Arthur's note: Firstly, I wished to apologize for all the false notifications. I did edit the earlier chapters to replace them with past tense instead of the present tense as I'm altering my writing formula and fixing mistakes I made (albeit I most likely didn't catch them all). I have been doing that for the past few days. I didn't know that fanfiction notified people until a few nights ago when I was informed that updating earlier chapter as Net wasn't like that a few years ago.

Chapter 8

Jabba scowled at the corpses of the blaster-filled victims, including one who had been shot in the shoulder. Once finishing their report, they had been quick to brandished their blasters and made a few pod shots, taking down one of his guards. Having seen them make the draw, the henchmen put them down instantly, as always observing anyone who comes close to the Hutt. He was not above at least a little bit of security, due to past assassination attempts.

Assassination attempts on any of the Hutts were inadvisable, though many did not heed this warning. Even if one managed to kill every individual in the Hutt's palace and succeed, they would have the entire Hutt Clan after them that they would never be able to live a life without danger. Any mate, children, or other sorts of family that they may have would be the target as revenge in some manner.

Rather slavery, death, or even worse...

Now, all but one remained alive - a Weequay -, clutching his wounded shoulder, his eyes looking up at him with desperation as if snapping out of a haze. "Mighty Jabba, please show me mercy! I don't know what came over me! My act of rebellion will never happen again!"

Jabba scowled, pointing at him. "Your usefulness has come to an end."

"No! No!"

The Hutt had enough of the worm's words and picked up the wounded fool by his giant hand, bringing him to his mouth and devouring his entire body. This wasn't the first time he eaten a sentient and it likely wouldn't be the last, but it's best when they were alive instead of consuming their corpses.

He knew from experience.

The Hutt's tail rattled briefly and a small burp escaped his lips, and everyone within looked for a second, before turning away. They had seen the Hutt's brutality so many times that they know not to question when such events happen.

The already dead should consider themselves lucky for the quick end instead of the agonizing execution. He could have done many things to them as punishment. Fed them to his sarlacc. Bare them of their weapons and make them slaves. Eaten them as he did the Weequay. Or burn them alive. All the possibilities... there was a reason why the Hutts are notorious for their reputation.

When they'd reported to him that they failed, Jabba was already planning to ordered their deaths regardless. The least he needed was to lose that intimidation factor and the respect that all within his domain of power had for him.

Failure was not something to be tolerated, no matter the excuses.

Besides, while they were searching in the streets, he had a few of his personal hackers began their own investigation. Inside of the slave chips, trackers had been implemented, yet they seemed to so far have no clue of their last known location. Jabba would have murdered the foolish hacker who told him that, but he acknowledged that the murder of one of his clients and no trance about where his two slaves may had been taken was worrisome.

Truth be told, the Hutt didn't wish to kill the two girls. They were the cause of pleasure for many of the participants in this palace and was quite obedient that it would take some time for someone just as good as them to be replaced. Their youthful age and beautiful status could not be easily match.

And Jabba couldn't help a scowl. Who knows how Gardulla would react to this? She had a vendetta against him for a long time.

For the first time in a long time, Jabba the Hutt felt nothing but confusion.

People on Tatooine had been taught that interfering with the Hutts and their affairs could lead to their life quite frankly becoming a living hell.

His majordomo - a dark-skinned somewhat middle-aged male by the name of Naroon Cuthus - approached and stood beside him, and began to speak.

"Mighty Jabba, I have done my own investigation to the dead body of the Zygerrian, and the search party have been right. The Zygerrian's neck had been crushed. Someone snapped his neck."

Jabba didn't care about the Zygerrian and their cultural ways, but the profit they offer were serviceable.

The man checked his jaw and frowned. "Should we send another patrol to search for the Twi'leks and whoever may have done this?"

Jabba frowned. As useful as they were, the Hutt couldn't waste all his resources on two slaves, not when there were far more profits to be foretold.

"No."

Painful as it is, Jabba would have to accept defeat. This could just be a competitor after all.

"Go check the dungeons. Test every female slave. Implant them with a slave collar, and bring them to me. I want to see their dancing skills for myself."

His majordomo bowed out of compliance and respect before walking away, intent on carrying out his orders.

He had no doubt that he would succeed. While the man was getting older and perhaps foolish in his elder age, he still did have a good taste in women and would answer to the Hutt's every need.

"Be quick about cleaning this mess up!" Jabba barked to five servants. He knew that they had been eavesdropping on his conversation.

At his command, they grabbed each of the corpses, and dragged them away. A human returned with a rug and began scrubbing the floor, starting to clean up the blood.

As soon as the coward finished, the Hutts fixated those within the palace with his ever sharp glare, before softening his expression and offering a mini nod, regaining his previous calm composure as if nothing ever happened.

Everything resumed as usual, the bands continued with their music, the ever hotshot smugglers and bounty hunters attempting to woo over the people they were talking with, and shady deals were being made as always.

For now, Jabba would put his worries aside and allow himself to bathe in the party.

Shmi understood that Vader was busy a lot and was not obligated to stay home with them, yet these constant days where he hadn't been home were admittedly frustrating. There had been a slight insecurity that he'd only led them along and had abandoned them after all this time before that worry was subsided by the fact that some of his security droids had been left activated, and his robes was still in his room.

She'd then feared he had been killed in Mos Espa, yet Cliegg reassured her that he had only been working a lot more often. Thankfully. Despite how angry she was with him suddenly staying a lot more often at the shop, Shmi would have hated to know that he was killed.

If Anakin's sobs were anything to go by, the boy obviously missed him. That only sent a twinge down her heart, yet she could only hold him for a few hours until the boy calmed down.

Often times, Anakin fell asleep afterwards, and the whole cycle began yet again, admittedly almost driving Shmi into insanity. Her son was not making things easier.

At the very least Cliegg had been very supportive.

Like he had for the past few days after learning that Vader hadn't been home, Cliegg often visited her along with his son, providing her son with a friend.

While Anakin was clearly longing for Vader, whenever his one friend came around, the boy would often calm down at least for a while. Shmi could tell Anakin enjoyed being around the slightly older boy, and the amount of games that Owen came up with had provided both of them some time outside.

Shmi remembered being that age, a time before she was enslaved at the age of six by a group of slavers. It would have been like that for Anakin too, yet fortunately the boy had been spared of facing the hardships of that sort of life.

As Owen played with Anakin in the sand again, the woman looked at his father with a smirk.

"...You have a wonderful son."

Cliegg smiled softly, looking down at his son with no small amount of pride in his eyes. "He is the light of my life."

Shmi agreed absent-mindedly, looking over at her own who was giggling. "You know before Vader freed me and Anakin from slavery, I always hoped that someone would be kind enough to buy him and give him a good. I didn't ever think I would have been freed."

Cliegg looked at her with genuine sympathy in his eyes. "No one deserves to be enslaved. Vader and I have discussed this topic many times. At least he'd freed you. That man is so bold."

"That he is," Shmi rolled her eyes, exasperated about his antics despite everything. A feint grin appeared on her lips. "Did he tell you how he'd freed us?"

Cliegg shrugged. "I never cared to ask."

Shmi continued. "He'd practically told our Hutt slave owner to go kriff herself and got off, scot free."

Cliegg's eyes go wide. "I sometimes wonder if he is suicidal. Hmph, he might teach my son to be just like him."

Shmi nodded, looking at Anakin. "Oh, I often worry about him doing the same to mine."

Both locked eyes again, and Shmi felt her heart fluttering, the familiar feeling of her cheeks burning hotly. This man was a friend of Vader, she had only been introduced to him by him, and she shouldn't have such feelings to him. It wasn't right.

What would Vader say if he found out she had fallen in love with a friend of his, someone who she'd just met and he knew longer? Okay, not so longer, but...

Additionally, Vader was already serving as her son's father figure so that would make things somewhat confusing as he grew up. Yet, there had been something within her gut that told her that these feelings were okay, that she didn't need to fear what she was feeling to him...

A sudden voice caught their attention...

"Hey dad! Ms. Shmi!"

Both turned over to Owen whose holding up sand in his hand along with Anakin and throwing them at both of them, receiving sands in the mouth, causing them to both cough violently, having not expect the blow.

After they coughed out the sand, Cliegg glared at him.

"Owen," he gently reprimanded. "You shouldn't teach Anakin to be so disrespectful. Apologize now." Or else was clearly implied, but Shmi found herself severely doubtful he would hurt Owen. If life out of slavery had taught her anything, she learned that her way she intended to raise Anakin was not irregular. The man hardly raised his voice to his son...

And the boy didn't seem to fear him, despite a slight sheepishness and ashamed intertwining into one. He seemed to be respectful of him.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Shmi," Owen responded.

Annoyed as Shmi should be, she found herself chuckling, even though Owen's head was bowed. "Ah, Cliegg, you shouldn't be so harsh on the poor lad. Let them live a bit."

Cliegg's frustration was expelled in a instant at seeing that she didn't mind what his son had taught hers and offered a sincere smirk before nodding.

He leaned in to whisper, a hint of mischievousness pouring into his tone. "We should get those little troublemakers."

Shmi looked confused for a moment before a smirk of understanding breaks out on her lips.

She turned to face them, stating sternly as possible. "Come here, both of you."

Both boys looked at one another - that was another thing Anakin understood them despite not speaking coherently just yet - before starting to walk over.

Once in distance, they pounced, Shmi landing on top of Anakin and Cliegg on top of Owen.

"Hey, let us go!" Owen cried.

"Oh no, my dear boy, you shall be punished for your actions," Cliegg replied lightly, holding him down so he wouldn't be able to move his legs out of his grip.

Anakin only giggled, despite how he squirmed out of his mother's grasp as well.

"Oh Cliegg what should we do with them?"

"Jeez, I don't know," Cliegg responded, pretending to be thinking. "Wait wait wait, I have a idea. Let's tickle these little ones until sundown!"

"Great idea!"

Hearing the idea, Owen's eyes go wide. "No! No! Father!"

Cliegg pushed Owen's shirt up and began tickling him, Shmi doing the same with Anakin.

After thirty seconds, they both released their children, all the while they continue to laugh.

Shmi picked up her son and smiled at him. He hadn't look that happy for days. It was good that being around Owen had such a positive impact on the boy despite how much he was hooked to Vader.

"Same time tomorrow?" Cliegg queried, as Owen stood beside him.

"Of course," Shmi declared.

No matter how grating the suns may be, those endless hours of Anakin and Owen soaking in playtime was memories the woman hoped she could remember for a long time. Owen was such a polite boy, and she wouldn't want her son to be around anyone less.

The boy was mature for his age despite being mischievous as common children should be, a telltale sign of Cliegg's own disciplinarian methods with him.

"Bye, Mistress Skywalker."

"Cliegg, wait," Cliegg paused, turning around to face her as she looked down, debating what to say. "When you last talked with him... Did he act like anything was irregular?"

Cliegg replied. "I have asked him if everything was okay, and he'd merely claimed that it was."

That was disheartening. How could he pretend he hadn't been home lately? How could he pretend that he hadn't practically abandoned them for working? Okay, maybe not abandon them but still...

"I hope he isn't angry with me," Shmi declared, feeling worried that she'd angered him unintentionally.

Cliegg offered a small smirk to her. "Hmph, if he was, he does a good job at hiding it." Despite his slight attempt at levity, her disheartened stare makes the man feel guilty and he instantly reassured her. "Perhaps he is just advancing his shop. After all, running your own business does require a lot of attention."

Shmi nodded. "I understand..."

Cliegg walked up to her, put a hand on her shoulder, and the woman actually stiffened. "I would ask him later if you want me to," he stated softly.

Shmi shook her head, immediately dismissing the idea. "Maybe you are right. I don't want to feel like him working is bothering me. It's just..."

"...He serves as your boy's father figure and his protector," Cliegg finished, and Shmi locked eyes with him, confirming that without saying anything. "I understand, Shmi, but remember you both are my friends. I wouldn't mind asking him if you want me to."

Shmi shifted slightly. She didn't want Cliegg to feel like he has to do that for her. The fact that he was allowing his son to play with hers is already a standard of gratitude that she may not be able to repay. The Larses had already been so kind to both her and her son.

"You don't have to. I'm pretty sure he would tell me what's going on when he comes back." Shmi reassured.

Cliegg hesitated but nodded. "Very well, but remember I'm always here. I heavily doubt it has anything to do with you as he didn't seem upset but rather determined about something."

"Determined about something?" Shmi queried, curious. What could that mean?

"Yes," Cliegg huffed slightly, "the man went as far as to build a door to prevent anyone from entering his back shop. He'd also told me of his intent to build a door in the front of his shop as well. He'd claimed it was personal." He shrugged. "I didn't really care to ask."

That's really... odd. Why would he construct a door in his backshop? There's a nagging feeling in her chest that tells her that he is up to something, yet what she couldn't put her finger on. What was the reason he has been gone for the past few days? Surely, with someone who was obviously a natural in engineering, building a door wouldn't take that long.

Instead of taking up any more of his time, Shmi offered a small smile. "Well, the suns will be setting soon. Be careful on your ride home. Tusken Raiders strike a lot at night."

Cliegg grinned. "I am a good driver, but glad to know you care so much."

Shmi flushed instantly, hands tightening up into fists as a unwelcoming feeling bloomed in her chest. No, no, she definitely didn't want to grab him by the back of his hair and...

Damn it all! Children were here!

His son was standing there, behind them, and hers were now in her arm.

She mustn't let him know of her feelings. She was a former slave, and he was a father. She didn't wish to compromise their friendship out of some sort of... whatever for the sake of them having something together.

Why would he be interested in her anyway? He was married before, and she knew from Pi-Lippa's death that grief took a long time to get over. She still missed her. Vader aside, what would Owen think if he knew that she had some sort of liking for his father?

Shmi couldn't imagine herself outside of slavery for years, to ever had inappropriate feelings for a man, along with meeting one that wasn't cruel to her (Vader doesn't count thank you very much). She had never felt emotions this strongly for another. Was this what freedom really looks like?

Perhaps anyone else would had been attracted to Vader, but something about that prospect was just wrong, like something prevented her from relationship from blossoming further, despite how she still loved him.

"Well, bye," she managed to put her words together, even though she was facing a inward battle, as she watched him approach his speeder with his son.

It was... foreboding to watch him leave. Cliegg Lars burned something inside of her that she didn't even realize was there. He'd even offered to spoke to Vader on her behalf to express any potential problems that have been formed and respected when she had advised him to do the contrary.

Arthur's note: Writing Jabba was so difficult! I almost lost my sanity writing that part. Also, for anyone who doesn't know, Hutts are cannibals. Gardulla have been noted to eat a slave in the Clone Wars movie novelization and Jabba eaten people before, most notably a jailer in Jabba the Hutt: The Dynasty Trap. The Hutts could be quite brutal, especially in the EU back when they were warriors...

I didn't want to bring Vader into this chapter, even though I planned to originally. One thing that I want to make clear that Shmi is a woman with her own thoughts and feelings on matters. I also want to build up the groundwork of Cliegg/Shmi as it's inevitable in this verse.

May the Force be with you all always.