For Jacinta. Thanks. :-)

OOOOOOOOOO

TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass

By: Syntyche

chapter sixteen: coming to terms

He felt a shiver race down his spine, and he immediately knew the reason for his sudden discomfort:

She was watching him.

The thought unsettled the young slave, because he didn't know how much longer his luck would hold and he'd be able to avoid her. He could always sense her presence when she was close; a palpable flicker of fear stole through him, chilling him despite the warmth of the suns. Oftentimes the pungently thick mantle of dread came from the other slaves, drifting through the still, hot air and tickling the back of his sunburned neck.

Sometimes he just knew she was there because of the way his body suddenly tensed, hard muscles inexplicably tightening as his adrenaline surged. The sand around him shimmered, a warning screaming from the earth that She was coming, the tiny clouds of dust rising from her firm footfalls sending ahead a message for him to be wary. He marveled at how in tune with his surroundings he was, and was curious that none of his fellow slaves shared his connection to his environment and the people who inhabited his life. It was wonderful, it was humbling, and it was also frightening to the young slave, and he wished desperately for the guidance of someone who could explain it to him.

But there was no one. He was alone, and he had a job to do while still watching for the Lady of the House. The air had calmed: Marjhan had ceased watching him from a distance and moved on for the moment. He could hear Jaq on the other side of the hill directing the workers on the west ridge, and the tense set to his voice had disappeared along with Marjhan. She had that effect on all of them, slaves and overseers alike – she rarely appeared with good intentions on her mind.

Still, despite his constant wariness, Obi-Wan didn't worry overmuch when his master was around. Risq honored his promise to the young slave and Obi-Wan had been kept clear of the Lady of the house since that first unpleasant meeting. Obi-Wan soon discovered however that his Master was frequently away from the sprawling farm, going to the local settlements to oversee the buying and selling of his stock and often staying away for several days. Obi-Wan was extremely cautious then, staying as far from the main house as he could. He'd done well so far in managing to avoid her, carefully attending to his assigned work even as he pondered unlocking a life he couldn't remember.

And then one bright, clear day, his luck ran out.

OOOOOOOOOO

Obi-Wan straightened slowly from his hunched position, gently rolling his broad shoulders back to work the kinks out. The sun was burning his tanned skin to a light crisp, but he was nearly done fixing the vaporator and then he could rest for a minute inside the cooled air of the slave quarters. Whatever he'd been in his life before this, he was a damned good mechanic now and Risq had immediately put him to work repairing broken-down machinery and droids on the farm. So far, there hadn't been any shortage of work to do, and Obi-Wan appreciated it immensely; when he wasn't keeping busy, stray thoughts would creep into his mind, stirring shadows of old memories that weren't tangible enough for him to hold on to, but that whispered a sense of loss to his confused, grasping soul.

It was altogether frustrating for the young man. He knew that he had Lost something before he had come here, but he couldn't recall anything beyond that. All he had was his name, some depressing memories, and a tiny, nagging feeling that this was all wrong, that something horrible had happened and he needed to remember what it was. He needed to. Didn't he? He should be eager to reclaim what memories and pieces of himself he could, but he was a little bit hesitant because of the whispers of loss, of failure. Maybe he really didn't want to remember what he'd Lost. Why should he? He was fed, clothed, he had a … job of sorts.

Freedom, his mind whispered. The stars.

'The stars?' Obi-Wan smiled to himself. Perhaps he was letting his mind wander just a little too far from reality. Sneaking outside past lockdown time to watch the suns set was as close to the stars as he'd likely ever be.

A whisper breathed past him, pulling his startled mind abruptly from his drifting thoughts. Deathly cold stole over his body at the same moment he felt slender fingers tangle messily in the short ginger hair at the nape of his neck, and he knew with sickening clarity that he had let his guard down for too long.

"Well, hello there, love,"

The casual words were spoken in a throaty growl so sweet that he knew instantly they were anything but innocent. Hastily he ducked his head, jerking away from her touch as he pretended to critically survey his work on the vaporator.

"Ma'am," he murmured politely, not meeting her dark eyes as he reached down quickly for his toolbox near his boots. "If you'll excuse me, I have to finish here and I'm short on time." It was a lie, and she knew it.

"Please," Marjhan scoffed, "you're quite efficient enough; I seriously doubt you're behind on anything. You're trying to avoid me," she said knowingly, grinning widely as she trailed long, teasing fingers across the back of his tight breeches when he bent for the case at his feet. Obi-Wan started in surprise and straightened, shooting his mistress an accusatory glare.

"You're so cute when you're irritated, puppy." Marjhan added pleasantly but firmly, "but wipe that look off your face. The next time you even think about looking at me with anything less than complete adoration, you will be punished. Severely."

Obi-Wan didn't think it wise to point out that were his Master around, the Lady of the House wouldn't even be allowed near him, so he simply smiled tightly and nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he snapped off smartly, realizing in retrospect it probably wasn't wise to antagonize her.

She let it go, though, instead shivering delightedly at his words and ignoring his tone.

"I like that. Say it again," she commanded.

Obi-Wan's shoulders were so tense it made his chest ache; his heart hammered in his ears and the sand at his feet was screaming at her proximity, but he murmured obediently, "Yes, ma'am," as the corner of his mouth curled up bitterly.

Marjhan nodded in pleased satisfaction, allowing her eyes to travel slowly down his body before drifting back up to meet his cautious gaze. "Yes, you'll do fine. I thought you would."

She turned and strode off toward the house, leaving Obi-Wan standing uncomfortably in the bright sun.

OOOOOOOOOO

He was unsurprised, just a short time later, to receive a summons to appear before the Lady of the House. Jaq had given him the message with what Obi-Wan felt was an unhealthy amount of trepidation, and it did nothing to ease the tight bands of tension that had settled around his chest from her earlier appearance. Marjhan set off every alarm in his head, until the cacophony of klaxons blaring roared through his mind and disrupted his nervous attempts at composure. He ran through a few calming exercises without really knowing how he knew them, but they seemed to work and the mental alarms quieted to a single, tense hum at the base of his skull that kept him gratefully alert.

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his copper hair nervously and brushed the sand from the knees of his dun-colored trousers as he stood before the entryway to his Master's sprawling home. Drawing a deep breath, he stepped inside, feeling grateful for the cool air inside the home though it chilled the nervous sweat that had beaded on his back and made his tunic cling uncomfortably to his skin.

Marjhan's personal servant waited for him just inside the door, a young, vibrant humanoid girl whose listless sable eyes gleamed dully in stark contrast to her cheerful demeanor. She gestured for Obi-Wan to follow her as she silently led him down a long hall lined with ornate, finely woven tapestries and littered artfully with tall emerald vases. The quiet splendor of his Master's home made Obi-Wan smile – a smile that quickly faded when he nodded his thanks to the girl and strode through the door she indicated into Marjhan's waiting room.

The Lady of the house eyed him lustily as he entered, stopping abruptly before her where she reclined on a large, plush sofa. He nodded shortly by way of greeting, his hands automatically grasping to slide inside his tunic sleeves. He looked down at his folded arms in some surprise, but shook it off, focusing instead on the woman before him.

"I'm afraid that won't do at all, little one," she smiled, and the slyly teasing moniker crawled up his spine like he had been called that before by someone other than the woman before him, and by someone with far better intent.

"You kneel in front of me, here," she instructed tersely, waving her hand to encompass a small space before the couch and indicating it was where he belonged.

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise but covered it with a stubborn, patient smile. "I'm afraid not, my Lady."

Marjhan rose gracefully. In her bare feet, she scarcely reached his chin, but her dark eyes were unwavering in their determination. "I warned you just this morning about your impertinence, Obi-Wan. Didn't I?" He only stared at her, refusing to reply, which irritated her further.

"Do you think I am incapable of making you do what I want?" She walked around behind him, allowing her long fingernails to graze his tunic, caressing him lovingly as he inched away from her touch. "You're standing here, biding your time, thinking you can handle whatever I dish out to you. And maybe you can," she murmured speculatively, draping her arms across his shoulders from behind, her chest pressed into his back, her hips bumping against him as she leaned into him, her breath stirring against his ear. He tensed but remained still, fighting to keep the nervous tremors from rocking his slim frame as the intent behind her words was immediately understood. "But let me ask you this," she continued easily, confirming his anxiety, "do you think me incapable of using others to get to you?"

Obi-Wan's jaw tightened in reaction to her coldly blatant statement, and Marjhan smiled, knowing that she had him in the palm of her hand. Gods, he would be fun. She twisted the long braid draped over his shoulder between her fingers lazily, rubbing the colorful beads idly. "My servant Miral, perhaps?" she suggested. "One of your fellow slaves?"

She came to face him again, wrapping her hand securely in the thin braid and she yanked hard, bringing his face level with hers. His eyes widened in shocked pain but he made no sound other than a startled gasp, which disappointed her. How pleasant that he came with a leash, though!

"Do not make the mistake of believing you can appeal to my better nature so I would spare anyone in my attempts to reach you." She grinned, perfect white teeth gleaming. "I don't have a 'better nature,' Obi-Wan. And I will do whatever it takes. Are we understood?"

Obi-Wan nodded tensely, his bright eyes stinging with salty tears. "Yes, ma'am," he agreed tightly.

She smiled. "Excellent. You learn quickly. Now, kneel."

OOOOOOOOOO

Delian Ani-Suru stared out the small window aimlessly, watching the bustling evening traffic without really paying it any mind. The steady stream of passersby that had been flowing through the dirty street all afternoon was slowing to a thin trickle as the last of the slaves who had worked for dealers such as the late Toydarian Watto made their way home for the night; the suns were sinking beneath the horizon, and all but a few bars and cantinas were closed. In a small town like Mos Espa, there really wasn't much to do after dark. To Delian, the quiet was as unnerving as it was oddly welcome: though she wanted to formulate a plan for locating Kenobi, the calm atmosphere also allowed … other … thoughts to creep in – intense thoughts that made her miss him achingly, while doing nothing to help her actually find him.

"I should have kept that damn transmitter," she muttered darkly.

"What's that, dear?" Shmi Skywalker glanced over her shoulder to where the Corellian stood at the hovel's tiny window. As soon as Anakin had been well enough to leave the medcenter, Delian had brought him home to his anxious mother. Now, she waited, quietly considering her next move.

"Nothing," she replied reassuringly, ignoring the empty ache in the pit of her stomach. "Just trying to decide what to do next. How's Anakin?"

"He's resting." The older woman sighed, dropping her weathered hands onto the table as she leaned forward wearily, slim strands of dark hair sliding out from the mass bundled at her neck to rest on her tanned cheek. "The Jedi have brought nothing but pain into my home. I wish they had never come," she murmured bitterly.

Delian looked over in surprise, fingers automatically caressing the gleaming silver lightsaber swinging from her belt. "Obi-Wan didn't mean you any harm. Anakin said he was trying to help."

"If the Jedi had not come, the one who nearly killed Anakin would not have come, either. If Qui-Gon hadn't been here, Anakin would never have been able to race that day." Shmi's shining eyes gleamed in the dim light. "And Watto would not have died. Now we will be sold again – and who would buy a mother and her child?"

"Wait, what?" Delian blinked. "But… since Watto's dead, doesn't that make you free?"

Shmi smiled politely at Delian's ignorance, and the Corellian tried not to be irritated by the woman's seeming condescension; Delian readily admitted that her own mood was far too frayed to accurately assess anyone else's intentions.

"No," Shmi replied, "We still have our transmitters. Without being legally freed by our masters, Anakin and I would be considered runaway slaves and likely caught and punished."

Delian shook her head, still not quite comprehending. "But, you have your transmitters, don't you? You took them from Watto's shop when you went looking for Anakin, right?"

"I did, yes," Shmi agreed, straightening. "But that's not enough. We have no money, we'd have nowhere to live. And we couldn't pay to have our implanted transmitters removed." Shmi rose, giving Delian a warm if tired smile. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to look in on my son again."

"Of course." A sudden thought struck the Corellian as Shmi's earlier words registered – a small, nearly insignificant gleam of hope that suddenly sparked in her tired mind. "Wait, please! Who's Qui-Gon?"

OOOOOOOOOO