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“I hope Obi-Wan never finds out about this,” Anakin muttered under his breath as he watched the sleek, classic, Jedi Cruiser he had just traded disappear through Nar Shaddaa’s atmosphere. Although he was quite pleased with the outcome of his decisions and actions over his past month whilst living in the past as little Obi-Wan, he was certain his old Master would not be nearly as impressed with some of his rasher choices.
Of course, they mightn't have been so rash if Obi-Wan had just told him more about his past over the years.
“I still can't believe they kicked him out!” he growled quietly, thinking back to a month ago, just a day after he – little Obi – had been turned down by Qui-Gon, when he had woken up to a Quarren Master telling him it was time to leave. He had been so confused as he trailed after the being, and then horrified when, after a short flight from the Temple, he found himself in Coruscant’s Spaceport in front of a death-trap of a ship that was crawling with Hutts! The Jedi replied to his strangled “Why?” with the words aged out and farmer and Agricorps, and told him that no, he could not trade his ticket in and go elsewhere, which made him feel sick. Obi-Wan – he – was just a kid!
Despite knowing that his Master would have done as he was told and got on the ship, he didn’t. As far as he was concerned, the Jedi’s cruelty only proved that he was right about needing to take Obi-Wan a different way. So, as soon as the Quarren Master was distracted – speaking with someone about Obi’s transfer - he raced back to the Jedi Cruiser and commandeered it.
Flying at top speed (just in case the Master borrowed a ship of his own and laid chase) he managed to make it though Coruscant’s atmosphere before the Jedi were alerted that the ship had been stolen, and by then it was too late for the Order to catch him. But even as he jumped into hyper, he recognized he would have to get rid of the ship as soon as possible, as he was certain there would be some sort of tracking device attached somewhere. Thus, he had made the decision to head to the Smuggler’s Moon, and after weeks of haggling, gambling, and bargaining, he had managed to get himself a new ship.
“Aged out! Stupid, blind, ancient, ignorant fools,” he grumbled, still angry at the Jedi, as he walked up the gangplank and headed towards the cockpit.
The light freighter wasn't as nice as the flashy new Jedi Cruiser he had stolen, but it wasn’t too old, and it wasn't tagged by the Jedi Council. It was also fast – the fastest in the galaxy, according to the Corellian that had traded with him – and it was well built. So well, in fact, that it would probably out-survive him.
As Anakin sat down in the pilot’s seat, he let out a breath as relief flooded through him. After weeks of putting himself into situations that were entirely too dangerous for him, let alone his thirteen-year-old Master, he was finally, finally, safe and free. He could get off this nasty planet and go anywhere he wanted. He could do anything he wanted!
And he wanted.
He wanted to free his Mother, he wanted to stop the war before it began, he wanted to set little Obi-Wan on a better path - one that wouldn't lead to infinite suffering (which was a future that he had been horrified to come across more than once, when he dared to reach out with his Master's connection) - and he wanted to find a way home.
Considering the enormity of his goals, his current state of being, and that he had probably made himself an enemy of the Jedi, he suspected they were a bit too ambitious. But the odds that he'd get a chance like this again were minuscule, so he had to try.
Anakin took in a deep breath and let out his fears. Despite it not being his style, or his forte, he had spent the past month working out a plan that he thought had the best chance of succeeding in the smallest amount of time, because he wasn’t exactly sure how long he would be here for. He had tried to take on board every bit of advice his Obi-Wan had ever given him – being careful and realistic – because it was so important that he got this right. So, he had to have faith in his decisions, he had to have faith in his plan.
But, as he reached out to the nav to enter his path, he felt a strange, uncomfortable churning begin to bubble in the depths of his stomach. He swallowed and gritted his teeth. “It is not a bad feeling…” he told himself as he entered a course to Naboo.
“It’s the best plan, it’s the only plan that makes sense,” he added firmly. His mother wasn’t on Tatooine yet, so he needed an ally to help him find her, one with connections and power. And even though Palpatine wasn't the Chancellor yet, he was good and kind and Anakin was sure he would do everything he could to help him – to help little Obi-Wan – find Shmi Skywalker.
“Ani, have you... Have you heard the whispers about a woman called Cerasi?” Shmi Skywalker whispered so quietly that Obi-Wan – who was still trapped in his former Padawan’s younger body – barely caught it. Of course, when he did, he nearly toppled off his chair, which was foolish because it made his - Anakin's – Mother’s face twist with fear. They were seated at the kitchen table, having just finished their small dinner, and had been chatting about their day before her sudden change of subject had caught him entirely off guard.
Up until that moment, Obi-Wan had been almost proud of the progress he had made at portraying his Anakin’s younger self. He had somehow managed to keep up the boy's happy-go-lucky attitude in all social situations this past month. He was (thankfully) yet to kill himself or anyone else with Anakin's incredible connection to the Force, and his skills in mechanics and droid-repair had improved to the point that he had pointers he wanted to give his Anakin, if and when he returned home.
“Oh Ani, please tell me you haven't got yourself mixed up in this,” Shmi pleaded softly, her worried eyes fixed on his face.
Obi-Wan blinked, surprised to have those words said to him when usually he was the one saying them. He shook his head, both to clear the thought and in reply. “No, Mom, it's okay,” he lied quietly, adjusting his turn of phrase so he sounded like Anakin, “I just heard about her. I thought- It's a good thing, right? What she’s trying to do-"
“Could cost us all our lives!” Shmi cried, before quickly slapping a hand over her own mouth and snapping her gaze to the nearest window.
Obi-Wan breathed slowly, struggling to calm the storm of emotion that was brewing in his chest. He was angry both at her and for her. He was regretful, because he couldn't tell her that he was at the heart of the rebellion that was brewing under the careful leadership of ‘Cerasi’, and that his actions would likely put her son into the very danger she feared. And he was hurt. Because he knew her now. He respected and cared for her, and he did not want her to feel afraid.
“We’re already paying with our lives,” he offered, quietly, carefully.
Shmi’s gaze snapped back to him. She looked broken.
“I know you want to protect me, Mom. You do. But you know what happened to Em-Ze...”
Tears brimmed in his mother's eyes.
“And Juk nearly didn't make it after that beating he got for getting home late the other day,” he whispered. “We're lucky, Mom. Watto is- he's all- he's okay.”
Silence lingered for a long moment before his mother reached out across the tabled and grabbed his hand. “I know,” she whispered. “And gods, Ani, I am so sorry that you've never had better than this. I would give everything to give you your freedom.”
Obi-Wan's heart lurched in his chest. “I wouldn't want it – not if you didn't have yours!” he blurted out. The words tore at him, because he knew they were true. For both Anakin and him.
Shmi sighed. “I know that this Cerasi is promising that… promising freedom to all. I know that she is uniting beings, that she is giving the quarter hope that has been long lost. But we don’t have any power, Ani. They will crush us.”
“Hope is powerful,” he countered, probably a touch too gently.
His – Anakin’s – mother shook her head, then stood and collected their long empty dinner plates. “Hope is dangerous, and so is power,” she replied, as she headed over to the sink.
Obi-Wan's gaze dropped to the old, scratched table-top and he wondered, not for the first time, how she and he could come from such different places yet be so very alike in their thinking. And furthermore, how she and he could be so alike, yet Anakin was so very different to them both.
“Power is dangerous in the wrong hands,” he argued weakly, mostly because he had known Anakin at this age, and the boy would not have backed down. Especially if he thought something was right, and Obi-Wan knew that Anakin would believe in what he was doing. He had certainly come to, having seen and heard too much now to not be invested in the cause, and his plan.
“And how do you know that this Cerasi's hands are the right ones? How do you know she won't misuse the power, once she has it?”
Because I am Cerasi he thought but did not dare admit. Instead, he sighed loudly, and ceded sadly that he didn’t. “But if we do nothing, then nothing will get better, nothing will change.”
The words were Anakin’s. His Padawan had spoken them often over the years, usually when they were stood to the side, doing nothing when something needed to change. Obi-Wan always understood the words, but he had only just come to truly understand the sentiment behind them. For all their power, Jedi Knights had very little capacity to help the people who were suffering the most.
Obi-Wan caught the resignation on Shmi’s face before she turned away. She had most certainly heard the words before. “Ani, we will wait and watch. I’m not... If it looks like this woman is really going to help us, I will fight. But I am not going to risk what we have yet. Like you said before, we are among the more fortunate with Watto as our owner…”
“I know, Mom."
Obi-Wan watched as Shmi nodded to herself once before she turned and resumed cleaning up the dishes using the sonic. She looked tense and unsettled, and he was suddenly certain that she knew he was far more involved than he was prepared to say. Regret flooded his being, but he was not willing to risk her life by dragging her in, not when she had just said she was not ready to take part.
“I promise I’ll be careful,” he offered, because it was the only truth he could give her.
She didn’t reply, and it wasn’t until much later he realised that was because coming from the mouth of Anakin Skywalker, the word ‘careful’ meant very little at all.