Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize.

17. Shattered

When the door to Jango Fett's quarters opened, they were not greeted by the bounty hunter. Instead, they were met with someone much shorter; a young boy had answered the door, and he stared up at them with an inquisitive gaze. He looked identical to the clones in the facility, though his clothes looked nicer, defined him as an individual.

"Boba, is your father here?" asked Taun We.

"Yup," he confirmed, voice young and seemingly naive to the situation.

"May we see him?"

"Sure." Boba's gaze slid from Taun We, straight to Obi-Wan and Elara. He eyed them up-and-down a couple of times, face pinching up. Obi-Wan kept his expression pleasant and light; and beside him, he was sure Elara was doing the same. Boba turned away from the door and started to walk down the narrow hallway beyond it. "Dad, Taun We's here!"

Obi-Wan was the first to step through the door, keeping his hands clasped together in his robe sleeves. The lightness of his expression waned some, facial muscles tensing up a bit as he cautiously took in their new surroundings. The mission had become one of increasing delicacy; one where he and Elara could not be forthright with communication, and instead had to rely on silent, subtle cues from one another. They had to be careful what they said and what they did, how they handled their situation. And being in the digs of a confirmed bounty hunter, who more than likely was who they were looking for, meant they needed to be on their game. They needed to be alert and aware of everything.

At the end of the hallway was a small area that could be classified as a living room. A wide window, barred with white slats, gave a view of the tumultuous water and pounding rain outside. A table was situated in front of that window, and Boba sidled up to it, allowing the two Jedi and the Kaminoan to find a spot to stand. Obi-Wan caught Elara smiling at the young boy kindly; and he also caught the unmoved, half-wary look the boy gave in return. A man appeared out of a side-room, casually rolling back the cuffs of his shirt. There was a firm set to his mouth, a slight raise of an eyebrow as he took in his new guests. Obi-Wan glanced between the man and the boy––he could see the resemblance. Could see that, one day, the boy would come to look exactly like the man. A perfect clone.

"Jango, welcome back," greeted Taun We. Obi-Wan and Elara ducked into bows as Jango's eyes lingered on them. "Was your trip productive?"

"Fairly," came the simple, curt reply.

"This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Elara Skywalker. They've come to check on our progress."

"Your clones are very impressive, you must be very proud," complimented Obi-Wan. He was careful to keep his tone light, and his expression pleasantly even. Jango shrugged his shoulders and clasped his hands in front of his stomach.

"I'm just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe," Jango replied.

"Ever made your way as far into the interior as Coruscant?"

"Once or twice."

"Recently?"

The air suddenly felt tense. It prickled at the hair on Obi-Wan's arms as Jango Fett held his gaze unwaveringly. There was a beat in their exchange, where the bounty hunter simply blinked before he made his response.

"Possibly," he revealed.

"Then you must know Master Sifo-Dyas," Obi-Wan posed.

Jango stared at him, before his eyes sharply slid over to Elara. He then silently walked past them, towards the window. "Boba, rood eht so-heeck." Boba immediately made his way back into the back hallway, leaving all adults together in the room. Jango turned around and raised his brows easily. "Master who?"

"Sifo-Dyas," Elara provided helpfully. "We were under the impression he was the Jedi who hired you for this endeavor."

Jango sauntered a couple steps forward, fingers pinching at one another in front of his stomach. Obi-Wan felt his wariness spike upon the bounty hunter stepping directly into Elara's personal space. Jango's eyes were sharp, though the rise in his brows portrayed a nonchalantness. Elara remained cool and collected, the lingering starts of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Despite her coolness, Obi-Wan's shoulders tensed, his fingers curled tightly around each other in his sleeves. He couldn't help the way his molars ground together, flexing the muscles in his jaw.

"Never heard of him," Jango informed.

"Really?" Obi-Wan asked, tone flatter than before. Boba had returned just about then, and the Jedi could feel the young boy's probing gaze boring into the side of his head.

Jango's eyes cut towards Obi-Wan, and he shifted his stance a little, which faced him more towards the blonde Jedi. It took him out of Elara's immediate personal space, much to Obi-Wan's relief.

"I was recruited by a man called Tyranus on one of the moons of Bogden," Jango said. The tenseness of Obi-Wan's face relaxed some, and he gently quirked his brows.

"Curious," he said simply.

Tension flooded the room once more, spawning a stint of silence.

"Do you like your army?"

"I look forward to seeing them in action."

"They'll do their job well," said Jango. "I'll guarantee that."

Elara cleared her throat delicately, which snapped the attention of both men back towards her. She was smiling, an expression that completely juxtaposed the atmosphere of the room. Her smile managed to be both sweet and diplomatic. It was charming. Captivating. In Obi-Wan's opinion, that easy loveliness was partly why she did so well on diplomatic missions. People were drawn to listen to her. They wanted to listen; he certainly did. For as much as people said that her predisposition to feeling emotion was a detriment, it was actually an advantage. People were drawn to her empathy and her understanding. It made her outlook on situations wholly unique.

"Should you find yourself on Coruscant any time soon, the Jedi Council would love to have you visit. To thank you for what you have done for the Republic," she said.

Jango stared at her, shifted back around to face her better. He appeared unmoved by the loveliness of her smile. The pleasantness of her voice. His expression remained stoic, unaffected. His eyes darted over her from head-to-toe in a way that had Obi-Wan's fingers curling again, the muscles around his mouth pulling tense. But, once again, Elara continued to smile, as though the man stood a foot away was not as dangerous as he was. Jango nodded––it was more of an incline of the head, a slight bob of acknowledgement.

"I'll make note of the offer. Though, I would think that, due to my occupation, I'd not be allowed into the sanctity of the Jedi Temple," he said. There was a quiet challenge in his voice. He challenged the validity of her offer, because he was right––it was not very likely he'd be openly welcomed into the Temple, unless it was after his capture for what he had surely tried to do to Padmé.

But Elara remained unphased, just unphased as he'd been to her charm. She raised her eyebrows and splayed her hands through the air. "We would be honored, Jango. What you have done for us is… insurmountably wonderful. I see no reason that your occupation should stop you from receiving compliments. After all…" There was a subtle shift in her expression––a slight wane to the smile, a slight but pointed hardening in her eyes. Her gaze briefly flickered towards Boba, who watched the exchange with furrowed brows. "One should be judged on the moral of their character. Because that is what affects those closest to us the most."

Jango blinked at her. "Should I find myself in the Inner Rim, I'll be sure to stop by," he said, the promise flat.

Elara's expression lingered in its subtle hardness before she smiled brighter than before; and Obi-Wan couldn't deny the way his breath caught, despite the situation. It was near bewitching to watch her work, sometimes. The masterful subtleness with which she handled situations, the delicate touch she took when things started to get hairy, her level headedness when things went wrong. Obi-Wan's appreciation of it all had stretched beyond just that, beyond just appreciation. To him, her work was no longer just work, it was a form of art. Every word was like a piece of master literature, every languid sweep of her lightsaber the most beautiful dance, every expression worthy of being locked into his memory forever.

These feelings, which stretched beyond the field of work, too, had risen to his attention after their mission on Gleann. He had come to the realization that his whole-hearted appreciation of Elara was more than that––it was admiration. Affection borderlining on adoration. These feelings were not foreign to Obi-Wan. They were not confounding. These stirrings of attraction of something frighteningly deeper. He had danced with such emotion years before with Satine. And while the now duchess of Mandalore would always hold a piece of his heart, something was different this time. With Elara. It felt stronger. Unignorable.

He longed for her company when they were apart for too long. He smiled when she entered a room, and frowned when she was not where he expected her to be. Her voice was a melody no song could ever capture, and that was a shame, because it was lovely. Obi-Wan's heart swelled whenever she smiled or laughed. Her smile, that Skywalker smile… whenever it was on Anakin's face it meant trouble; and whenever it was on Elara's, it was trouble too, but a whole different kind. The kind that made him breathless. The touch of Elara's fingers against his skin was enrapturing––the feel of soft skin and calluses alike, grazing across the back of his hand. These feelings could feel all-consuming, sometimes, especially on quiet evenings. Evenings when he was alone, without even Anakin for company; evenings where he was graced with Elara's company, the two of them talking about anything and everything. It felt like he was burning––but burning in the most pleasurable way possible.

Yet, for as consuming as these feelings could become, Obi-Wan did not let them stumble in the way of their work. Not once had he let them compromise their mandate. He knew that Elara was capable of holding her own; and if he assisted her, it was because it's what he would have done regardless of how he felt for her. Attachment was dissuaded by the Jedi because it got in the way of their work, their duty. That was what had happened with Satine; Qui-Gon had admonished him for the infatuation getting in the way of his training. So neither Obi-Wan, nor Satine, pursued anything, both duty bound. Elara, too, was duty bound, but that didn't stop her from working her way into his heart, which stumbled over itself whenever she smiled his way.

It was away from that smile that Obi-Wan turned his gaze. "Thank you for your time, Jango," he said. He and Elara inclined their heads simultaneously. Jango stared at them for a moment before he made his reply.

"Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi. Let alone two," he replied.

Obi-Wan, with a final nod, moved towards the door to the quarters, followed by Elara and Taun We. He could feel both Jango and Boba staring at them as they left, silence hanging over everyone like a cloud. As he stepped out of the room, Obi-Wan cast a look over his shoulder––and found that Jango was, indeed, still staring at them as the door hissed closed.

"Is there anything else you wish to see? There is much more of our facility I could show you," offered Taun We. Elara let out a considering little 'oh' before she turned to their Kaminoan guide. Again, she smiled.

"I believe we have seen what we wish to for now," said Elara. She turned from Taun We to Obi-Wan, brows having risen. A silent question. "I believe the Council is eager to hear of the army's progress, don't you, Master Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan nodded, able to pick up on a subtle cue when it was offered to him. "Yes. But we would be happy to return, with your blessing of course," he told Taun We. The Kaminoan inclined her head, eyes falling shut.

"Yes, of course. Allow me to escort you back to your ships." Taun We gestured down along the passageway, and the three started to loop their way back to where the Jedi had initially entered. While they walked, Taun We shared some spare snippets about their facility, information that they could impart to the Council to ensure the army's progress. By the time they reached the exit, Taun we said, "Tell your council that the first battalions are ready. And remind them, if they need more troops, it will take more time to grow them."

"We won't forget, and thank you," Obi-Wan assured.

"Thank you."

With that, the doors slipped open, and the sound of pounding rain met their ears. Obi-Wan tugged his hood up and over his head, and Elara did the same, though both were well aware that they would be soaked to the bone regardless. Sure enough, they were positively drenched the minute they stepped outside. The rain had not let up a bit, and Obi-Wan got the distinct impression that it was always like this on Kamino. Through the wind and rain, he could hear Elara make a displeased sound as her robes whipped wet and heavy around her body.

"What now?" she called out. Her shoulder was very nearly pressed against his, the two needing to be as close as possible to even remotely hear one another.

"We contact the Council! Let them know what we've found!"

"And what of Jango? I can't imagine he'd be apt to stick around after a couple of Jedi poked their nose into his business!"

"We will see what the Council advises––but I would prepare for a confrontation!" Obi-Wan forewarned. The pair stopped in front of his ship, the rain lashing across them at an uncomfortable velocity. "Arfour!" The droid trilled to attention, dome swiveling towards them. "Scramble code five to Couruscant, care of the old folks' home!" A small dish popped up out of the ship beside Arfour, and it began to swivel about. Shortly thereafter, a holo image of Master Windu and Yoda appeared hazily through the rain. "We have successfully made contact with the prime minister of Kamino. They are using a bounty hunter called Jango Fett to create a clone army. I have a strong feeling that this bounty hunter is the assassin we are looking for."

"Do you think these cloners are involved in the plot to assassinate Senator Amidala?" Windu asked.

"No, Master, there appears to be no motive."

"Do not assume anything, Obi-Wan. Clear your mind must be, if you are to discover the real villains behind this plot," advised Yoda.

"Yes, Master. They say Master Sifo-Dyas placed an order for a clone army at the request of the senate almost ten years ago. I was under the impression he was killed before that! Did the council ever authorize the creation of a clone army?" Obi-Wan inquired, having to shout over the wind and rain.

"No. Whoever placed that order did not have the authorization of the Jedi Council," Windu informed.

"Bring him here. Question him, we will," requested Yoda.

"Yes, Master. We will report back when we have him," Obi-Wan agreed. The holo call ended, the images of Windu and Yoda evaporating into nothing.

"Good thing I already extended an invitation!" Elara called out, already turning back around. Obi-Wan half-smiled, quirking his head to the side. Elara returned the smile, hair whipping across her face as the wind tossed her hood back unceremoniously. She griped quietly and ripped it back up; Obi-Wan chuckled.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

OOOO

Elara had been right about Jango not wanting to stick around. A quick check of his rooms revealed both he and Boba had packed up and run. It didn't take long for them to find a residential landing pad, on which a ship was preparing to take off. Standing out in the rain was a figure in silver and blue armor, made in the style often worn by Mandalorians. The minute the doors to the landing pad hissed open, Elara could tell that it was not going to be a fun fight. The rain was awful on its own, but it made the ground slickery, and there was a couple hundred foot drop to the choppy waters below.

"Dad, look!" Boba cried out from the ship's gangway. Jango spun around, hand flying to the blaster at his hip.

"Boba, get on board!"

Upon being spotted and pointed out, both Elara and Obi-Wan whipped their lightsabers out simultaneously. They started to advance, sabers igniting, just as Jango started to fire. Blaster bolts shot through the air, illuminating the surrounding rain in a red haze. Side-by-side, Elara and Obi-Wan twirled and swung their blades, blocking the bolts in graceful symbiosis. When they were close enough, Elara instinctively swung around to dodge behind Obi-Wan's back as he swiped at Jango's legs. But the bounty hunter lifted into the sky, jetpack roaring. As Obi-Wan followed through on his swing, Elara surged forward to block the new slew of blaster fire. She deflected each bolt till Jango drew a second blaster. With a weapon in each hand, he leveled one at each Jedi. And as he fired, both of them dove to roll out of the way, creating a dangerously large space between them.

Elara came up out of her roll in a crouch, lightsaber thrust outward to block any incoming fire. She squinted up into the sky, rain blurring her vision, trying to get eyes on Jango. But her attention was grabbed by the ship––which was booted up and starting to move. It proved to be the perfect distraction, because just as she and Obi-Wan lowered their sabers slightly, a projectile struck the landing pad. It erupted explosively in a burst of fire and heat. It sent Elara onto her back, the force of it rolling her towards the edge of the pad. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, the sopping weight of her robe encumbering. Hair clung to her face wetly, rain dripped into her open mouth, and droplets of it tickled her nostrils. She had been right––this fight was terrible.

Just as Elara pushed off her hands to rise to her feet, the ship's guns whirred. They lowered and fired with wheezing blasts, scattering the landing pad dangerously. Half-standing, she stumbled to back away, lightsaber tumbling from her grasp. Something solid collided with the back of Elara's legs, and, completely off-balance, she toppled backwards. Her back was met with open air. For a brief, horrible moment, she thought she was about to plummet to the water below. But then there was a sudden pull, which propelled her forward and away from the edge. She surged forward a few feet before she hit the ground with a splash. When she looked up, she locked eyes with Obi-Wan; his right arm was crooked back, hand clenched in a fist. He had Force-pulled her off the edge. Her eyes shot skyward, suddenly, at the figure descending upon her comrade.

"Above you!" she cried.

Obi-Wan twisted around, leapt into the air, and slammed a foot directing into Jango Fett's chest. The bounty hunter crashed to the ground, blaster skittering away. As Jango tried to rise, Obi-Wan jumped again, foot cracking into his helmet; but the kicked foot was seized and spun, which sent the Jedi to the ground. Undeterred, Obi-Wan jammed his foot upwards, successfully knocking Jango back.

Elara's attention shot towards her lightsaber. It lay abandoned mere feet away. She thrust a hand forward, reaching out into the Force to pull it back towards her. But as that hand shot forward, something vice-like wrapped around it. With a yelp, Elara was wrenched backwards, and forcibly dragged across the ground. She scrambled to grab hold of whatever had entangled her wrist; it was a metal cord. It was easy enough to guess she was being dragged about by Jango, the sound of his jetpack roaring through the rain. Quite suddenly, the ground disappeared. Instead, she was surging upwards the cord taut. And just as Elara got her bearings, realized that Jango had hauled her up into the air over the edge of the landing pad––the cord went slack.

The wind and rain felt a whole lot harsher while falling through it. Raindrops felt like razor blades, the wind tugged and tossed relentlessly. Elara streaked through the air, a blur of brown robes and flailing arms. She was falling stomach-first towards a lower platform. It was approaching too fast, promising a very painful, potentially fatal, impact. But Elara thrust her hands out, shouting into the wind like it might garner her some extra power. Her free-fall stopped suddenly––with her body hovering two feet off the ground, stopped by a Force cushion. A shocked, relieved exhale puffed out of her mouth, and with that, she dropped. It was graceless, and her chin cracked against the ground awkwardly, but at least she wasn't falling anymore. She sat up, wrenched the cord off her wrist, and craned her head back. No Force jump she could make would get her back up there. There was, luckily, a door at the end of the platform.

Just as Elara managed to make her way back up to the landing pad, Jango's ship was taking off. Obi-Wan stood out in the rain, lightsaber ignited, arm reared back. That arm was loosed forward, hurling something at the ship. It attached itself to the side of it as it swooped away––a tracker.

"Kark," Elara hissed breathlessly, jogging out to stand beside Obi-Wan.

"We've got a tracker on him," Obi-Wan panted. It was a promise that it was alright, that their loss wasn't truly a loss––just a set back. "We can follow him."

Elara pushed her fingers through her soaked hair, the tail of which had come undone mid-fight. She nodded and turned her eyes on her lightsaber, still sitting at the edge of the landing pad. She threw a hand out and probed the Force in order to call it to herself. But as she pried into the Force, something happened. It trembled. It rumbled. A disturbance had arisen. Elara's brows furrowed. Suddenly a terrible pain ripped through her chest. It felt like someone had curled their fingers around her heart and squeezed. One of her hands shot out towards Obi-Wan, searching for purchase as she pitched forward.

"Elara?" Obi-Wan asked, concern bright in his voice.

The only response Elara could manage was a gasped sob of pain as she fell to her knees. Her hand clawed along his wet sleeve, nails biting at the fabric. She stared wide-eyed into nothing, mouth gaped open. Something terrible had happened. Intuitively, Elara knew it had something to do with her, that she was connected to it. Her heart hurt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces. Tears, hot against rain cooled cheeks, cascaded from her eyes. A sense of unadulterated dread and sorrow flooded her system overwhelmingly. And then, over the numbing sounds of rain and wind, she heard it. Screams of agony. Screams of heartbreak. Anakin's cries of agony and heartbreak. A cry of her own was pulled forcibly from her mouth, as though responding to his distant pain. It was a strangled sound, one that choked in her throat and burned in her lungs. One of her hands reached up to clutch at the layers of fabric over her heart, and she bent forward, crumpling in on herself.

"Anakin…" she breathed out.

Two hands suddenly grasped either side of her face. They lifted her head and her gaze, which suddenly alighted on Obi-Wan. He was hunkered down in front of her, eyes blown wide and searching her face. Elara held his gaze like it was the only thing that was going to keep her afloat. She reached out and grabbed the front of his tunic, grounding herself in his presence.

"What just happened?" he asked.

"Something's wrong…" she croaked out. He started to shake his head, confused, worried, a question on his dumbfounded lips. Her hands tightened their hold on him and a stuttered breath shook through her body. "Something's wrong with Anakin." Obi-Wan's face fell dangerously, suddenly stoic, eyes cold with concern. "I felt it. His heart, it's… it feels like my heart's shattered… h-he's in agony, he's being torn apart, he's––" Elara stopped suddenly, a cold wave of realization settling in her pain-filled heart. "Our mother."

"What? Elara––"

"Our mother, something's… something's happened to her."

Dread washed over Obi-Wan's face. "He's been having dreams––"

"I have to go," Elara said suddenly, brokenly. "I can't leave him this way."

Obi-Wan held her gaze for a moment that felt like it stretched on into eternity. One of his thumbs slowly swept along the curve of her cheekbone, streaking away rain and tears. It did little good, as both continued to fall. But the gesture was grounding to her. Her breathing started to even out, and her hands rose to gently cradle either side of his neck.

"Then go," he said evenly. Through the pain and the panic, there was a sudden pang––one that reminded her of duty, regardless of emotion and attachment. The way of the Jedi. She had been told, many times, by Yoda that for as much as she cared for her brother, that caring could not get in the way of duty. Obi-Wan leaned forward, which brought his rain-streaked visage closer to her own. "Go. If it concerns Anakin, it concerns me. He is my padawan." His face softened. "And if it concerns you, if it pains you… it concerns me, too. I'll not allow you to be censured for this, I swear it. Leave me track Jango, I'll send you the coordinates when I have them."

Elara's shoulders slouched, and her hands slipped away from his neck. One hand fell to rest over his heart. "Thank you," she said hushedly.

In silent response, all Obi-Wan did was place a hand atop hers, and squeeze.

OOOO

Tatooine, Outer Rim

Instinct had driven Elara to return to Tatooine, not to seek Anakin out on Naboo. Her fingers had tapped out the coordinates to her home planet without thinking, and it only made sense. If their mother was still on Tatooine, if he was in so much pain because of her––of course they would both be there. And upon sweeping into the atmosphere, upon seeing the dunes of sand, the dots of Jawa sandcrawlers moving across the deserts, one thing became perfectly clear:

Tatooine hadn't changed a bit.

The suns were blazing overhead when Elara docked in Mos Espa. The familiar heat washed over her upon stepping out of her ship, the intensity of it almost taking her breath away. She had gotten used to the mild temperatures of Coruscant; Tatooine's oppressive heat was almost overwhelming, now. It was early morning, but the heat was already unbearable. The air smelled dry and sandy, and the lack of moisture in it was noticeable.

"Arthree," Elara addressed, stepping around the front of her ship. Arthree trilled happily, dome swiveling towards her. She reached out and rubbed some dirt off of a pale green panel atop its dome. Her eyes scanned the landing bay warily. "If anyone tries to break the ship down for parts––you've got permission to zap them."

Arthree emitted a high-pitched whir, top spinning, exclaiming in binary that it would happily do so.

"H'chu apenkee (hello)."

Elara looked up to see a haggard looking woman walk towards her, rubbing an oil stained rag over her hands. Her hair was frizzed out, her shoulders hunched from years of hard work, skin leathery looking from years under the harsh sun. Adorned in rough spun clothes that had seen better days, and scars scraping across the parts of her hands that weren't bandaged, the woman had clearly had a hard life. It was also easy to piece together that she was in charge of this bay at the spaceport.

"H'chu apenkee (hello)," Elara greeted. She gestured to her ship. "How much to keep this here for the day?"

The woman hummed and gave Elara a very obvious once over. She smacked her lips and tipped her head back, the suns illuminating every harsh wrinkle on her skin. "Five peggat."

Elara's brows arched sharply; behind her, Arthree bleeped in surprise. "Two hundred credits? It used to be eighty." It may have been years since she'd been in Mos Espa, but Elara remembered a lot; including the cost of docking, which she'd had to memorize while working at Gardulla's cantina.

"Still is eighty," the woman confirmed. She nodded at Elara, pointedly eyeing the lightsaber at her hip. "But for you––woman of your means… Five peggat."

Elara brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Of course she was going to be charged extra, of course; people on Tatooine seized opportunities when they could. It was very likely this woman didn't realize that Jedi weren't rich. But she certainly knew they were duty bound, and often disposed to avoid conflict. The presumption hanging heavy in the air was that Elara would pay for it and be on her way. What the woman didn't know, however, was that Elara was raised there. She knew how to haggle.

"How about," Elara reached into a pouch, inside of which a handful of emergency credits were packed away, "I give you two peggat worth now, and we sort out the rest when I come back."

The woman narrowed her eyes and shoved the oily rag into the waistband of her trousers. She sniffed, wrinkled her nose up, and waggled a hand at Elara. "Four peggat."

"Two."

"Four."

If Elara's nerves hadn't been so frayed, so rattled, she might've stood there haggling for as long as needed or wanted. But her heart hurt with every beat of it, reminding her of why she had returned to her home planet. Elara sternly raised her eyebrows and made sure her expression conveyed that this was the final offer.

"I'll give you three or I take my business of Mos Eisley and rent a speeder to get here." Elara offered three peggat worth of credits, which shone dully in the sunlight. The woman narrowed her eyes at the mention of Mos Eisley. Her rag-wrapped hands shot forward to snatch the credits up, immediately counting over them. Once the amount was confirmed, she grumbled and waved a hand at Elara, marching back towards her workshop. And that was exactly the 'welcome back' she expected.

Stepping out onto the streets was like setting foot in a memory. A memory so vivid that it only took a moment for Elara to parse out which direction she needed to move in. She remembered that the market was down the road to her right, which meant she needed to go left. That eventually she'd hit a thoroughfare and she'd need to keep going straight. The many years that Elara had spent weaving through those streets for Watto and Gardulla had burned a fairly decent map in her memory; one that was only reinforced by chasing Anakin's mop of blonde hair through the city.

As Elara walked, people stared; and that was strange to her. Not once had she ever walked down a Mos Espa street and been met with lingering eyes and turning heads. She had always been invisible, just another unimportant slave. But she was no longer that. To everyone on the streets, she was an oddity, a peculiarity––a Jedi on Mos Espa, a concept just as strange as the day Qui-Gon Jinn appeared out of the blue. And if anyone recognized her, which was a terribly slim possibility, it would only make the situation even more peculiar. But there was no recognition in anyone's face. Just surprise, and wonder, and sometimes a dash of awe. They muttered in Hutteese as they passed. If Elara made eye-contact with anyone, they'd drop their gaze immediately, and it made her heart ache. She could remember doing the same. The life of a slave was a dangerous one. You couldn't be too careful with who you looked at, or how you looked at them. One wrong glance could get you in trouble; not everyone had qualms with harming or killing a slave that wasn't theirs.

Elara had decided that the best course of action would be to find Shmi as soon as possible. Because wherever she was, Anakin would be. Elara's first thought was to check their home, and if she wasn't there, go to where she worked. The streets of Mos Espa had inspired an aching kind of nostalgia. But returning to the slaves' digs on the edge of the city struck her with something deeper, something that resonated with her to the core. Seeing the familiar stone doorways, the unremarkable architecture made her already pained heart flinch. It felt like her bones were trembling. It was a snapshot of a memory, now living again before her. Elara slowly approached a familiar door, feet trodding an equally familiar path across the sandy ground. Her heart beat harder and faster with each step she took.

Elara stopped in front of the door, wide eyed, jaw tense, throat tight. Her hand rose, before she could really think of what to do, and she keyed in the code her fingers had danced over for many long years. The panel buzzed angrily, denying her entry. She pulled a face and tried a second time; it yielded the same result. The soles of her boots scuffled against the ground as Elara backed up and stared at the door and the ones adjacent to it. She was standing at the correct door. There was still a long scrape beside it from the time she and Anakin had hauled back a large piece of scrap for their podracer. It was faded, but it was there. She shifted forward and rapped her knuckles against the door. After a moment, it buzzed open to reveal a completely unfamiliar face.

A weathered looking man, who looked as though he must've woken up not too long ago, stood squinting at her in confusion.

"Can I help you?" he asked, voice gruff. He wore the thread-bare clothing of a slave, the fabric worn out from years of usage. His face was prematurely wrinkled with worry lines and his skin was sun bitten and dark with over exposure to the intense heat of the double suns. Elara blinked at him, unable to help the surprise that overwhelmed her features. But she was quick to recompose herself as the man looked her over from head-to-toe.

"Yes… sorry, I was just under the impression that this was the Skywalker residence," Elara politely replied.

The man harrumphed a little and gave a brisk shake of the head. "No Skywalker's lived here for years. Watto lost the kids in a bet, they were taken off planet somewhere, the lucky bastards. As for the lady, well, Watto sold her, I heard. Gave me the old digs once she left."

Despite the heat, Elara felt suddenly cold. It felt like the world had suddenly shrunk around her, boxing her in unpleasantly "Sold her?" Elara breathed quietly, voice breaking a little. "To who?"

The man hauled his shoulders into a shrug.

"Like I'd know—you'd have to talk to Watto 'bout that. Why'd you want to know anyways, lady like you?" He was eyeing her robes, at the lightsaber at her hip.

"Is Watto still down at the junk shop?" she asked, ignoring the man's inquiry.

"Nah. Lost the place not long after he lost the kids. 'S why he had to sell the mother, couldn't afford to keep slaves anymore; there's kind of a blessin' in that, I 'spose. Still hang out down there, though, not really anywhere he can go," he revealed. He narrowed his eyes at her, face crinkling in contemplation; one of his fingers rose to waggle at her, threadbare sleeve falling back. "They said those Skywalker kids were taken off by a Jedi lookin' type. People 'round here tell stories about them to their own children. Gives 'em hope. You one of them Skywalkers?"

Elara stared at him for a long moment, eyes starting to go glassy. Behind him she could see the familiar interior of her childhood home, just as dank and small as it had always been. But despite its smallness, despite it's disrepair, all her best memories from Tatooine took place in that tiny hovel. There was movement from inside. A small child poked their head from around the corner that led to Anakin's old room. Even in the dim light inside, Elara could see the child's eyes widen upon spotting her. She looked down at her hands as they moved to the pouch on her hip. Without caring to count how much she pulled out, Elara extracted a handful of credits. She stretched her hand out to the man, her eyes pleading for him to accept the gesture.

"Thank you," she said.

The man stared, wide-eyed, at the offered money. That stare jumped from her hand to her eyes; at how wide they were, how they pleaded, how they understood.

"You are one of them Skywalkers," he murmured. He gestured at her face. "Can see it in your eyes. Y'know what it's like. To be here, you know what that's like."

Elara nodded and flattened her fingers out, exposing the credits more, offering them a second time. The man, not breaking eye-contact with her, reached out and placed his hand atop hers. She dropped her other hand over his and rotated it so the credits fell into his palm. Coming back to Tatooine wasn't easy; it never would have been easy, regardless of the circumstance. But Elara would be damned if she didn't try to make things easier for at least one person; even if it was only a handful of credits that would last for less than a day. Because she knew how the kindness of one person could change a life.

"I wish I could do more," she said, voice quavering.

"Never heard of a slave from Tatooine becoming a Jedi before––maybe, one day, you can do somethin'." The man nodded his head respectfully, closing his hand around the credits. "Now, go find your mum."

Afterword: HAPPY MAY THE FOURTH! I'm probably a little too excited that I'm getting this story updated today, but, hey, why not! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you all enjoyed reading it!

Review Replies!

MsRosePetal: I find it harder to write Obi-Wan's pov, but it's kinda fun to work my way through it. 'Cause he's so particular with how he deals with things, and what he thinks of things. Yoda is a creature of many secrets, many surprises… you best believe he's gonna be having chats with Elara and Obi-Wan left-right-and-center as things start heating up for them. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Piffthemagicdragon21: I won't do the entire series, but I will include Clone Wars content! I'm open to episode recommendations that you'd like to see. I've got a handful picked out, and I'll, of course, be adding some original stuff I've thought up. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

fantasy92: Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying it! I am planning on doing parts of the Clone Wars series; I'm still working through it (I was so late to the game), but I have some episodes picked out. If you've got anything you'd like to see from Clone Wars, lemme know! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

ZabuzasGirl: Elara smiling in the face of Jango Fett was one of my favorite things to write, especially from an outside perspective. The Pit fight is something that I'm still parsing out. There's so much happening that I've been drafting and redrafting and trying to figure out what would work out. I'm hoping to get that fully drafted up soon so it'll be less of a blockage when I get to it! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

bambam411: Originally, Elara stayed back at the Jedi Temple and then booked it to Tatooine when she felt Anakin's pain. But, in thinking about it, I realized I wanted––and needed––more time between Elara and Obi-Wan to establish where they're at relationship wise. I'm excited to get into the Clone Wars! I'm still picking and choosing what episodes I want to include, and figuring out how Elara's gonna get along with some of the characters! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Dally'sTUFF: If you've got some Clone Wars episodes or arcs you'd like to see, let me know! I've got some stuff picked out, but I'm open to ideas. I'm hashing out how Elara's gonna get along with Ashoka and Rex and the like––it's a lot of fun to plan out. I also had, at a time, considered giving Elara a padawan, so I'm doing some deep-digging to see how or if that might go down. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

weasleylover10: Getting to meditate on Obi-Wan's thoughts regarding the situation was a blast. Though hard to articulate. 'Cause in my head I'm like "I know how he feels about the possibility of pursuing this, but he's not thinking about that, not right now." I honestly love Satine so much. I also think that she and Elara would probably get along pretty well, so that's gonna open so many options once we reach Clone Wars. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

LoveFiction2020: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Lady Basara: Thank you! I'm very happy you've been enjoying the story so much. And when I think about how Elara and Obi-Wan would approach a romantic relationship, I've always seen it going the more mature route. Whereas Anakin and Padmé jump in and get married, I figure that Obi-Wan and Elara are gonna take it slow. It's gonna be like… dating a coworker in secret when company policy says that's a no-go, which is gonna be so fun for them, especially during the War. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Shadow Wolf 15846: I had to get the sweetness and the fluff in before we had the shattering pain of Elara realizing that something is not at all right in the Skywalker family. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Duchess of Lantern Waste: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

And thank you to everyone that has added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!

Next time, Elara will make a visit to someone she never thought she'd see again, she'll reunite with Anakin (ouch, that's gonna hurt), and things are gonna get real. I'm excited to get started on the next chapter; thank you all, again, for rockin' it!

May the Fourth be with you!

~Mary