Anakin woke up in the middle of the night shivering. His teeth rattled in his skull and for a moment he lay there, not sure what was happening, and then it all came rushing back.

Anakin was sleeping in Obi-Wan's quarters, on Coruscant. The desert was cold at night, there was truth to this, but it was nowhere near the Jedi Temple's sterile quiet cold. There had always been something moving, something happening. Obi-Wan's room was quiet and it was also still.

For a moment Anakin lay there, trying to force himself to go back to sleep, curl deeper into the blankets and just ignore the cold and the quiet, but the longer he did so the more he seemed to attempt to ignore it, the quieter it seemed to get. Obi-Wan had told him that he could come to him, hadn't he? With this thought in mind Anakin looked over to the older boy and slowly, carefully reached over for him. Obi-Wan was awake before Anakin touched him.

Obi-Wan shot up, looking around, before immediately focusing on Anakin. "Anakin?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep, "what is it? Are you well?"

Anakin hesitated, taking a breath, before finally, quietly, "Obi-Wan…it's cold."

"It's…" Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, before he gave a quiet, "oh…" Obi-Wan flicked his wrist towards the lights and they turned on partially, slowly, so as to not hurt their eyes. Obi-Wan still squinted at him, his hair removed from its small ponytail and flattened awkwardly on the back of his head when he turned to look around the room for something that he could use as a blanket, though the brad had stayed in. After a moment of searching Obi-Wan made a bright sound of realization, and called his robe over to his grasp, before spreading it over Anakin. In his half-awake state it covered Anakin's head completely, but Anakin could not deny that it immediately warmed him, in gesture as much as anything.

Anakin pulled the robe down to smile at him, only to see Obi-Wan still looking at him in that half-asleep way that suggested he was still trying to solve the problem. After another moment the boy scooted closer, tucking the robe tight around him and his bedroll before plopping down next to him, pressing close. The immediate warmth against his side made Anakin immediately snuggle up to it.

"Better?" Obi-Wan slurred, and Anakin nodded. The Padawan gave a brief smushed sort of smile, and then laid back down fully, before flicking a wrist at the light once again, plunging them back into darkness.

Anakin lay there pressing against the boy that had called himself a potential brother and thought of Kitster, thought of his mother, and thought of Tatooine.

And then he thought of the kindness of a half-asleep older boy that had given him the robe that weighed down on him, and the warmth that pressed against him. He fell asleep to a scent that didn't remind him of the desert, but he thought it may still remind him of home, and the sound of Obi-Wan breathing next to him.

It was enough.

Obi-Wan woke up with a rough groan and went to stretch, only to realize that he couldn't. He blinked, looking down to see Anakin who was covered in his robe and had latched himself onto him during the night, pressing close. For a moment Obi-Wan was unbearably confused, until he remembered waking up in the middle of the night because of a sudden feeling of need.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember, only to realize that Anakin had been cold. He had grabbed his robe, and upon realizing that he had nothing else to cover the small boy in, his first reflex had been to offer his own body heat. Obi-Wan found himself sighing at his half-asleep brain's problem solving, before carefully working a hand free to pet through Anakin's hair.

"Ani," he said softly, "Ani, wake up."

Anakin snuffled into his chest, before finally seeming to come awake. He pulled away immediately, turning beet red. Obi-Wan had to laugh.

"It's fine," he said. "We both apparently had a similar idea."

"Thank you," Anakin said, smiling ruefully. "I…slept well."

"Good," Obi-Wan grinned, "that's important at least." He stood up then, stretching. "Would you like to join me for some stretches?"

"Sure!" Anakin said, standing up. He looked up at Obi-Wan for guidance and Obi-Wan grinned before falling into the first pose of a stretch routine he had used for years. Anakin followed him, taking instruction well, letting Obi-Wan shift his form and his weight so he would get the most out of it. It was good. Obi-Wan had no doubt that Anakin - should he agree to learn how to be a Jedi - would be given much tutelage in his forms and stances. It was good that he was willing to learn and seemed more interested in getting things right than embarrassed he was getting things wrong.

It would help him, because Obi-Wan felt that he would get a lot of things wrong.

Anakin needed for that to be okay. He needed to be strong enough in himself that he would be alright with the mistakes he would make and would cling to his successes. Because Obi-Wan knew he would succeed, he'd work hard and he'd make it, he'd be a Jedi – if that was what he decided he wanted to do. It would just take time.

Obi-Wan guided Anakin through the stretches and then gathered their change of clothes. The droids had brought Anakin small garbs for a Jedi youngling while they cleaned his own, and Anakin stared at them in bafflement. Obi-Wan grinned, showing him how the layers worked, placing them in order and then handing them off to Anakin, who beamed at him.

They would change and then they would meet Qui-Gon for breakfast. He had no doubt that his Master would want to talk to them both.

Qui-Gon was waiting in the refectory for his soon-to-be-graduated Apprentice, and his potential new Apprentice. Qui-Gon had been thinking long into the night about what would happen if Anakin decided to not become a Jedi and had eventually decided that it was the Living Force that would ultimately decide what would happen. Qui-Gon would trust in this, but he would open himself up to answer whatever question the boy may ask.

Qui-Gon had every faith in Obi-Wan and had no doubt that he had already answered several questions that Anakin might have had. His Apprentice had been wise in his decision to offer the boy the opportunity to ask him questions. It would give Anakin a clearer understanding of what would happen and what it was like should he decide to become a Jedi.

Should he decide.

He caught sight of them coming up to him, Anakin wearing the traditional garb of a Jedi Initiate. Anakin beamed when he saw him, coming up to him quickly. The emotion swirling from him was contented, happy, and Qui-Gon smiled down at him, putting a hand on his head when he got close enough, ruffling his hair and causing Anakin to let out a huff, pulling away. The amusement rippling through him and the smile was enough to let him know it had not been taken offence to.

"Good morning," Qui-Gon said, nodding to them both. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

"Yes please," Anakin chirped, delight bubbling in his gaze. Qui-Gon smiled.

Breakfast was a mostly unremarkable affair, the only thing setting Qui-Gon's teeth on edge the sight of the Younglings and Initiates staring at Anakin. They knew that he was new, knew that they had not seen him before, and were wondering.

It was something Qui-Gon hadn't initially thought to worry about, but now that he saw it… Qui-Gon gave it to the Force, and turned his attention to Anakin, who hadn't seemed to notice, or if he had was doing a remarkable job at ignoring it.

Eventually they finished, giving their trays off to the droids to clean and left.

Anakin was staring around himself with wide eyes, a kind of amazed awe visible within him. Qui-Gon looked to Obi-Wan, who looked from Anakin to him and smirked.

"Would you like a tour?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes, please!" Anakin called out. "It's so big, do you know where all of it goes?"

Qui-Gon smiled, "I don't know if there's a Jedi alive that does."

"Really?" Anakin asked, his eyes wide. "Why?"

"The Temple has been in existence for more than four millennia," Qui-Gon explained. "The Jedi have been building and expanding upon it for about just as long. It grew as the City did." Qui-Gon smiled as he pulled out a holomap from a pouch on his belt. "It's why we carry these."

"Wizard," Anakin breathed.

"Some of us rely upon the Force to guide us, have utilized paths so many times that our signatures call to us, but that is not helpful if you wish to go somewhere you have not been," Qui-Gon explained. "Which is why a holomap is always a good thing to carry with you."

"Can you use signatures to follow other people?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon answered with a nod, smiling. "Everyone has a distinct signature in the Force, something that reads as them, which you can utilize to follow them."

"Is that true with people that can't utilize the Force at all?"

"It is," Qui-Gon answered with a nod. "The Force is in all living beings, connecting them together, binding, even if they do not have the ability to utilize it. Though, it is often fainter in the ones that are Force-Null."

Anakin nodded with a slight frown.

"Would you like to wander?"

Anakin hesitated, frowning. "Can…can we find the Slave?"

Qui-Gon paused for a moment, looking to Obi-Wan.

"He asked about him last night," Obi-Wan said.

"I am a bit surprised that you did not ask after your mother…" Qui-Gon mused thoughtfully. Anakin colored.

"We don't have a way to receive holocalls, sir," Anakin said softly, "and Watto wouldn't let her talk anyway, but…I can see him."

Qui-Gon took this in for a moment, before looking to Obi-Wan, his gaze sharp. Qui-Gon was going to speak to the Council tonight. There needed to be something that could be done about this, sooner rather than later. Qui-Gon had little doubt that Anakin's mother would always remain something in the background, always, so long as she remained enslaved and he remained free, and he had no desire to allow it to fester. If she was free, she could help her son with his choice.

If that meant that Shmi Skywalker brought the Chosen One back into her arms, then…Qui-Gon would trust in the Force.

"We can see him," Qui-Gon said instead of anything else, looking to Anakin. "From what I understand he has not talked to anyone, though you certainly got him to talk the last time."

"I'll do my best!"

"If you cannot, Anakin, do not feel as though you have failed," Qui-Gon cautioned. "He is no longer under the influence of the drugs that kept him pliable, so it is likely he shall be very different to the last time you saw him."

Anakin nodded.

That decided, Qui-Gon took them the long way through the Temple, telling Anakin what he was seeing as they headed towards the Sith Containment Chambers.

Maul sat in the middle of his cell, trying to meditate.

They'd brought him breakfast, which he had eaten, the Zabrak and some human female coming to watch him this time, attempting to get him to talk. He had a feeling that the Zabrak was there in order to consistently show him that the food was edible. The human wouldn't have been able to stomach the raw meats that they had brought him, though she was able to nibble on some of the fruits and take a sip of the drink they had brought him, but the Zabrak was able to take a bite, show him that it was safe.

There had been no blood in the meat, which had been expected, but there was still that bit of disappointment.

Maul focused on his frustration, his hatred and disgust with the Jedi that had spent the better part of the morning trying to get him to talk. He had nothing to say to them, and he never would. Weak and pathetic as they were…

The guards were easier to deal with. They didn't have any desire to talk to him, which suited him just fine. Just now they were outside of his cell on either side, waiting, their parodies of saberstaffs held at attention, ready.

The grip was so long it was practically better suited for a staff than a saberstaff, and he wondered how long the blades would be. Would they compensate for the longer grip with equally long blades, or would they sacrifice lethality for look?

Maul had stared at their ceremonial robes, their masks, and had to conclude that it would absolutely have been a sacrifice of lethality.

What was the point?

Which brought him back to meditation and how useless it was to him. Maul's connection to the Force was nonexistent and so, unable to feed all of his feelings into the Force, unable to bring it to a fever pitch, they almost hovered there, inert, useless.

Maul was filled with a growing and pointedly useless frustration.

And then he heard a voice. A voice that he recognized, and Maul's eyes flashed open to see the little brat that had claimed kindred with him, and Maul's lips curled into a sneer. The little brat would never be akin to him.

"Hello!"

Maul blinked, the sneer dying on his lips. The boy almost… Maul didn't know the word. Couldn't apply it to what he was seeing, the way that he walked right up to the ray shield and looked at him.

"Oh, were you meditating? I'm sorry, I know that's important, I can wait."

"He hasn't been meditating," one of the guards dismissed.

Maul hated them, but he also was not going to tell them otherwise.

It wasn't like it had been successful…

"Oh, good then," the boy sat down before him on the other side of the ray shield, smiling. Maul allowed himself to let go of any attempts to meditate, letting his focus slip away from him.

There was even less point than there had been before.

Maul then turned his attention to the two behind him and felt hatred rise in his gut, a snarl pulling at his lips as he saw the Master and his brat that had led to this farce, baring his fangs.

"Hello to you, too," the brat said, and Maul allowed his lip to curl more. "That's actually quite impressive," he said, sitting down next to the smaller brat. "I've never seen Master Koth manage a glare like that, and he's Zabrak as well. Though I suppose your tattoos make it more…distinctive. And the eyes, too, really."

Maul said nothing.

"Your tattoos are really cool," the smaller brat said, and Maul refused to let the confusion he felt be visible on his face. "They have to have hurt, though." His small face almost seemed to squish in…something, and Maul found his snarl leaving him if only in plain confusion. "Do they go everywhere?"

Maul said nothing.

"Are you red with black tattoos or black with red tattoos?" the brat asked, an eyebrow rising. "I must admit I can't tell."

Maul said nothing.

"What do you think, Anakin?"

The smaller brat's eyes widened, before he turned to Maul with what might have been apologetic eyes.

"That doesn't seem right to guess, Obi-Wan, what if it's a cultural thing?"

"Oh, you're quite right, my mistake," the brat said, and there was something…genuine within the words. "I had not meant offence, merely…" he hesitated, his gaze turning significant as he stared at him, "making conversation."

Maul's chin tilted up, his gaze darkening. Oh. He knew the game. The brat was planning on being deliberately annoying. Baiting him into talking. There was a likelihood that he thought that Maul would be loose lipped when met with annoyance. But Maul no longer had drugs rushing through his system on top of the terrible feeling of being stripped from the Force. Maul could withstand this. He could withstand anything this brat thought he could subject him to.

Particularly if he was worried about offending him.

Maul would not talk. Not to him or to any of the other Jedi that entered here.

They did not know what he had been subjected to. It would take more than this to break him.

And he would be ready when they switched to more, would be ready when they decided they had tired of waiting and were willing to utilize more extensive measures, more bloody measures. Maul would not bend.

Maul knew of what had happened to Darth Revan. Knew of the brainwashing and the breaking that the Jedi had subjected him to, the way they had eventually pulled him to the Light.

Maul was not Revan. Maul would not be swayed.

"Did they heal you?" the smaller brat asked. "You looked like you…what did you do?" he asked, his head tilting, large eyes boring into his. "There was…something behind that scream you did, but I've never seen a Jedi do it."

Maul rolled his eyes even as the brat turned to the smaller brat.

"That's a Sith technique, Anakin," the brat explained. "It's known as a Sith Scream, I believe, so what it is and who invented it is right in the title," he grinned, and the smaller brat laughed. "From…what I understand it's meant to build power, a sudden release of emotions all at once, fueling their next attack. Is that correct, Master?"

"I believe the one most qualified to explain the technique is there," the Master-without-Honor said then, dipping his bearded chin in Maul's direction. "But from my understanding it is something like that. Do you have any specifics? I am mildly surprised that the collar would have reacted the way it did if it was only a boost. Is there another way that it can be utilized?"

Maul said nothing.

The Master-without-Honor dipped his head in acknowledgement of his silence, before looking at his brat with a slightly apologetic shrug. "I do not know. Perhaps you can pair it with something else."

Maul said nothing.

"Oh," the brat said then, "I just realized, I never told you my name, that was very rude of me. Immediately asking you all these questions and not giving you an idea of who you're talking to. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"I'm Anakin Skywalker," the smaller brat said then, smiling at him widely.

"Qui-Gon Jinn," the Master-without-Honor said with a much gentler smile. "Would you give us your name?"

"Please," the smaller brat added, and his expression was almost pleading. "I don't…I want to know what to call you, so I don't call you something you won't like. But I can't think of what else you are."

Maul said nothing.

But in that moment rage welled up within him, so angry, so violent it nearly consumed him. Who did this brat think he was? Calling him something he was not. He was Sith, he was Power. The ones who had made him slave were these Jedi. The ones that captured him behind a ray shield, that collared him like some pet.

Maul was no one's slave and he was no one's pet.

In that moment Maul decided he didn't care to hear what else they had to say, and stood, turning his back on them and leaving to the farthest corner of the cell. He dropped to his knees once again, closing his eyes, and tried to focus on the rage.

He would meditate, even if it was worthless.

Anakin was full of desperate hurt, his fingers balling into fists on his pants as he stared at the Slave that had just turned his back.

He hadn't expected much else, really, but it still hurt. Anakin knew the kind of Slave he was looking at, had seen them when they became too broken to do their jobs, when they were thrown out by their Masters to either be killed or worse. Remembered the times when his mother would bring them in the night, had seen the way that they were coaxed from their knowledge of violence and death slowly but surely, given kindness and love with a strength equal to their violence.

These Slaves that acted as gladiators or warriors, that fought for the amusement of their Masters who sneered at them and laughed and called for more blood even when they were still bleeding.

Anakin had seen some of those fights when he was still with Gardulla, and they had been horrifying, a sick feeling rising in his stomach at the thought.

But Anakin remembered his mother, remembered the words of the other Slaves, the others like him, and knew that the only way to help these broken warriors, these castaway broken men and women, was patience and kindness.

And a lot of soup.

Anakin found himself desperately wondering at the recipe that had been used, the one that his mom had sworn by, and once again found himself with that lurching in his chest at the thought of his mother. She would know the recipe, and he wanted to get it from her, but there was no way for him to contact her. Anakin closed his eyes, bowing his head, and let out a quiet sigh.

"Come on, Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently, brushing his shoulder, and Anakin nodded, standing up and following the other two out.

Their presence was warm and solid, hemming him in, reminding him that he was still with people that cared.

"Come," Qui-Gon said then, and Obi-Wan veered to follow his Master.

Anakin thought about it, watching the way Obi-Wan walked alongside him. There was no one in front of the other, no hint that Qui-Gon was the Master in their relationship, outside from the fact that he had listened, and he supposed the braid had to mark him as a learner, but that was physical, that didn't count as much. Stance and attitude and placement were the true indications of who was Master, and they walked in line. But wasn't that what Obi-Wan had said? The fact that their orders were meant to be helpful, and all came from a place of granting more power?

Obi-Wan was to be Knighted. He was to become his Master's equal.

Anakin thought of the Slave in the prison and wondered when he would be rendered equal.

They walked in silence through the Temple, heading towards the dormitory area that Anakin remembered from last night, but turning in a different direction. He wondered if these were the Knight's quarters, and then he had to decide that they were upon seeing the room Qui-Gon entered.

It was bigger than Obi-Wan's, filled with items that looked like they came from every corner of the galaxy, as well as a small kitchenette. Qui-Gon waved a hand towards it, and Obi-Wan immediately walked over to it.

"Would you like to help him?" Qui-Gon asked, looking to Anakin, and Anakin blinked, before immediately going over.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Making tea," Obi-Wan answered with a smile, pouring water into a kettle from the small faucet. "Have you ever had it?"

Anakin shook his head, though the concept was familiar, he hadn't had anything like what was being shown to him. Taking in the dried leaves in their boxes that Obi-Wan indicated, he had to assume it was a bit like the fruits they would boil in water, splitting them and pulping them, but there was a certain expense for that kind of vegetation that they often didn't have. Obi-Wan handed the kettle to him and Anakin set it down where he indicated, flicking the switch to start it boiling. Obi-Wan brought out a box, showing him the leaves that were inside of it, told him what they were, and helped him scoop out a small measure into three strainers, which he placed in three cups. The kettle clicked as the water finished boiling and Obi-Wan gestured for him to pour the water into them, and he did so, carefully doing his best to not spill a single drop.

When they had finished pouring, he moved them onto a tray Obi-Wan brought over and took them over to where Qui-Gon was sitting patiently, cross-legged on a mat with a small table before him. They moved to sit on the other side of them, and Anakin found himself relaxing as the tea was placed before them, a cup offered to each of them.

"Wait for it to brew," Obi-Wan said with a smile, before Anakin could blow on it to cool it and take a sip.

Anakin nodded, but still found himself holding the warmth in his hands, letting it seep into his bones.

"How do you feel?" Qui-Gon asked, and Anakin blinked, surprised, before finding himself turning his attention inward.

"Better, sir," he said, his voice heavy with shock, his eyes widening at the realization.

"Good," Qui-Gon said softly, his mouth pulling in a small smile.

"He does this to me all the time," Obi-Wan said, and there was a smile on his face, and Anakin once again found himself remembering how the orders were meant to help.

He thought he was beginning to understand.

There was a pause as they allowed Anakin to take this in before Qui-Gon looked to Anakin. "I'm going to propose to the Council that I should be sent to free your mother today," he said.

Anakin nearly dropped the teacup.

"I want you to understand that I will be unlikely to be sent immediately, in fact I most definitely will not be, at least not today. Outside of the fact that we must find some way to get the money necessary to purchase her, I will need to get a ship that can take me to Tatooine."

Anakin stared at him with wide eyes, taking this in.

"If you would like to go with me, I will also petition for this, but the Council will likely be a bit hesitant due to you still considering to be a Jedi. Even if this is the case, I promise that I will let your mother contact you, even if it is not in person. Do you think your mother is likely to leave Tatooine for Coruscant?"

Anakin paused, thinking, his head lowering slowly as he thought, thinking of her words, remembering the way she said her future was in Tatooine, and in that one moment he found himself shaking his head. If his mother had her freedom, she would use it to bring freedom to the others, just like…just like Anakin would eventually bring freedom to his people. "I don't think so," he answered. "I think she'd stay…she…there would be so much more that she could do…"

"I agree," Qui-Gon said finally, softly. "Your mother is a wise and very capable woman." Anakin found himself smiling. "Anakin, if I am to do this, and you decide to not go with me, would there be something you wish? Something that I could get you?"

"Ask…" Anakin took a breath, "ask my mom about the Liquor of the Sands," he said. "She'll know what that means and…ask her specifically for…you said that the Slave's carnivorous?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon responded with a nod.

"Ask her for that specifically."

The recipe would be his mother's presence, her gift something that would free another, and he could still use. She would approve.

"I shall," Qui-Gon answered with a nod. "Your tea is steeped enough."

Anakin removed the strainer, shaking the excess liquid from it into the cup and putting it to the side, watching the other two do the same and carefully sipped at it. The flavor was mild, hardly noticeable, but it was warm, and it filled him in a way he didn't expect.

He wondered if it was the tea or the company.

For a moment he thought of speaking of the runaway trails, of the Slaves that escaped and how the Order could join with helping them.

But that was a secret for another time.

There was a part of him that was not quite ready yet to trust. Not with that. Not yet.

And the fact that the thought ended with 'yet' made a small part of him swell with something that might have been hope.

Qui-Gon stood before the council, his hands folded into his robe as he made his case.

They listened, quietly taking everything in, before finally, quietly, "The Council agrees with you that freeing Shmi Skywalker needs to be done for Anakin Skywalker to focus on learning to be a Jedi. We also agree that to let her remain in bondage would be wrong and against our ethics," Master Windu said, a finger rubbing his temple as though he had a headache. "You do not need to convince us of this, and you know it. We already talked to Anakin about how we planned to free her."

Qui-Gon's mouth quirked slightly and he bowed.

"The problems we now have to solve involves with what," Master Mundi said.

"If they will not accept Republic Credits then this really could be a great issue," Master Koon said, lacing his fingers together. "We do not have much to barter with of value that is potentially of value, and appealing the Senate…"

There was a weighty silence between them.

"Perhaps…" Qui-Gon started softly, frowning, "Perhaps we could make an appeal to someone else."

"Who?"

"Queen Amidala."

"Her world is still recovering from the battle with the Trade Federation. The loss of life…" they trailed off.

"This is true," Qui-Gon agreed, "but if it is given as a request to free the mother of the boy that saved Naboo… I have little doubt that Queen Amidala will be very willing. I believe she has the means, what she will not have is the men. If I volunteer to do it, it will remove that from being a further burden. She would be able to focus upon her people and I would be able to absolve a debt."

There was a long pause.

"Ask, you may," Master Yoda said. "Think on this more, we also shall. Ideas have you, bring them."

"But Qui-Gon," Master Windu added quietly, "if we can think of nothing, ask after your Apprentice is Knighted. Give her more time to bring everything together. I do not wish to pressure her."

"Agreed, Masters," Qui-Gon said, falling into a bow. "I will tell the boy."

They dismissed him, and Qui-Gon immediately went to tell Anakin of the news. After comming Obi-Wan he discovered that the two of them had moved to the Jedi Archives. Obi-Wan mumbled something about giving Anakin access to some of their history so he knew more of what they were involved with. Their giving of knowledge, even if it was to a boy that was technically still an outsider, would be accepted if only due to the fact that the Jedi Order still valued knowledge and the sharing of such.

As it was, Qui-Gon walked to the Archives, appraising some of the tapestries and the pottery in ways he had not.

Qui-Gon had had no experience in the acquiring of Slaves before Anakin. He did not know what proper collateral would be, and he supposed that was the main problem.

He would ask Anakin. There was a possibility that they were overlooking the obvious.

Anakin turned to look at him when he found Anakin and Obi-Wan in the archives, the two of them immediately turning their focus entirely to him. "The Council is in agreement. At the moment what we are discussing is finding something to barter. We have Republic Credits and we do not have access to Wupuipi, so our ability to buy her in hard currency is unlikely." Qui-Gon paused, frowning, "Anakin, would Watto accept a trade? Do you think that the Jedi have something that he would want?"

Anakin blinked at him, wide eyed.

"The Jedi are not used to buying slaves," Qui-Gon's voice was calm, even as he saw the way Anakin frowned, a thoughtful look in his gaze. "We do not know what would work, though if we can find enough for a trade within these walls then it will make things easier. If, however, you think that we do not have what would work, I am planning, and the Council has given me permission, to contact Queen Amidala, though I would prefer to give her and her people more time to recover. Do you think your mother would be okay if we waited?"

"Yes," Anakin said immediately, looking up at him. "I know she will," Anakin nodded.

"Good," Qui-Gon sighed. "Your insight will likely be appreciated with the Queen as well, should it come to it. I do not know what Watto will accept."

Anakin nodded, swallowing, "Will…will I come with you to choose?"

"I believe that a holocall will be utilized," Qui-Gon denied gently. "But I see no reason for you to not be in contact."

"Thank you," Anakin said softly.

"No," Qui-Gon shook his head, "Thank you. For trusting us and allowing us to do this."

Anakin didn't know what to say.

In his wildest dreams he had never expected for this to happen to him. Anakin had been content with letting them free his mom, for he had little doubt that that was exactly what Qui-Gon would do as soon as Shmi had been 'bought.' Anakin had been content with his own status of being freed, his own skills having freed him. To be able to help the Jedi in their quest to free his mom was liberating in a way he did not think they would understand, even if it was just by helping them figure out what to use to buy her.

There was something funny about that, funny about the way Qui-Gon had admitted they didn't have any experience buying slaves. In a way, although Qui-Gon had brokered the deal, Anakin's skills had won his own freedom. Now, they were asking Anakin for the ability to grant further freedom to his mother. It caused a bright warmth to flare in his chest, and Anakin had to smile.

"You're welcome," he finally said, and Qui-Gon smiled at him.

It was as they began walking through what Anakin had initially considered to be a palace, he began to realize that while there was surprisingly little that would actually be considered useful. The art was all based heavily on Jedi teachings, and what might have been useful turned out most of the time to be simply too big. Or, there was potentially something good that could be melted down, but that became a pain and a half.

Anakin was rather shocked to realize that their vast resources turned out to be more utilitarian than he had expected. Qui-Gon seemed to be one of the few Masters that actually spent his time collecting stuff, and Anakin found himself standing in a Temple that went for literally a kilometer down with next to nothing to show for it.

They had rolled carpets, some of the tapestries that showed their history… A few droids, certainly, and they had been surrendered without fuss as they had several others to take their place, and they were discussing the possibility of giving one of their ships, but… Anakin wondered what sort of price Watto would ask, and he knew that a lot of the market came from selling their objects, and then there was the possibility that they would have to go to another dealer to fence the objects into something useable.

The fear that rose within him at the idea that Watto would not accept a trade was enough to cause him to look to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon looked at him for a long moment, looked to what they had gathered and kneeled to face him. "I will talk to the Queen," he said softly. "We will free your mother, Anakin. We…" Qui-Gon hesitated. "If I had my way, I would make it so Watto was unable to purchase another. We will need to be careful with what he is given."

Anakin nodded, and took a breath. He believed that they would find a way to do the right thing. He believed that they would find a way to free his mother.

Anakin hoped dearly that there would not be another to take her place.