Anakin's reputation grows and his name spreads through Mos Espa, and so starpilots who get stranded on Tatooine come to find Watto, and the small prodigy mechanic turned podracer he owns. Anakin charms them with his bright smile and his fanciful stories –the secret droid he's building out of old parts, the podrace he survived against all odds. The pilots watch Anakin deftly repair parts that seemed beyond salvage. The pilots want nothing more than to impress Anakin back. They tell him stories of their travels throughout space.
"I hear you're the best pilot in the Outer Rim," they say, dazzled by Anakin's skill, his bold attitude.
"Well," Anakin says back, without looking up from his work. "Prob'ly not. I've only flown pods. But one day I will be. Me and my mom are gonna see the whole galaxy one day."
The pilots nod, tell him the planets they've been to and one of them brings Anakin a map of the galaxy so Anakin can check off planets as he learns about them. Shmi, who reads only a little better than Anakin, works through the map with him each night, scouring it until Anakin finds each planet he learned about that day. The map hangs above his bed, and he studies it every night as he falls asleep.
The pilots tell him stories of magic and creatures that live among the stars. The stories Anakin liked most, more than the stories of Angels who lived on the moons of Iego, than of the flocks of purrgill flying free in space, or neebray (which, Anakin claims he has seen on Tatooine, in the desert) living in nebulae across the galaxy –more than all of that, Anakin loves stories of Jedi. The pilots claim they've seen –even met and talked to –a Jedi once every few months, and this, more than anything else, impresses Anakin more.
According to Anakin, the Jedi are magic and strong. They carry laser swords to beat up bad guys, and –according to locals on Tatooine who overhear the freighter pilots in the Watto's shop –they'll come to here one day, free the slaves, or at least kill the Hutts. The pilots beg to differ, and Watto doesn't like that kind of talk in shop, but Anakin eagerly asks anyone who will listen to him question after question about Jedi until Watto comes flapping along.
"Mom," Anakin asks one night. They are eating what counts as a good dinner on Tatooine. Anakin is pushing it around his plate with his fork. "When you were in space, did you ever see a Jedi?" Anakin looks up at her with big, expectant eyes.
"Oh," Shmi laughs, surprised. "No. I don't expect so."
"The pilots say there are ten thousand Jedi in the whole galaxy," Anakin informs her. "That's a lot of Jedi. Are you sure you never met a Jedi?"
"I'm pretty sure, Ani," Shmi assures him. She doesn't like Anakin's questions about the Jedi. Soon, he'll ask someone who knows a thing or two, he'll start asking questions about the Force, then about himself. It's dangerous for Anakin to even know about Jedi. Crazy wizards who live comfortably in Core Worlds rather than a police force connected to everything in the universe will be enough for Anakin for now. And it's a dangerous enough line of thought. But one day, Anakin will learn about the Force. And then maybe he'll use it, get them both into trouble. "I think I would know if I met a Jedi."
"Okay," Anakin concedes and turns back to his dinner. "Only, Mama…" he probes, looking around the room cautiously like someone could be listening to them. "They should come here. This isn't a good place to live. And that's what the Jedi do, isn't it? Help people?"
Shmi sighs. "They can't help us out here, Anakin," she says sternly. "I doubt they even know we're here."
Anakin's face crumples. "Why not?"
"I don't know, Anakin," she answers. And she doesn't. No Jedi she's ever heard of has come as far out as Tatooine, though the locals and the slaves tell stories. Shmi knows that in spite of its harsh climate, Tatooine is deeply connected to the Force. Maybe all deserts are. Life where there ought not to be any. Or maybe it's just Anakin. Sometimes, a little plant life pops up in the driest patches of the desert the day after Anakin has been there. A coincidence, Shmi tries to convince herself. But it's probably not. No such thing as coincidences in Shmi's experience. But still, no Jedi, in their beds in the Core Worlds doing the bidding of a government she doesn't understand, would ever come all the way out here. There's nothing here. Just Anakin. And the Jedi don't know about Anakin, otherwise he wouldn't be here either.
"What makes them magic?" Anakin asks after a few moments of contemplative silence. "How can they be magic?"
"The galaxy is a strange place, Anakin," Shmi tells him. Anakin looks at her intently. She doesn't want to tell him any more, but Anakin will weasel it out of her. Nothing can stop him, once he's got his mind set on something. He will learn about the Jedi, about the Force. He wants to, and he's meant to –he's born from it, after all. Shmi's fingers tremble only a little. Anakin probably doesn't notice, but Shmi feels it just the same. "The Jedi themselves must be magic."
"The old crazies talk about the Force," Anakin whispers. "I believe in the Force."
Shmi's heart stops for a moment. "You should, Anakin," Shmi assures him. Though her voice is warm, she feels so cold. Anakin looks up at her with quizzical eyes. "It's what keeps us alive. It keeps everything alive, here on Tatooine and in the whole galaxy."
"Is it what gives the Jedi they're power?" he wonders. Shmi shivers. Anakin's eyes are shining, like they do in her dreams, when he is a Jedi, when he's the greatest Jedi ever. When he's brought her and every person in the galaxy out of slavery. Determined and far away. He doesn't look very young just then. He barely looks human.
Shmi smiles at Anakin. "I wouldn't know," she lies, smoothing over the worrying in both of their faces. Anakin goes back to looking like a little boy. "I'm not a Jedi, and I've never met one."
Anakin is sitting in the back of Watto's shop, crying when Shmi comes to find him at the end of the day. Shmi can hear him before she sees him, and she follows the sound of his hiccupping sobs to the back, where he's got a handful of broken parts, trying futilely to put them back together. Shmi squats down next to him, sighing.
"Ani," she whispers. Anakin sniffs and looks up at her, a dark bruise blooming underneath his right eye. Shmi gasps.
"I'm okay, Mom," he gulps, swallowing the sob. Shmi reaches out and touches the bruise gingerly. "I'm sorry."
"Anakin…" Shmi sighs, wrapping Anakin in her arms. He buries his face in her shoulder, crying. She feels immeasurably sad, and frightened, even though she knows Anakin will be alright. It's not the first time Watto has knocked him around. It won't be the last. The anger she expects to feel is washed away by fear. She caresses his chin to see the bruise better. "What happened?"
Anakin sobs, looking away from Shmi.
"I –I was thinkin' about the Jedi," Anakin tells her. Shmi's heart plummets and Anakin starts sobbing harder. "Mama, please don't be mad at me."
Shmi picks Anakin up. He's too big now to carry comfortably, long limbs knocking against her legs, but Shmi doesn't mind. It's not a long walk to where they live, and Shmi will carry Anakin as long as she can –as long as he needs it. She'll still carry her son when she's old, and he's grown. If he needs her to, she'll always carry him. And he needs her to now. His arms are twisted around her neck, and he's shaking, and heavy against her breast.
At home, Shmi washes Anakin's face with the little water they have left for the month. She doesn't like the way it looks, sitting at the bottom of a dusty pitcher, and it's almost a waste, but it makes Anakin feel better. She promises herself they'll be fine, and turns a smile on Anakin. He's still crying. Still trying to fuse the broken metal bits back together.
"Anakin, please tell me what happened?" Shmi presses.
Without looking at her, he sniffs. "Mama, you have to promise not to be mad."
"Okay," she promises.
"I was thinking about the Jedi," he says, not looking at her. "They're magic, right?" Shmi is silent. Anakin sobs again. "And I was thinkin' about some things in my life. I thought, I might be magic too. And if I just concentrated really hard, I could make these –" Anakin holds the parts up for Shmi to look at, but he still won't meet her eyes. He chokes on another sob. "I didn't!" he insists suddenly, like Shmi accused him of something terrible. "I promise, I didn't, Mama!"
"Didn't what, Ani?" Shmi wonders. "What didn't you do?"
"Watto came in, he saw me sittin' there," Anakin recounts. He's shaking again. "He hit me. Because I was lazy."
"Is that all?" Shmi asks. It's a lot to get so worked up over. Watto has hit Anakin for less. But Shmi hopes it's all. Jedi on Tatooine could mean trouble for the slavers, which would mean trouble for the slaves. Until Anakin is ready, his power must be kept secret.
"No," Anakin sobs. He finally looks up at her. "No, Mama." He takes a deep, rattling breath. "When Watto hit me, he asked what I was doin'. I told him."
"About the Jedi?" Shmi asks.
"Yes," Anakin whispers. "But as soon as I said it, I realized I shouldn't have. And Watto tried to hit me again, but he couldn't. I'm too fast. He caught me. But he tripped. He said I did. I couldn't have! I didn't touch him!" Anakin is insistent, his eyes fiery. It hurts to have to look at him. Anakin probably didn't do anything, Shmi tells herself. A coincidence. And she won't tell him that he did. A floodgate that Shmi doesn't want to open. "Watto said that if he can't touch me, than he'll touch you." Anakin's voice drops almost an octave, and Shmi's skin crawls. "I told him I wouldn't let him, and he hit me again. But when he did…" He lets the parts fall through his fingers. "These exploded. I didn't do it, Mama. I promise."
Shmi doesn't know what to say. Anakin probably did break the parts into irreparable pieces. Shmi had seen him use the Force when he was younger and upset. And he would do anything to protect Shmi, just as Shmi would do anything to protect Anakin. "You didn't, Anakin, I believe you," she lies.
"Watto doesn't," Anakin tells her seriously. "He…he said that water was short this month. He said he hoped we saved some. He said he only has half the amount of water to give us this month. He said that I probably waste water the way I waste time and money. He said that we don't need all the water he gives to us. He said…he said…"
Withholding water is especially cruel, Shmi thinks as she listens to Anakin's speech devolve back into sobs. They won't have enough water to get through the month, and Shmi is already trying to ration what she knows won't be enough to live off of in those last weeks. She shouldn't have used the water to clean Anakin's face. They'll have to be especially careful about everything this month.
"Stop crying, Anakin," she says. It comes out a little harsher and more panicked than she means it to. Anakin flinches a little but he does. "We'll be fine. The Force will keep us alive." It will keep Anakin alive at least. The Force and Shmi will do everything they can to ensure that.
"Mom," says Anakin. "Are the Jedi…are they dangerous?"
"Yes," Shmi says without thinking. "You don't want to be a Jedi." Maybe one day Anakin will be, maybe if the galaxy were less cruel he would be now. But here on Tatooine, Anakin cannot be a Jedi, and here on Tatooine, it was dangerous to be.
"I do want to be a Jedi," he murmurs, mostly to himself. "But…I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to hurt you."
"One day," Shmi tells him, repeating the story the old slaves used to tell her when she was young. "The Jedi will save us. They will bring life back to Tatooine, rid us of the Hutts. Free the slaves. But Anakin, it is very dangerous to be a slave on Tatooine. And the Jedi…" Shmi swallows. It's not a lie, exactly. All of the stories she's heard about Jedi make them seem like all-powerful gods, never sticking around too long. One adventure to the next. Flitting from star to star, without a home, without a family. At least Anakin has those two things. "They're heroes, but they're not our friends."
They make it through the month, but it's a difficult one. Anakin complains all the time about being tired and thirsty. Watto makes sure to work him extra hard, and Anakin cries through the night. Other slaves sneak Anakin extra water, a piece of fruit, when their masters aren't looking, only so that Anakin doesn't cry.
When the next month rolls around, Watto hands out their normal ration carelessly, and though Shmi is as thirsty –as desperate to drink –as Anakin, she keeps it out of reach. She'll be more careful with their water from now on.
A/N: Hello! No more promises about this fic since every time I think I have time to write, I get distracted by something else, but since we are coming upon the one year mark and I did just finish finals today, then there should be more of this in the coming weeks, hopefully before I hit the one year mark.