"Woo!" Kit Fisto cried excitedly, bursting into the locker room and swinging his bat triumphantly. "We did it, boys! We're owning the Major League this year!" Behind him, Quinlan Vos threw off his sweaty jersey and laughed loudly, shaking Kit by the shoulders. The single yellow stripe painted across his cheeks and nose were originally a callout to his hometown of Kiffu but over the course of his three-year run, the face paint had become a lucky charm to the Tatooine Dodgers. So much so that across the crowds in their stadium, seas of yellow strips were visible even from the benches.
"We're taking the trophy this year!" Vos and Kit laughed together as Obi-wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker trudged in behind them. Slowly, the remainder of the team poured into the locker room in various stages of undress, jerseys, caps, pants and gloves were strewn everywhere as the team celebrated their latest win, qualifying them for the Major League Semi-finals against the Coruscant Rangers. Two more wins and the league was theirs.
Jumping up onto the bench, Anakin cleared this throat. "Okay, okay – shut the fuck up, Rex!" The Australian laughed and tossed his rolled-up jersey into Anakin's face in response, but quietened down anyway. "Qui-gon told me not to do this…" He reached above the blue lockers and produced a bottle of vintage champagne his uncle Sheev had given him before the game for luck, "but we're two games from being the champions!" The team roared joyously. Once they'd quietened a little, Anakin continued, "so let's Goddamn celebrate!" He popped open the bottle and let the ridiculously expensive liquid inside burst forth and spray his teammates all over. Everyone cheered and bounced and laughed together, ecstatic.
"Damn it, Anakin, I told you not to do this!" The booming voice of the Tatooine Dodger's coach, Qui-gon interrupted the fun. His serious expression lasted only a moment before melting away beneath the pride and humour. "I wanted to the one to pop it first!" The former player revealed a bottle of his own and once again the team yelled in victory as their coach joined the fun. Somewhere amongst champagne spray flying across the room, hitting him in the face and being shaken and hugged by his team, Anakin spotted his uncle Sheev leading a group of cameramen into the room with a wide grin. Probably just ESPN wanting backstage access, he thought and returned to the fun.
The next morning, Anakin woke with a jolt and then a long groan, cupping his forehead in his palm. Damn… Way too much champagne last night. The partying had gone on all night with rare permission from Qui-gon, not that he could remember all that much… There'd been clubs, VIP booths, girls, every drink imaginable and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what else his friends got into.
Easing himself out of bed slowly, Anakin stumbled a step before balancing with a small laugh. Shit, maybe I'm still drunk… Picking up his phone from where it lay abandoned on the black glossed table, the centre field player flicked it open and navigated the old piece of shit keyboard to open his overflowing text inbox. Everyone he knew made fun of him for keeping the old hunk of junk, especially his uncle, but he liked his phone. It was a thick flip phone which slightly resembled a brick these days but he'd had it since he was a teenager and wasn't about to part with it any time soon. His mom had worked so many extra hours to afford it for him, phones had still been relatively new then and it was precious.
Speaking of Shmi Skywalker, no congratulatory texts waited from his mother on the team's victory. It'd been years since he'd heard a word from Shmi but it still made Anakin ache. He checked his voicemails and inbox daily, just in case… He supposed deep down he couldn't blame her. Flipping the phone shut again, Anakin set it down and headed to the bathroom for a shower.
Once showered and dressed, he felt marginally better. The headache had faded enough to let him think clearly at least. Collapsing back onto the bed, Anakin picked up his iPad and flicked through the day's schedule as sent over by his uncle. Hiring Sheev as his agent was the best thing he'd ever done. Anakin hardly had to do anything more than turn up where Sheev told him to and do whatever it was he was contacted to. Mostly commercials these days outside of training, sports drinks, protein shakes he didn't use, magazine covers, Sheev made sure Anakin was a busy man. And a rich one.
He'd come a long way from where he used to be, he and his mom barely scraping by in their shabby little house after his dad left. Things hadn't been easy but they'd been happier without him. He and his mom used to be really close then… Now they hadn't spoken in years. Uncle Sheev always said she'd come around eventually and Anakin wanted to believe him… But it'd been so long. Maybe some things just couldn't be forgiven. Still, he sent money back every month regardless without letting Sheev know. Whether they spoke or not, Anakin never wanted his mom to go without again.
Surprisingly, he had a free day today. Sheev must have anticipated a hangover getting in the way of interviews and photoshoots. Though at the very bottom of the daily calendar was a dinner scheduled with Miraj Scintel, the Italian supermodel his uncle had been trying forever to set him up with. She was a beautiful woman, all curves and dark hair but… Anakin wasn't interested.
He'd been on a few dates here and there across the years with beautiful woman he was sure men would kill to date, but none of them captured his interest or attention. He'd only ever had one real girlfriend in his life, his high school sweetheart, Padme Naberrie. She, along with his mother, had been the hardest thing to leave behind back home. Anakin just wished… Well, he wished he'd been more of a man and handled things better. They'd been young, just eighteen years old when he proposed right out of high school and nineteen when the wedding came around.
It'd been on the big day that his uncle had come around with the news that a talent scout had spotted him playing and recommended him to the Tatooine Dodgers. They'd requested a meeting for that night. It had been everything Anakin ever wanted but at the wrong time. Sheev had told him this was his one chance, his only chance and they had to leave then to make it in time. He'd said Padme would understand, she was ambitious, they could reschedule… That he'd make her understand. So Anakin had buckled and written his fiancé an eight-page letter before leaving, entrusting his uncle to deliver it.
Two days later, Sheev appeared at his hotel door solemnly with Padme's ring and the news he'd been recruited.
Whenever Anakin let himself think about it, he hated himself more and more. He thought about her all the time… What she was doing now, did she still live in town, how had she changed? Did she hate him? Did even the tiniest part of her miss him? He wasn't sure Padme would approve of the new lifestyle he'd adopted.
Sighing, he put down the iPad and picked up the TV remote, switching on the flat screen attached to the wall and leant back against the pillows. The news automatically flashed up onto the screen with a short-haired redheaded newsreader clearing her throat and looking into the camera.
"Good afternoon, I'm Mon Mothma and this is Coruscant live news at twelve. The small town of Naboo has been struck by tragedy this week as fifty-five-year-old Watto Toydarian has been arrested for the death of twenty-seven-year-old Kitster Chanchani Banai in a hit and run incident on June twelfth this year." The woman continued on but Anakin didn't hear another word she said. His attention was focused on the image of his former best friend on the screen. Sitting up, he was hit by a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the hangover.
Kister was dead… Old Watto had knocked him down and just left him there? But that just couldn't be possible! Kister was his friend, someone would have told him… Even if she hated him, his mom would have told him! Eyes burning, Anakin remembered it had been Kister who'd reached out to him the most after he left. He'd always meant to fly him out for a game but just never got around to it.
Stumbling out of bed, Anakin ran a hand through his hair with a whimper. His friend, his first friend was dead… Now he would never have the chance to see him again. He – he had to do something… The realisation hit him harder than a ball to the face. He had to go back. Back to Naboo, there would be a funeral… Anakin had to pay his respects. Fumbling, the baseball player grabbed his phone and flipped it open, scrolling through his contacts until his uncle Sheev's name appeared. He pressed the button and called.
Sheev answered after three rings. "Ah, Anakin! I didn't expect to hear from you so early today. Feeling rough, my boy?"
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he shook his head despite Sheev not seeing him. "Uncle Sheev," he forced out, "I just saw it on the news… Kister…"
"Kister?" Sheev sounded confused, "is that someone we know?"
"My friend!" Anakin snapped. "From back home – there was an accident, Sheev. He didn't make it."
"Oh, that's very tragic." He sighed, "such a waste of life… I'll have flowers and a card sent in your name, don't worry about it, son."
"No, that's not –" Anakin rubbed a hand over his face. "I need to go back. I want to go to the funeral, Sheev. Can you book me a flight? Anything will do, first, business, economy, literally anything as long as it gets me there."
"Go back? Don't be ridiculous, Anakin! There's a team press conference in two days and you have to be there! You're the Dodgers' star player. The people back home will understand you not being there, son, you're a busy man!"
They'll understand… That's what he'd said about his mom and Padme… They hadn't understood.
"Alright, I get it. Bye, Sheev."
The moment his uncle ended the call, Anakin darted toward his laptop, carefully lifting the thin white screen upwards and watched the device switch itself on. He knew, deep in his heart that he couldn't miss this. At twenty-six he already carried too many regrets on his shoulders and missing Kister's funeral wasn't going to be another one. He had to say goodbye to his friend properly this time.
The press conference would survive without him, the guys might be pissed for a while until he got back and told them why he'd ditched but some things were more important than baseball. Anakin only wished he'd realised how true that was years ago.
Maybe this was his chance, finally, to make amends for what he'd done? He could see his mom again and make things right, tell her how much he'd missed her and needed to see her. And Padme… If she was still in town… Well, he wasn't sure what to do. His heart sped up at the thought of seeing her again but it ached knowing she must hate him. Still, even if she never wanted to speak to him again, Anakin wanted to apologise at least and to tell her she deserved better than what he'd given her.
In minutes he'd booked the flight and was grabbing a couple of duffle bags from the closet. It was official.
He was going home.