Chapter Text
The important thing, Anakin told himself, was to not panic. Panic lead to fear, lead to etcetera etcetera.
Look at the big picture. It was six standard months after his Knighting. His men had found a suspicious object searching the ruin that Dooku had wanted to get his hands on. He had gone to look at it.
He had touched it.
Obi-Wan was going to kill him.
Or would if he wasn’t currently a tiny youngling blissfully napping on top of him.
--So he touched the thing, but his ship was gone. His men were gone. That had sent a bit of panic into him. It was one of his first missions leading the 501st without his Master’s supervision and he had lost an entire battalion.
He had to go a week through dense jungle to find a settlement where no one knew what he was talking about when he asked about his troops. Did they not realize a war was going on? Well no they didn’t.
Eventually, he was able to barter fixing a droid for a ride off world on a supply ship. It took him another month to get back to the temple with none of his comm codes working.
He finally got back and ran into Qui-Gon Jinn. In passing.
And finally looked at a kriffing calender.
He was in the past. Before he was born. In the Jedi temple.
He had a lot of first instincts. There was mom. And Padmé wasn’t born yet. And the clone wars. All the things he knew. The sith. Qui-Gon’s death.
His first thought was to go to the council, but without his Master backing him up, who would believe him? No one would know him. He wouldn’t believe it if he told himself half of the things he’d been through. Not to mention Dooku was around. Was he on the council? He seemed councily, but he couldn’t remember if Obi-Wan had actually told him that.
He didn’t know what to do. He automatically headed to his quarters, which were locked. Because he didn’t live there, because he wasn’t born yet.
He forced the lock. Luckily no one was assigned to them.
He decided the best course of action was to insert himself into the temple database. The database was like an old friend. He knew just how far he could get and just how much he could push it, and it was an old version so there were more exploits he could get through. He assigned himself rooms.
Okay.
Okay.
He fidgeted in the empty space and realized it was worse than being out in the open. He went to the Room of A Thousand Fountains to meditate… or something. Or just breathe. Breathing would be good.
He stood in front of a waterfall trying to focus when a little hand came up and took his.
Anakin looked down. A pair of big round blue eyes stared up at him in concern.
He fell to his knees.
Obi-Wan gave a little squawk of surprise as he was pulled into Anakin’s arms.
“I messed up. Master, I really messed up this time.”
He felt a little hand pat his shoulder.
“You need to breath slower,” The tiny Obi-Wan informed him. “Like this.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath in and then a slow exhale. Anakin copied him. Okay. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Eventually, he found himself sprawled on the grass, Obi-Wan flopped onto Anakin’s belly. Anakin stared up at the ceiling and tried to make sense of things.
He was in the past. His Master was a pipsqueak. He had no idea how to get back home. Maybe touching the object again, but it had disappeared after he touched it.
He closed his eyes and let himself focus on Obi-Wan’s presence. It had always been a comfort, an anchor, and even now it felt familiar for all its brightness and newness. It didn’t feel so guarded, so… sad.
He tentatively rubbed Obi-Wan’s back. His Master cuddled closer.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi, there you are!”
A Jedi came up to him, his hair puffed in exasperation. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and smiled up. “Master!” He chirped.
“You know you’re not to wander off alone, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan frowned and his bright little force signature drooped at the lecture.
“I was helping,” Obi-Wan tried to explain. He stood up. Anakin quickly followed suit.
The Creche Assistant sighed as if he had heard this before. He crouched down to the little boy’s level.
“Helping is very noble, but you are supposed to tell a Master when you feel … the urge to help.”
Anakin frowned.
The Creche Master glanced up at him. “Thank you for sitting with him. This one tends to get lost.”
“Tell me about it,” Anakin muttered under his breath.
“Pardon?”
“Does he wander off a lot?” Anakin asked, a little louder.
The Creche Assistant nodded, straightening up again.
“The Force?” Anakin asked. He remembered when he was young feeling a pull he couldn’t understand. Obi-Wan rubbing his back and reassuring him. Or letting Anakin lead him off in a random direction… when had that changed? When he was dreaming about Mom… he didn’t like to think about that time. The nightmares. Obi-Wan’s soft reassurances. Worried looks. But Anakin was so frustrated then. Arguing about the trials. Not sleeping from the nightmares. And it was so abstract. He refused to explain. Maybe if he explained she...
And then one day Obi-Wan came to him with a smile. “Our next assignment involves an old friend.” Then he started going on about how he had to take the assignment seriously blah blah blah--but...
Had he… requested it knowing that he would see Padmé? It was possible. Even then Obi-Wan was trusted by the Council proving himself time and time again. Obi-Wan did that when he was small too. Seeing something far away that he couldn’t do anything about. He would bring him to watch a Podrace, or tell him about his days as Qui-Gon’s padawan.
He still hadn’t told him. About everything that happened on Tattooine. How he had failed as a Jedi so utterly.
“Force prompts? Probably not,” The Creche Assistant said bringing Anakin back to the presen--past--whatever. His dismissiveness irked him. “He’s just a little troublemaker.” It was said in an affectionate way, but Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s Force signature curl in on itself with shame. He realized the boy was beside him now leaning against him, small enough to almost be covered by his cloak.
“Come along Obi-Wan, it’s almost mealtime.”
“Well, wait--” Anakin protested as Obi-Wan held on a little tighter.
“I’m s’posed to stay,” He said, quiet and firm. A hint of the Negotiator’s voice he would later adopt.
“Obi-Wan,” The Creche Assistant said. “This Knight has things to do.”
“He’s not bothering me,” Anakin said quickly. He felt a little bit of brightness return to Obi-Wan. He didn’t want his little Master taken away. He was the only thing that felt familiar right now.
The Creche Assistant gave Anakin a look, and gestured with his head as if to say: you’re not helping.
“It’s fine,” Anakin repeated. Stubborn.
The Creche Assistant did not seem to know how to take that. After all, what Jedi would refuse to return a youngling back to his care?
“What’s your name?” And there it was the little hint of suspicion. A small sense of unease. The Creche Assistant was more focused now and looked ready to pull Obi-Wan away given half the chance.
“Knight Skywalker,” Anakin said. “It’s-- I can watch him. I don’t--I have nothing to do so--it’s fine.”
“It isn’t fine. He needs to come back to his clan.” The Creche Master was talking quicker now. He noticed him pressing something on their comm.
“I’m supposed to stay with him!” Obi-Wan said, a little louder. Obi-Wan looked up between the adults trying so hard to make them understand. “I know I have to. I have to.”
Anakin finally understood. It was because of him. Their Force bond. It was still active, and Anakin and Obi-Wan, perhaps the Force destined for them to be a team.
So the Force was going crazy, sending signals that his tiny Master could only interpret as staying at his side.
“He’s going to be my padawan,” Anakin finally said. The Creche Master frowned. Obi-Wan had quieted as well.
“He’s a bit young for that right now, Obi, come here.”
Obi-Wan finally let go and allowed himself to be tugged to his Creche Assistant’s side. The Assistant did a quick check over and froze. “What--what did you do? He’s five!” He quickly scooped up Obi-Wan taking a step back from Anakin. “You can’t just--force a training bond on a child!”
“I didn’t!” Anakin protested. “I--it’s complicated! He’s my M--no, he’s … uh…” He looked plaintively over at Obi-Wan who in twenty years would be able to talk himself out of almost anything.
-
He had kidnapped his Master.
He sat in a hot-wired ship with a small Obi-Wan Kenobi in the copilot chair. His little Master was thrumming with excitement.
“I love flying!” He declared.
Already screwing up the past Skywalker, good job.
“Listen, Obi-Wan…”
Obi-Wan looked up at him diligently.
Anakin didn’t really know what to say.
“Are we in trouble?”
“Ah… a little bit,” He admitted.
“You should breath more,” little Obi-Wan said sagely. “It helps.”
“Right… okay, let’s breathe a bit together while I think of a plan.”
“No, don’t think, you’re not supposed to think about it,” Obi-Wan frowned at him. That was easier said than done considering he was being chased by at least four different ships all being flown by Jedi Knights. So yeah, he needed to think about it!
“Trust the Force,” Obi-Wan nodded.
“You still have a lot of advice to give, don’t you?” Anakin said in frustration.
Obi-Wan shrunk in on himself again.
“No, no, no, I’m sorry, it was just a joke.” He never realized his Master had been so sensitive. When they fought during his padawan years and Anakin had thrown particularly nasty barbs at him his shields always slammed down hard. Was this what he felt like?
“Kriff!” Anakin dipped the ship down quickly to avoid a shot to the engine. “I HAVE A KID IN HERE!” He yelled to no one.
Obi-Wan grabbed onto his seat. “I don’t like flying.” He decided. Well, that was quick.
“I know this is scary, but I promise we’ve beaten worse odds, okay?”
“We have?”
Well, one day they would have.
-
He managed to shake their tail off with some of his fancier flying. He rubbed Obi-Wan’s back sympathetically as the boy made use of the space sickness bag.
“Don’t like it,” Obi-Wan repeated.
“We’ll try to avoid it in the future,” Anakin lied. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, Master.”
Oh boy, that was weird.
Anakin awkwardly patted his head.
“Where are we going?”
Anakin had no idea. He had shot any chances of getting help from the Jedi by abducting a youngling. Padmé wasn’t born yet, Chancellor Palpatine wouldn’t know him. He was an option still...but he was also back on Coruscant. Best not to press their luck that way.
But then he knew. He knew where he was going.
Mom.
-
Being a Jedi Padawan to Obi-Wan “Trouble Magnet” Kenobi had prepared him well for being in a universe with no credits or allies. Having a kid was a new one, but the Force bond helped keep an eye on him, and Obi-Wan would obediently hold his hand without complaint.
The little one still managed to get himself into trouble. But it wasn’t as bad as a Gundark nest, and this compact version of his Master was easier to scoop up and run away with.
He worked as a mechanic to gain some credits. Got a few forged documents. Ben and Nik Naberrie. Obi-Wan helped him when he could. He wasn’t a natural with mechanics, but he was good at learning, and would furiously study Anakin’s movements or ask questions when he didn’t understand.
Anakin was reminded of the hours his Master spent in the salle. He remembered the other Masters’ confusion that Obi-Wan would continue training Soresu when the Clone Wars began. They were going to war. The more aggressive forms seemed a better fit. And his Master was skilled enough to learn them. But Obi-Wan broke down the form and understood it like no one else did. He could face a thousand droids and their blasters wouldn’t touch him.
Obi-Wan had always joked that he was an average Knight. Anakin was starting to wonder if he actually believed that. Anakin was supposed to be some sort of chosen one with the highest M-count ever… but Obi-Wan could still wipe the floor with him during training. Had still gained the rank of Master and a position on the Council through hard work.
It was because Obi-Wan was diligent. Anakin put effort into things that interested him, but if he was naturally talented at it he would rely on that talent and focus on his advantages without looking after his flaws. Obi-Wan worked on things he wasn’t good at.
Anakin remembered the frustrations of his Padawanhood. There were times he surpassed his Master, but by the next week his Master would be beating him again: “If you can’t do it more than once then you need improvement.” How many hours did Obi-Wan dedicate to keeping a few steps ahead of him so that Anakin would take the rest of his training seriously?
“Like this?” Obi-Wan asked plugging in the power converter. Anakin grinned and ruffled his Master’s hair. “Yeah. You’re really good at this.”
Obi-Wan beamed at him.
His Master was a lot easier to get along with once Anakin was Knighted. He remembered the mission that earned his Knighthood. He knew with a certainty he wouldn’t have been able to do it at nineteen when he had felt ready. Obi-Wan had been right.
This little Obi-Wan was pretty easy to get along with too. He didn’t question being kidnapped, but when pressed Obi-Wan would say that they have to be together. The Force was certainly making this a lot easier.
But not entirely. Obi-Wan would get homesick. Would miss his friends. Would get nightmares.
It was late and Anakin had the child in his lap as Obi-Wan clung to him, burying his face against his chest. Anakin strokes his hair.
“What did you see?” He asked gently.
“Masks,” Obi-Wan said. “They were supposed to be my friends. They were supposed to be my friends!”
“It was just a dream, sometimes dreams don’t mean anything.” Obi-Wan never had Force Visions. Had always told him he didn’t have much talent for the unifying force except for his little ‘bad feelings.’
“It was my fault they were there.”
“It’s alright,” He repeated. He watched the streaks of hyperspace. They’d be at their destination soon. Home.
-
Tatooine was the same. The same smells, the same heat, the same sand. Anakin looked down at Obi-Wan and remembered how prone his Master was to burns. By the time he had managed to barter for some uv cream and a cloak Obi-Wan’s cheeks were already red.
“I don’t like it here,” Obi-Wan declared. Anakin held his hand tightly as they made their way through the market. Children were sensitive to suffering, and this close to the slave neighborhoods he’d have a clear feeling of their misery and hopelessness. Anakin felt it too, had always been in tune with that kind of pain.
“You can’t go far from me, alright? This place is dangerous.” A little copper-haired force-sensitive near-human like Obi-Wan would fetch a high price in the markets. Freeborns were usually left alone, but right now they were strangers in town. No one would speak for them if one of them got grabbed.
Obi-Wan nodded and squeezed Anakin’s hand in agreement.
They passed a flesh market. Obi-Wan stopped beside him tugging his hand. “Are we going to help them?” He asked in distress.
Anakin gently pulled him forward. “Yes,” he promised. “But not yet.”
-
It only took a few days to find where Mom was, but months to actually meet her.
Getting close to Gardula’s palace wasn’t easy, especially towing around a small child. Anakin set himself up in the area as a mechanic buying a little place. Establishing himself. It was uncomfortably nostalgic. The same kind of smell as Watto’s shop. The same kind of things he used to fix. He woke up with nightmares thinking that being a Jedi had been a dream until he found Obi-Wan curled up beside him.
Obi-Wan knew how to read him well. Better than a youngling should be able to. This little Master had a talent for reading people, but that had been developed over his years as a negotiator. Anakin tried to keep protective shields so that his own blinding Force presence wouldn’t overwhelm him, but sometimes the boy still complained of headaches from Anakin being too bright.
His old Master had always said he gave him headaches. Anakin hadn’t thought he was being literal. He smiled at the memory and not for the first time found himself missing the older man. He could really use Obi-Wan’s guidance right now. More than breathe and trust the Force that little Obi-Wan liked to recommend.
Obi-Wan for his part adapted well. He immediately made friends and had the old ladies at the market stalls doting on him.
Anakin made a name for the shop doing trickier work and being cheaper than the competition. He knew it would bring trouble, but he was confident he could handle it. He wasn’t intending to stay long anyway. Just long enough to get the palace’s attention.
They had slaves and lackies there, it would be rare to hire from the outside, but there were things that would need a more experienced hand.
“You’re too straightlaced Naberrie!” One of his regulars grouched. “You should come out and gamble sometime.”
“You’d take all my money,” Anakin replied, waving his hand. Anakin liked to gamble on the battlefield, but hated games of chance. He left that to Obi-Wan.
“What about you, little Ben?” his customer joked turning his attention to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was cleaning out the works of a gummed-up droid. He tilted his head and thought about it.
“Okay!” He replied.
“Not okay,” Anakin countered. “You can wait until you’re older before getting in trouble for card sharking. Don’t encourage him, Marso.”
Marso gave a big-bellied laugh. “I like this kid. He’s got gumption. He’ll be a troublemaker for sure.”
Anakin knew that for certain. As mild-mannered and obedient as his tiny master was, Obi-Wan was still getting himself into little scraps. He was pretty sure the children of the neighborhood were in a gang war that Obi-Wan either started or helped start. Anakin kept an eye on it but was confident Obi-Wan would win.
“You know, we have some work up in the palace,” His customer leaned forward. “Good money in it as long as you don’t mind working for a Hutt.”
“I’m not picky for work,” Anakin replied with a shrug. “If you can put in a good word I’d be grateful. Ben keeps growing out of his boots.”
“I’m trying not to!” Obi-Wan protested.
Marso started laughing again. “Keep trying and you’ll end up with tiny feet and a big body.”
“I will not!” Obi-Wan turned to Anakin, unsure. “Will I?”
“You should let nature run its course,” Anakin advised, lip twitching.
Maros continued to laugh at Obi-Wan’s expense waving to Anakin as he left. Three days later he had the job offer.
-
He didn’t really think about what to expect seeing her again. He was glad she wasn’t done up like some of the slaves Hutts like Gardula and Jabba kept. She was for utility so her simple clothing covered her properly, and her hair was done up in a sensible bun. She was Anakin’s age which made him stare. She was so young.
“The damage is here,” Shmi said lending him through the tunnels of pipes under the palace. She sounded annoyed which put his head in a weird place. All of it was weird. First his Master as a little kid and now his Mom as a young woman who was annoyed by his presence.
“Listen, I--”
“Marso said I wasn’t doing a good enough job and pressed them to call for outside help,” She said stiffly. “I hope you’re as good as he says.”
He felt panic well. “Did they hurt you?”
“Do you care?”
“Yes!”
Shmi turned to him, perplexed. “Sorry?”
“I’m here to rescue you,” Anakin said. Saying the word he had always wished to say. That he dreamed of saying.
“Are you crazy?” She took a step back from him. He held himself back from calling her Mom. That would send her running. He couldn’t make mistakes like he had with the Jedi. Not this time.
“I’m Anakin Skywalker, I’m here to rescue you.” He repeated.
She looked at him in shock. “Skywalker?”
“I’m your cousin,” he lied. It was as close a relation as he could give them without his Mother being suspicious. Her parents and her were captured when she was a little girl. She didn’t remember much of her life before slavery.
“Cousin…I…”
“When you and your parents disappeared mine never stopped looking for you, and I carried on to this day. You are Shmi Skywalker, right?”
She nodded, distrust and disbelief in her eyes. Good things never happened to her. Anakin had been her only good thing she had told him once, on one of the harder days.
“Your father was Anno. My mother named me after him.”
“I…” Tears filled her eyes. After years someone was here to save her. Someone was finally here to save her. She was young enough that the hope hadn’t been stomped out of her completely.
“How?” She whispered, voice heavy.
How did he find her, how did he intend to save her. He didn’t know what her question was. He held up the scanner he had been crafting since he was seven years old. “I’m going to find your chip. Then I’m going to remove it. After that we’re going to exit the pipes on the far side of the palace. I have Eopies waiting.
“There’s no such thing. There’s no such thing as a scanner like that,” She was having trouble breathing.
“There is now. And I intend to use it a lot.” He had made a promise.
He scanned his Mother and found the chip was stuck in her leg. He winced. He had hoped further up the body, but it was better than the spine.
“You’re going to have a limp for a while,” he said looking at her in the eye. “Will you let me?”
She nodded, her eyes were determined.
Anakin took out his laser cutter. It would hurt. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he knew she would rather feel pain and be free.
He handed her his leather glove to bite down on.
“Your hand…” She said looking at his prosthetic. It was a lot more advanced than anything you’d find now. Even compared to what he had a year ago. He grinned. “I did some of it myself. You ready?”
She nodded.
He was amazed she managed not to scream as he dug the chip out. He let it drop to the floor. Shmi, despite her pain started stomping on it, over and over again.
She leaned on the wall breathing heavily. Anakin quickly bandaged the wound.
“Let’s go.”
“This is really happening, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It really is.”
He felt relief when he saw Obi-Wan was right where he was supposed to be. His little Master patted the Eopies keeping them calm. Anakin could never get the knack for animals, he felt better with droids and speeders, but speeders were easy to trace.
“Hello!” Obi-Wan said in his perfect little Coruscanti accent.
“Who’s this?” Shmi asked. She looked at Anakin worriedly. “You brought a child?”
“He’s my Mas--”
“Hey, remember that word has a different meaning here?” He said quickly as Shmi turned to him with a look of betrayal.
“Older brother?” Obi-Wan corrected. “I’m not his slave, I promise.”
Shmi focused on Anakin wearily.
“I’m a Jedi…” Or...was... did he count as expelled if it was in the past before he was even born? “This is my--”
“Padawan!” Obi-Wan said proudly. That had taken a lot of convincing. He hadn’t wanted to take on Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was meant to be Qui-Gon’s. He had no business interfering like this, but he had already gone too far and wasn’t sure how to fix it. Had he ruined his Master’s future? Had he mucked up the present? It was too much of a headache for him to try and deal with it. Obi-Wan had been so hurt at his first few denials that he finally gave in. He didn’t give him the cut though. He explained they needed to stay undercover. Obi-Wan trusted him and didn’t complain. No one suited that awful haircut anyway. In place of it he handed Obi-Wan Qui-Gon’s riverstone that he had gifted to him. He always had it in a little pocket on his belt. Obi-Wan had been so moved. He treasured that rock. That was the sign of their apprenticeship. No braid. Maybe never any braid.
“Jedi?” Shmi said. It was probably just as unbelievable as hearing she was being freed. Out here Jedi were fairytales. Sometimes the whispers of slave rings torn apart, but never more than that.
He showed her his lightsaber.
“It’s true…” She whispered.
“We should go soon,” Obi-Wan said suddenly.
“Are you getting a bad feeling?”
“Mhm,” Obi-Wan nodded.
Anakin quickly helped Shmi up on one of the mounts then got himself and Obi-Wan upon the other. He had set up a little desert nest for them until the heat died down, but they had to get to it first.
“I’m Ben Naberrie,” Obi-Wan said shyly.
“It’s okay, you can tell her your real name,” Anakin reassured. This was Mom. Mom and his Master were meeting. The two people that had raised him and cared for him.
“Oh, okay! Hello! I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi!” Obi-Wan waved from their Eopie.
“I’m Shmi Skywalker.”
“Like M-like Anakin?”
“Yes,” and Shmi finally managed her first real smile. “Like Anakin.”