Peter was ordinary, to say the least. He grew up with six brothers and three sisters, and there was no distinguishing him from anyone else. His mother died young; his sisters were the ones who ran the household while the brothers farmed. He was strong, but no stronger than any of his brothers. And he was disposable. Once his father remarried and had a son by his new wife, he knew it was time to go. His sisters had all married; most of his brothers had moved on to find their fortunes elsewhere. And so Peter followed them to Coruscant.

He found his fortune there in the form of a woman. She was strong-willed and lovely and they married. That was when he opened his newspaper stand in front of the Senate Building, so they could eat. She died too quickly, and broke Peter's heart, but he still needed to eat. Ten years later, he was still running this stand, selling his papers to Senators and commoners alike.

Jedi were an uncommon sight near the Senate Building. They walked by it occasionally, but never in all his years had Peter seen one walk in. It was a great surprise then to see a wary-looking Jedi and his seemingly more friendly Padawan Learner were lingering around the area—talking, even. Peter was no eavesdropper, but they were close enough and no one bothered to keep their voices down.

"Anakin," said the suspicious Jedi Master, sharply.

"Yes, Master?" his sandy-haired Padawan asked in the high, cocky voice of a young boy.

"Wait here," the cold Jedi Master told him, "by this stand." He pointed to Peter's newspaper concession. "I have business here at the Senate building. I will return to you shortly."

The Padawan was grinning. When he grinned, his blue eyes sparkled. "Yes, Master," he said contritely, and gave a little half-bow.

"You will not talk to anyone," the Jedi Master commanded.

"I know, Master," the Padawan replied, as if he had heard this a thousand times.

With a final warning glance, the Master took off brusquely, climbing the steps two at a time. As soon as he was safely inside the building, however, the Padawan approached Peter's stand.

"Hello," he said brightly. "I'm Anakin."

The boy seemed kind, and a bit unfortunate as well. His robes were wool and tearing and he looked very cold. Pity nearly took over, before Peter saw the lightsaber hanging at the boy's side. "I-I didn't k-know P-Padawans carried s-sabers, y-young Master," he stammered.

"I'm not a Master," Anakin said. "I'm too young to be a Master. Master Obi-Wan says I won't be ready for the trials for years and years." He looked at Peter, whose gaze was still transfixed on the saber at his side. "I won't hurt you with the saber, I promise," young Anakin assured him. "I know you're scared of it, aren't you? Most Padawans don't carry sabers, but Master Yoda told Master Obi-Wan that I'm good enough."

"Y-you seem very skilled," was all Peter could say. Anakin's rapid speech was difficult to follow.

"I am," Anakin informed him. "Everyone says so; all the Masters and the Padawans. The new younglings think so too, but they don't know anything." He paused. "What is your name? What do you sell?"

"I am Peter." He managed a smile. "I sell newspapers."

"Newspapers?" exclaimed Anakin with reverence. "I haven't read a newspaper in so long."

A heedless daring took ahold of Peter. "Would you like to read one?" he asked. "Quickly, before your Master returns?"

Anakin smiled. "I would love to," he said. "I love newspapers, any newspaper."

Peter handed him the day's copy of the Coruscant Journal, which had a picture of the beautiful Senator from Naboo on the cover. Her name was Padme Amidala, and the fire in her brown eyes reminded him of his wife's, before she died. From what Peter read, he knew that Amidala had worked hard to pass some new legislature and was receiving many honors and awards for her diligence.

Anakin stared at the picture with his mouth open. "That's Padme," he said after a while.

"Yes, the famous Senator," Peter replied. "Do you know her?" The question was only courtesy. He had heard that the Jedi had a deep-rooted distrust of politicians, and so it wasn't likely that the two had met.

But the little Padawan nodded. "I met her two years ago," he said, "on Tatooine. She's so beautiful, isn't she?"

Peter nodded. "I think so."

"I'm going to marry her one day," the little boy said confidently.

"The Jedi don't marry." Peter didn't know what compelled him to be so blunt.

Anakin waved this away as a minor detail. "She's an angel," he said instead.

Like my wife once was, thought Peter. She had died giving birth to a little girl with brown eyes.

"My Master will be coming soon," Anakin continued. He handed the paper back to Peter. "May the Force be with you." Those blue eyes were sparkling again.

Peter took the paper. "And with you," he answered, but by then Anakin was gone.