Disclaimer: In no way at all do I own any of the original character, locations, ships, or anything else mentioned in Star Wars. They are all owned by George Lucas. I only own my OC. Any similarities between this story and another are purely accidental.

A/N: Yay! The beginning of Attack of the Clones! You know, it's funny cos I never thought I'd actually get this far. Also, the dialogue between Lyra and Watto in this chapter is taken from the conversation Ani had with Watto when he and Padmé when to Tatooine.

Black's Phoenix: I'm not really good with drama, so I often botch scenes like that. I'm glad you liked how Lyra and Ani talked with each other.

jedimasterobi-wankenobi: Hey Trish! I'm online!

Manson: I've rendered someone speechless! Yay!

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Ten years later…

Lyra walked through the streets of Mos Espa, the wind slightly billowing the hem of her dark cloak. A wry smile curled her lips as she noticed an older Sebulba surrounded by a circle of friends and bragging about past race wins.

It's good to know things haven't changed, she thought dryly, noting her own changes. She had matured from the temperamental, irrational, and blithe Padawan into a calm, logical, and stoic Jedi Master.

One thing had not changed though. Lyra still missed her family, and the longing to see them grew more intense as each day passed. Her cousin, Bail Organa, had picked up on this, and so allowed her to take a leave of absence to Tatooine.

Coming out of her thoughts, Lyra noticed that Watto's junkyard was straight ahead. Quickly crossing the street, she stopped at the front of the shop, where he was fiddling with a dilapidated droid.

"Chut, chut, Watto," Lyra said. Excuse me, Watto.

Watto looked up from the droid. "Ke booda!" he demanded. What!

Lyra restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "Ding mi chasa hopa," she said, taking the droid from him. Let me help you with that. She flipped open the top, adjusted some wiring, and dropped it back in the Toydarian's lap, completely repaired.

A shocked look suddenly spread over Watto's face. "Kin chasa du Jedi," he said in a panicked tone. "No bana tutu." You look like a Jedi! Whatever it is, I didn't do it.

Lyra suppressed a smirk. "Mi boska di Shmi Skywalker." I'm looking for Shmi Skywalker.

Watto remained silent, staring blankly at Lyra. Finally, a look of recognition appeared on his face. "Lyra? Little Lyra? Look at you! A Jedi now, eh? Maybe you could help me with some deadbeats who owe me money…"

She rolled her eyes. "Where is Shmi?" she repeated.

"She's not mine no more," said Watto. "I sold her years ago to a moisture farmer named Cleg Lars. He lives on the outskirts of Mos Espa. Shouldn't be hard to find."

Lyra inclined her head and walked off. "Thanks, Watto," she called, tossing a small pouch of coins to the Toydarian, who eagerly caught it and began counting the money.

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Lyra pulled her speeder to a stop on a bluff, overlooking what she assumed was the Lars homestead. She exited the speeder, starting down the trail that led to the small farm.

As she approached, she was greeted by a protocol droid with dull gray coverings. "Hello," said the droid. "How might I be of service? I am C—"

"3PO?" finished Lyra, smiling.

3PO gaped at her. "Oh my…a maker!" he shouted. "Miss Lyra, it is so good to see you! Bless my circuits, I knew you'd come back!"

Lyra laughed, patting the droid's arm. "It's good to see you too, 3PO," she said before adding, "Is Shmi here? I'd like to see her."

3PO nodded. "Of course, of course, Miss Lyra. This way."

Lyra followed 3PO into the small dwelling, ducking her head at the entrance. The droid led her into the kitchen, where a dark-haired middle-aged woman was cooking dinner.

"Miss Shmi, someone wishes to see you," said 3PO.

Shmi turned around, a spark of recognition lighting her eyes. "Lyra!" she cried, overjoyed. Her arms went around Lyra's lithe form. "I'm so happy to see you! When did you get here?"

Lyra hugged Shmi back. "I'm happy to see you too," she said as she pulled away, still smiling.

"How's Anakin?" Shmi asked, gripping Lyra's shoulders. "Did they let him train? Is he alright?"

"He's fine, Shmi," assured Lyra. "They let him train. He's going to be a Jedi."

A smile broke out on Shmi's face. "I'm so glad. It was his greatest dream." She paused for a moment before speaking again. "What about you? Are you a Jedi as well?"

"Yes. The Jedi Council—"

A young blonde woman entered the room, interrupting Lyra. "Shmi, Owen and Cleg are…" She trailed off upon seeing Lyra in the room.

"Beru, I would like you to meet someone," Shmi said, getting up and pulling the girl into the room. "Beru, this is Lyra Sanome, a friend of mine. Lyra, this is Beru."

Lyra smiled amicably. "A pleasure to meet you, Beru," she said.

"Now, what were you saying, dear?" asked Shmi.

"Owen and Cleg are back from Mos Espa," replied Beru.

Shmi filled some bowls with soup she had been cooking, placed them on a tray, and handed it to Beru. "Bring this to the table," she said. "I'm sure they're hungry."

Beru nodded, taking the tray and disappearing through the door.

Once Beru was gone, Lyra looked at Shmi inquisitively. "Who exactly is Owen and Cleg?" she asked.

To her surprise, Shmi blushed. "Cleg Lars," she said, "is my husband. Owen is our son."

"I thought he was your owner," said Lyra.

"He was," said Shmi, taking Lyra's hand and leading her to the door Beru exited through. "He freed me, then married me."

Lyra grinned. "Love, true love," she said in a sing-song voice, making Shmi glare at her. But the older woman had no time to say anything, as they had reached the dining room.

Besides Beru, seated at the table were two men. One was a dark-haired young man, the other an older man with a missing leg.

"Cleg, Owen, this is Lyra Sanome," Shmi introduced once more, "an old friend. May she stay for a few days? It's been a long time since we last saw each other."

Cleg nodded. "Of course," he replied affably. "Any friend of Shmi is a friend of ours."

Lyra smiled. "Thank you," she replied.