MOS ESPA

Mos Espa was exactly as Anakin remembered it – dull, brown and covered in disgustingly coarse sand.

He made his way quickly through the dusty streets to Watto's shop. Obi-Wan was amused to find himself feeling like a Padawan as he followed. He was less amused to realise that Anakin was as tall as he was. It seemed his apprentice was growing up faster than he had realised.

Watto had been doing well, it seemed – the shop had been expanded in the years since Anakin's departure. "Achuta, Watto," Anakin called out as he stepped into the cool interior of the shop. Obi-Wan moved further into the shop, apparently browsing the parts, but actually just giving Anakin the space to act on his own.

"Chowbasa," responded the little alien as he came fluttering out from behind the counter. "Have we met before?"

Anakin gave a humourless smile, but no direct answer. "I'm looking for Shmi Skywalker."

Something changed in Watto's manner. Obi-Wan felt the Force flicker with a warning – not of danger, but to be wary. Obi-Wan straightened from his examination of a droid arm and turned, making his way back to Anakin's side.

"Who's asking?"

Anakin tilted his head a little. "You really don't recognise me, Watto?" The note of derision that had crept into his tone was not appropriate for a Jedi, as Obi-Wan's raised eyebrow reminded him. Anakin took a deep breath, reminding himself that Watto had not been a bad master, as slave owners went. "I want to see my mother, Watto."

There. That had been calm and collected. There was almost no hint of the frustration bubbling up inside him.

It was the sand. All the sand was bringing the memory of his dreams to the fore. He could almost hear Shmi's voice calling for him again.

The sight of recognition dawning on Watto's blue face would have been amusing under any other circumstance. "Ani? Little Ani?" The Toydarian flew in a circle around the young Jedi, marvelling at his growth. "Ya sure sprouted! Weehoo! And a Jedi!" Finally, he looked at Obi-Wan. "So that makes you...?"

"His teacher," Obi-Wan acknowledged, allowing himself a small, proud smile.

Anakin had no time for polite conversation. Now that he was so close, he could feel the dream pulling him out toward the desert. "My mother?" he asked again, a growl creeping in to his voice. He felt Obi-Wan's hand rest lightly on his shoulder, and reached for the Force to give him patience.

Watto was fluttering backwards towards the counter. "Shmi's not mine no more. I sold her."

Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin's shoulder briefly when he felt a tremor of anger and fear breach his Padawan's shields. "To whom did you sell her?" he asked, stepping forward, to give the younger Jedi time to compose himself.

"A moisture farmer named Lars. Least, I think it was Lars." The Toydarian was reaching for a book from a shelf high on the shop's back wall. "Years ago, it was.

Anakin looked truly furious. Watto found himself taken aback by it when he fluttered down to eye level again. "Sorry, Ani, but you know, business is business. Believe it or not, I heard Lars freed her and married her. Can ya beat that?"

'Release your emotions into the Force.' Anakin couldn't tell if it was Obi-Wan, speaking to him through their bond, or if he had just heard the phrase so many times his brain could only repeat it in Obi-Wan's voice. Either way, it was sound advice. He closed his eyes, letting the Force wash over him. Vaguely, he could hear Obi-Wan and Watto still talking.

He opened his eyes again, feeling much calmer, when Obi-Wan nudged him through their bond. "Would you mind repeating those directions again?" his master asked, and the Toydarian nodded obligingly.

LARS' MOISTURE FARM, OUTSIDE MOS EISLEY

There was no movement in the homestead as Anakin and Obi-Wan approached. The stillness was almost unsettling.

"Hello?" Obi-Wan called out, sensing the tension in Anakin. Something was clearly wrong, but the Force wasn't warning of danger here.

A young, sandy-haired woman came hurtling out of the house, looking eager and hopeful, and shouting "Owen?" She froze when she realised the visitors were not who she was expecting. "Oh. Um. Hello. I'm Beru Whitesun. Are you looking for Cliegg Lars?"

"I'm looking for Shmi Skywalker. She is my mother."

Beru's jaw dropped, and for a moment she just stared at the Jedi, before seeming to shake herself. "You're Anakin. Oh, poodoo!" She cast around, as though hoping someone else would appear. "You – you'd better come inside. I'll try to get them on the comm."

Soon they were seated at a kitchen table, watching with varying degrees of calmness as Beru fiddled with a transmitter. "Owen? Owen, can you hear me? It's Beru. Anakin is here. I don't know how, but he's here..."

It would take a few hours for Owen to return. It took much less time for Obi-Wan, with quiet words and much patience as they all sat around the table, to convince Beru to explain. Anakin sat, hands clenched, glaring down at the table top as the story unfolded. He was a child of the desert. He knew the stories as well as anyone. Be a good little child and do as you're told, or the Sand People will come for you... You're lucky if they kill you quickly. If you survive the first day, you'll wish you hadn't. If you survive the first day, you won't survive the week.

His mother had been taken three days ago, and still no one had found her.

"I'm going to find her," Anakin announced, leaping to his feet. In his haste, he knocked his chair backwards. It landed with a crash, making Beru jump and cry out.

"No."

Obi-Wan stood more slowly, and calmly met Anakin's blue eyes.

"Master, you don't understand!" There was anguish and fear in his pupil's voice, but no anger. "They won't just kill her – that would be a mercy! They're monsters! They're torturing her, right now!"

"Calm, Padawan. We will go to find her. Together."

And of course Anakin looked shocked. He still wasn't good at thinking ahead, planning and coordinating with others. The boy was such a hero – Obi-Wan would have to train that out of him if he were to survive past thirty.

"First you must calm yourself, Padawan. How will you be able to hear the Force over the sound of your fear?"

Obi-Wan was surprised to see tears in Anakin's eyes for the second time in as many days. "I love her, Master. How can I be calm when she's in danger?"

There was the core of Anakin's personality, laid out for all to see – to those he loved, he gave himself completely. He would do all he could to protect them, but panic short-circuited his brain and made him hasty.

"Open yourself to the Force, Anakin. Sit." A gesture returned Anakin's chair to its upright position once more, but his Padawan remained standing. "Meditate. I know you don't think you can," Obi-Wan raised a hand to forestall the protestations of disbelief that were written all over Anakin's expression. "Trust me."

Beru watched in astonishment as her future brother-in-law sank into his chair, breathed a resigned sigh, and closed his eyes. After a few seconds of unabashed staring, she turned and found herself caught by the older Jedi's crystal blue eyes. She felt her cheeks flushing, although she wasn't sure why. "Master Kenobi?" She was absurdly proud of herself for not stammering.

"You said that the search party has taken all the speeders in the area, is that correct?"

Beru nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Then we must wait for someone to return. Yes, Anakin?"

The blond nodded, though he kept his eyes closed. "Yes, Master," he said tonelessly.

Obi-Wan turned back to Beru with a kind smile. "Don't let us keep you from your duties, Miss Beru. We can remain here and prepare."

She nodded and rose awkwardly to her feet. "Yes. Um. Alright. I'll go..." It took her a moment to remember what she'd been doing before the Jedi had arrived. "Clean. Yes, that was it." Then she hurried away, casting an uncertain glance over her shoulder. It didn't occur to her to wonder at how smoothly she had been dismissed in a place she thought of almost as home.

Once Beru was gone, Obi-Wan moved to stand behind Anakin, resting his hands on the younger man's shoulders. Closing his eyes, he opened himself to the Force.

Anakin always shone in the Force, though his anxiety for his mother seemed to have dimmed his brightness.

'Can you hear me, Padawan?'

'Yes, Master.'

His mental voice certainly sounded calmer, which was a step in the right direction.

'Good. Do you sense your mother?'

'Of course.' Anakin shared his mother's Force signature, and suddenly Obi-Wan was aware of it everywhere. The kitchen in which they sat was clearly Shmi's domain, as the Force here resonated with her echo – at least to her son's senses.

'Reach beyond these walls. Find the path she took.'

Anakin's mental probes stretched out in all directions. Obi-Wan felt a pang in his chest and quickly shielded his wish that Qui-Gon could be there. Thoughts of his Master had grown less painful over the last ten years, but sadness would still strike him at odd moments. Master Qui-Gon Jinn, disciple of the Living Force, would have known exactly how to teach this search technique to Anakin.

Fortunately, desperation was a good motivator. 'Master, I've found her!'