Current mood:	accomplished
Entry tags:	ornamenti

Ornamenti: Part 12
Here's the twelfth part of what the inimitable shoiryu and I have been playing around with, spiced also a bit of our out-of-character chattings, simply because I find them amusing.

I'm at a loss for a clever title in regards to this whole alternate universe, and I'm tired of just putting "Star Wars Writing!" in the Subject area of the LJ entry. So.
Any ideas, folks?

Also, if you get the urge to show this story to any of your friends who subequently cry and wail, "But I'm not authorized to see it!" leave me a comment, and I'll put that person on list immediately.
I really enjoy this story and I'd love for more people to read it as it grows and changes. Sadly, there's a circumstance that precludes making it a purely public posting, so. If a friend grows curious or just wants something to read for an hour or two (Or six. Damn, we've been busy.), leave me a message and I'll open the floodgates happily!

Part 12: In which Anakin goes wandering and Obi-Wan Kenobi proves his badassery once again. Also, a special guest!

It was eventually too much for Anakin to wait in the cruiser.
He didn't like Obi-Wan still and pale and silent, didn't like the cool stillness of the unrippled pond, the ocean without waves, and Padme was avoiding him. He couldn't even begin to guess why, but it hurt in a way he hadn't been prepared for. He'd thought they were friends, at least, though perhaps she'd grown uncomfortable around him.
Perhaps he'd been too transparent.
The thought ate him, and at last he took his robe from the corner of the medbay, pulled it on, and went out to make the hike across the wasteland and back into the city again. He wasn't worried about being recognized- and even if he was, slave owners were of course allowed to shop alone. It wasn't suspicious.
He wandered for some time, without really knowing what he was looking for, hood pulled up to conceal his loosed Padawan braid.

The dark-haired woman stepped from the shadows of the shop doors with a little shake, welcoming the bright sunlight once more with an adjusting blink or two and a small wistful smile.
No, Watto had not seen the tall Jedi again, had not seen Anakin in his tow.
They talked of many things during the rare visits Shmi paid to her old owner when Cliegg needed a replacement part or something too rare for the jawas near the farm to carry in their huge commercial tanks, but the question was always asked hopefully and answered negatively at some point in the conversation. Watto respected the business and enjoyed the company (despite many gruff invectives to the contrary), and Shmi had gotten into the habit of bringing him lunch. The Toydarian had always enjoyed her homecooked meals despite his absent grumbling about this or that inferior piece of improperly cooked food.
Coming back to the old place reminded her of days when a small sandy-haired boy would run in and out of the rusty old parts, chasing some new droid of his own design...
Shmi Skywalker (now Lars, too) sighed a little and continued to walk, scanning the shops for another J-99I bitwrench and wondering how different Anakin would be now, after so many years as a Padawan.
Tall and straight, still with the same shy confidence. Maybe battle-hardened, with the self-assurance of a Jedi. More adult, but not quite a man yet.
Still a boy.
Still her Anakin.

Yoinomyoujou: (*L* I fucking love Watto, incidentally. I don't know why.)
AraiYasha: (*L* It's your Grumbling Bastard fetish, Shoi.)
Yoinomyoujou: (APPARENTLY)
AraiYasha: (AHAHAHAHAHA)

It was machine parts that distracted him, eventually. He was in familiar territory- Watto's shop was only a few doors away, but he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted, run there. Anakin Skywalker could not make himself obvious, for there would be complications, and, as much as he desperately wanted to see his mother again, he still thought of his gentle Master, lying wounded back on the ship, and he knew that he could do nothing to endanger him, or the woman who'd wormed her way into his heart and sat there now, a heavy weight he could not dismiss.
He crouched in front of an ancient, ailing astromech droid that sat for sale in front of one of the outside booths. There was smoke drifting lazily from the top. Motivator, probably. Anakin put a hand to the dome, flipped the panel open without a second thought, and began to fiddle with it, hood nearly covering his face. So what if the seller had a problem. He was just improving the merchandise.

Shmi Skywalker frowned a little at the strange clicks and mechanical noises coming from behind the overladen scaffold of parts she was examining. Peering through the mesh of dangling hardware only allowed the view of a brown-hooded figure tampering usefully with the seller's merchandise.
A familiar habit of someone gone.
But past the sand and the oil and the drifting ozone-smoke of the malfunctioning droid, there was the wafting scent she'd known and held close to her heart for as many years as he'd been gone. Burying her nose in his hair after a long day of work. Helping to dress him in the mornings. Carefully undressing him at night when he was too woozy to put himself to bed.
Hugging him tightly for the last time, burning every sense full of his presence so that she would know him again if he ever returned.
Shmi Skywalker smiled and turned away from the pegs of metal objects so she was in profile, carelessly examining the knobs and dials in front of her. She couldn't care less about what they were or what they did. She was too hopeful to care.
"You should tell the store owner what you're doing with that droid." Shmi beamed at nothing, keeping her voice steady. "Maybe he'll give you a better deal on it."

"I'm not going to buy it," the hooded youth replied absently, without recognition. "I just hate seeing a droid malfunctioning and no one caring about it." His voice was young, but deep and decidedly masculine. His fingers moved swiftly, though he did not lift his head; his mind was clearly somewhere else.

The woman chuckled. "That's very kind of you. Droids usually don't receive much care."

Beneath the hood there was the hint of a smile, not innocent, but rather quirky, almost a smirk. "Well," Anakin said, lifting his shoulders in a light shrug, as he finished the rewiring and closed the panel, "They're easier to deal with than people."

"I wonder if you could help me." The woman fingered a multi-faceted screwhead in front of her, an echo of that quirky smirk of Anakin's upon her own lips. "I have a protocol droid in need of a casing, and he has a tendency to get..." Here the smirk turned into an open smile. "Very testy."

"Where'd you get a protocol droid on this rock?" countered the boy, absently buffing at the scuffs and scratches on the astromech's dome, while the little droid beeped contentedly. "I'm not really for hire, you know."

She was amused at the happy beeping; it was a normal sound for droids to make around Anakin. "My son made him for me. He was very talented with droids."
Like you, hovered in the air afterwards with a knowing and oh so familiar smile.

At last there were words enough to startle him into looking up, and he did so, fixing her with wide blue eyes. The child he'd been was still there in his features, but his jaw was strong now, gaze intense, mouth more clearly defined, chin slightly dimpled. His eyes searched her face, finding familiar lines and new ones, and at last he rose to his feet, tall and broad-shouldered, mouth slightly open in surprise and sudden wonder.
He couldn't quite seem to make his voice work. "...Y...."

And she stepped forward and around that divide, smiling the same quiet smile she'd always worn to welcome him home, and hugged him close and happy.
"It's good to see you again."
There were tears in her eyes, but not enough to spill over onto her cheeks. "...You've grown so tall."

Yoinomyoujou: (Wah<3)
AraiYasha: (Yeah. A.A<3)
AraiYasha: (NO TUSKEN RAIDERS)

"Mom, he said softly in her ear, arms around her already and hugging tightly. It was so strange to be taller than she was, to find her dwarfed in his arms when in all his memories she could lift him up. He could think of nothing to say to her other than the truth, and he whispered it like a prayer.
"I missed you."

"I've missed you, too." Shmi's words were halting and fervent, too overcome with joy to emerge smooth. "Did you see all the stars? You wanted to be the first to go to every planet... I watch them every night."

Anakin choked a laugh. "Mom, I see them all up close almost every day. We go all over, I can't even begin to start with where-"

She chuckled again, stepping back to get a better, full look at his face. What she found took her breath away.
Made her proud.
There weren't words to fully convey all the good, all the dedication, all the service she saw there, so Shmi simply said, "You're so handsome, An. You've grown up so well."

He smiled, self-conscious, shifting his weight a little, back and forth. "Obi-Wan takes good care of me," he said, reaching up to pull off his hood. His hair'd grown darker, nearing light brown rather than dark blonde. The Padawan braid hung small and delicate behind his right ear.

"Obi-Wan?" Shmi cocked her head to the side, reaching up to touch the little braid fondly. "I thought Master Qui-Gon would be training you."

Ah. There was that. Anakin's smile faded a little. "Qui-Gon was killed," he said quietly, "A few days after we left."
He remembered Obi-Wan's numbness in those first few days, his silence, and though he hadn't at the time, he understood now what a void the death of a Master could leave behind in one's life. He wasn't sure he could convey the odd mixture of sorrow and regret the event left him with, especially as so much of it was for a man his mother had never met. "Obi-Wan Kenobi was his apprentice. He's my Master now."

Shmi accepted Qui-Gon's demise with quiet regret, still holding her son close. He had proven a kind, patient man during the time she had known him, a man she approved of enough to entrust her precious son to his guidance. "I see. Is Master Obi-Wan here now?"
Jedi Masters rarely left their Padawans wandering alone upon planets in the Outer Rim. It was too dangerous. She shrugged Anakin's hood back up again, mindful that his Padawan braid, a mark of honor, could also double as a mark for death.

"He's-" Anakin paused, and let his power extend across the distance, to touch Obi-Wan gently, careful not to disturb him if he was indeed still sleeping, to leave few ripples across the surface of the water. "He's back on our ship, he was wounded badly yesterday, in a fight."

Shmi frowned, noticing for the first time the slight edge of bruising showing upon Anakin's neck. "What kind of fight?"
His Master was not disturbed; Obi-Wan was, in fact, conversing playfully with the two youngest children from the group of four; Suldai was stable, though having another check-up in the medbay, and Loolee had decided to keep her company while asking Obi-Wan a barrage of questions about Jedi, the War of Naboo, and what color the Senate was.
Been wandering, Anakin?


Yoinomyoujou: (*L* Ani's sort of got the remains of a black eye, too.)
AraiYasha: (*L* O-kay, noting that.)
Yoinomyoujou: (THAT came about from being dropped in the pit by the TENTACLE DEMONS)
AraiYasha: (WHO WERE NOT SEXUALLY ATTRACTED TO THE UGLY HUMAN AT ALL)
Yoinomyoujou: (NO THANK GOD)
AraiYasha: (XD)
AraiYasha: (They were going to chop off his braid and eat him.)
Yoinomyoujou: (...THAT'S ONLY MARGINALLY BETTER)
AraiYasha: (*CACKLE*)

He paused, trying to think of how to best explain it, without letting his mother in on exactly how dangerous his life had become.
"There was a Hata, a Jedi Killer," Anakin said, touching the bruises around his throat momentarily, suddenly conscious of what he looked like. "He... I was taken prisoner for a while, but it turned out all right. Obi-Wan killed him. He got hurt during the fight- Ah." A smile blossomed, suddenly, at his Master's awake and aware response.
You could say, he replied joyfully, with the mental equivalent of a tight hug. I'm glad you're okay- guess who I ran into?


AraiYasha: (OH YEAH, THE WORDS "Jedi Killer" DON'T MAKE YOUR LIFE SOUND DANGEROUS. XD)
Yoinomyoujou: (*LOL* HE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY.)

Shmi said nothing to this, only made the stern, worried face she'd always borne when her little boy went off to podrace. He'd been just as evasive with reporting the dangers then, too.
I don't have to guess, my overjoyed Padawan. Chuckled Obi-Wan. Your feelings make it very clear. Congratulations.
And as random as meeting in the street- He sighed in relief, glad that Anakin's reunion with his mother had gone so effortlessly: this only proved their meeting had been the will of the Force and not something to be discouraged by the Jedi code or forbidden according to the Council.
Some days Obi-Wan wondered if Master Qui-Gon had raised him to be too lenient with his Padawan. He felt the coiled light weight of the twist of hair in his pocket, gratified to know otherwise.
Only the Force was all-knowing.


Yoinomyoujou: ((Hypothetical question.))
AraiYasha: ((Yes?))
Yoinomyoujou: ((If they were to actually have the sex. Who would top. Ani or Ben.))
AraiYasha: ((Anakin.))


I'm glad you're okay, too, Anakin corrected him happily. You scared me half to death, Master. He turned his careless smile on his mother; whatever danger he'd so recently encountered had not affected his carefree attitude in the slightest. "Mom," he said, taking both her hands in his, "Do you think Watto would let you come with me? Just for a little while, at least, I want you to meet Obi-Wan-"

Yes, yes, of course. I am glad you are well, too. The water lapped playfully at the fire. I owed you a heart attack, my Padawan.
Shmi's chuckle became a laugh. "I don't have to ask permission, Anakin. I'm free." She squeezed his hands, a mischievous little grin flitting across her features. "Free and married." And there /was/ a small band of metal upon her finger. Simple and unadorned, but there it was. She seemed pleased with its presence, pleased by the man it represented. "I would be honored to meet Obi-Wan."

Yoinomyoujou: (*LOL* Anakin's jaw drops off.)
AraiYasha: (*LMFAO* "Surprise! :D")

Whatever Anakin was going to say in response to Obi-Wan was silenced by the sight of that ring. "...Married?" he repeated in surprise, lifting her hand to look at it more closely. "For how long? To who? I-" he cut himself off, though, remembering where they were, and instead slid his arm around her shoulders. "Let's walk. You can tell me on the way. We're on the outskirts."

"Mm." Shmi Skywalker settled happily into the warm folds of her son's robed arm. "That would be wisest."

He smiled, brilliantly, wonderfully happy, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I promise I'll tell you all about my exploits in return," he said, quietly teasing. "If you promise you won't faint over them."

Shmi's response was wry, the fond remembrance of a mother's inevitable gray hairs. "I never fainted at any of your podraces. Even the one where your engines exploded halfway around the turn."

"I only sprained my wrist doing that," Anakin said, with a rueful little grin. "Obi-Wan takes me on all of his missions. I've been in worse situations now than any podrace ever was."

"Oh /thank you/, An." Shmi pulled his arm close around her shoulders and wrapped an arm around his waist, marveling at how big her little boy had grown. Obi-Wan must have always kept him well-fed. Her grin was small but profound, the words following it half-serious. "Now I shall have nightmares."

"That's the life of a Jedi," he said cheerfully, enjoying her closeness combined with the distant ripple of water. "Our second mission together was on a planet called Kyriara- I bumped my head and was unconscious for about two hours. Obi-Wan had a panic attack." He spoke of it with immense humor, as though the thought of his own mortal danger didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Bumped your head on what?" Shmi had been present for many of the unfortunate, maddeningly accident-prone bruises and scrapes her son endured as a slave in a scrapheap shop. There were levels of bumping.

"The butt of an enemy's blaster?" This was said sheepishly. Not so much bumped as "was struck", it seemed. "I didn't have a concussion or anything."

"Oh." Shmi shook her head. "Well, at least you look whole."

"At the moment anyway." Anakin grinned. "Tell me about your husband? When did you meet him? What's he like?"

Here Anakin's mother pressed her lips together in a tiny little smile. "His name is Cliegg Lars. He's a very kind man. Grounded. He used to come around Watto's shop to pick up spare parts..." Shmi's pleased expression said Cliegg had stopped by the shop more often than he'd really needed to. Stayed longer than he needed to, as well. "We own a moisture farm a little outside Mos Eisley."

Anakin digested this, as well as the expression on his mother's face. She seemed content. Happy, even. And she was free. He couldn't have asked for anything better for her. He smiled at last, and found that the information pleased him.
"I'm glad. You sound happy."

Shmi smiled up at her beautiful son. "Now I am."

We're coming to you, Master, Anakin said, as they crossed the wasteland that lay between city and ship, the latter gleaming brightly within sight now. He tightened his arm around his mother just a little, more relaxed than he'd been in weeks. Try not to pass out again before then.

Oh can't I just have a nap until you get here? The Jedi Master's reply was warm and joking.

No. You have to be perfect and gracious, or my mother is going to eat you.

Oh heavens. I had no idea she was so ferocious. Then again, she did give birth to you...

There, you see? Anakin chuckled aloud, seemingly at nothing.

Yes, yes, I see. Obi-Wan Kenobi sighed without a single jot of exasperation. I ought to get up, shouldn't I...?
Shmi Skywalker looked up at her beloved son with a faint question, but not did put it to words. Anakin was happy. Enough contentment could be found in that.

Don't do anything to strain the wound, okay? I think maybe you need to stay at least sitting down. Anakin glanced briefly at his mother, gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm talking to Obi-Wan." His power, it seemed, had blossomed.

She blinked. "Right now?"

"Right now," he agreed, touching two fingers to his temple. "A Master and student have a close bond. That way we can always find each other, if something goes wrong."

Oh, Anakin, are you explaining Jedi procedure to her? There was a slight feeling of gingerly sitting upright. You'll destroy the mystery.
Shmi Skywalker grinned. "...Reassuring." She looked beyond into the distant wasteland, catching sight of a beautiful mirrored reflection. "Is that the ship you came in?"

Just the training bond, Master. Anakin gave him the impression of a playfully extended tongue. It's not forbidden, as far as I know.
To his mother he replied, "Yeah- we're with the Naboo, at the moment, assisting them in finding some lost children."

Not forbidden, but perhaps disconcerting. Have you the means to open the door from your side? I assume I'm not allowed to move.
"The Naboo again?" Shmi "hmm"ed a little; Master Qui-Gon had spoken with her of the daunting problems the Queen had faced many years ago, though not in great detail. "Did it end well?"

I can get the panel from out here, don't worry. And no, you're not allowed to move.
They paused outside the closed cruiser, Anakin squinting at it in apparent concentration. "After I blew up the Federation Control Ship, it did," he said absently, letting go of her for a moment. "Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan beat back the Sith who was sent to complication the situation- just a moment."
Anakin made a gesture, a little wave of his fingers, and the ship opened gently before them.

And Shmi Skywalker smiled, happily, completely, contentedly amazed. Her son was becoming a Jedi, and a good, sweet, selfless one at that. He was helping people all over the galaxy, just like he would help people around Mos Espa, only the ring of people who needed him had expanded and his powers had grown to meet that need. "The Jedi have taught you much, An."
She squeezed his hand with pride.

He looked back at her, beaming, almost glowing with his own measure of pride, at being able to show his mother just what he'd become, what he was capable of.
"Come on," he said, and led her gently up the ramp. "I'll introduce you."

She held up the hem of her skirts shyly and followed her son, gazing around at the skilled Noobian craftsmanship with amazement. Everything was so soft and smooth.

Yoinomyoujou: (...Shmi never found out that Padme was the Queen!)
Yoinomyoujou: (I just realized!)
AraiYasha: (Hee. NOPE! :D Padme never informed her of that little tidbit. IT WAS A GUARDED SECRET.)

Sabe had come out to see what the ramp opening was about; she blinked at Anakin being followed by the strange woman, and said nothing, though she eyed the Padawan with sudden suspicion. "..."
Anakin just grinned. "Sabe, this is my mom. Mom, this is Sabe. She's a royal Handmaiden."
Sabe looked Shmi over in silence, and then bowed her head agreeably. "Good afternoon."

The woman bowed her head in return. "Good afternoon."
Sabe was a faster walker than Padme, though they'd come from the same direction. She caught sight of the strange woman's face and just... Oh how she smiled. "...Hello, Shmi. It's good to see you again."
A returning smile that remembered a quiet, somewhat shy voice asking if she needed any help in the kitchen, a young girl displaced on a planet so very unlike her own home. A girl who'd put up with her clenching fingers as young Anakin sped around treacherous curves at terrifyingly high speeds. "Likewise, Padme."

Anakin shifted a bit, glancing away from Padme, clearly uncomfortable suddenly, as though he were trying to avoid staring at her. "How's Obi-Wan?" he asked, a subject change they could all get behind. "He's awake, isn't he?"

"Mm-hm." Padme nodded, a little uncomfortable, too. She stepped to the side with a second soft little smile at Shmi. "He's awake and waiting." She clasped her hands behind her back, a tiny voice inside her saying very very quietly, I'm sorry.
Shmi Skywalker noticed the tension between her son and his childhood acquaintance, deciding in her calm wisdom that the best idea was to proceed in the given direction and meet the man who had raised her son into this wonderful, confident young Jedi.

The soft inner voice earned her a sudden glance, a brief frown of confusion, and a moment later his voice said hesitantly, in her head, can we talk later?
AraiYasha: Padme nodded, briefly, a small physical reflection of her mental reply. Yes.

A slight smile touched his lips in response, and he took his mother by the arm again, turning away to lead her to the medbay. "This way."


Obi-Wan Kenobi waited for them in one of the exceptionally comfortable medbay bunks; true to his word, he hadn't moved much, but he had propped himself up with enough pillows that his stomach wound wasn't strained, and he did manage to bow rather gracefully when Shmi entered the room. "Good afternoon, Madam. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Shmi bowed in return. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Master Kenobi."
Obi-Wan had the strange feeling he was being measured, examined in a way he hadn't felt since the last time Master Yoda had looked him up and down as a Padawan and passed judgment upon not just his saber form, but the whole measure of his training and his readiness as a Jedi. Yet he wasn't nervous, just a little unnerved... And this earthily calm woman was justified in her scrutiny; after all, he /was/ responsible for the safety and teaching of her son.
Neither of which evidenced a stellar record.
As his present bruised state showed.
Then she smiled at him, and the faint knot in Obi-Wan's stomach cleared. "...Do I pass the test?"
Shmi sat in a nearby chair, smiling that serene smile. "What test?"
Obi-Wan peered wryly at her, and Shmi laughed.

Anakin Skywalker had clearly had no doubt that his Master was worthy; he paused only long enough for this exchange to occur, and then he went to embrace the man, taking care not to jar his wound, relief a tangible field all around him. I'm so glad you're okay, his emotions whispered. "Master," he murmured.
Perhaps Anakin's bruises weren't so important after all, at the moment.

Obi-Wan was embarrassed and touched all at once as he hugged his Padawan back, patting the worried boy's shoulderblades in a quiet effort to soothe. "I'm fine, Anakin. Really."
Shmi sat, watching this fond tableau with the smile that hadn't seemed to have gone away ever since she'd recognized her son in the marketplace. "May I ask how you got your injury, Master Kenobi?" This wasn't simply curiosity about today's wound; it was an invitation for information about all the missing years.

"I mentioned the Hata," Anakin said in Obi-Wan's ear, "But I haven't given her a lot of detail." He released the elder Jedi, squeezing his arm once, and went to sit between them, beaming from ear to ear, Force presence fairly glowing with happiness.

AraiYasha: (Obi-Wan: *oh god* *Anakin, are you going to make me explain this to your mother?!* o.o)
Yoinomyoujou: (Anakin: *what, she can take it* *she raised /me/ for nine years, Master*)
AraiYasha: (Obi-Wan: *but that was when you were tiny* *and you stayed in one city!*)
Yoinomyoujou: (Anakin: *and I raced pods* *for fun*)
AraiYasha: (Obi-Wan: *...were you shot at daily?* o.O)
Yoinomyoujou: (Anakin: *...Tuskens like to hang out on the ridges and take potshots at passing pods sometimes*)
AraiYasha: (Obi-Wan: .................... *...why is her hair not gray*)
Yoinomyoujou: (Anakin: *why isn't /yours/?*)
AraiYasha: (Obi-Wan: *I DON'T KNOW* *IT SHOULD BE WHITE*)
Yoinomyoujou: (Anakin: *easy there, old man*)
AraiYasha: (Obi-Wan: *huff huff* *eek*)
Yoinomyoujou: (Anakin: ....*"eek"?*)
AraiYasha: (Obi-Wan: ..... *hush*)
Yoinomyoujou: (Anakin: *...n_n<3*)

What am I supposed to say?! hissed Obi-Wan to his Padawan, completely nonplussed by the collective Skywalker Calm in the room. He was outnumbered, but he covered it well when he addressed his Padawan's mother. "Yes, well... My opponent managed to stab me with a vibroblade."
"In the stomach?"
"Yes, madam."

"Obi-Wan was due for a serious injury anyway," Anakin put in brightly, not helping the situation in the slightest. "I was up last time."

"Oh were you?" Obi-Wan shot Anakin a sour look. "Why you persist in charging off into danger, I'll never know."
"It's a childhood habit." Shmi was amused. "Apparently he's never broken it."

"I'm just doing my duty," the boy said with mock-humility, smiling to himself. "Besides, I'm not dead yet."

That comment incited both Obi-Wan and Shmi to look horrified. At the same time.
Obi-Wan's expression was a great deal less subdued than Shmi's.

Ah, there it was. Anakin beamed, the effort of effectively horrifying his two parental figures well worth their reactions. He straightened up, folded his hands businesslike in his lap, and said, "Anyway, it's nothing compared to what happened on Llisnal-"

Obi-Wan slapped his face with one hand, hanging his head. "...Please. No."
Shmi's eyebrows rose. "What happened on Llisnal?"

"I was hit by blaster fire," Anakin said, clearly enjoying the effect this retelling was having on his long-suffering Master, "It cut my stomach open. I was in the emergency medbay for over a week."

Shmi made a small sound, brows knitting together in silence afterwards. "...But you're well now, An?"
"Yes, he's fine." Obi-Wan was quick to assure the lady, taking her hand in one of his with yet another rueful look towards his Padawan. "He just likes dangling his near-death experiences to see how I react, that's all." His eyes narrowed at Anakin in deep thought. "If you ask me, your son is too healthy for his own good."
Here Shmi grinned. "He always did have a lot of energy."
"I should say so. He nearly broke my neck the first time he had a bath."
"Oh?"
"YES. The boy simply would /not/ stay still! There was water everywhere!"

"Mom always said not to remove my clothes just because someone bigger than me said to," Anakin declared wisely. "You were bigger than me once, remember?"

"Yes, I remember." One corner of Obi-Wan's mouth had fully disappeared into his moustache in a sour expression. "How dare you grow so impossibly heavy. Carrying you out of danger now is such a chore I'm tempted to just leave you there the next time you willfully place yourself in peril."
So he said, but the fond tones he spoke in declared that he would never, ever leave Anakin in a nasty situation.

Anakin laughed; clearly the back and forth of gentle abuse between them was customary, comfortable, affectionate. He shot small sideways glances at his mother from time to time, as if to say, see? Isn't he great?
Isn't he worthy?
"You never would," he said, grinning.

"Oh wouldn't I?" The older man huffed at Anakin's grin, taking the dare with a barely submerged smirk. "Maybe it would knock some sense into you."
Yes. Yes, he is, breathed Shmi Skywalker with every smile. He's wonderful and loving. Everything I'd hoped for and more.

"I've been dropped on my head more than once by now," Anakin retorted, "And there's no sense there yet, Master."
And in the distance, the softest of vibrations along the strings of the Force, the gentlest of whispers of danger.

Obi-Wan stilled briefly, focusing upon that distant hint of danger. Anakin, do you feel that? "So you say, my Padawan, and only out of respect to this lovely lady do I decline to concur."
Shmi laughed. "I hope Anakin hasn't been too much trouble."
"Madam, it is a miracle my hair has not gone gray."

Anakin lifted his head, shifting a little as he let his power flow out. ...Someone's coming, he said at last. A lot of someones.
The smile faded, but to his credit the boy did not show any other outward sign of distress. What should we do?

How far away are they from the ship? Obi-Wan thought quickly. Depending on what they want, we may have to drop your mother off at her home personally.

The words made him shift slightly closer to the woman in question, faintly protective. I can't tell yet- not far. Probably within sight, if we went outside.

Drat. Do you suppose someone saw through the ruse? Obi-Wan scanned the inhabitants of the ship. ...The handmaidens were hoping to question the locals regarding the other children, but they wouldn't wish to lose what they've already recovered-
He gently tapped Sabe's mind. Company.

It's possible, Anakin replied with an internal grimace. I'm sorry, Master- I was so sure it would work-
From Sabe there was momentary surprise, and then aknowledgement; she was going to go and have a look herself, in person.

It worked well enough to get them off the auction block and into the ship, Anakin. Obi-Wan patted his Padawan with pride. We could've left immediately without anyone being the wiser, but we chose to stay. Now he made a group sending to all able-bodied handmaidens. Ladies, I'm afraid we may have to blast off ahead of schedule.
The two with pilot's training reacted with a small amount of surprise, but immediately headed towards the control room, grabbing weapons along the way. Another stocked up on surprises and gave special orders to a particular little blue droid.

What about my mom? We can't- ...she can't come with us. It ached in him to say the words, but it was true. She had a life here, a family. A husband.
Something that he wasn't a part of.
Sabe leaned into the medbay, expression not quite grim. "Kenobi," she said. "They say they're from Gardulla the Hutt." There was a weight to her voice that was not there usually. "Can you move?"

Shmi Skywalker stiffened.
She did not like the sound of that name.
At all.
We can skim the surface of the planet, drop her off at her home... Don't fret, Anakin. The Jedi rose gingerly from his bed. "Well enough."
But not well enough to fight a whole posse of criminal alien creatures.


Yoinomyoujou: ( http://starwars.wikicities.com/wiki/Whiphid )
AraiYasha: (o,o Oooooo.)
Yoinomyoujou: (Basically: Big, strong.)
AraiYasha: (Kick your ass kind of species.)

Sabe nodded, though she seemed faintly disapproving. "We're ready to fight if we have to," she said, "But they outnumber us by a lot."
"Master, you shouldn't," Anakin said, putting a hand on his mother's arm though his eyes were on Obi-Wan. "Maybe I can deal with them. Don't reopen the wound-"

Shmi said nothing, only squeezed her son's hand. Gardulla.
The name was something she had hoped Anakin would never have to experience beyond those three early years of his life when he was barely big enough to walk by himself.
"Damn it, someone give me blaster." The bandaged woman in the corner, hitherto a -sleeping- bandaged woman in the corner, hoisted herself up in one strong, smooth stroke despite the obvious wounds upon her body. "The children were born free, they'll /stay/ free."
"Madam Corde." Obi-Wan was stern. "You are in no condition to fight slavers a third time. Lie back down."

Anakin's expression had hardened into tense determination. This was his battle face, his expression of preparation.
He turned, and kissed his mother's cheek, put his arm around her momentarily in a tight hug, and then rose, a hand on his lightsaber.
"I'm going to see what they want. Maybe we can still salvage this." He was already heading for the cruiser's ramp, out of the medbay, without waiting for someone to tell him no.
Sabe looked at Obi-Wan, expectant.

That small kiss and hug combination couldn't fully comfort Shmi Skywalker. She watched her son walk away with more trepidation than she'd ever felt in her life; at least Master Qui-Gon had been a patient Jedi with a kind soul and gentle hands. Gardulla's henchmen were not of his kind.
Obi-Wan motioned for her to follow the boy. He'd be present through the Force since his physical usefulness was compromised because of the stomach gash.
At last you try diplomacy, the water murmured ruefully. ...If negotiations should head south, do not hesitate to remove as many limbs as you need to remove to get back inside.

Sabe walked after Anakin, whose presence had moved outside the ship; his focus at the moment was intense, as he drew on all he'd been taught of careful conversation and convincing.
After a moment he said, subdued, ...Master, do you, ah... do you have my papers?
There was a long pause, and then he added, There's something of a problem.

Yes. I have your papers. Obi-Wan's heart sank. What kind of problem is it, Anakin?

A legal problem. Anakin's voice was tight. They want me to come with them. They have copies of their own. Signed.

Do they? Now Obi-Wan began to move, steps firm and unbothered by the gash in his midsection. Anakin's original papers remained in the same condition they'd been when rediscovered for what they were; the Jedi Master had kept them safe in his robes until such a time as they could return to the Jedi Council and officially free his Padawan. How many of them are there? Which species?
He gently gestured for Shmi to stay behind in the medbay; this she did reluctantly with a deeply worried glance towards where Anakin had gone.

I count fourty. Anakin was nervous but holding it down as best he could. Sabe says there's more on the ridges, and I think she's right. They're a big mix, but they've got a whiphid with them, and a few Dugs. I'm still talking to them.

Ah.
Obi-Wan would be hard-pressed to employ a mind trick of such magnitude, but he was not about to lose his Padawan for the third time on this particular mission. To the unimpassioned observer, Obi-Wan began to grow taller. His hair became longer, darkened into gray rather than sandy red-brown. The beard changed, too, Malastarian features evening into another respected face.
Gesture and carriage were the easiest to replicate; he'd had many years to observe them, to embed even the smallest nuances into his memory.

Yoinomyoujou: (HAHAHA WHOA)
Yoinomyoujou: (Qui-Gon: ......o_o)
AraiYasha: (Obi-Wan: *even the voice is scarily accurate* I won't give up my Padawan. ^^)

Sabe, standing at the top of the ramp, turned to look at him as he limped around the corner, and actually did a double take.
"...Kenobi?" she murmured, in apparent confused question. To all appearances, the name was not accurate.
Beyond them, below in the sand, Anakin was arguing heatedly with a tall bipedal being that towered over him, their conversation in swift and angry Huttese. The whiphid held a bundle of papers in one hand. Almost the entire posse was armed, though no one was pointing a weapon, yet.

"Not that name, please." The benevolent hand gesture accompanying the words was that of a dead man, a man of complete serenity and effortless poise. He smiled at Sabe gently, with that faintly amused air he'd always had surrounding him as if the whole world were but a play put forward for his appreciative amusement, and continued down the ramp as well as his wound would let him.
The creatures surrounding Anakin viewed the approaching tall stranger with discomfort they could not place, the serene energy of the Force tingling at senses that couldn't recognize it for what it was, could only feel the strangeness.
He smiled politely at the assembled races, ever the calm diplomat, calmer even than Obi-Wan at his best. "What seems to be the trouble?"

Anakin stiffened at the sound of the voice, and turned, on guard, hand not quite moving to his lightsaber. Even the presence had changed; air over water, the touch of cool breezes and the potential for hurricane should it be given a reason. He only stared. The sudden appearance of Qui-Gon Jinn did nothing to soothe his nerves.
The whiphid, however, seemed unintimiated. After all, he was still taller, and built more broadly.
"This is Anakin Skywalker," he said, in a low and gutteral voice. "He's an escaped slave. Papers not signed. Previous master gave him to a dead man who didn't sign, so ownership goes back to previous owner, Mistress Gardulla."

Master Qui-Gon Jinn looked amused, crossing his arms as he always had, one hand remaining half-free with fingers fluctuating gracefully. "Which dead man? I am the boy's master."

The whiphid eyed him uncertainly. "We watch the holonet," he said slowly. "We seen the reports. You aren't Qui-Gon Jinn. He died."
Anakin opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, seeming to think better.
A few of the rabble were unholstering their weapons, now.

Calm Malastarian eyes didn't even bother to look at them, only that maddening fraction of a smile remaining. "Shall I show you the boy's true ownership papers?"
Qui-Gon Jinn was a rock within a churning sea of life; wash against him and he would still stand, send roaring walls of water after him and it was the wave that would break into a million crying balls of spray.

"Show me." This, a demand, while Anakin still stood taut, rigid, confused. "We'll decide if we think they're agreeable."

Qui-Gon brought the papers forth helpfully, holding them forward to be read. "The Toydarian I acquired him from assured me they were in good order."


The Whiphid scanned the flimsis in silence for a long moment, while Anakin stared at Qui-Gon. He had a suspicion, but there was no way to be sure- he'd never seen mind trickery of this magnitude.
At last the Whiphid said, flately, "And how do we know these aren't fake?"

Qui-Gon's reply was polite and even-toned, the serene explanation of a man blessed with complete self-assurance. "These are the same papers given to me by the Toydarian after the end of the boy's miraculous podrace. That was eight years ago, and we haven't returned to Tatooine since."
And indeed, the ink on Qui-Gon Jinn's flimsis was noticeably more old than the flimsis held by the Whiphid, the ownership papers themselves timeworn and marked with travel, warm with the mature Jedi's body heat.

Yoinomyoujou: (..Christ, Obi-Wan, how much power is this taking for you?)
AraiYasha: (Obi-Wan: I believe I shall be useless for a day or two after this. *smile*)

There was silence, irritated silence, and the Whiphid looked to Anakin at last.
"Well, boy?" he said, clearly angry with this turn of events.
Anakin looked at him, faintly wild-eyed. Then he looked back at Qui-Gon.
Then he eased very slowly to his knees at the tall Jedi's feet, bent over so that his forehead touched the tip of one boot, and remained like that, motionless.
Silence.
The Whiphid and several of the dugs let out angry snarls, glancing around at each other. "This is some kind of trickery," he insisted. "You're trying to pull one over on us- Gardulla will hunt you down to the ends of the universe-"

Ever serene, Qui-Gon Jinn simply raised his eyebrows a mere fraction in the face of this virulent tirade, returning the ownership papers to the special pocket in his robes. "The fact remains that I am the boy's master." He steepled his fingers. "I apologize for the misunderstanding."

One of the dugs spat something gutteral and quick in Huttese; at Qui-Gon's feet Anakin stiffened up again, the words clearly a threat of some kind.
"I don't reccommend you try to leave planet, slimo," the Whiphid snarled, gesturing for the others to put away their weapons. "We're only finished for today."

Qui-Gon Jinn smiled a little, that uncomfortable, unnameable feeling of presence rippling through the horde of creatures and tingling up their spines in a highly unpleasant way. "Of course."
Then he bowed.

The posse of goons began to filter back into the desert, muttering angrily under their breaths at each other, checking their weapons and glancing back over their shoulders at the Jedi and the ship.
Anakin didn't move.


Yoinomyoujou: (The kow-tow bow is also a position for a student to take up if he's apologizing for some terrible wrong, or trying to show immense respect.)

Qui-Gon Jinn waited until the last specks were gone, then he knelt down beside the boy. Very, very slowly. "...I may need some help back into the ship, Anakin."
The dead Jedi's face and form were still there, guarding against any straggling henchmen, but it was his Master's voice and presence that spoke to Anakin now.

"You're stupid," Anakin said, his voice roughly emotional, and he lifted his head to look up into the long lost face, coupled with the voice he knew and loved. There was a painful upset to his features. "You shouldn't have done that."

Familiar grey-blue eyes looked at him from the older, serene face as Master caressed Padawan. "I couldn't let them take you."
And this statement was final.
Obi-Wan wasn't going to let the illusion drop until he was back inside the ship, away from prying eyes.

"They're just going to make a fight of it later," Anakin said, but he rose, his hands on Obi-Wan, supporting him with a surprising strength. When they were both upright he leaned for a moment, chin against his Master's shoulder, drew in a deep breath and then let it out again. "Thank you."

"Mm." The older Jedi patted the boy, mind still focused upon becoming, being, showing another person. "You're welcome. Anytime."

"You're going back to bed," Anakin informed him without any room for argument, already getting underneath his arm to help support him back up the ramp. "And you're not getting up anymore."

"I agree." Keeping the veil taught was clearly draining Obi-Wan, but they walked up the sand and into the cruiser without even a hint of light hair returning.