Threepio and Artoo were having a difficult time. They weren't exactly designed to walk on slabs of ice. Much less an ice bridge several blocks long. D210 was none the better, her wheels rolling her forward, then causing her to slip back when they reached the hilly incline. Twice, Anakin left Padme's side to push the little droid ahead, a look of frustration on his face.

Gobi, a little lemur-like man, grumbled something about catching up and not having all day. Padme wondered if the native would tell them where to find fur boots, matching hat, and wool stoles similar to the one he wore over his stubby body. Gobi was Anakin's friend. A man he met many years ago when he was only a teen --- a padawan under Obi Wan's care. Anakin used to sneak to Mygeeto when Obi Wan was asleep or away on business, and he and Gobi would play cards, scamming the other players, all of whom were unaware of Anakin's force sensibilities. After the game, Gobi would split their take in half between them. Anakin had won the man plenty of money -- just for his own amusement, and in turn had earned Gobi's loyalty.

Padme looked on as Gobi and Anakin spoke Watto's language. Padme was saddened to see how easily Anakin could call upon the words. How fluently he spoke the language still. They stopped before a shack in what appeared to be in a not-so-good neighborhood. It was worse than where the twi-leks lived in the sub-levels of Coruscant.

Gobi turned and looked at Padme. "Welcome to yous new home."

Padme gave the man a nervous smile. "Thank you, Gobi. For helping us."

Anakin slipped to Padme's side, his hands on her shoulders. "Well, it's not like we needed any help," he countered. "But thanks nonetheless..."

"Eh EH," Gobi grunted. "I take care to keep you secret, yes?"

"Good man," Anakin replied. "Take good care, and I'll be sure to take good care of you."

The pair nodded knowingly. Padme gazed curiously at Gobi as he walked away. Anakin stood before the door of their new home, his back to her. He crumbled a fist and busted the door down. A cloud of dust rose to their faces causing poor Padme to cough excessively.

"Oh my!" Threepio exclaimed... "This... isn't our new home is it?"

Artoo: Beep boo beep boo! arrrrrrppp! (chattering)

Ignoring them, Anakin walked inside. The misfit crew reluctantly followed.

"It's not perfect," said Anakin in an overly cheerful tone. A line of chalk in the shape of a man's body marked the floor. He stood over it, hoping to hide it from Padme. "But we'll make the best of it, right?"

Padme slid into his waiting arms. "I wasn't afraid on Tattoine, and I'm not afraid now." The senator didn't sound as convinced as Threepio wanted her to.

"Master Skywalker, something appears to be staring at us."

Threepio's plates began to chatter. Anakin turned, looking around. He didn't sense anything out of the ordinary.

Threepio pointed. "There, master..."

Beneath the sofa, an eyeball stared up at them from the floor. Anakin bent down and picked it up, holding it as though it were a marble. "Nothing to worry about," he replied, stuffing it into his pocket.

Threepio met Padme's rueful gaze. "Right, my love... there's nothing to worry about. Threepio, I'm tired. You think you could do something with the place? Make it look a little... cleaner?"

"If I were a magician..." the droid mumbled.

Artoo opened a compartment in the trunk of his body, using one of his little arms to dust a nearby table with a ratty old cloth.

"I suppose if Artoo can do it..." Threepio mumbled, thinking how he was better off on Coruscant... heck, maybe a scrap yard would have been better than this.

Padme moved to sit on the sofa, but Anakin grabbed her arm, pulling her back up. "I think I might want to inspect it first." He ripped off the dust covered sheet that covered orange cushions, and something that smelled like a rotting corpse filled his nostrils. He turned to Padme, a look of nausea on his face.

Her eyebrows pressed together embarrassedly.

"My lady," Threepio called. He had dusted and cleaned a rocking chair that sat near the window to the point of looking almost new again. Anakin sighed in relief as Padme waddled over and sat, the look of exhaustion wiped from her face. She closed her eyes, already drifting into a peaceful sleep.

"Threepio," Anakin whispered. "Keep an eye on Padme."

"You're leaving us here?! But Master-"

"Threepio?" Anakin gave him a look that sent a current up the droid's spine.

"But where are you going?" he hadn't meant to ask. Who was he, but a droid, talking to the man who created him?

"To make things better," Anakin replied. "There's a blaster in the blue suitcase."

"Whatever would I need that for?" Threepio scoffed.

"Shoot first, ask questions later."

Artoo beeped in affirmation. Anakin grinned as he walked out of the door. He knew Artoo would have his back.

The sub-levels of Mygeeto were shady, even in the daytime. Anakin walked the across the ice bridge, dark hood covering his head. He couldn't risk being seen in public yet. It wasn't safe. He wanted to give the Jedi time to forget him before resurfacing again. Time to see that he wasn't a threat to the republic, but a family man just trying to live an ordinary life.

Though, as the primary breadwinner, today would be the exception. Padme couldn't sleep on a filthy bug infected couch in a rodent infested dump. Their new home had to be safe and clean for the baby, who could arrive any day now. Not quite the picture he had in mind when he envisioned their happy future... and he knew it wasn't at all the idyllic picture Padme had in mind. He felt like a failure. As though he had disappointed her.

Anakin turned a corner, climbing down a stairwell that led to a sublevel-sublevel nightclub. A night club that was so busy, that they were filled to capacity in the middle of the day. In there, he couldn't be seen, his face hidden even better in the darkness of his hood due to the lack of light. All that could be seen of his face were two piercing - reddened blue eyes. Anakin strode inside, inhaling the smell of deathsticks and liquor. He hated deathsticks. They made him want to inflict death on whoever smoked them. He took another step, when suddenly a hand shot out, and pressed him in the chest, preventing him from walking further. A guard.

Anakin waved a fist at his throat. The man collapsed. Anyone who might have noticed, were already drinking again. Anakin strode over to the bar. "Where is Jacooto?" he asked the bartender.

"Who wants to know?" the man replied.

"Someone looking for work."

"He has enough workers," the bartender said in a gruff voice.

"None like me," Anakin retorted.