up from the floor as quickly as he could. He frowned when he realised, he had lost his lightsaber in his impromptu flight.

"Looking for this?" The woman crowed victoriously, drawing Lax's gaze to his lightsaber clutched in her grip… and to the blaster pointing straight at him with her finger pressing down slightly on the trigger.

"Nope, Viki." Lax quipped, "Just for something to drink."

With the Force filling him, he raised his arms up, stepping to the side to dodge a blaster bolt, warmth flowing through them. Behind him, tens of bottles rose from the bar, flying upwards into the air as if corralled to a string.

He smiled towards her, her blaster slack in her grip, "Here, let me get you some."

With a thundering roar, he thrust his arms forward, strength coursing through his veins, filling his body, crackling in the air. The bottles flew forward straight towards the wide-eyed Viki. The sound of shattering glass rang through the room as the bottles hit Viki, sending shards of glass everywhere, drawing thin lines of blood and covering her with alcohol.

Viki's unconscious body hit the floor, blood oozing from hundreds of tiny cuts that littered her body. Wincing, Lax walked towards her, the remaining bottles floating in the air. Just as he was about to crouch down and grab his lightsaber, the Force screamed at him about incoming danger.

Turning around so fast that he seemed to blur, instinct overcame him as he swung his hand to the side, commanding a bottle to fly in the path of a blaster bolt. Lax blinked, not fully expecting that to work.

Grinning at his newfound discovery, Lax turned to look at the offending shooter. Only to see him getting clubbed over the hilt of a lightsaber.

Anakin motioned to the bottles still flying in the air, smirking, "Seems a bit of a waste doesn't it?"

"Only a bit." Lax shrugged, "It's fun mostly."

"Well then." Anakin started, motioning to the door, "Can we go?"

"Yip pipsqueak."

Lax caught the incoming bottle as it flew at his face, shaking his head, "Now, now. Anakin. You know better than to attack your older and better brother."

"Inferior brother you mean?" Anakin retorted, already heading to the doorway. Lax picked up his lightsaber and followed him.

"Inferior now? Is this because you're still jealous that I beat you in the race last time."

"Beat me?!" Anakin's strangled reply came, "As if you could beat me. I just decided to let you feel better about yourself by letting you win."

"You sure about that?" Lax needled, "There's not a single thing I wouldn't beat you in."

"I'm free anytime." Anakin challenged, "Any time, any… place."

His brother's voice faded out as he stood motionless just beyond the doorway, mouth wide open as he gaped at what he was seeing.

An action that Lax soon mirrored as he saw what was beyond the doorway. The room beyond it was larger than before, much more. The flashing neon lights strobed the surroundings, washing the walls, and the nine people carrying vibroblades and blaster currently waiting for them, in a constantly changing array of light.

Then, slowly, Lax's head turned to meet his brothers gaze and identical smirks grew on their faces. La felt the adrenaline of a challenge rushing through him, his heart was beating faster, pumping blood alongside the Force that rushed through his body.

"No lightsabers." Lax said.

"No cheating." Anakin retorted.

"Then…" Lax started, "Begin!"

La bounded forward, thrusting one hand forward, sending bottles flying forwards straight into the bolts and faces of his opponents. He and Anakin reached them quickly. Lax jumped into the air, summoning one of his bottles as he did so. Twisting in the air as he caught it, he bought it down with a furious momentum, sending it crashing straight in between the thug's eyes.

Then summoning two more bottles, he whirled around, away from the crumpling thug and smashing one of his bottles against the side of an approaching vibroblade. With glass shards flying across him, he swept his hand upwards, pushing the owner upwards to crash against the roof. As he fell, Lax jumped in the air, sending a sharp kick into his opponents' midriff.

Lax ducked to the side, hearing the whistling of a vibroblade move past his head. Flicking his finger, he dove a bottle straight into his attacker's knee, causing it to crumple. Lax rose to meet the falling thug. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Lax swept him over his hip, falling with the thug to spear his elbow into the other's chest.

Only for another thug to fall onto him, the Force warning him too late. Lax's breath was knocked out as he looked for what had happened. His eyes narrowed as he saw Anakin's laughing face send a mocking glance at Lax, before turning to deal with his own blaster-wielding thug.

Suddenly, Lax's vision was filled with the sight of a black-toothed human grinning widely as he towered over Lax. Triumphantly, the thug struck his vibroblade down, hitting Lax's head… Or at least it would have. Lax gripped the man's legs, pulling them forwards, causing him to fall over backwards. With a sickening crunch, his head hit the floor, and his eyes flared open, pain emanating from them as a large groan escaped from his mouth.

Lax pushed off the unconscious criminal lying on top of him, jumping quickly to his feet. Across the room, Anakin had finished dealing with another man, sending him crashing over chairs and tables.

Quickly, Lax counted the amount of unconscious bodies on the floor that he hadn't deposited there. One, two, three… four. The same number as Lax.

Both Anakin and Lax ran towards the last thug, who was frantically backpedalling, unwilling to join his companion's fates. The man tripped over, falling onto a nearby chair, from his reckless retreat.

Lax inwardly cursed as he noticed Anakin was closer than him, already jumping towards the man. He couldn't let his little brother win this. He would never hear the end of it. His mind raced as he searched for an answer to his problem. He smiled when he noticed the perfect opportunity.

Gripping the chair, the thug was on, he tugged at it fiercely, sending it flying. Together, the man and the chair crashed into Anakin, sending all three flying in separate directions. Lax sprinted to his target, who was lying half-crumpled against the wall, aware that Anakin would soon recover from his fall.

Lunging forward, he grabbed onto the thug, who was now standing up slightly. With a herculean effort he swung the thug around, sending him flying straight into Anakin. Once again, his brother fell to the floor, this time the thug lying on top of him, unconscious.

"Well, well pipsqueak." Lax grinned gleefully, "How the tables have turned."

Anakin groaned, "I hate you Lax. I really do."

"Hate is the path to the dark side little brother." Lax admonished jokingly, "I believe this warrants extra lessons with Obi-Wan."

"Or with Master Windu." Anakin grumbled, "Then I could be with someone who dislikes you even more than me."

"Ah, I know you love me Ani." Lax smiled, stretching out his hand for Anakin to grab, "And none of that stuff you normally try."

"Me?" Anakin protested innocently, grinning, as he grabbed Lax's hand, "What do I ever do?"

"You know well what you do." Lax answered, "Now come on let's go. We don't want to get caught by the Security Forces here."

"You know, technically, I am one of them." Anakin said as they walked to the door, "I could arrest you if I wanted too."

"And risk this getting found out by Obi-Wan." Lax responded with a raised eyebrow, "He would hold this above you for a long time."

"I know."

"Also," Lax began, his eyes gleaming with glee, "We all know you couldn't arrest me even if you tried."

"Yip. Can't have it get out that the Jedi are arresting old people so easily." Anakin shrugged off the challenge easily, "Master Yoda would be mortified. Master Windu too."

Lax laughed, "I would love to see that."

"Me too." Anakin agreed, "It would almost make it worth what trouble we went through to get this info." He paused, glancing at Lax hopefully, "You did get the info, right?"

"Of course, pipsqueak." Lax said, clapping his brother's shoulder, "I found out where she most likely is and who took her."

"Good." Anakin sighed, relief evident in his tone, "Where is she then?"

"Something that I and the council would like to know as well." An amused voice spoke from the side. An amused and very familiar voice. The owner who Lax wanted to avoid the most right now.

Gulping, Lax faced Obi-Wan, who stood just to side, observing them with amused eyes as he attempted to settle his face into a stern expression.

"Well." Obi-Wan started, laughter leaking into his voice as he struggled to keep a straight face, "It seems that the library will have a permanent occupant after we complete the mission, won't it my young padawan?"

Anakin sighed, slumping as the leftover energy and adrenaline drained from his body.

"Yes Master."

"Good. Now come, the council is waiting."

So, I hope you enjoyed. I actually liked writing this, even though I lost motivation halfway through.

Review if you want. Any advice is appreciated.

Hyvästi