Chapter Text
Master Obi-Wan had forgotten to tell Anakin where he was sending him when he put him on the transport, but he hadn’t needed to. There was only one place left for Anakin to go now that Master Obi-Wan and the rest of the Jedi have decided they don’t want him; back home to Tatooine. To the junk shop. To Watto.
Anakin wants to be upset with Master Obi-Wan, and with Master Qui-Gon, especially, for tricking him. For getting his hopes up. For making Anakin think he had an out, an escape. A chance at something more than sand and dust and misery. But really, it was Anakin’s fault for getting so full of himself in the first place. He should have known better. He should have learned by now.
(He never learned. He can’t. His head was too full of sand and sawdust and grease for him to know anything but how to fix things and fly, Watto always said. And thank his lucky stars he was so good at those two things, because otherwise…)
When he was very young, one of Gardulla’s guards had told him that the only way for a slave to ever get out of their chains was if they did it in pieces. Anakin hadn’t believed him then. It was true that he’d never actually known anyone personally who had escaped their lot in life, but people did it. Of course they did. There were networks and smugglers and freedom trails and secret coded songs for a reason. Who were they helping if the only way people escaped was when their masters killed them? And so Anakin had been hopeful. And he had wished, and prayed, and hoped. And when the Jedi Master and the girl he’d been sure was an angel had come and offered to take him away on their ship, up, up, up into space like he’d always dreamed; to make him a Jedi, big and strong and powerful enough to take down the masters and free all the slaves, Anakin had taken their hands and leapt.
And now he was crashing right back down to the ground, because as it turns out, Watto had been right. Anakin was only built for two things, and Jedi-dom, wasn’t one of them. He was no good, the Council had said. Too sad. Too angry. Too afraid. Too dangerous. All new to Anakin; he was used to Watto telling him he was stupid. Sneaky. A rat. A liar. A good-for-nothing. A waste of food and water. But angry? Sad? Afraid? Didn’t everyone feel these things at one time or another? Why did feeling them only make him dangerous and not everyone in the whole galaxy? It didn’t make any sense!
Or did the Jedi know? Could they see? Jedi had special powers, right? Could they really see inside Anakin’s head? See everything? See all the times he had wished for Watto and Gardulla and all her cronies to die? See all the times he had thought about putting a transmitter inside Watto’s body while he slept, then threatening to blow him up to see how he liked it? Could they see? Could they see how Mom had gotten sick because she wasn’t eating enough, because she’d been giving most of her food to Anakin, after Watto cut their rations to save money? Could they see how Anakin had cried and cried and stopped eating, himself after Mom died, even though she had made him promise to keep going, to live, for her, after she was gone? Could they see how he’d tried to make himself sick too so that he could die and be with her again? Could they see how, in the end, he was too hungry and too bantha-shit to go through with it, no matter how much he loved Mom and missed her and wanted to be with her? Could they see? Could they see every bad-mean-evil thought he’d ever had? How many did he have inside him to make him even worse than everyone else? How many did he have to make them all so afraid of him? Do only Jedi see it, or could everyone? Could Jira, and Kitster, and Watto, and Mom all see it, too?
Could Master Qui-Gon?
Again, Anakin wanted to be upset with Master Qui-Gon. Wanted to hate him for telling Anakin he was special. That he was a “Chosen One.” That he had some big, wonderful destiny to fulfil. That he could be a hero. Anakin wants to be upset with Master Qui-Gon, but more than that he wants to know why, if all the other Jedi could see right away that Anakin was no good, why couldn’t he? Or had Master Qui-Gon been lying all that time? Pretending to like him, so that Anakin would help him and Padmé get their hyperdrive so that they could get off Tatooine; and him promising to train Anakin was just a trade off. And maybe there was never anything special about Anakin to begin with, and all that Chosen One stuff was just part of the lie to get Anakin on his side. Maybe. The more Anakin thought about it, it seemed about as likely as anything. But in the end, he supposed it didn’t matter one way or the other. Because the fact was Master Qui-Gon was gone, and Anakin wasn’t going to be anything special, regardless. And besides all that, it wasn’t Master Qui-Gon who had given him hope, Anakin had done that to himself.
“Think practical, Ani. Think practical,” Mom would have said if she were there to hear all the amazing things Master Qui-Gon had told him he could learn to do, were he to allow him to train him. She would have made him see things as they were. Clear and reasonable and practical. She wouldn’t have bought into that Chosen One bantha-shit.
But she would have been glad to see Anakin go, in the end. He’s sure of that.
Watto hadn’t been. He hadn’t wanted to give Anakin up at all.
Can’t afford to sell the boy, he’d slurred, as Master Qui-Gon had tried to barter for him. There ain’t no better mechanic on planet, and besides, he’s all nice 'n broke now his mother’s worm food. No way I can get another one to replace him! No way!
It made Anakin sick to his stomach to think of what his Master would say to him when he showed back up on the doorstep of the shop, empty-handed with his tail between his legs and nowhere else to go. He couldn’t bear it. Not when he’d be hearing it all first hand soon enough. Best to think of something else while he still can. Just sit back and enjoy being in space because he’s sure it’ll be a while before he’s back on a ship again. Flying by transport isn’t as fast or as fun as flying by yacht or by starfighter, but Anakin is in no hurry.
Master Obi-Wan had had him sit up front by the conductor when he’d put him on the ship, and had asked the young Twi-lek woman to keep an eye on Anakin, and to help him off when it was his stop. The woman seemed nice enough and had been by twice now since they’d taken off to check on Anakin and to ask him if he needed anything. But she has a job to do, and so she quickly gets annoyed with him after he gets up from his seat and starts following her around on her rounds, asking her questions about her job and the transport ship and how many planets she’s been to now and whether she’d like to be a pilot instead of a conductor and if he can help her do her rounds because he’d really, really like to see more of the ship, please, if that’s alright? and makes him go sit back down until it’s his time to get off.
He goes back to his seat and sits down, disappointed and bored, until the grandmother beside him tells him he has a sweet face and gives him a candy. And then he notices that the old Zabrak man sitting next to him is reading a podracing holomag. Excited, he pokes the old man in the arm and brags to him that he won the Boonta Eve Classic in the racer he built himself, and the man musses his hair and starts telling him all about his days touring the galaxy as a Hall of Famer. Anakin listens, enthralled at all the man’s stories, and he tells him that he must be the luckiest man in all the galaxy. The man smiles, musses his hair again, and gives him a candy, too.
Grouchy conductor aside, the people here in the Core are so much more friendly than they are back home, another thing Anakin’s gonna miss about it, once he’s back on Tatooine.
Though his situation hasn’t changed one bit, the candy and the stories have made him not feel so bad about it. He’s right back where he started, sure, but he’s still the best mechanic in the galaxy. He’ll be okay. Watto will take him back, and he’ll be a slave again, but he’s lasted this long, Anakin figures he’ll be okay.
He eats his candy (slowly, so as to make it last for a little while after the trip is over) and stares out the viewport and tries to guess the names of all the planets as they zip by.
Hosnian Prime (maybe), Xo (he thinks that’s what color it is), Geonosis (or maybe Corellia?), and…Naboo! He knows that one for sure!
The ship pulls further into the beautiful blue planet’s orbit as it looks like the ship is preparing to make a stop there, and Anakin’s stomach is all cool and tingly as he remembers his short time there, with Padmé. Remembers her curly brown hair and her smiling brown eyes, and her soft, soft, of-course-she’s-a-queen-how-else-could-they-be-so-soft? hands that had held his and hugged him and had stayed with him all night on the long ride to the Core so that he wouldn’t be scared, even though she herself was sick with worry for her people and her planet. Remembers her face, her words, when he’d given her the gift he’d made for her.
It’s beautiful, Ani, but I don’t need this to remember you. My caring for you will always remain.
Had she truly meant it?
The tingly feeling gets worse and Anakin feels so warm all of the sudden, and he knows he shouldn’t—knows how stupid he’s being for even thinking it when he knows for a fact where he’s headed. But for a moment he imagines it’s to Naboo that he’s really going, and that Padmé (No—her handmaidens! She’s a Queen, sleamo, she couldn’t stop her whole day for slave scum like you!)—Padmé’s handmaidens, then—would be there and they’d tell him Padmé told them she misses him very much and wants him to stay close to her forever, so they're going to help him find a new job and a new place to live here on Naboo, and he never has to go back to Watto and that horrible old junk shop ever again.
Stupid.
Wishing for impossible things is stupid kid’s stuff. If Anakin weren't dumber than a mound of bantha shit, like Watto always said, he’d have learned by now. He’d have toughened up. He’s gotta be better than this. He had his chance and he blew it, and there won’t be another. So if he wants to survive he’s gotta follow Mom’s advice and Think practically, Ani.
The conductor is at his side, all of the sudden, tapping him on the shoulder and taking him by the hand, and Anakin’s confused because this can’t be right. Surely, Master Obi-Wan would have remembered to tell Anakin that he was going to Naboo instead of back home if that were the case. He tries to tell the conductor this, but she just sighs, exasperated, and says his ticket says “Naboo,” hadn't he bothered to read it? He’s too embarrassed to tell her he can’t read at all and afraid of what might be waiting for him when he reaches the platform, so he tries dragging his feet, but the conductor has a tight schedule to stick to, so he’s getting off whether he likes it or not.
Anakin would rather not. Wishing is stupid. Hope hurts. And the only thing he can think of that could be waiting on the platform for him would be a wish, a hope almost as big and stupid and painful as when he’d sat beside Mom and prayed, prayed, prayed for her to get well again like she always did, even after the medicine woman had come to take her away.
The conductor steers him along by his shoulders and Anakin closes his eyes and convinces himself that it’s Watto who’s waiting for him. Who’ll yell and scream at him for making him waste the time and money coming all the way out here to fetch him. Who’ll give him the beating of his life once they get back to the shop for conspiring with the Jedi against him. Who’ll threaten to sell him to a brothel for being such a stupid, stupid waste of flesh and water. Anakin closes his eyes and tells himself to be smart. Be strong. Think practically, Ani.
The chilly Naboo air hits Anakin’s face as soon as they step out onto the open platform and the familiar scent of green is everywhere, and there are voices shouting and people sprinting past them and scooping up their loved ones, laughing and shouting and gushing and none of them are here for him because he’s stupid, dangerous, Mother-killing slave scum that not even the kindest, bravest, most selfless people in the whole galaxy want anything to do with and–-
There’s a pair of arms around him, and they can’t be Watto’s because even if he wanted to hug Anakin, his arms aren’t long enough.
But there’s a pair of arms around him, and the conductor is gone, and Anakin’s eyes are all scrunched up because even though he knows who it is, he’s still too afraid to look. But he doesn’t need his eyes to know it’s Padmé he’s squeezing back; Padmé who’s running her soft, soft, she-Must-be-an-angel-her-hands-are-so-soft fingers through his hair, and even though most of him just wants to stay here in her arms in the middle of this crowded transport platform, forever, the stupid, stupid part of him that hopes and wishes and reaches for things he knows aren’t meant for him is already thinking about the shop Padme’s going to set him up in, with a new Master who maybe likes him well enough to actually pay him. And even if it means leaving Padmé’s arms to go somewhere far away from her, Anakin thinks that’ll be alright. It’s sure to be better than anything he could have hoped for. Better than where he thought he was headed, for sure.
Padme’s pulling away now, and Anakin doesn’t feel so bad for crying because she’s a little teary-eyed too. But she seems so very sad for him, so maybe he had it wrong and this is just a pit stop. She just wanted to see him off one last time and then it’ll be back on the ship. Back home to Watto, who may not even take him back, who might make good on all these years of half-threats and sell him to a brothel for helping Master Qui-Gon swindle him, and why is he so stupid? Why does he never, ever learn?
Padme’s on her knees (she shouldn’t be kneeling. Queens aren’t supposed to kneel) so that she’s eye-level with him; still crying, but she’s got a careful grin on her face now as she reaches out to thumb away the tears spilling down his cheeks. Anakin wants to ask her what’s going on. Why she’s smiling now when before she’d been so sad. He wants to ask her about the place she’s found for him to work; if it’s a nice place. If it’s near the palace and if maybe she’ll come visit him sometimes when she’s not too busy. He wants to ask her if–if it’s not too much trouble, and his new Master allows it–if maybe he could even come see her sometimes, too. He wants to ask her for another hug.
But his voice is all clogged up with what feels like tears and a huge wad of snot and he’s afraid if he tries to open his mouth a giant booger bubble will come bursting out in the place of words. And besides, Padmé looks like she’s ready to say something anyway. She’s the Queen, she should go first.
“Would you like to come home to the palace with me, Ani?” she asks softly, her voice cracking just a little bit over the lump in her throat. No more tears now, Anakin is glad to see. Just a big, humongous grin ready to split her face wide open. Anakin doesn't know what to say. No, that’s not true. He knows exactly what he wants to say, only he can’t get it out. The words are coming in so fast they’re tripping over themselves inside his head.
Yes! Yes! Please, yes! More than anything! I’ll be the best mechanic or stableboy or floor scrubber or shit shoveler or whatever you’ve ever had! I’ll be devout. I’ll do anything you ask as long as you’re there to tell me what to do! You don’t even have to hug me or speak to me or even look at me ever again if you don’t want to! Just please, please, don’t ever give me away!
“I’ve had the chefs prepare a special welcome dinner just for you,” she continued over a slight hitch in her voice that could have been either a hiccup or a laugh. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”
She held out a hand for him to take, and Anakin would’ve right away if his stupid heart wasn’t pounding so hard. He took a half-step back, hugging his middle. He was hungry, but at the same time, his stomach was full to bursting. Buzzing, even. All fluttery like it had been before when he’d first caught sight of the small blue planet through viewport of the ship, only stronger, warmer like he had swallowed a live flame and it had gone all the way down into his belly and nothing he or anyone else did could ever put it out.
There’s a name for this feeling, Anakin’s sure of it, but he doesn’t have time to try and figure it out now because his hand is in Padme’s and his eyes are wide open and dry and every part of Naboo is so kriffing beautiful, even crowded transport stations, and Padmé was here to collect him after all, and she brought Sabé and Yané, and they even look happy to see him too. And maybe there are only two things in the whole entire galaxy he’s ever been good at, and maybe he’s too slow to learn anything else, and maybe he’s also horrible and lazy and fearful and dumb and a liar and a cheater and selfish and dangerous, and everything else Watto’s ever called him and the Jedi said they saw in him, plain as day; but the fluttery, buzzing, burning feeling inside his belly tells Anakin that maybe everything could still work out anyway, in spite of all that, because someone (and not just someone, but the best person Anakin’s ever known, besides Mom) might just want him anyway, if he plays his cards right.
Anakin would say that the feeling might be called hope; only he’s felt hope before, and it’s never felt this good.