Dear readers;

Hello again, and once more I apologize for this taking so long between chapters. The next few bits will wrap this part of the story, but there will be more to come. After all, there's still Shmi to consider and Anakin has to face the most fearsome opponent of all – adolescence.

As it comes, so I will post.

Thanks for putting up with my RL stuff, other projects and all that - and please let me know what you think!

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Some Other Future's Past

Chapter 15

~

It was a very good plan, Chaawushro had to give it that. To use tradition to free a most untraditional Jedi had a pleasing irony, as well. However…

"You are not well. Understand, though you gain strength rapidly, you also lose it rapidly – unless you rest, unless you are fully rested, you might well be on the floor before you can call your Question." The red-furred Wookie shook a clawed finger under Obi-Wan's nose. "I do not heal my patients to go into harm, nor would the fierce cub who protects you be pleased at being left behind."

Obi-Wan was trying to ignore the fact that Rabé – the aforementioned fierce cub – was in the room, fuming off to one side and shooting glares that should have left the scent of scorched ozone in their wake.

Obi-Wan was going to the Convocation and every Jedi under Naboo's roof, every padawan, every knight and master was going with him. Over three hundred strong, all of whom wanted to do the same as Obi-Wan – to ask a question that only Qui-Gon Jinn could answer.

It was a hard thing for Obi-Wan to do, to lead them. When it had been only him to ask the question, he had looked forward to the challenge with a grim anticipation. Now that people intended to follow him, the young Jedi felt guilt. How could he not? He was about to take the order he loved, drive a wedge into its very heart and split it asunder.

Chaawushro continued, "I will agree to your going, if and only if you rest deeply for today and tomorrow, and if – "

Rabé pirated the space after the 'if,' "You take me, Chaawushro and the handmaidens with you."

"Out of the bloody question." Obi-Wan blinked as if surprised at his own vehemence and modulated his tone, "Not that you and the others are not capable, not that you are not discreet, but we are going into a temple – not a brawl."

Chaawushro spoke over the top of Rabé's reply, giving the girl an admonishing look. "And I want you to leave the small cub behind."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Anakin? Why?"

"Some cubs have made an art of finding trouble. You padawan, Anakin, is one such." The Wookie sighed,  "The cub is wild, but worse, he is fearless. He has fears, yes, I know, but for his own safety, there is none. There are those who would harm him, even within the temple, while you are distracted. Leave him here."

Obi-Wan was silent for a time. "I would like to think that he would obey such an order, yet I am having a hard time convincing myself of it."

Rabé snorted, "Either lock him in or give him to Eritaé, she can handle anything that he can come up with. You have to meet her brothers some time, Obi-Wan."

"The fierce cub speaks with wisdom, Jedi Knight." Chaawushro kept her tone light, but did not soften the rebuke. "Wisdom is rare, so take the gift when it is so freely offered."

Obi-Wan graced the healer with a wry look, and then bowed as best he could from bed. "I am informed that you are as wise as you are brave and gallant, oh handmaiden. It shall be as you desire."

Again a snort, but with a pleased smile, "About time you noticed, oh wise Jedi. And you've even loosened up enough to bow! Chaawushro, how did you ever get that bloody big stick out of his…"

"Rabé!" Obi-Wan was turning interesting colors again.

It was amusing to watch Obi-Wan and Rabé spar. Human courting rituals were subtle and complex, with the male often not aware that he was being courted. Once he became aware of the courting, the male would often believe it to be his own idea. The female would seldom enlighten him.

Humans were just plain odd.

~

Hope was a great, grand, liberating thing.

For the first time in many months Qui-Gon's sleep came deep, dreamless, and unassisted. He woke refreshed, ate, showered and slept some more wonderful, healing, soul-nourishing sleep.

So much hope to pin on one woman and one little boy.

Still, Deepa was a tremendously resourceful woman. Whatever she and Anakin had in mind, it was better that he knew nothing of it. There was still Sifo-Dyas to factor in, though Qui-Gon thought that the Council would rather just keep him immured in the infirmary. It might be awkward to explain the death of  a Jedi Mater presumable in the care of another more senior Jedi Master.

Force knew that there was nothing and nobody going to get by the Healers, up to – and unfortunately – including Qui-Gon Jinn.

Anakin did understand Qui-Gon's debility, thus while the mode of escape would be likely to exhaust him, it was not likely to kill him.

Well, not very likely, at least.

As long as Anakin wasn't driving.

Or flying – some things had reached Qui-Gon in his isolation. If Anakin tried to say that Qui-Gon ordered him to stay in the cockpit…!

Then again, considering the youngling's methods in a cockpit, nobody would ever be insane enough to follow them. The boy might even make a Corellian turn green and cry for mother.

The dumbot came in with his lunch. Lately the trays were being hermetically sealed in the kitchen – a grim sign if there ever was one. Had he really become so much of a lightning rod that someone would consider poisoning him?

It's not like he wouldn't notice. Qui-Gon would know immediately if someone had slipped anything into the food – considering how bland the food was, poison would probably add taste.

Two days. Two days until whatever Deepa and Anakin had cooked up between them came to pass. Both had ordered him to rest, to be ready, to eat. Deepa had even managed to induce a low-grade fever that would make sure the Healers would keep him, but not bother him overmuch. They could not confide in anyone, for there were now eyes and ears everywhere, from every splinter of a faction within the Jedi.

And eyes and ears for some without.

The more that Qui-Gon thought about it, the more puzzled he was. The Zabrak he had fought was young, at the peak of combat form. There was another Sith, that much he knew, but…

Was it possible that there were more?

Though lore held that there were never more Sith extant than a Master and apprentice, something was tickling desperately at the edges of Qui-Gon's mind.

Like a man trying to assemble a puzzle in the dark, Qui-Gon weighed each piece of knowledge and conjecture. Feeling the shapes and dimensions, he tried them together, seeking to make a whole. For a moment, he wryly wished that his master had been a bit more emphatic about contemplative pursuits.

There was one piece, one significant central point that all the other pieces hung upon, and he had to find it before it was too late for all of them.

~

Anakin was exhausted. Even after sleep, after food and meditation, he felt utterly drained.

He was passing it off as the simple tiredness of being out a good part of the night at the arcade with Padmé, but it was more than that.

He was running a covert operation with nothing more than winnings, luck and guesswork. Worse, for one with so little trust, he had to trust that his operatives were trustworthy and that his operative's operatives were trustworthy all the way down the scale. If one factored in a few hundred Jedi, a Wookiee Healer whose very gaze hinted that she knew what Anakin was up to, and an abrupt increase in the attention being paid to him by Obi-Wan, the Healer and the handmaidens it was enough to make him jump right out of his skin.

Pleading schoolwork, he took to his rooms, alternating actually doing his work with frenetic bouts of text-messaging on a cloned comlink.

In two days…

Anakin felt his stomach lurch, his palms broke a sweat and for a moment, he was actually dizzy. The temptation to go find someone adult, confess and throw the whole mess into their hands was overwhelming.

But people were relying on him. Deepa and Qui-Gon trusted him – and had advice that had actually relieved some of his worry-bags. If he handed this off now, went running like some little kid, the whole thing could blow apart and hurt more people than Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan. Padmé. The girls. The real Jedi. Whether they knew it or not, they were depending on him.

I need a race.

Action would help. He could lose himself in the roar of engines and the smell of heated metal, leave his worries in a cloud of dust.

Since all of his supplies and equipment were stores in the garage at the racetrack, he could check up on those, too.  The gear he was to be using was not that much different from certain technology that he had handled before, but a little extra practice never hurt.

Bringing up the race network on his datapad, he studied the evening's matches and which he was qualified to enter. The Cocotown district had plenty of matches tonight, and it was local. Steelton was a large industrial district, also local and with a good prize for negotiating a long and obstacle-laden course. Keying in his code, he entered two races in Cocotown for sheer speed and the one in Steelton for intricacy. To be lost in the eternal moment, to be so completely in what he thought of as 'now-time' was just what he needed.

Then he stopped, cancelled and signed off. Padmé had tonight off, and tomorrow night as well.

Anakin considered what might happen to him if Padmé caught him racing.

He shivered, swallowed. Perhaps he was simply too stressed, but for some reason dismemberment did not seem too farfetched.

For a time, Anakin made himself sit still, breathe deeply. He needed to be the rock that the water flowed around. He needed to be the water flowing around the rock.

"Find other ways," he spoke softly to himself. Maybe Padmé needed some time to depressurize, too? A sudden flash of shame made his ears burn. His angel needed some downtime, last night it had been as much fun to watch her having fun as it had been to have fun himself.

Reactivating his datapad, he went hunting for something fun. No fancy dress, no politics, no 'must,' or 'do,' or 'don't' – a place for sheer escapism and nothing more.

And he found it. If the Fortune's Darling was an arcade The District was the mother of them all – fifty stories of games, sensies, restaurants, rides, easy races and all manner of diversions, all for one ticket price.

And what a price. Ouch.

Money had an almost talismanic power to Anakin. Those who said that money could not buy happiness were right, that he had to admit, but it made misery a lot more tolerable. Furthermore, it could buy something greater than happiness – money could buy freedom.

He knew that there were people trying to find his mom and bring her to him, and he knew what it would cost. Anakin had been strictly forbidden to go and get her himself, though what the Naboo would make of Tattooine, he had no idea. Nor could he use any of the money in the trust that had been established for him – not until he reached his majority.

Lately he'd been able to feel a little through his bond with his mother, to send his feelings out and to know – vaguely - how she was. Distance attenuated the emotions, but he could sense happy and busy, as well as lonely.

Anakin felt pulled tight between two conflicting desires – to take Padmé out for a rollicking good time and to save against that nebulous someday when he'd have his mother to provide for while she got her freedom legs. There would be housing to think of, and getting her credentialed for her specialty, she'd need clothes and she was his family!

::: MOM! ::: He did not intend to do that, but the thought and the problem went zinging down the distance-thinned bond before he could take it back.

BONEHEAD! If you woke her up or something…

A gentle wave of emotion came washing back to him and for a moment Anakin let himself be just 'little Ani,' a ten-year-old boy who very badly missed his mother. Swallowing and blinking back a suspicious shimmer in his eyes, he concentrated simply on reciprocating the feelings. His mother might not be able to 'think at' him, but she must be sending powerful emotions along the bond if he could feel them at all.

Love, care, reassurance – he fell into them as if into her arms. She was fine. All was well. She loved him.

Anakin almost heard her, "Go, Ani, have fun. I'll be fine."

The feelings thinned, faded, and were gone – leaving only a glowing, nurturing warmth. Anakin sat within that feeling for a long time. When he moved, it was to go to his clothes chest, take out the money that he could explain and out it into his pockets. A quick brush of his hair, and he was stomping his feet into his boots and grabbing his jacket with a smile on his face.

~

Padmé's room was the scene of much flurry. Clothing was strewn about, shoes underfoot, and handmaidens lounging as they watched their Queen try to find something to wear.

"He asked you on a date?"

Padmé threw a red silk slipper at Eritaé, who ducked. "It's not a date! Well, not a date kind of date. I mean, he's only ten!"

"If it's not a date, then why are you dithering about what to wear?" Cordé grinned. "Even Palo didn't make you dither, Padmé."

The red slipper's made launched and Dormé neatly intercepted it. "It's like Anakin said, he's going to marry you. I'd wager it's the first proposal you've had."

Padmé rolled her eyes, "Of marriage, yes. You know the others that I've had."

The handmaidens snorted as one. To say that those propositions had been less formal than those of marriage was to lend them unwarranted dignity. Three-inch heels applied to the feet of those who issued such did much to effectively discourage further petitioning - as did Rabé's now infamous three-fingered threat to future progeny – now named the 'Paua Pinch.'

"Now," Padmé raised an eyebrow and looked at the girl herself, "if anyone could be said to be dithering, it's not me. I'm not the one who redid my entire wardrobe in shades of purple just because a certain Jedi complimented me on the color."

Rabé's aloof look was spoiled mightily by the stunning red of her cheeks.

"Any progress, Rabé, or is our gallant and dutiful Captain Oblivious still without a clue?" Sabé smirked from her corner of the settee. "I swear, that's the type that you have to be… hmm…  very direct with, and you're a bit young for that."

Rabé's blush deepened. "I think I'm making progress. I'd rather let it be his idea, though."

Saché nodded agreement. "No rush. Give him time to figure out what's going on for himself. Besides, didn't Healer Chaawushro give you the same advice? Patience, patience and more patience. Jedi Kenobi might have all kinds of experience, but courtship isn't one of them. He's bound to be a little slow on the uptake."

Rabé moved around the room, picking up clothing. "That and he needs to trust us a little more than he does! He's not going to let us come to the Convocation!" With a snort of disgust, she hurled the clothing onto one of the couches and flopped down beside it. " 'We are going into a temple – not a brawl,' '" he said."

Howls of outrage broke out and dire promises were made. The nerve! Their training was some of the best! Better than that of many planetary militias! Rabé looked miserable and her oath-sisters swore that they would help the densoid Jedi see things the right way – and would not leave bruises without Rabé's express permission.

Padmé simply sat beside her friend and folded clothing, offering a hug when it was sought.

Reaching into the pile of clothing, Rabé pulled out a blue change-silk tunic and held it critically against Padmé's shoulder as she gauged the color. "Ani always likes blue on you the best."

~

The night was amazing.

Anakin had fretted over protocol the whole time it took Padmé to get dressed. He was too short to take her arm properly, and if they were holding hands it might look as if she were leading him about like a little kid. Maybe he should just hold her forearm? Should he just keep to himself? What?

When Padmé finally finished doing whatever it was that had taken two hours to do, Anakin was too awed at the result to complain. Loose blue change-silk trousers and a long tunic-robe shimmered from soft aquamarine to midnight blue and all the shades in between. A belt of gold links graced her waist and slender gold chains formed a cap over Padme's hair, the rich curls left free to wash about her shoulders.

Anakin went back to his rooms and changed into some of his fancy clothes - midnight blue with the pale gold undertunic and sash.

From the moment they stepped through the entrance to The District, it was as if the galaxy outside dropped away. Lunch was bought from a cart outside the Headhunter Mission sims, while dinner was eaten late at a sumptuous restaurant that featured some of the most stunning seascapes Padmé said she'd ever seen. The games resulted in a pile of prizes and service upgrades so that they were permitted to ever-higher levels in the complex. A concierge arranged to take their loot and send it to their address, while making sure that anything they might have whim to do was arranged promptly.

Even better, nobody knew who they were. Ani and Pad were just a pair of kids out for a good time.

Anakin felt so good that he didn't even mind waiting while Padmé shopped with her District chits – something that she seemed to enjoy as much as Headhunter sims.

Making good use of his own chits, Anakin bargained with shopkeepers – relishing the challenge, Coruscant was no backwater world with customer-starved merchants. Shopowners seldom worked their own shops, leaving that to hires who would never be able to afford most of the items that their clients picked with little more than a carelessly pointed finger.

Anakin figured out that a lower price on an item was guaranteed if he slipped a chit to the being behind the counter. There were no 'droid attendants here, only live beings as the ultimate in swank servants.

A long tunic is greens and blues for his mom. A necklace of intricate Liianti glass beads for Padmé. An antique Polora chime box for Obi-Wan.

Finally, when their comunits vibrated and Mace Windu scolded them for being out until well after midnight, they turned back to the embassy. The concierge ordered them a plush aircab and off they went, blissfully tired and deeply relaxed.

Bidding Padmé goodnight – heartened at seeing how much better she felt – Anakin went off to bed.

One more day. Only one more day.

He could get through that easily. No problem.

~