Chapter 1 - Good Evening, My People (TPM)

Author's Note: Warnings: Possessive behavior, breakdowns (these need warnings, yes. She's five, okay? That's warning-screwed up-worthy.)

~ Rivana Rita

"Ani!" I call out as loud as I dare, voice full of excitement. Not that I'd normally care if his slave master, Watto, heard me, but today is not normal. After what seems like forever, I've managed to finish collecting the remaining few parts to complete our secret project – a droid called See-Threepio. Even if I did pretty much pull all the pieces off random objects between Watto's junk shop and my own master's storage, it doesn't constitute as stealing in the mind of a five-year-old. "Ani!" I call again, voice rising even more as I practically bounce with excitement.

"Ashla!" he exclaims, raising his head. He turns away from the mechanism he's cleaning, hurrying over to me.

My grin broadens as he approaches. "Did you find it?" my best friend queries. I raise the handful of parts – mostly consisting of wires – which he'd asked me to find. Anakin's expression lightens instantly. "Great!" he exclaims.

"We finish him!" I practically squeal.

"Shh!" he cautions, eyes darting towards the store, "Where'd you get it?"

"Found them," I explain excitedly, a little quieter as I shift my weight from one leg to the other, then back again. It's a gesture of holding altogether too much energy. All the time. "From here and master's home."

"Are you sure she won't notice?" Anakin inquires. There's a hint of concern in his voice. It annoys me, though on some subconscious level, I understand he's only trying to protect me. Like he always has since the moment I came to Tatooine.

"She notice nothing," I insist. "We need. They sitting there doing nothing." At least I doubt she would. The object – datapad, was it? I can't remember – wasn't working. How would it matter if I pried off the front and ripped out half the contents?

I pause for a moment, trying to translate the words I'm trying to say into my still very bad understanding of Basic. I've only known it for two years, so my grammar is still terrible. So is my pronunciation. I've totally given up trying to call Anakin his name. I've stuck to calling him 'Ani' so I didn't accidently call him some horrific syllable conglomeration. He was less than appreciative last time that happened. I'm lucky my master understands me, because my understanding of Huttese is worse than my ability to speak Basic. It's not surprising, though. I've only lived on Tatooine for two years.

Watto's voice startles us out of our conversation. He's yelling in Huttese, so I glance at Anakin for a translation rather than trying to figure it out myself.

"He's calling me. I need to go."

I frown. "I keep parts safe," I decide as my best friend runs for the shop. Ducking backwards, I hastily make my way around a couple large machinery pieces and crawl beneath one, lying flat against the sand as I carefully slip the parts under my skirt to temporarily conceal them until I can get to safe grounds, meaning outside the shop and back into the shops. No one other than Watto would suspect anything, and I don't want him to start wondering about our secret project.

Unlike humans, I can hear the conversation inside the shop perfectly well. Watto is talking to Anakin, clearly upset at his short delay – personally, I think he seriously needs to chill, but then again don't all slavers? – and Anakin says something which clearly calms him down. Probably some easy excuse that switched the blame. It was really Watto's fault to begin with, not Anakin's.

I scowl. I hate this. I hate being a slave, having to sneak around to do anything I want. It's plain not fair, and I can't understand how beings can do this to each other.

Inside, Watto is saying something to the customers, something about taking them out to the yard. Great. Just like I thought. Maybe I should have waited. What was I thinking, anyway? Anakin's home is right next to mine. How am I going to get out undetected now?

There are some sounds inside, though I can't really make out what before I hear a man's voice commanding, "Don't touch anything." Watto flies out of the shop, his blue wings flapping furiously where he flies a few feet off the ground. He's probably only a little taller than me, standing, which is saying something considering how small I am. I'm only five, and Togruta's grow much slower than humans, so I'm only half Anakin's size.

A man is behind him, and what startles me is the fact he's human. He's dressed in a fashion to fit in with Tatooine, but something about him seems different. I don't know what, but it feels like he doesn't belong here. Maybe it's because humans are rarely ever seen out here, I don't know. His hair is fairly long and gray, and his eyes are blue. A small, cylindrical, blue and white droid is rolling along behind him. It's an astromech droid; another shock. Who are these customers?

Watto comes to a stop by a machine – one I think might be a hyperdrive. "Here it is," he declares, "A T-14 hyperdrive generator! Thee in link, I'm the only one hereabouts who has one, but thee might as well buy a new ship. It would be cheaper, I think. Saying of which, how's thee going to pay for all this?"

Ugh. It's bad enough I hardly know Basic. Why does Watto have to speak so weirdly? I can't understand him half the time. I have no idea what he's talking about, but this sounds interesting. I want to know what's going on. Back inside the shop, I can hear Anakin talking to someone – it sounds like a girl, and she doesn't sound that old. It makes me instantly curious. I want to go over there, but that would give my presence away.

"I have 20,000 Republic dataries," the customer replies. Well. It sounds like they must have come from elsewhere, which would explain why they need a new hyperdrive. He clearly knows nothing about Tatooine. That's not how this works.

"Republic credits?!" cries Watto incredulously, "Republic credits are no good out here. I need something more real."

"I don't have anything else..." the man says before raising his hand in a strange motion, "But credits will do fine."

I frown. When he said the words, I could feel something changing, something shifting in the air around me. The air feels staticky, like energy gathering that I can feel but not see. What was that?

"No, they won'ta!"

The man frowns, then repeats the motion. "Credits will do fine." I felt it again, this time stronger. What is that? Slightly spooked, I start crawling out of my hiding place. I don't know what's going on, but it's strange.

"No, they won'ta!" Watto repeats, radiating with annoyance by now. "What, you think you're some kinda Jedi, waving your hand around like that?!" He's talking, saying something after that, but I don't even register it. A Jedi? All the way out here? That would explain why he's clearly from the Republic and knows nothing about this place. It could – maybe – explain why I felt the air shifting around me. A shiver runs down my spine, even though that makes no sense because of the extreme heat of Tatooine.

I don't even think. It's a shock too great for me to handle, and I dodge out of my hiding spot, bolting for the shop. Luckily, Watto's distracted, but I can almost feel the man's eyes on me even though my back is turned. I dart into the shop, skidding to a halt next to Anakin.

"– wouldn't have lasted so long if I weren't so good at fixing things," Anakin is finishing his sentence as I run inside. His gaze is instantly diverted to me, but my eyes are instead riveted to the person he's talking to. She's a human girl, and she can't possibly be too much older than Anakin himself. What is she doing here?! We rarely ever see humans, and if we do, they're gangsters primarily like the others on this planet. She's entirely different, just like the man I saw out there in the shop.

"What's wrong?" Anakin asks, scooting forwards a little and looking down at me as he takes in my expression, which must have been far more startled than I intended.

I raise my head, eyes still wide. I want to tell him what happened, but it feels stupid to blurt it out in front of the other customers, who likely know what's going on. "Later," I mumble finally, bolting from the shop. I stop outside of it, taking care to keep the parts out of sight as I sit down right around the corner from the door. Since I got out early today, I have the rest of the day off. When that happens, I usually sit around outside Watto's shop and wait for Anakin. I know no one else here, and due to my lack of a family of my own, Anakin's mother, Shmi, has practically adopted me.

I lean against the wall, heart pounding. I'm not sure why I ran anymore. I'm too confused, too overwhelmed at the prospect of having just seen a Jedi. I want to become one, but... but is it even possible?

"Who was that?" asks the girl from inside the shop, voice curious.

"It's Ashla, my best friend. We're making our own droid," Anakin cheerfully her. I can't help but frown. Why is he talking to her like they're old friends? A stab of jealousy shoots through me. I was always supposed to be his best friend. That better not change. It can't. I have no one.

"We're leaving," I hear the man say abruptly before he walks out of the shop past me. He pauses, eyes falling on me. I'm hesitant to look up, but finally I force myself to raise my head. He's regarding me almost curiously, but when another strange creature and the droid exit, he turns away.

"I'm glad I met you, Anakin," the girl calls before she hurries after.

"I'm glad I met you too," Anakin calls after. I can't say I say the same. I'm worried – however childish the fear might be – that I could lose my best friend. What if he's closer with someone else? What if he decides to hang around someone else more than me? There are a million things that could go wrong, and I can't stop myself from letting my mind run wild over the doomsday possibilities. It's stupid and childish, I know, but I am a child. I'm five. I shouldn't have been thrown into this life with no one. Why couldn't I at least have had my parents?

Tears sting my eyes as I remember them. I only have vague flashes, but I try to picture them every day lest they fade from memory. I remember my little sister, too. I can't remember her name, but I'd know it if I heard it. I pull my legs up, wrapping my arms around them and resting my chin on my knees. Come on, Anakin. I need you.

I hate it when moments like this plague me, but I just want to – to have someone. I live with my master's other slave, and he isn't exactly terribly fond of me. He only bothers taking care of me as minorly as possible because he insists that slaves should help each other get by.

I'm not a slave. I'm a Togruta. I shouldn't be treated as some sort of lesser being. I am not stupid. Neither is Anakin. He's the smartest person I've ever come by, and I adamantly refuse to accept otherwise. No other nine-year-old is capable of building a protocol droid or a pod-racer. And certainly not of participating in a pod race. He's the only human who has been able to do so and survive. I don't know how he does it, but all that matters is that he does.

I bite my lip, trying in vain to force away my first memory, one of the few memories before... before everything.

"She's so small," I murmur, leaning over the tiny bundle of my little sister. She's so small. Her montrals and lekku are tiny, hardly existing yet, and the white markings on her forehead and cheeks are very small and hardly have any shape to them. Her skin is orange, the same color as mine. A sensation of protectiveness bubbles up inside of me as I reach out, gently resting my hand on her tiny head. She's so small and adorable, even though she's sleeping.

"She's only a few minutes old, Ashla," Mother says, cradling my sister.

"What's her name?" I inquire, raising my eyes to look at her.

I can't remember the answer, no matter how hard I try, but I know I'll never forget the moment she opened her bright blue eyes – identical to mine, eyes meeting mine for the first time. And now she's gone, gone forever. I'll never see her again.

I don't even bother trying to stop the tears that flow down my cheeks. It's pointless. I'm not sure how long I sit there like that, but it probably wasn't long, even though it feels like forever. Anakin runs out of the shop, skidding to a stop the moment he sees me. I don't look up or say anything, but he seems to understand anyway. Anakin pulls me into a tight hug, holding onto me as I struggle to regain control of my emotions. I reach out with one arm, slipping it around him and digging my fingers into his shirt. He gently runs a hand down my back, a reassurance that he's still here. He's not going to go.

I take a few deep breaths, finally managing to stop the flow of tears. He pulls back, helping me to my feet. "Are you alright?" Anakin asks softly.

I nod, wiping away my last few tears on my sleeve before snatching up the parts again. "Hurry," I nudge him forwards.

Anakin takes my free hand, and we start walking through the bustling marketplace. He leads me around the familiar shops, with me holding tightly to him. My rough, ragged, pale grey skirt swishes around my ankles as we walk, the sand crunching softly beneath our boots.

I try to focus on the surroundings instead of letting my thoughts start running again. My attention is suddenly captured by a growing crowd over by one of the shops, and an altogether too familiar voice yelling in Huttese.

Anakin hurries in that direction, pulling me along. Through the crowd, I spot a creature – the strange, huge-eared one with Padme and the others in the shop earlier, sitting on the ground. Sebulba – a Dug, Anakin's main rival in the podraces – is standing on his hands in front of him, furiously waving a frog with his feet.

"Why mesa always da one?" moans the huge-eared creature.

"Because you're afraid," Anakin calls, coming to a stop nearby. He lets go of me, pushing me behind him protectively as he steps forwards to speak to the Dug alone. He's speaking in Huttese, but from what I can tell, he's giving a warning of sorts.

Sebulba turns to Anakin, who holds his ground, glaring at the Dug with sapphire-blue eyes. He says something in response. I tilt my head, trying to translate his words. "What do you mean, slave?" At least I think that's what he said. Anger bubbles in me to hear Anakin addressed in such a manner, but my getting involved will definitely worsen it. The Dug is a complete coward who loves picking on people who can't fight back. I have no doubt the argument will escalate if I start talking. Frustrated, I hold my ground.

Anakin says something I can't quite make sense of, prompting Sebulba to growl something in response that sounds like it includes a long list of nasty names as he furiously waves the frog in the air. It's probably a good thing I can't understand Huttese, after all. I do not tolerate people talking like that to my friends.

Surprisingly, Sebulba turns away and stalks off, disappearing into the gathered crowd. Anakin calls something after him that I think means "It'd be a pity if you had to pay for us," before turning to Padme, the man, and the astro droid gathered nearby. I'd been so focused on the interaction I hadn't even noticed them standing there.

"Hi!" Anakin calls, switching back to Basic as he looks up at the man. "Your buddy here was about to be turned into orange goo. He picked a fight with a Dug. An especially dangerous Dug called Sebulba."

"No sir, no sir," protests the strange creature as the man helps him to his feet. "Mesa hate crunchen. Dat's da last ting mesa wanten." It sounds like a bunch of random syllables shoved together, and it takes me an irritatingly long time to try and figure out what he's saying.

"Nevertheless, the boy is right. You were heading for trouble." He gives Anakin a genuine smile. "Thank you, my young friend."

Padme smiles at Anakin, which he returns, only serving to send another stab of worry coursing through me. I fall in step beside him as we start heading down the bustling streets.

"Mesa doen nutten!" cries the strange creature.

"Fear attracts the fearful. He was trying to overcome is fear by squashing you. Be less afraid," Anakin replies. We continue on our way in silence, just taking in the sights around us. Since it's still early, Anakin doesn't need to be going home for a while. I'll go whenever he does, since I have no one waiting at home for me. I consider Anakin's home more mine than that of my master's other slave, a Twi'lek named Cotan. He won't be back for a while anyway.

I have mixed feelings about all of this. I'm definitely curious and really want answers, but I can't shake the worry. Anakin has only known me for two years, which is a very long time, but I haven't been in his life nearly as long as he's been in mine. I need him, but he doesn't need me. Does he? And even if he does, that doesn't mean he couldn't be closer with someone else. A small part of me wishes they'd go away so life could return to normal.

My wild thoughts come to a halt as we stop near the fruit stand run by Jira, one of the few humans around here. She's quite old, but also very poor. "Hi," I call, a subconscious part of me noticing that's the first word I've said since we left the shop. I'm not used to so many people being around. I'm typically really jumpy about strangers – not surprising, given my past – but these... they're different in a way I can't understand. It still doesn't stop me from being shy.

"How do you feel today?" Anakin asks, walking up to her.

"The heat's never been kind to me, you know, Ani," she sighs.

"Guess what?" he replies cheerfully, "We've found that cooling unit we've been searching for. It's pretty beat up, but I'll have it fixed up for you in no time, I promise."

Jira gives him an affectionate smile. "You're a fine boy, Anakin." Her gaze turns to me, where I've been standing glued to his side in dead silence for most of the encounter. "You too, Ashla." I feel my montrals flush slightly from the compliment. They're so rare, I hardly know how to react to them.

"I'll take five pallies today," Anakin decides. His gaze flickers over to Padme for a moment. "You'll like these," he promises her. I shift uncomfortably, a faint noise suddenly catching my attention. It sounds like a low whistling, a very faint, far off wind approaching form across the desert.

Anakin pulls the coins from his pocket, oblivious to the sound. I probably only heard it from my enhanced Togruta senses, but it really means we need to hurry. I glance out towards the horizon, tense for the approaching storm. Anakin takes the fruit from Jira and hands them to the man, who slips them into a bag he's carrying. As he does that, my eyes fall on something else he's carrying. A cylindrical object attached to the belt on his waist. Is that – is that a lightsaber?! Those are weapons of Jedi, not commoners. What is he doing with one, unless Watto was right earlier, and he is a Jedi?

My eyes widen at the sight, and I start opening my mouth to say something, but Anakin quickly nudges me, giving me a sharp look. Okay, fine. Later. We'll talk about it later. The approaching rumbling draws my attention back to the others, and I poke his arm. "Hey, hear that? Sounds like sandstorm's coming."

"Ani, Ashla, you'd better get home quick," Jira advises as a wind whips through the area. Sand gusts up from the ground, blowing across us. Ugh. I hate sand. There are few things I loathe more. People die in those. If they're lucky, they'll suffocate. I've never considered what the slower, more painful and bloody option includes.

Anakin turns to the others. "Do you have shelter?"

"We'll head back to our ship," the man replies calmly.

"Is it far?"

"On the outskirts," Padme responds.

"You'll never reach the outskirts in time. Sandstorms are very, very dangerous. Come on. I'll take you to my place," Anakin offers, taking off into a fast walk as we head for home.

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