A/N: Thank you to the people who reviewed the last chapter, you all make my day. Once again, I apologize that this is a day late, but hopefully I'll be able to get back to the old schedule now.

Friday, 6:14pm; Unknown Place.

Anakin looked at the woman warily as she came closer. He was unable to step back, as the other man who had been sold with him (Shoan?) was behind him. When she reached out for his arm, he hastily clenched his fists around the fabric of his sleeves, so they wouldn't be pulled up to reveal the gashes on his arm. Forcing himself not to flinch, he watched as she injected a chip just above his wrist. He'd decided in the end that it would be better to pretend that he didn't already have one, as it was unlikely that the new one would be a Force suppressant model. Therefore, if he could gather his strength together for long enough, he would be able to disable Marius's one without arousing any suspicion. Anakin waited as the other two got theirs implanted, then they were told to go back to the room which had been assigned to them.

After the slavers had left, they'd been assigned to the different jobs they would have. Anakin was immensely glad the woman had lied about what he'd been given, for whatever reason she did, as he didn't think he would've been able to survive the manual labour. There was a huge construction project going on, hidden in the shadows of the outer walls, and just by the lake. Anakin, in the small glimpses he'd got, could see small figures clambering over the framework, like ants compared to the size of the building. While it would've once been relatively easy, now he wasn't so sure. But he'd luckily been made to do cooking, along with the old woman. The other man had been assigned mechanics, which Anakin knew was probably short for 'spare parts collecter', which is what Watto had him do on Tatooine. The problem was, Anakin was a terrible cook. And he knew attempting to convince them to give him the same job as Shoan wouldn't work.

They'd been told to shower, which Anakin managed to do by hiding in a corner behind a wall so no one would see his various wounds. Then they had been shown to the room they would sleep in. It was cramped, eight bunk beds crammed into a tiny room. There was barely any room to stand. And definitely no privacy. All three of them were in the same room, and there were two other people they'd met there. One was a Wookie, who was yet to talk to them. Despite Anakin's attempts to see if she was alright, she sat on the floor in the corner, nursing what looked like a fresh cut on her leg. The other was a man. He had smiled grimly at them as they'd come in, then went back to staring at the ceiling.

Anakin had been relieved to finally be able to sit down. It was stifling, but he'd pulled the thin sheet on the bed over his head. Feeling relatively alone, he'd let himself relax in solitude. But, within the hour, they'd been called away to be implanted with chips.

Anakin tried to ignore the sting on his wrist as they went back to the room. It was hard to ignore, a strange aching sensation which he couldn't pinpoint. Even though he'd had it done when he was a child, the pain felt worse every time. Yet another new owner. Someone else he would be forced to serve.

The man too was rubbing his arm, face scrunched up in pain. Anakin felt the beginnings of the swirling pity he felt when he wanted to help someone. Glancing to down the corridor, he checked that no one was near them.

"Are you alright?" Anakin asked. The man looked up, but didn't reply. He just stared at him, eyes filled with sadness.

"He can't understand you. He's deaf." Said the woman from behind you.

"Oh. I- I didn't realise. I'm sorry." Anakin stuttered, a bit at loss.

"It's fine. He lost his hearing a few years ago. One of the people chained to him did a runner. And, of course, she didn't get far."

Anakin swallowed. The chips that exploded were the worst. They didn't just kill the runaway slave, but harmed most people in a meter radius. And were notoriously loud. Anakin figured he'd probably had his ears damaged in the explosion.

The woman smiled at the man, then moved her hands. It took Anakin a moment to realise that it was sign language. When she finished, the man nodded.

"What did you say?" Anakin asked. He wasn't sure if it was private or not, but it was the first real conversation he'd had in ages, and he was eager to keep it going.

"I asked if it was alright that I told you about us." The woman said. "He tends to have a good instinct on when we should trust people."

Anakin was about to answer when they (well, two of them at least) heard footsteps approaching. Quickly they got into a line and walked in single file up the corridor. The woman passed them, she herself another slave.

"My name's Jiyka. His is Jinn." The woman said. Anakin smiled. As stupid as he knew it was, it felt uplifting to be with someone who shared a name with the man who had freed him. "But it would be safer if you call us Mana and Shoan."

"Why not -"

"It best to have a new identity each place. Then they can't dig up any old records about you, as long as you remain under the radar." The woman said. "It's important you remember yours too. Varlo." She reminded pointedly.

Anakin nodded.

"Can I ask, why are you helping me?" Anakin questioned. Mana smiled again.

"I've taken a liking to you. Besides, no sixteen year old should have to go through something like this."

"I'm eighteen, actually."

"Not here you're not." She whispered. They walked through the building, silence falling, before Mana suddenly started talking again.

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Where'd you come from?"

Anakin struggled to decide whether he should tell her of not. The Jedi weren't liked by everyone, and he didn't want to lose someone who was helping him out over something as stupid as politics. But she had told him what was presumably the truth about them. Anakin didn't know if it would be fair to keep his life from them.

"My name is- was Anakin. I lived on Coruscant with my... father."

It was partly the truth. He just avoided certain aspects of his life. It made him feel better about lying if it was based on actuality. Even if Obi-Wan wasn't really his father, he was the closest Anakin could ever get to one.

"What got you down here?" Mana asked. Anakin swallowed.

"We got into a fight. And I stormed out. I stupidly thought I could handle myself. Turns out I was wrong." Anakin answered. He felt the familiar stab of guilt as he thought about the fight. The last thing Obi-Wan was ever going to know him for was his yelling.

No. You are going to get out of this. Just because no one's coming for you doesn't mean you should give up.

Shoan patted his arm awkwardly, picking up on Anakin's distress despite the fact he was unable to hear the story. Mana smiled kindly at him.

"I'm sure your father knows you love him." She said. Anakin felt tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, the exhaustion finally getting to him fully, making him feel weak and shaky. He scrubbed them away quickly, hoping the other two wouldn't misinterpret it as sadness about being away from his 'father'. He didn't want to be perceived as emotional.

They reached the door at last, an identical one to the many others along the low corridor. The slaves slept near the lower part of the house. Anakin was surprised it wasn't in a separate part of the grounds, most often it was. But he supposed they must have been low on money recently. Shoan pushed it open, and they filed in. The two other occupants were sleeping already, even though Anakin thought that it couldn't be past nine. His bones weary, head aching as he processed the new information he had been given in the day, he clambered into bed. His was an empty bunk, no one above him. He pulled the sheet up to cover himself, despite the warmth, and tried to relax. But even though he was exhausted, it was long after midnight when he finally fell asleep.

Saturday, 5:30am; Unknown Place.

Anakin awoke to a loud clanging noise ringing through the room. He bolted upright, looking around wildly. He reached out of habit for the lightsaber clipped to his belt, only to find that there was nothing there. It took him a minute, but he finally realised where he was. Sinking back down onto the bed, he groaned. The man across from Anakin, who was yet to introduce himself, chuckled.

"Bet you didn't have to get up this early when you were living at home, did you?" He said, a hint of resentment in his tone. Anakin glanced over to Mana, wondering if she'd given up his secret so easily. But she shook her head at him. The man caught the interaction and grinned. "It's obvious you haven't been doing this for long."

"First day, actually." Anakin said.

They got up and ready, then Anakin followed the man out of the room.

"So... what are we doing?" Anakin asked. The man scoffed at Anakin's incompetence, and Anakin held back a sarcastic remark which jumped to the forefront of his mind. "Breakfast. Then we go to work for twelve. Then dinner. Then we sleep." He supplied. Anakin nodded. He'd had worse hours. "Where'd you work?"

"I've been put in the kitchen."

"Strapping lad like you? They're mad." The man exclaimed, looking Anakin up and down. Anakin folded his arms defensively. He winced when the movement caused a sharp pain in his arm, reminding him exactly why he was so grateful he wasn't in manual work.

"I'm a good cook." He lied. He didn't want anyone to get suspicious.

The dining hall was huge, stretching upwards and out. But once everyone was packed in, it didn't seem quite so spacious. The tables were crammed together, and the measly portions of food were passed down. Anakin struggled not to devour his instantly, he hadn't eaten in at least a day. He was getting used to the aching hunger which never went away, but the sight of food was something he'd grown to appreciate a lot more than before. Even on , Watto had made sure he was fully nourished. He'd claimed it was purely because they'd work better, but Anakin thought it was probably the soft spot he had for Anakin's mother. Here it was a completely different story. Every food spent on the slaves was food wasted.

Once he'd eaten he waited until they were told to stand. Next they were dismissed, people filing out silently. Anakin remembered what the man from the rooms had said, it was work after breakfast. He looked around for Mana. They'd both been assigned to work together, and Anakin had no kriffing clue where he was meant to be going. He spotted her whispering to another woman just along the table from him. He walked over to her, trying to look like he had a purpose, rather than he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He caught her eye and smiled. She finished up her conversation, then waved him over.

"So, where do we go?" Anakin asked.

"Doré said that the kitchen is just out the doors and on the left." Mana said. Anakin figured out the Doré must've been who Mana was talking to, then nodded.

"Okay. I guess we'd better go." Anakin said.

"Make sure you stoop a bit. We wouldn't want them deciding that they want you in manual work after all." Mana said. Then she gave him a thoughtful look. "Can you cook?"

Anakin smiled guiltily.

"If by cook you mean burn things and forget to wash the vegetables, then you're looking at the right guy." He quipped.

"I'll try to teach you. Though it's not likely we'll be doing any actual cooking. More like preparing the ingredients."

Mana was right of course. Anakin had learned to trust her when it came to matters with slavery. Even though he himself had been a slave, he hadn't since he was nine, and his memories grew hazier with each passing year. He barely remembered the names of some of his childhood friends, let alone faces. And the slaving system had evolved since he'd last been there. It had become more efficient, more worthwhile for the people who were using them.

So he wasn't surprised when he spent the day scrubbing plates. He'd managed to get through without them really noticing, he hunched over to appear smaller than he actually was. Even though his hands became more and more sore with each plate washed, he reminded himself with every scrub that it was so much better than heaving building materials up a metal structure. At least he got to sit down, Mana had found them two chairs in one of the store cupboards. The old woman spent her day peeling vegetables, something she was much more skilled at than Anakin would have been. Anakin realised pretty quickly why they had let him him in without protest. The kitchen was almost empty, thirteen of them in all. Preparing meals for not just the slaves, but for the people who owned the house as well.

There was a general hum of conversation throughout the kitchen. The supervisor seemed to permit talking, as long as the work got done. It left Anakin plenty of time to talk to Mana, who he found was actually enjoyable company, despite the age difference.

"Are you and Shoan related?" Anakin asked.

"He's my son. We've managed to keep together all these years, unlike many poor souls." She said. "I'm his ears. He doesn't have any idea what people are saying often, so I have to intervene." Anakin noticed the worried look on her face and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I do hope he's getting on well down at his end." She continued.

"If it's any reassurance, I'll try to keep an eye out for him." Anakin said. He desperately wanted to repay the two people who had tried, without any thought of the consequences, to help him out. He knew that they didn't want anything in return, but he couldn't help the urge to support them somehow.

"You are sweet. But you shouldn't be looking after us sweetie, look after yourself." Mana replied.

"Why can't I do both?" Anakin argued. "You're looking out for me."

"Well I'm in less danger than you. No one's interested in an old woman." She said. "But they would be in a teenage boy. Especially someone new. Both the supervisors and the other slaves will be keeping their eyes on you, either to watch for a slip up or looking for a free night of entertainment.

"I know that. But I can take care of myself." Anakin retorted.

"The fact you're here and not at home with your father on Coruscant proves that you can't." Mana replied. Anakin fought the blush that threatened to grow up his face. He didn't feel good about lying to Mana, but it was necessary. He didn't want anyone to know he was Force sensitive. That was a whole load of trouble that he didn't want to go near.

The hours dragged into one, and Anakin's hands began to turn red from the hot water. Mana finished her ingredient preparation early, and instead of going back to the room she helped him finish the final dishes.

"Why can't they just invest in a dishwasher?" Anakin grumbled.

"That's what slaves are for." Mana joked humorlessly.

"They really expect me to wash hundreds of these every day?" Anakin complained. He ceased his moaning only when someone came to check they were finished, snapping his mouth shut before the woman could hear.

They'd missed dinner working on the plates, it seemed no one bothered to alert the kitchen staff about when it was time to eat. But Anakin managed to reach out and snag some leftovers from one of the plates. He knew that most people would never turn down a meal, so it was likely one of the upper people who had the privilege. He handed some to Mana and ate some quickly himself.

They walked back to the room, Anakin clenching and unclenching his fists to try and distract from the soreness. He was tired, the long day with minimal food being harsher than even Obi-Wan's strict training schedule. He was half in a daze when they walked through the door. But Mana's cry of "Shoan!" brought him back to the present, and he felt shock flood his veins.

Shoan had a gash down one side of his face, much like the one Anakin was still healing from. It dripped blood down one side of his fave, and both Mana and Anakin pushed past the man who was sitting next to him.

"We're not sure what happened. He hasn't said anything." The man said.

"He's deaf." Anakin explained. "He doesn't like to talk much either."

Mana's attention was completely on Shoan, looking closely at the wound.

"It's not deep. Do we have something to wrap around it?" She asked. Anakin didn't hesitate and ripped the arm off of his tunic, leaving the other one one to cover his own healing injuries. He passed the fabric to Mana, who carefully pressed it to Shoan's face. He let out a moan, and Anakin winced, knowing that it felt less than pleasant.

"Kriff, I don't know what I'm doing!" Mana exclaimed. Anakin knelt beside her.

"Can I?" He asked, gesturing to the already bloodied cloth. She handed it over, and he set to work applying pressure. His minimal medical training didn't really cover bleeding wounds, as blasters and lightsaber wounds didn't often bleed. But he figured that it was probably the same as his basic training. Just more intense.

Mana made some signals with her hands, to which Shoan responded in kind. Anakin wasn't sure why Shoan didn't like talking, he wasn't mute, but he didn't want to pry.

"He says it was someone in the workshop. I guess someone decided to give the newcomer a warning. It's not uncommon." Mana translated for them. Anakin grimaced in sympathy.

"Just keep pressure on it. It's shallow. I don't really know, but I think it should just clear up with time." Anakin said.

"Let me take it. Get some rest." Mana said. She took it from Anakin, the nudged him towards the bed. Anakin went gladly, his limbs heavy and his eyes drooping shut. Even though he wanted to stay and help Shoan, it was the least he could do, there was nothing more he could really do. And Mana was capable enough.

He fell asleep mere moments after his body hit the bed.

A/N: Feel free to review if you enjoyed the chapter.