9. I Found You Missing

Obi-Wan wasn't sure how Master Skywalker had convinced the groundskeeper to allow them entrance, but before he knew it, they were climbing up the grand stairway, the front double doors already pushed open and a blue and white protocol droid awaiting their arrival.

This time, Obi-Wan remembered to use his master's name when he hissed, "Anakin! She's here."

Master Skywalker threw him a sharp look over his shoulder, before turning back towards the droid. But in the Force, Obi-Wan sensed a brewing storm of embittered hostility, and he almost wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Welcome, guests," the tinny female voice of the droid said, shuffling aside to allow them entrance into the grand hall. "My designation is P4T-GN and it is a pleasure to host you. Please, follow me."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said in place of his master as they warily trailed the protocol droid down an adjoining hallway to their right.

"You are most welcome," the droid trilled, seemingly overjoyed by Obi-Wan's polite words. "If you will, please rest here," she continued, leading them into a nearby sitting room with floor-to-ceiling length windows that overlooked the terrace and gardens. "Madame Pi-Lippa shall be with you momentarily. In the meantime, may I offer you refreshments?"

"That would be great, thank you," Obi-Wan was quick to agree, hoping to be free of the droid, if only for a moment.

"Oh, splendid! I shall return posthaste," she assured them before eagerly shuffling off, presumably in the direction of the kitchens.

Once she'd disappeared, Obi-Wan whirled around to face his master and said, "Anakin, what exactly is the plan?"

His master stared down at him with a scarily blank expression. "...Plan?"

"Yes, plan," Obi-Wan repeated slowly, apprehension beginning to weigh down his chest. "What exactly do you intend to say to this Pi-Lippa?"

"She's a slaver, Obi-Wan" Master Skywalker reminded him with a hiss, hatred whipping in the Force in all his deep-seeded bitterness. "They only speak one language."

"Master," Obi-Wan said cautiously, "you're not thinking clearly."

Master Skywalker turned sharply and marched off towards the array of windows with a harsh scoff, folding his hands rigidly behind his back. His reflection in the glass revealed what Obi-Wan could already see in the Force―hatred, deeply entrenched in a black web of putrid pain tainting the very air around him.

"You're damn right I'm not thinking clearly." Obi-Wan watched as his master's shoulders curved inward. "...She's really here."

"She is," Obi-Wan repeated, a foreboding sense of urgency ringing in his ears and pushing him to speak. "But you'rethe one who said that we must be mindful of whoever we encounter out here. So please, don't let your emotions cloud your judgment. For Shmi's sake."

Master Skywalker's shoulders righted themselves as he turned to face Obi-Wan, fierce expression easing into something less caustic. "You're right, Obi-Wan," he said with grim certainty.

Obi-Wan smiled tentatively and moved to guide his master back towards one of the ornately-designed couches. "We should do as the droid said," he insisted. "She will be back soon."

Before they could take up the pretense of making themselves comfortable, footsteps echoed from the corridor, and they remained standing in place, muscles tensed as they awaited the appearance of Shmi's owner. But she was nothing like what Obi-Wan had anticipated.

Pi-Lippa was a small, turquoise Rodian, with wide, purple-tinted constellations shimmering in her galaxy eyes. Her antennae twitched with visible annoyance as she entered the room with purposeful steps, halting short of the sitting area. "I was informed I had uninvited guests," she said imperiously in accented Basic, crossing her arms comfortably over her chest, the flowing sleeves of her silver satin robe shifting like a glossy shield before her. "What can I do for you?"

Obi-Wan exchanged one last look with his master, before they simultaneously turned to face the Rodian with identical expressions of cool politeness.

"Pi-Lippa, I presume," Master Skywalker greeted her affably and then, as usual, proceeded to bulldoze straight into the heart of the matter, "we're here to inquire after one of your properties."

The words remained courteous, but Obi-Wan felt every needle-sharp stab of hostility in the Force. Fortunately, Pi-Lippa seemed unaffected, her irritation merely tinged with the slightest hint of curiosity.

P4T-GN made her return before Pi-Lippa could respond, pushing forward a cart arranged with a tea set and plates of finger foods.

"I apologize for my tardiness," she said meekly, scuffling forward to transfer the trays onto the low table set between the couches. "Bix was malfunctioning. I think his wires got loose again."

"I will take a look at him later," Pi-Lippa smoothly reassured her, moving around her to sit on one of the couches. "That will be all, Gen. Thank you."

"You are most welcome," Gen answered with a bow, cheered once more. "Excuse me."

While Gen made her exit, pushing out the empty cart, Obi-Wan and his master moved to sit across from Pi-Lippa.

"Now," Pi-Lippa began as she served herself a cup of tea, "which property do you wish to discuss?"

Master Skywalker threaded his fingers together in a tight clasp as he leaned forward, anticipation causing tremors in the air around him. "We're here for Shmi Skywalker."

Pi-Lippa's emotions shuddered strangely, unexpectedly taking on an unfriendly edge. She set down the teapot with a sharp clink and said, "Then I believe our discussion is over. Shmi is not for sale."

A mixture of derision and anger blistered the space around Master Skywalker, but to Obi-Wan's relief, his master kept his composure. "Why not?" he demanded shortly, eyes flinty.

"I fail to see how that is any of your concern," Pi-Lippa said harshly, rising to stand. "Our business here is done."

Master Skywalker shot to his feet, the entirety of his body vibrating with barely-concealed rage, gloved hands fisted at his side as his Force presence reached its boiling point.

"Pi-Lippa," Obi-Wan cut in, movements cautious as he pushed himself to stand beside his master, "I think this would go over more smoothly if you knew who we were."

As a youngling, Obi-Wan had learned a great many things from Master Yoda. One specific phrase niggled at his mind now as he endured his master's seething fury, a solid wall of scorching heat at his side.

"Obi-Wan, if defy the storm, you cannot, then go with it, you must."

Obi-Wan had always thought the storm would be someone on the other side. But now, he was beginning to understand that for him, it was Master Skywalker who was the storm, and he would have to learn to navigate his master's impassioned temperament lest he be crushed trying to oppose it.

"Allow me to introduce you," he continued, gazing steadily into the glittering depths of Pi-Lippa's bulbous eyes. "Pi-Lippa, this is Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker."

"Skywalker," Pi-Lippa repeated, her interest finally piqued. To Obi-Wan's relief, Pi-Lippa slowly moved to sit once more, picking up her teacup with long, scaly fingers, wafts of steam rising from its surface in thinning spirals.

Once Obi-Wan firmly tugged at his master's jacket sleeve, Master Skywalker sat down beside him as well, postured rigid with misgiving.

Pi-Lippa sipped her tea through her slender snout, before she continued on to say, "I do not care what title you call yourself. Jedi do not exist in Hutt Space. But a Skywalker… How can I know that what you say is true?"

Warily, Master Skywalker offered, "I have identification."

"Which can be falsified," Pi-Lippa easily countered and took another delicate sip. But her feelings betrayed her. His master's name had been so unexpected, that she almost believed it.

Actually, if Obi-Wan was understanding her thoughts correctly, she wanted to believe it.

"Excuse me," Obi-Wan cut in, his own curiosity urging him to ask, "but has it not become obvious to you? Does he not look like a Skywalker?"

If anything, Obi-Wan was amazed that the resemblance had yet to be noted by her. Shmi and his master were practically identical. What more proof did she need?

"Look like a Skywalker?" Pi-Lippa repeated dubiously. "I would not know. All humans look the same to me."

"Oh."

"If I cannot prove to you that I am who I say I am," Master Skywalker said, pure determination crafting his words, "then why don't you let Shmi decide for herself?"

Pi-Lippa eyed him thoughtfully, lowering her teacup to her lap. "Perhaps I should," she mused. "But first, you will answer one question."

His master nodded in acquiescence.

"Have you come here to free Shmi," Pi-Lippa asked, "or do you intend to prolong her enslavement?"

For a moment, a stunned silence descended. Until a swell of righteous anger convulsed in the Force as Master Skywalker forced through gritted teeth, "What do you think?"

"I think," Pi-Lippa said evenly, "that you walked in here uninvited, referring to Shmi as my 'property.'"

Master Skywalker sneered. "Isn't that what she is? Or were we wrong? Are you, or are you not her slave master?"

To Obi-Wan's infinite surprise, a mixture of shame and regret surged around Pi-Lippa, astonishing both Master Skywalker and himself.

Pi-Lippa stared down at her cooled tea, jutted eyes glistening with what looked like tears. "Shmi is the kindest, warmest person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing," she confessed tremulously. "She does not deserve to be owned by anyone."

"No one deserves that," Obi-Wan gently corrected, remembering all too clearly the destitute faces of the city slaves.

"No," Pi-Lippa agreed contritely, antenna quivering. "In truth, I had already agreed to give Shmi her freedom. But before I do, I am teaching her my trade so that she is able to make it on her own."

"Shmi doesn't need your trade anymore," Master Skywalker said sharply. "She has me."

"That," Pi-Lippa said obstinately, "she will decide for herself."

"You will let us see her then?" his master demanded with tangible relief.

"It is only fair that she gets to choose," Pi-Lippa said, leaning forward to set down her teacup, before rising to her feet. "Wait here. I will go and fetch her."

As soon as Pi-Lippa had vanished around the corner, Master Skywalker sagged beside him, shoulders bent forward and elbows propped heavily against his knees.

Obi-Wan hesitantly reached over to place a hand on the curve of his master's shoulder. Growing up in the temple, he had rarely partaken in physical intimacy, the magnitude of emotions experienced in the Force more than enough fulfill the sentient need for affection. But ever since he had become a padawan to his master, Obi-Wan had learned to tolerate and even appreciate Master Skywalker's need to constantly reach out to him, as though he needed more than the Force to make sure Obi-Wan was physically present. And it had certainly helped in times when being overwhelmed by the Force required something more stable than an elusive, psychic connection.

As predicted, Master Skywalker promptly leaned into Obi-Wan's grip, murmuring, "Thank you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan nodded silently, and then asked in a hushed voice, "What are you going to say to her?"

"I…I don't know."

"Well, whatever you say," Obi-Wan offered, "I'm sure it'll be better than anything she's heard in a long time."

"It shouldn't have to be that way," Master Skywalker bit out, burying his face into his hands.

Obi-Wan squeezed his shoulder. "I know, Master."

The rest of their wait was done in silence, though in the Force, Obi-Wan tried his best to be a pillar of support. The approaching meeting had more than shaken his master, but there wasn't much more that Obi-Wan could think to do. Only Shmi could make things better now.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, they stood as one, turning to face the entryway as Pi-Lippa entered, Shmi at her side.

Up close, the resemblance was uncanny. There was no doubt about it. If the Skywalkers weren't twins, then they had to be siblings. Shmi was certainly no distant relation.

Pi-Lippa hung back as Shmi stepped forward, wiping her hands against a starship oil stained apron. "You are Anakin Skywalker?"

Beside him, Master Skywalker stood frozen, a flurry of emotions coiling erratically around him.

"Yes." The word was barely a whisper, more a movement of lips.

Shmi smiled softly and suddenly, Obi-Wan understood the source of Pi-Lippa's shame. Shmi was more than just 'kind' and 'warm'―she was good. Shmi embodied the kind of compassion that every Jedi strived to achieve. And even more astonishing was that a life of slavery should have robbed her of it, but instead, she had persevered, until that goodness had earned her the goodwill of the only person with the power to set her free.

Now, more than ever, Obi-Wan was grateful to have followed his master on this mad journey.

"It is so very good to meet you, Anakin," Shmi said, stepping closer.

Obi-Wan quickly shuffled to the side, trying to keep out of the way.

"Yes," Master Skywalker repeated, eyes glassy with tears, gazing down at Shmi as though she were the only person to exist in the universe.

"I heard that you came a long way to find me," Shmi said as she paused before him, observing him with her kind expression.

At her words, Master Skywalker snorted a small, incredulous laugh. "Yeah," he agreed hoarsely, "something like that."

Shmi's smile widened and her eyes crinkled. "I would love it if you could tell me about it."

"I'll tell you everything―anything you want to know."

Obi-Wan was startled to find Pi-Lippa's long turquoise fingers gently curving along his shoulder. "Let's give them a moment, shall we?"

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan nodded in agreement and turned to follow Pi-Lippa into the grand halls of her home.

"Where are we going?" Obi-Wan asked, keeping in step with her.

"The kitchens," Pi-Lippa said. "I do believe there is a droid in need of fixing. Would you like to help?"

"I would," Obi-Wan agreed, welcoming the distraction. For all that he knew it was best to allow Master Skywalker his privacy, he couldn't help but feel a little resentful. Getting information from his master before had felt like pulling teeth. If Pi-Lippa hadn't done the right thing and interfered, Obi-Wan might've had the chance to learn more.

"It's through here," Pi-Lippa said, guiding him down an adjacent corridor and through a small entrance that opened up into a spacious kitchen.

"Madame Pi-Lippa," Gen greeted her from where she hovered by a sadly whirring kitchen droid. "Bix is unwell."

"I can see that," Pi-Lippa said. "Thank you, Gen."

Gen shuffled back and gestured towards the anti-static toolbox sitting on the counter. "I went ahead and gathered your tools for you, Madame."

"That is very helpful, Gen, thank you," Pi-Lippa said as she approached Bix.

Cheered, Gen answered, "You're welcome!"

Obi-Wan took a seat on one of the stools by the counter, sliding the toolbox closer and popping it open. Wordlessly, he handed Pi-Lippa the drill.

"You're familiar with mechanics?" Pi-Lippa asked while she methodically undrilled the back of Bix's chassis.

"My―I mean, Anakin, he's shown me plenty," Obi-Wan said, taking the nails from Pi-Lippa one by one.

"It is a very important skill to have," she said approvingly, returning the drill to him, and then handing off the back panel of Bix's chassis.

"I know," Obi-Wan said resignedly. He'd heard enough about it from Master Skywalker.

"Hm. Pass me the pliers."

For a while, that was all that was spoken between them as they exchanged tools back and forth. From his vantage point, Obi-Wan could see that Gen hadn't been kidding about Bix's wires. They looked a bit fried, but Pi-Lippa easily replaced them, trimming the damaged portions, stripping the wire ends, and attaching fresh wires, wrapping the exposed ends with heat shrink tubing. It wasn't anything Obi-Wan hadn't done before, but unlike his master, he gained no pleasure from getting his hands dirty. Personally, he'd rather pilot an air speeder than gut it.

"Pi-Lippa," he said, watching as she patiently hovered the heat gun over the shrink wrap, "how did Shmi come to join your household?"

Other than the groundskeeper, Pi-Lippa seemed to keep no other sentient company. It seemed strange that she would bother purchasing a slave when her droids attended to her every need.

"She was a gift," Pi-Lippa revealed. "My sister worries for me. She thinks I'm too alone."

"So…she bought you a friend?" Obi-Wan said flatly, mindlessly reorganizing the tools in the toolbox.

"Essentially," Pi-Lippa said, her remorse exposed only by her thoughts. "I did not want her, initially, but I did not want to disappoint my sister."

"I see." There were few ways Obi-Wan could respond to that, lest he fall into the same violent anger that constantly clawed at his master's insides. But to speak of Shmi so dismissively stirred up that familiar ire that Obi-Wan had spent his entire childhood trying and failing to keep quietly contained.

"I am sorry," Pi-Lippa said, not looking him in the eye as she handed him back the heat gun.

Obi-Wan accepted it and stored it away, every response catching painfully in the muscles of his throat: sorry isn't good enough, and she's not an object to be sold, and damn you, and every other poisonous accusation that wanted explode from him until Pi-Lippa was an eviscerated, bleeding mess at his feet.

But in the end, the only words Obi-Wan could force himself to say were an empty, "I know."


A/N: We'll be getting a lot more of Shmi next chapter, so I hope you all look forward to that. And of course, returning to the Jedi Temple is going to be a blast.

Thanks for reading and please be sure to review if you can!