Chapter 8: Hearts and Minds

Tatooine: 32 BBY

The Jedi frowned out at the endless expanse of dessert before them. He frowned and sighed wearily, before turning to look at Anakin.

"I guess I am," he let out a resigned sigh, then chuckled at himself and turned to look at Anakin.

Feeling more than a little awkward all of a sudden, Anakin shuffled shyly and looked down. He was filthy and he stank. His clothes were covered in two days' worth of dirt and grime and there wasn't a single part of him that wasn't layered in grease or dusty sand. The shirt he wore was threadbare and the pants were a patchwork of holes. His mother had done her best to mend them and remove the stains, but Anakin felt ashamed.

And the Jedi had seen him being bullied, had seen him weak.

In his fantasies, Anakin had imagined meeting Jedi. They always involved him proving himself and sweeping in to save them in some spectacular way. Whether it be by fighting, or a display of his quick wit. Never had they included them seeing him at the mercy of the likes of Sebulba. Of course, he'd imagined them saving him from slavery, but that was different. Or so the boy told himself.

He caught himself looking at his feet and found he had been shuffling in the sand and little mounds of dirt had risen around his boots. Angry at himself for acting so timid, Anakin looked up, determined to prove he wasn't weak, that he was better than that.

"Thank you for helping me, sir," he forced himself to say cheerily. And he was thankful. Even though he was also embarrassed.

No slave master would ever say words of thanks or apology to a slave. On Tatooine, those words were meant for those who were strong. But his mother had also taught him to be kind and mindful, even when the rest of the world was not. 'Be the good you wish to see in the universe.' That was what she told him every morning when he left to go to Watto's shop.

The Jedi looked down on him with concerned eyes, "You are welcome. Are you hurt at all? There is blood on your clothes."

Anakin took a moment to take stock of himself. His cheek stung where his face had been ground into the dirt and he could still feel the dug's foot around his neck. Where he had been kicked in the stomach ached with what was probably the beginnings of a nasty bruise. No doubt all these hurts would be worse later, but overall he had come out of the scrap with Sebulba better than he usually could have hoped.

But the blood that had turned rust coloured around his sleeves and the splattering on his smock was not his. It had come from the night before when he had dragged the half-dead stranger across the desert and spent the night trying to keep him from dying. Chuta. The zabrak had been insistent on keeping his presence a secret and Anakin had promised to do so. And now Anakin wore the evidence of someone who didn't want to be found, right in front of a Jedi. Someone that the stranger seemed to hate.

Anakin didn't know what the stranger with a lightsaber was and why he hated the Jedi. The man who had saved him didn't seem to be a bad person. Of course, he knew the Jedi weren't supposed to hate people, but that didn't mean they couldn't have enemies. Until he knew more he couldn't risk the Jedi finding out the zabrak's secret.

"I'm okay," Anakin replied. "It's old blood. Besides I'm used to it," he shrugged casually hoping there wouldn't be any more questions. He didn't like having to lie, even though he didn't have much choice. He comforted himself by thinking it hadn't really been a lie at all. Technically, it was true. All he had done was not add any incriminating details. Just in case he decided to change the conversation to distract the Jedi from the current topic. He held out his hand, as he had seen other people do, other people who weren't slaves anyway. "Nice to meet you. My name is Anakin Skywalker."

The Jedi shook his hand warmly and his smile was friendly, if a little amused. Obi-Wan's hand was much larger than the boys' and Anakin could feel the rough callouses that covered them.

The Jedi took Anakin's hand in his. "Nice to meet you too. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. You were the boy at Watto's shop, were you not?"

Elation made Anakin grin uncontrollably back. The Jedi had noticed him after all! "Yeah! You remember!"

Obi-Wan reached beneath his poncho and Anakin caught a glimpse of the lightsaber hanging from his belt again before the Jedi handed him a small package. "I was told to give you this. It's from a woman named Jira. I forgot earlier since things got a little… heated in there."

The man seemed to turn a little pink in the cheeks but maybe he was just getting sunburn.

Anakin took the package and found it was more of the pallies Jira sold. "Thanks! Do you want one?" He asked, already handing one over and then taking another for himself. He hadn't had time to eat anything yet that day and he was starving. The palllie was gone in a few bites. "How do you know Jira?" Said Anakin curiously. Jira had never mentioned knowing a Jedi. Maybe she didn't know?

Picking off a piece of the pallie, Obi-Wan answered, "We just met, but she was kind enough to give me directions to your shop. She said to pass those along and the boy there wouldn't let me leave with any faulty parts."

The clothes must have been from Jira as well, Anakin suspected, but it seemed the Jedi didn't want to reveal himself as such and didn't want to give such information away. It made sense, the boy supposed. Tatooine wouldn't take well to a Republic enforcer in their midst. And if the Jedi was alone, he certainly wouldn't have an easy time. Not for the first time, Anakin wondered why the Jedi was on the desert planet at all.

"You have an N-1 starfighter right?" Anakin wondered instead. Starships and flying were his greatest passion next to building and fixing stuff and he wondered how badly damaged it was for the Jedi to need so many parts. Maybe he could help fix it.

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "I borrowed it from a friend, and I was hoping to return it, but it seems I might not be able to. As it turns out, I don't have the money to get it fixed."

"Yeah, Watto was pretty mad after you left. Where is it anyway? If you can get it to Mos Eisley there might be someone who would take Republic Credits," said Anakin helpfully.

Turning, Obi-Wan pointed out into the outskirts of the city. "Out there. I was caught in the blasted sandstorm. Just keeping it from being swept up in the wind drained it completely." When he turned back, Anakin was gaping at him in shock.

"Then it's gone," whispered Anakin.

"What?"

Anakin looked up with wide eyes, and explained, "N-1s are one-man fighters. If it was out of power and left undefended out there, in the outskirts, then the Jawas have scavenged it by now." He shook his head sadly. He had wanted to at least see it. "If you can't afford parts for it, you'll never be able to buy the whole ship back."

Obi-Wan looked out at the desert and then back at Anakin. "Already? You're quite sure?"

Anakin nodded solemnly. As a native, born and raised on a planet of plunders, scavengers and thieves, he knew as well as anyone that if you took your eyes off of anything you were sure to have it stolen. Sometimes even if you did keep your eyes on your valuables, there was a good chance someone would still try to take them. Jawas were notoriously cunning and opportunistic thieves, even if they did call themselves scavengers. And they made a successful business selling things back to their owners for more than twice the original value. Experience and listening to local stories told Anakin the N-1 was long gone.

"I should go check," Obi-Wan said heavily. "Not that I don't believe you, young one. But if there is a chance, I should make sure."

"I'll come. You might get lost again." Anakin said. He wanted to talk to the Jedi more, even if it meant following him into the sand and heat which had grown so unbearable that it seemed to burn just as effectively as taking a swim in molten lava.

The two set off, but the idea of any chatter quickly died as they slogged their way across the desert and it was all they could do to keep the sweat out of their eyes. The air shimmered as heat waves rose from the ground and mirages of water filled the edge of the horizon. Anakin knew better and focused on following the Jedi and keeping up with his longer strides. The muscles in the back of his legs burned and his shoes meant for the hard packed dirt of Mos Espa's roads, quickly filled with sand.

Trying to take his mind off how uncomfortable he was his thought turned to the stranger who was somewhere in the desert on the other side of town, who was suffering the same heat in the back of the cave. Anakin hoped he was okay and wouldn't die. He hadn't left a lot of water and the zabrak had only the food Anakin had given him that morning. He couldn't stay in the desert for too long. Even if he was tough he still needed things to survive. Sure, Anakin intended to sneak out at night and bring supplies but that wouldn't be enough. Was there some way he could get the injured man to town? He needed medical attention and…

Anakin was so focused on his thoughts, that he didn't notice Obi-Wan come to a halt and walked right into him. He had to blink a few times and stepped around the man to see what he was looking at.

There was nothing.

"Well, this is where I left it," the Jedi said, resigned.

Anakin looked around and sure enough, they were standing on the edge of a set of very wide tracks left behind by a very large vehicle. He bent to inspect them and saw that the minuscule gusts of breeze that tickled the desert's surface had already begun to shift the sand dulling the edges of the pattern left behind by the tracks of the land fortress called a Crawler the jaws used. They had come and gone long ago.

When Anakin looked back at the Jedi, he saw the same frustrated look that he'd seen back in Watto's shop. But when Obi-Wan noticed him looked, his face quickly smoothed into a calm, smile. "You were right. It seems I have underestimated this planet."

"Yeah, it sucks." Anakin agreed. "But mister Obi-Wan, sir, what will you do now? Do you have somewhere to stay?"

The Jedi rubbed his chin thinking. "I can't stay on this planet long. I have to get in contact with my master. Since I have lost my ship I will have to leave via other means. Is there anywhere I can go to make a long distance transmission and get passage of world?"

"Oh," Anakin said, trying and failing to keep the emotion out of his voice. Of course. He'd forgotten that the Jedi didn't seem to have come to free the slaves, him or his other. He'd thought he'd let go of that stupid hope already, but he'd let himself forget that and got caught up in everything. The Jedi was nice and he'd thought maybe they could be friends. Stupid. This was reality and he should know that the only person he could depend on was himself. He knew it in his mind so why couldn't he make himself believe it?

"Um, yeah. You could make a transmission from the city centre and there's the spaceport. Lots of pilots go through there and there's a public shuttle that goes to the mid-rim." Anakin said glumly.

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin with his intelligent eyes, and the boy felt like the Jedi could see into him. Anakin shuffled in the dirt again and couldn't meet his gaze so he looked out in the direction of the Crawler tracks. He could have been imagining it, but in the distance, the tracks seemed to turn toward the city.

Next to him, Obi-Wan said slowly, "I would like to let my master know I'm safe, but I think I can wait to leave until tomorrow. Until then I guess I'll need to stay somewhere. I don't suppose you know a place?" His eyes twinkled and the edge of his mouth twisted slightly.

Anakin didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. One more day. He didn't know why he couldn't let the Jedi go, since he knew there was nothing he could do on his own to free himself and his mother from slavery, since he didn't even have money. But the hope he felt kept coming back like a persistent itch, and as long as he had hope, he was happy.

His voice almost broke and he tried to pass it off as excitement when he looked up at Obi-Wan and said "Come on, you can stay with me!"

The trip back to Mos Espa was much less dreary and Anakin all but bounced through the sand, not even minding when more sand found its way into his shoes. A real live Jedi was going to stay at his house. He couldn't wait to show him the pod racer he'd been working on, and the protocol droid he'd been building to help his mom. And his mom! The thought of her sent a sting of guilt through his newfound good mood. She must be so worried by now. But he would see her home soon enough.

Once out of the desert, and back on the more manageable streets, Anakin fell in beside Obi-Wan and was wondering what he should take about first but the man started talking first.

"I never asked earlier, but that dug, who was he? He seemed to have a problem with you." His voice was cool but hard and at first, Anakin wondered if he had done something wrong.

But when he looked up, he realized the stern voice wasn't meant for him. Obi-Wan was looking toward the side of the road and Anakin realized they were passing by the spot where Sebulba and his posse had been. They were gone now, slunk away to some cantina to brag about themselves and watch the slave twi'lek's dance.

Anakin shrugged. "He's a particularly dangerous dug called Sebulba. You saw almost all there is to know though. He's a bully. People around here are afraid of him but that's because he's so famous and other people listen to him. He just doesn't like me because I'm a better pod racer than he is and he knows it." Then he grumbled, "He only wins because he cheats."

Obi-wan turned to him, a curious look on his face. "Pod racing is a dangerous sport. You must be very talented. How old are you?"

Puffing his chest out proudly, Anakin said, "Nine. I'm the only human who can do it, and the youngest too. I think."

"Impressive, indeed." Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully.

"I would have won last time, but Sebulba flashed his vents," Anakin huffed at the memory. He had been so close, but he hadn't been good enough. If it had been a clean race he would have crushed the dug one hundred times over. But cheating in the races on Tatooine was an accepted strategy. To win, without cheating himself, Anakin had to be better. Still, it didn't mean he wasn't bitter about losing. "Slimo," he cursed.

The Jedi gave him a sharp, disapproving look but said nothing.

Flushing, Anakin muttered, "Sorry. I shouldn't swear. Mom would be mad if she knew. You'll like her by the way. You'll meet her when we get to my place."

"I look forward to it. She must be an amazing person to have raised you so well." Obi-Wan put a hand on Anakin's head and ruffled his hair.

Now Anakin's face was truly red. No one treated him like this except his mother; now a Jedi was doing it. But as embarrassing as it was, he couldn't bring himself to be mad and instead found himself giggling. He didn't even mind that he sounded childish. Was this what it was like to have a father or a brother? Obi-Wan seemed like he would have been a good one.

"Do you have a family?" Anakin looked up from under the hand that was still on his head. Jedi were said not supposed to make attachments and couldn't marry or have children, but did they know their parents?

Looking up at the afternoon sky, Obi-Wan said, "My master is like a father to me, but I never got a chance to know my real parents."

That reminded Anakin of something that Obi-Wan had said earlier. "Why does your master need to know if you are okay? Did you get separated?"

They must have been on a mission and something had happened. The Jedi had landed out in the desert with a damaged spaceship sometime the night before. And so had the zabrak whose spaceship had been nearly obliterated. Were they connected? Had they been fighting each other? Why? Anakin burned to ask all these questions, but the promise he'd made kept his mouth shut. He couldn't ask the Jedi outright, and he couldn't ask the zabrak either. The Jedi hadn't asked him to keep his secret, even though he didn't know Anakin knew who and what he was. But he knew that Obi-Wan wanted to keep that a secret as much as the zabrak wanted to keep his.

"I ran into trouble with another ship, probably pirates, just outside of Tatooine's atmosphere. My master is expecting me on Coruscant, and with my ship damaged and now gone, I am running late. I should at least let him know I'll be a day or two later than I intended," Obi-Wan explained.

Even if Anakin hadn't known Obi-Wan was a Jedi, he would still have been able to tell something was off. Obi-Wan hadn't lied to him. But his answer felt empty somehow like it was not all there. When he'd mentioned pirates there had been a funny sensation in his sixth sense that he couldn't explain, but he knew the Jedi didn't believe it had been pirates that had attacked him. Again the thought of the zabrak's angry face with his strange yellow eyes and red, tattooed skin made Anakin shiver.

But they'd arrived at the city centre, a sandy coloured building typical of Tatooine architecture and three stories tall. Its shape made it look as if it had once been a cube that had been sheered off horizontally, except for the stone entrance which towered twice as high as the rest of the building and looked like a guillotine set to fall on anyone who passed beneath. It gave off an unwelcoming feeling. Anakin had never been inside but was sure the interior would be no different.

"We're here," he told his companion.

Obi-Wan frowned at it and looked as unsettled as Anakin felt. "Is this it?"

Anakin looked at the city centre and back to Obi-Wan. "Yeah? It's not that important of a building."

Obi-Wan choked. "Not that important? This is where important decisions and city administration should take place. For the size of Mos Espa, it should at least be four times larger and have several hundred people working here, including droids."

It was almost funny to see the Jedi look like he'd been told the most disappointing news of his life, but the look of true concern made Anakin reevaluate. He knew that Tatooine wasn't a good pace, but were things so different elsewhere in the galaxy? The Hutts ruled here and cared little for the people who lived under them. As long as there was money and something to gamble the money on and slaves to do their work, they didn't seem to care how things were run. The most important places on Tatooine were the spaceport, the arenas, and Jaba's palace. Why should the city centre be so important?

"I'm sorry, sir. But this place isn't like Coruscant. People here don't care about stuff like decisions and ad- admin- adminis- whatever."

Obi-Wan heaved a sigh and looked at Anakin with a pained smile. "Let me guess," he rubbed his fingers together like Watto always did and mimed the toydarian in a perfect copy of his voice, "Only money."

Anakin stared at the Jedi. Until now he'd been friendly and polite, if a little serious but he'd just made a joke. It was so normal that he couldn't quite believe it. He'd always imagine Jedi cool and heroic. Obi-Wan was definitely those things but he was also a bit awkward and slightly weird apparently. Anakin liked him even more. "Only money," he agreed, grinning back and rubbing his fingers together.

"Well, let's go in. The sooner I contact my master, the sooner we can go home and meet your mother."

They approached the door together and Anakin immediately shivered as they entered the cool of the building, his body not prepared for the cook, shaded interior. In front of them was a counter with a receptionist droid behind it.

Obi-Wan approached the counter and said, "I would like to make a long-distance transmission to Coruscant please."

"Long distance transmissions must be booked in advance and services charges may apply. Would you like to book a long distance transmission?" The receptionist droid said, unhelpfully.

Looking absolutely exasperated, Obi-Wan replied, "How soon can I make a transmission?"

The droid brought up a holographic display and viewed a chart full of symbols. "The earliest appointment is for tomorrow morning at 4:00 am standard time."

Sighing heavily, a habit Anakin had noticed the Jedi did quite a lot, Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead. "Is there some other way I can get a message to Coruscant?

"You may send a message via data transfer of up to 365 characters. Would you like to proceed?" Asked the droid

"Yes, please."

The droid passed a data pad across the counter and Obi-Wan took a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, before typing a brief message to his unnamed master.

"How would you like to pay?" The droid asked when he had finished.

Turning away, Obi-Wan said, "Bill to the receiver."

"Acknowledged."

Putting his arm around Anakin who'd been lingering by the door, and guiding him out the Jedi said, "Let's go."

Anakin allowed himself to be guided and looked up at the Obi-Wan. "What's Coruscant like? Is the planet a whole city?"

Obi-Wan hummed in thought and said, "It really is a whole city. It's huge, millions of times bigger than this small city and there are different levels. No one is sure how many there are so it's easy to get lost. And there are people everywhere. Of all kinds of races. Some I doubt you have ever heard of."

"Wow," Anakin whispered awestruck. He couldn't even imagine it. "I hope I can see it one day. Maybe I can even your Master!"

Chuckling, Obi-Wan said, "Qui-Gon? I can certainly see the two of you getting along. "

The two walked in companionable silence and Anakin felt his imagination take flight as he pictured a life beyond Tatooine. He and his mother could live on Coruscant and they would live in a huge apartment, where his mother would never have to work again. He imagined Obi-Wan and his master coming to visit them as if they were family and they would have meals together which left Anakin's stomach so full it would be round instead of nearly concave. He would become a Jedi, maybe even Obi-Wan's apprentice and he would fly fast star ships and fight with lightsabers. When he was old enough and strong enough, he would come back to Tatooine and save all the slaves and everyone would be happy.

It was nothing but a dream and he knew it, but his heart felt light just thinking about it.

The trip home was a short one, and for once Anakin didn't feel fear when he walked down the busier, more direct main streets, because Obi-Wan was with him and he knew he'd be safe.

"We're here!" Anakin exclaimed when he saw the dark durasteel door, fourth from the right of one of many of the row of apartments where slaves made their homes. He took Obi-Wan's hand and picked up his pace, pulling the man along with him. He was so excited he forgot to be embarrassed about how meagre his house was compared to what the Jedi was probably used to.

He reached up to press the keypad and the door opened with a swish. "Mom! Mom, I'm home!" Anakin called out.

His mother metered from the door that led into the kitchen and as soon as she saw him, she dropped the cloth that had been in her hands and rushed toward him. "Ani you're home! Are you all right? Where were you?"

She dropped to her knees and pulled him into a hug, her frizzy, greying hair finding its way into Anakin's mouth. He had to try to spit it out as he hugged his mother back. "I'm okay, Mom. I promise."

His mother didn't let go, seemingly oblivious to the stranger that stood right behind Anakin as she continued to squeeze him and bombard him with questions. "I'm so glad you're alive. I was so worried, I thought something terrible had happened. What was it? Did Watto keep you too late yesterday? Did someone hurt you? Your face is scraped up."

"Mom you're hugging me too tight," complained Anakin.

She drew back and relaxed a bit, but still didn't let go.

"Watto let me go home just in time, but Jira was having a hard time when I passed by, so I stopped to help her. Then I got stuck in the sandstorm and had to hide until it was over. Then I had to go back to Watto's shop right away, so that's why I never came home." Anakin explained quickly, hoping she wouldn't notice his lack of detail, and ask where he had hidden. "I'm sorry for making you worry. I just wanted to do the right thing."

"Oh, Ani," his mother said, stroking Anakin's hair out of his face. She leaned forward kissing his nose. "I wish you'd think about yourself more sometimes. That was dangerous."
Anakin frowned and wanted to lean away from her, but didn't. He had made his mother worry and wasn't telling her the truth she deserved, so he'd let her kiss him this time. Recently, he'd allowed her to do it less because he didn't like being treated like a baby.

"Anyway, Mom, there's someone I want you to meet," he said after he'd had enough. "This is my friend," and he flapped his arm at Obi-Wan to come and save him from his mother's attention.

Ducking his head politely, the Jedi introduced himself, "I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your son was kind enough to invite me to stay after I had the misfortune of leaving my ship unattended and a tribe of jawas seemed to think it was a pity no one owned it."

"Oh," Anakin's mother, stood brushing dirt off her skirt and looking flustered, "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm Shmi, Anakin's mother. Of course, you are welcome to stay, although we don't have much."

"I would be more than happy to help out where I can," offered Obi-Wan.

Darn. Anakin had wanted to show him his stuff, but now the guest would help out his mom instead. He knew that was only fair, and he would just have to be patient, but he could feel the energy of anticipation buzzing through him already and by the beginning of dinner, he was practically vibrating with impatience.

Despite not having a lot for themselves, his mother seemed determined to show off her cooking skills and had made a huge meal that was probably a week's worth of their ration and all of the best quality. The only other time she ever cooked like that was for Anakin's birthday. Once he'd asked why she didn't cook a magnificent meal on her own birthday, she had smiled at him and said she already had had too many birthdays and that Anakin's birth was more special to her than her own.

Anakin tried to help and make everything be over quicker but he wasn't a very good cook and was more underfoot than anything and was quickly sent out to set the table and wait.

Before everything was ready, Shmi ushered Obi-Wan out of the kitchen as well and told the two of them to wash up. "Clean yourselves up. You're both covered in dirt. And Ani, love? Change your shirt at least. I'll wash that one for you tonight."

Anakin lead the way to the refresher which was even smaller than the kitchen and pulled off his smock which was clinging to him like a second skin. His only other shirt was hanging above the wash basin where it had been hung to dry the last time it had been cleaned. But when he turned away, he had the feeling of a pair of eyes boring into his back. Or at his back. Where Anakin knew dozens of pale white scars crisscrossed its entire surface. They didn't hurt so he rarely remembered they were there.

He turned around and saw Obi-Wan looking at him with a funny expression. "Sorry," Anakin said, quickly hauling his clean shirt over his head. He didn't like the Jedi seeing the marks of his slavery. "I forget about them most days. Pretty ugly huh?" He put on a smile he didn't feel.

"How did you come by those?" Obi-Wan asked quietly coming up and running the water of the washbasin over his hands. "They look old."

Anakin knew Obi-Wan was trying to act normal about it, but he could almost sense the emotion the Jedi was trying to hold back. A mix of pity and outrage.

Not wanting to look weak, Anakin stuck his hands under the water and said as easily as he could, "Gardula the Hutt. She was a pretty nasty slave master. Mom has it worse. I can't really remember those times though and I was still a kid when she lost us in a bet to Watto." He turned the water off and continued. "Watto's way better all things considered. He's never whipped us."

There was a short silence and Anakin's words seemed to hang heavy in the air. He shifted uncomfortably. Gardula wasn't something he talked about, and he pretended in front of his mother that he'd forgotten everything, but the truth was just the opposite. The pain had long ago faded into nothing, but the memories of his screams twisted with his mothers as they'd been lashed still lingered. Gardula had punished one in the other's stead. When he'd made some mistake as children at the age he'd been were prone to do, his mother had been hit in his stead and in her cruelty, she'd made him watch. And vice versa.

He'd been thankful when Watto had taken them. There had been no way of knowing that this new master would be better, but at the time Anakin was sure that anything would be better than the Hutt.

"You're a slave?"

Anakin looked up sharply. "I'm a person!" He shouted and then looked away angrily. "I won't always be a slave."

"I'm sorry. I should have realized sooner," Obi-Wan said softly.

Anakin rubbed his face with his sleeve. Hot tears were trickling from his eyes and he didn't know when he'd started crying. "I'm fine." He wasn't sure if he was saying it to himself or the Jedi. "Let's go eat. Mom's waiting."

He pushed past and Obi-Wan trailed after him back to the kitchen.

The sight of food was enough to make Anakin briefly forget about his confrontation and his belly rumbled loudly reminding him once more that it had been more than a full day since he'd eaten a full meal. He took his place at the table, Obi-Wan across from him. Anakin focused all his attention on the food, not able to look the Jedi in the eye. His mother didn't seem to notice his new behaviour and took her place as well.

There was a moment of uncertainty and no one made a move to touch the meal.

Finally, Shmi said to the Jedi, "We don't have any customs before eating, but if you do we'd be happy to wait."

Anakin couldn't hold back a groan. He was so hungry. Why did his mom have to be so nice? She shot him a hard look and he stifled any more complaints

Thankfully, Obi-Wan didn't have any such rituals or simply took pity on the starving boy. "Not at all. I was also wondering the same thing. Thank you for sharing your food." He pursed his lips and said, "I was not aware you and your son were enslaved. I will return this favour if I can."

Anakin nearly dropped the utensil he'd just picked up and glared across the table. Why did the Jedi have to bring up the topic again? He hadn't even known Anakin was been a slave, although Anakin had thought he had. Maybe that was his mistake for assuming such a thing, but Obi-Wan had treated him like a normal person who deserved respect. He didn't want the pity that the man now wore on his face, or special treatment. He didn't want to be reminded that when the Jedi left, his hope of early freedom would leave with him. Tomorrow, Obi-wan would leave and Anakin would be left to the same monotonous life of work, sweat, sand, and fear to walk down the streets alone.

Anger filled his belly, and the food his mother had cooked with so much effort was nauseating now. He slammed the table and his mother and the stupid Jedi jumped in surprise.

"Anakin, what…" His mother started to ask.

"I'm not hungry," he snapped. Jumping from the chair so fast it almost toppled over, Anakin fled to his room.

He didn't want either adult to see the tears that refused to be held at bay and trickled down his face.

At least those were the only things that ran free.

Greetings from space, my fellow readers, writers and miscreants of the void. I hope this transmission finds you well. Or finds you at all.

A few words about this chapter; There was no plan going into this. I wasn't even sure if Obi-Wan would stay on the planet and if he did, if he would stay at Anakin's home. There are many good reasons why he wouldn't. Mostly responsibilities and priorities. But I'm the author and I need to build a ladder for my nefarious plans. (Insert evil plot fingers here.)

Also, yes. I know Anakin's emotions are all over the place. I did that on purpose. One is that he is a child and he is a slave and that is messed up. This is something of a plot point that always feels like it's taken for granted and in truth, this would mess a kid up. Secondly, it's widely theorized that Anakin has Borderline Personality Disorder and I wanted to use his quick mood swings to further support that theory.

Alas, my time runs short so I leave you with this; remember to wash the blood out of your clothes and remember to say please and thank you. End Transmission.