TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass
By: Syntyche
chapter four: nothing like a bad decision / says who you are
One day down, roughly two weeks to go.
It was disconcerting, Obi-Wan mused, how things that seemed both awake and alive beneath the warmth of the sun could feel so cold and empty in the darkness. Mos Espa, bustling and busy in the daytime, had taken on a hard, cold look, and the pale stone of the shops lining the empty street shone eerily white in the clear moonlight. Obi-Wan stood in the doorway of Watto's shop, leaning against the stone jamb, boots crossed at the ankle, his meandering thoughts taking a decidedly dour turn.
It was always at night, he recognized, that doubt and uncertainty crept unfettered through his stiff façade of calm and tore at the barriers he so carefully built and maintained. It happened within the safe confines of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant; there was no reason why it shouldn't also haunt the chilly nights of Tatooine. Tonight, he was reflecting on where his relationship with his Master had soured; just when it was, exactly, that he and Qui-Gon had stopped seeing eye-to-eye and started finding more and more issues to differ on and fights to pick. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that he was totally blameless in the matter, but finding exactly where the fault lay – in either of them – wasn't something he'd really taken the time to consider. It had been much easier to simply agree to disagree and leave it at that. Even within this short trip dealing with the Trade Federation's blockade, the grounds had been rife for discord in everything from Jar-Jar Binks to Anakin Skywalker.
It shouldn't be that way, he knew. It wasn't the Padawan's place to disagree his Master, it wasn't his place to disagree with Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon had many years of knowledge and experience with which to formulate his decisions and decide the fate of them both with the course he chose; but still, Obi-Wan chafed at being treated like a child. He could disagree and oppose his Master and expend all his breath trying, but it was a rare day when even his most carefully constructed and delivered argument could sway the mind of his Master once Qui-Gon had determined a plan of action.
His Master was an individual who was very used to getting what he wanted.
Perhaps he was only chafing, Obi-Wan reasoned with some little hope, because his time to undergo his Trials must surely be near. The culmination of everything he had worked toward, trained and studied for, and firmly pushed through being rejected so many times, was close, so very close to his reach and Obi-Wan fervently wished for nothing more than to succeed his testing and achieve the rank of Knighthood. Perhaps the successful completion of his Padawan training would elevate his status in his former Master's eyes as someone worthy of being more than simply a student, something that throughout his apprenticeship had not come easy to either one of them. Qui-Gon was an intensely private person, and Obi-Wan had always striven for that one elusive, unachievable trait that he was certain he needed to be of value to his Master: perfection.
Obi-Wan stared up at the stars, suppressing a shiver as a waft of a cool desert breeze teased the hair at the back of his neck through the open collar of his loose white tunic. Perfection. How many years had he spent trying to be perfect? How many times had he ignored the natural Obi-Wan response within him and offered instead a reply he felt might be appropriate from the perfect Padawan?
And where had it gotten him, anyway?
For a long time, Obi-Wan just stared at nothing, leaning in the doorway and considering where the Force had taken him.
OOOOOOOOOO
In flawless Huttese, Anakin Skywalker repeated the order back to the customer, trying not to sound as bored as he felt. It was hard to work inside the shop dealing with customers and doing minor chores and repairs when there was a real, live Jedi working outside in the back.
Anakin accepted the proffered credits for payment and handed the Twi'Lek advisor a receipt for his purchase. Then, after he'd practically shooed his customer from the shop, the boy bounded out to the back, wondering what Obi-Wan was up to this morning. Obi-Wan Kenobi (former? Anakin wondered) Padawan to Anakin's All-Time Hero Qui-Gon Jinn, had been with them since late yesterday and it was pretty exciting to have a Jedi working in Watto's shop, even if was just for awhile to pay off the Jedi's debts.
Anakin still felt a little guilty for losing the Boonta Eve podrace, but in the end Master Qui-Gon had gotten the parts that he needed, and he would hopefully be back for Obi-Wan (or at least to bring him some fresh clothes) which meant that Anakin would see him – and more importantly, Padmé – again. And maybe they'd be in time for the next big race, which Anakin knew he was sure to win, and Padmé would see him in the winner's circle and be very impressed, and maybe Master Qui-Gon would want to train him as a Jedi and Obi-Wan could stay on Tatooine and work for Watto.
Maybe.
Anakin smiled. It was a nice thought, and one that didn't seem too far out of his reach. After all, Master Jinn was coming back, wasn't he? And he'd bring Padmé.
Anakin bounced out into the back lot, his mind racing with the Jedi-type questions he wanted to ask Obi-Wan that might help to give him an edge on what Qui-Gon would want him to do as his Padawan.
He found Obi-Wan half-concealed beneath a junked-out landspeeder, searching for and removing any parts that could be reused or recycled. There was a small pile already collected, and Obi-Wan worked busily and efficiently to extricate what he deemed salvageable. Anakin happened to find it pretty wizard that a Jedi could be good with mechanical stuff, and since he knew how to do that, he was already ahead in his 'training.'
Anakin continued his perusal of the Jedi. Obi-Wan was nice enough, really, though he was a little odd and a little cold. Anakin still wished that Qui-Gon had stayed on Tatooine instead of Obi-Wan – or at least Padmé. Even Jar-Jar was more … animated than Obi-Wan. Despite Anakin's best and repeated efforts, Obi-Wan didn't seem inclined to talk much.
There weren't any more customers right now and Watto was nowhere to be seen, so Anakin figured he had a spare minute or two. Obi-Wan looked pretty busy, but Anakin was sure he wouldn't mind answering a few questions. The boy hoisted himself onto an empty shipping crate and began swinging his feet, bouncing them off the side of the crate. "Obi-Wan?"
There was no reply from the Jedi entrenched beneath the speeder, but if Anakin listened hard enough, he thought he could hear a faint melodic humming from Obi-Wan as the Jedi worked. Anakin wrinkled his nose. Obi-Wan sure didn't know much about slave stuff. He wasn't at all scared of Watto, and seemed almost okay with being a slave.
Anakin grinned as a thought struck him. Maybe Obi-Wan had as many questions to ask Anakin about being a slave as Anakin had about being a Jedi.
"Obi-Wan?"
Anakin's short legs continued their dull, rhythmic beating against the metal crate upon which he sat. He wasn't sure if Obi-Wan had heard him or not, so he tried again, a little louder.
"Hey, Obi-Wan!"
The humming stopped. "Hm? What, Anakin?"
Anakin decided to test the waters, just to be safe. He didn't want to jeopardize his chances for a little inside Jedi knowledge if Obi-Wan happened to be in a bad mood this morning. "How ya doin'?"
There was a lengthy pause. "Um, fine?"
"Do ya like, uh, working? Here at Watto's, I mean."
Another pause, and maybe the tiniest of sighs from the Padawan. "It keeps my mind off of … other things."
"Oh." It seemed okay to go ahead, so Anakin prepared to launch his first real question, a sort of feel-you-out inquiry that might help him decide if he actually wanted to be a Jedi. He wondered briefly if Qui-Gon had sold Obi-Wan because he was a bad apprentice, and resolved that if Master Qui-Gon trained him, he'd be really, really smart and good and the best Padawan ever. Especially if Master Qui-Gon could just get rid of him; but then again, Master Qui-Gon had said he'd be back for Obi-Wan. Maybe Obi-Wan was just on probation or something.
"What's it like being a Jedi? I mean, what do they teach you at Jedi school?"
"Well, for one thing … " Obi-Wan's voice was muffled, but still filtered out from the young Jedi's position beneath the speeder, and even half-hidden in the grease pit, the newly-acquired slave still managed to convey wry amusement in his reply. "…. they teach you how to sit still."
Anakin paused his fidgeting guiltily, one foot hovering in the air as he aborted his kicking, watching Obi-Wan wrestle with the recalcitrant speeder. "Oh," he said again sheepishly, "Sorry."
"That's all right, Anakin," Obi-Wan grunted. His grasping fingers came into view a moment later, scrabbling through the array of tools he'd laid out for use on the speeder. Not finding what he wanted, Obi-Wan paused to visualize in his mind his tools and their locations. Finding the spanner he wanted just out of reach, he waved his fingers slightly and brought the tool into his waiting palm with the use of the Force. Anakin watched in wide-eyed amazement.
"Woooow. That's so wizard, Obi-Wan! Qui-Gon thought I could be a Jedi – could you teach me to do that?"
"The Force isn't exactly meant to be used for 'wizard' purposes, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied dryly. "I'd like to think that the Jedi cause is a little more noble than that."
"I know," Anakin returned automatically, "but if I'm gonna be a Jedi, I'll have to learn how to do all kinds of Jedi stuff. Besides, I could really help Mom if I knew how to do that – I could put dishes away really fast, and clean up my room – " Anakin was momentarily distracted by the appearance of Watto, but Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice the cease of the boy's chattering. Anakin's eyes widened when he saw what Watto carried. Maybe Obi-Wan was staying for a while…
Immediately he hopped off the crate and assumed the appearance of being busy, but he stayed nearby to see what Watto would do. Watto landed by the speeder that Obi-Wan was working on and without bothering to speak to the young Jedi, moved close enough to the Jedi to press a transmitter implanter against the thigh of Obi-Wan's breeches. Obi-Wan jerked slightly when Watto hit the injector and, dropping the spanner, pushed himself roughly out from beneath the speeder.
"What the hell did you just do?" he demanded heatedly, hands on his hips as he directed an icy blue glare at the Toydarian. Watto actually hopped backward a few steps before he gathered the presence of mind to gets his wings beating enough that he could hover level to Obi-Wan's eyes, but even then, he stayed farther back than was necessary.
"Uh, all slaves carry a transmitter," he explained lamely. "To register and, uh, locate, and – "
"Excuse me – a what?" Obi-Wan interrupted in a low tone, his hands clenching at his sides.
"A transmitter."
"To track us," Anakin added helpfully, wondering quickly what would happen to him if Obi-Wan actually killed Watto in a rage; he looked pretty mad. He decided not to mention the addendum he'd earlier given Qui-Gon about the transmitter's ability to blow an errant slave to bits. Obi-Wan didn't look like he would take that very well.
Obi-Wan rubbed at his thigh angrily, still glowering at Watto. He could feel the upraised welt where the transmitter had burrowed under his skin and embedded itself into the muscle; the device, no matter how tiny, he could sense as an unwelcome intruder in his body and it irked him to no end that Watto had taken advantage of him and implanted the transmitter without consulting Obi-Wan first.
It was a moment before Obi-Wan realized that Watto had no need to consult him on anything: the Toydarian owned him. Owned him. Could do whatever he wanted with him, and Obi-Wan had absolutely no say in the matter.
Obi-Wan felt chilled as realization sunk in. Even in being half of a Master-Padawan pair, there was a little room for leeway, and discussion; arguing, even. Here, in this place, he had no such liberty.
Obi-Wan suddenly felt a little unsteady on his feet. Owned him. He was property. Chattel. A possession.
"Oh," he said softly, and turned back to his work without another word.
OOOOOOOOOO
It was late. Anakin had been running errands throughout Mos Espa for Watto all afternoon and as a consequence was behind in his work in the shop. Before, Anakin had always been a little frightened to stay in the dark shop alone at night until he finished his work, but that was before Obi-Wan came. Obi-Wan didn't really have anywhere to go, and Watto didn't want to go to the trouble of arranging rooms in the slave quarters for a 'temporary' slave like Obi-Wan, so Obi-Wan stayed at the shop and slept on a small cot behind the counter.
At least, Anakin assumed that he slept. Anakin was usually in early and out late, and in the few days that Obi-Wan had been on Tatooine, Anakin had never seen him sleep – though he always looked tired.
Tonight, while Anakin finished repairs on a damaged pit droid, he watched as Obi-Wan fiddled with the engine system on the podracer Anakin had built and raced in the Boonta Eve fiasco. Qui-Gon had claimed that the pod was his and used it to wager Anakin's freedom, and when Anakin had lost Watto had taken the racer. Anakin, amazingly, found himself unbothered by Watto's new ownership of his podracer; the Toydarian certainly had no personal use for it, and Anakin was sure that he would be able to race again. If nothing else, Watto got a certain amusement out of entering him in podraces and then betting against him.
When Obi-Wan paused in his work to scratch at his thigh for the hundredth time, Anakin finally spoke up. "It goes away after awhile. The itch, I mean. When you stop thinking about it."
"Hm? Oh." Obi-Wan gave his leg a final swipe and resumed digging around in the racer's engine. What he was doing wasn't exactly clear to Anakin, and the boy wondered if maybe he should offer to help. It kinda looked like Obi-Wan was just pulling parts out at random.
"Have you ever seen a podrace, Obi-Wan?"
"Mmm," Obi-Wan murmured distractedly, his attention focused solely on the tangle of wires that had just loosened in his left hand. He was fairly certain they shouldn't have come out of the engine, and even more certain he hadn't a clue of where they went. His technical prowess had been learned by necessity and encompassed mainly starships and droids. Podracers were entirely new to him; he was just running out of things to do to keep his mind off the nearly unbearable waiting – and there was still more than a week at least before Qui-Gon would complete the cycle from Tatooine to Coruscant and back.
"I'm gonna win this next one – for Padmé. And for Qui-Gon, too."
"Mmm." Obi-Wan was frowning heavily at the wires now and a hint of worry lines had creased his forehead. This was not good.
"Even though I lost this race, I'm pretty great at it," Anakin continued, finally giving in to his insatiable curiosity and moving forward to peer inquisitively around Obi-Wan's bicep. "In fact, I'm the only human who can do it – You know, if you – "
"Are you so experienced in the galaxy that you can make that claim, young one?" Obi-Wan asked irritably, managing to keep the snap from his voice but maneuvering so his shoulder obscured from Anakin's line of vision what his hands were doing. Not good at all. He wondered if the 'only human' who could podrace ever planned on using this particular racer again – and then paused a moment to consider the ludicrousness of Anakin's claim. "Do you actually knowthat you're the only human who has ever raced a pod before?" he inquired curiously.
"We-e-e-ll … " Anakin hedged, his youthful face screwing into a frown but none of his enthusiasm disappearing. "How about the only human on Tatooine?" he compromised, with what he hoped was a disarming smile.
Obi-Wan's eyebrow flicked upward as he finally raised his eyes from his work. "Have you ever been outside of Mos Espa?" he asked critically, but with a small, grudging grin.
"We-e-e-ll … " Anakin began, than stopped guiltily.
"We-e-e-ll," Obi-Wan mocked, but his eyes crinkled with humor and drew any insult out of his teasing. "Pride goes before destruction, young one," he chastised.
"So you think you could do it?" Anakin asked, a mischievous grin lighting his face. "Besides, I'm not proud – just confident."
"Ouch," Obi-Wan laughed despite himself. "Good point. But there is such a thing as overconfidence. You can't do everything, Anakin," he pointed out …
… and shivered suddenly when Anakin's demeanor shifted abruptly. Again there was that flicker of dark energy that Obi-Wan had experienced the first time he'd seen the boy. It pulsed through the room, winding through Obi-Wan's soul like a freezing frisson and a siren's song of darkness that beckoned and called and tempted him to reach out and embrace it as his own.
He became dimly aware of Anakin repeating his name, the boy's tone becoming progressively more agitated as no response was forthcoming from the Jedi. Obi-Wan blinked, coming back to himself as the darkness receded slowly. "What is it, Anakin?" he asked thickly, hunching over slightly.
"You sort of … weirded out for a minute, Obi-Wan," Anakin explained cautiously. "I was getting worried."
Suddenly the strewn apart pieces of the podracer were incredibly insignificant. Obi-Wan needed to be alone, and to think about this newest complication in an increasingly long list.
"It's late," he said abruptly. "Come on. I'll walk you home."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Anakin asked skeptically. "You look a little white. Kinda like when you almost set off your transmitter the second day."
"I'm fine," Obi-Wan reassured, though he retained a pale, pinched look. He managed a wan smile and added, "And you could have told me a little earlier that they have the potential to, um, blow a person into bits."
Anakin's nose scrunched. "Good thing Watto widened the range, huh?"
"A very good thing," Obi-Wan agreed. Qui-Gon probably wouldn't have appreciated returning to Tatooine to discover that his apprentice had managed to blow himself into tiny pieces that even the Force wouldn't have been able to put back together. Consequently, Watto had very thoughtfully widened the range to allow Obi-Wan a little leeway, but the young Jedi would still be unable to go any significant distance without first setting off the warning and then activating the actual explosion implant if he failed to return to a 'safe' area within a short amount of time. "I'd like to make sure you get home okay, though."
Anakin laughed at Obi-Wan's protectiveness. "I've been walking home alone long before you ever showed up, Obi-Wan."
"Yeah," Obi-Wan returned with a weary grin, "but since I'm here now, I think I'll see that you get home safely, okay?"
Anakin shrugged. "Sure. If you want." The boy put the droid away and collected his backpack, leading Obi-Wan the short distance to the block of slave housing.
After he'd deposited Anakin at the tiny Skywalker hovel, Obi-Wan continued to walk the dark streets mindlessly, headed back for the shop in roundabout way. His thoughts wandered over his scheduled work for the morrow, the whereabouts of Qui-Gon and the queen, and finally, the puzzle of Anakin Skywalker. Qui-Gon had been so sure that Anakin was special, and indeed, Obi-Wan himself had found the boy to have an exceptionally high midichlorian count; but there was something so indescribably dark and dangerous about the boy that Obi-Wan was determined to keep a careful eye on the young slave.
A few paces ahead of him stood a tavern, its lights warm and welcoming, but a dull throbbing from the transmitter warned him that he'd very nearly crossed outside his permitted boundaries and was, in fact, close to setting off the explosion device built into his transmitter. Obi-Wan cast a look at the yellowish light spilling from the windows and thought that spiced ale sounded quite inviting right about now, or just about anything strong for that matter.
"I feel like a nek on a leash," he muttered, then turned back toward the street and melted into the darkness.
OOOOOOOOOO