Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anakin dreaded that envelope. He knew exactly what was in it, despite his hopes. It could be different, a friendly bit of cheer for the holiday. But, like any of the many jobs he had done around this time, it was highly unlikely to be so. As soon as he opened it, any hope or illusion would be shattered. He had tried so hard, doing everything eagerly and with sincere dedication. But, like every other scrap of chance he had, it just wasn’t enough. 

“Life Day card.” He said to Ahsoka, who looked over at him. He ripped it open. There, in perfectly clear text in a white section, juxtaposed with the cheery border of the card, was the confirmation that he had been let go. “Did you get one?” 

It was unlikely. She had been the one to get him the job here. She worked just as hard. People liked her in a way that Anakin could never quite manage. 

She shook her head. 

“Don’t be jealous.” He teased, the half-hearted smile forced onto his face. 

“I’m sorry.” She gave him a quick hug. “It won’t be easy to get work after the holiday.” 

“It wasn’t easy before Life Day,” Seasonal work was called that for a reason, but it only made things slightly easier for the short-term. He turned to open a box and get back to work. The display wasn’t going to organise itself. Pulling a toy out, he turned back to her, seeing her grab one as well, “Wonder if they’d give me a pension. I’ve worked here for three weeks.” The bitterness he felt escaped and ruined any teasing he was going for. 

“Anakin, have you thought about going home? You know Mom would be happy to have you back. She worries about you.” 

Their mother would be happy to have him home, given that she would have a visual confirmation that he wasn’t starving. But, it would also be another reminder of just how much he had given up. When he left all those years ago, she had been so proud. After the turbulent teenage years and the long, drawn-out process of coming to terms with his identity and personhood, the fact that he had such a bright future had been a miracle. Going back would mean giving up forever on that future. It had been hard enough to put on hold.

“Jobs aren’t any better there. At least, not for my situation.” Thinking of the could-have-beens was not one of Anakin’s preferred hobbies, but the idea that, had things gone differently, he could have been a respected engineer, making enough money to support his mom and sister in comfort, was always a sore spot with him. 

“Well, you’ve got me. And I will help you out until you land on your feet.” Ahsoka’s tone brooked no argument, even as she carefully set down the popular duck toy. 

“I’ll find something before it comes to that.” He set his own toy down. 

He was about to say something when Anakin’s least favourite person appeared. 

“Quack, quack, quack, quack. Good morning, my lovelies.” Rush Clovis approached holding a stuffed duck,. He turned to Anakin, “Say, what are you getting your favourite guy for Life Day?” 

“You wouldn’t drink it!” Ahsoka piped in, preventing Anakin from having to keep himself calm during this exchange. 

Dealing with Clovis always took a lot of mental fortitude. But, Anakin would only have to deal with him a short while longer, so he shook his head at Ahsoka, who ripped the stuffed duck out of Clovis’s hands to put away and walked off. 

Anakin mentally sighed, looking at Clovis’s face. He had to be a masochist. 

Clovis was always careful to just avoid taking things far enough to contact sentient resources, but there was still a lot of leeway for him. And he had taken every millimeter he could with Anakin. 

Clovis chuckled, leaning into Anakin’s space as he was lining the ducks up. Where was the supervisor when they were needed? Clovis was supposed to stay with his cart, which was just large enough to have to be brought through the curve around the display desk at a specific angle in order to avoid collision. That angle usually prevented Clovis from being so close. 

“She adores me.” Clovis said confidently, as if he truly believed it. The man truly lived in his own world. 

Anakin tried to ignore him. 

“Say, Ani, I saw you at the employee’s ball last week. You were spectacular.” 

Anakin looked up from his work, the mixture of shallow flattery and the oiliness of Clovis’s tone catching him by surprise. 

“Think so?” 

Where was Clovis going with this? 

“I said so, didn’t I?” A smug look appeared. “And just to prove it, I’ll take you dancing tomorrow night.” 

“Not a chance. I don’t feel like it.” Anakin tried to be polite in his tone, but dancing was the last thing on his mind, given the card of dismissal in his pocket. 

“Not even for five hundred credits?” 

Anakin looked at Clovis again. 

“You mean you’re going to give me five hundred credits to go out with you?” Indignation rushed through him at the implication, but that card in his pocket kept him from tearing that ass a new one. 

“Yes, in a way.” Clovis said quickly, leaning close once again. He made a gesture for Anakin to lean forward as well. “There’s this dancing contest tonight at the Golden Heel and second prize is five hundred credits. One of the judges is my friend. We win second place and split the money. Half for you, half for me.” 

A buzz interrupted the conversation and the store opened. Clovis moved to rush back to his cart, turning to Anakin. 

“So?” 

“Alright. You’ve got a deal.” Even half the prize would more than cover rent. And anything that keeps him from having to dip into his carefully saved funds or asking Ahsoka to help was worth it. 

Clovis smiled, a genuine one that would have made someone who didn’t know him think him attractive as he walked away, only turning to say “after supper” before leaving Anakin’s site. 

Anakin shook his head. Well, he had just gotten groceries the day before. And he was due almost the same amount for his paycheck this time as last. Between that and the prize money, he wouldn’t be desperate. But, it was better to be prepared. So, he decided he’d swing by the unemployment office on his lunch break. 

Maybe he’d have a bit of luck and find something a bit stable. 

Yeah, a cynical whisper in his brain began, and maybe Tatooine will flood.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan sighed as he finished another form. He was almost done, having settled in a few hours before on some flimsiwork. 

“Did you even go home last night?” His adoptive father’s voice piped up, breaking his concentration. 

Obi-Wan looked up, seeing the sun high in the sky and the clock reading far more time had passed than he had thought. Again. 

“Would you believe me if I said I did?” Obi-Wan asked, too tired for facades. It had the result of making his voice come across as a touch sarcastic. 

“We both know you’d be lying, lad.” Qui-Gon moved to sit in the armchair, the only chair in the room large enough for his taller frame. 

“I had planned to go home, but there were some forms that needed finishing and then I—” 

“Then you continued on until the sun came up.” Qui-Gon finished for him, shaking his head. It was hardly the first time. “You know, the store can manage if you were to step away every now and then.” And so, the old argument began. 

He had been grateful when Qui-Gon had taken him in. He had not been the easiest, he knew, but he was still chosen—the sullen, angry pre-teen he had been, spending years wanting to belong to a family, bouncing from orphanage to foster family to orphanage. He had worked hard to be worthy of that choice. Still, there had been so many issues between them as he grew up and he had to remind himself Qui-Gon's remonstrances were out of care, not disappointment. 

This was one of those times. 

“I’m aware the store survives without me, has gone on for years before I was even born, and will likely continue to do so after I am gone. But the work still has to be done and me being the one to do so helps things move.” 

The look of companionable pity made Obi-Wan almost swallow the words back. But, Qui-Gon sighed and undid his bun, allowing his hair to fall back into his more informal style. 

“Get some rest on that couch you keep here. Then, get a meal. I’ll do the work in the meantime.” Qui-Gon ordered. 

Obi-Wan smiled. “Thanks dad.” 

“I mean it. You can’t keep up at the pace you’re going. You’ll crack up. All this work,” Qui-Gon gestured around him “and things. I was your age once. Now I look like this.” Qui-Gon gestured to himself. Obi-Wan wanted to remark that the man looked good for his age, but he continued. “When was the last time you went out socially?” 

Obi-Wan thought for a moment. 

“I had a date with Jango last week.” 

“Social obligation.” Qui-Gon refuted. 

“Danced with Satine three days before that.” 

“Fundraising ball.” 

“Cody and I had lunch!” 

“It was a business lunch disguised as a meeting between friends.” 

Obi-Wan nearly threw his hands in the air. 

“Fine, if I do something not directly related to the business one night this week, will that suffice?” 

“Three nights and next week too.” 

Obi-Wan glared at his father. He truly was tired and not wanting to renegotiate. 

“Fine. We have a deal.” 

Obi-Wan left to go lie down on the sinfully comfortable couch he kept for late nights when he didn’t want to return home to find Qui-Gon already asleep or bother Quinlan (who went above and beyond as a butler and guard) who would insist on looking him over physically, no matter the time of day. 

He turned on the radio to help settle his thoughts. 

“It’s a wonderful day, so be happy and gay and you’ll be much too busy for sorrow. And to keep it this way, make the most of today and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow!”  

Frustrated at the universe (or at least the radio station) taking sides against him, he changed the station. A less busy song would probably be better help falling asleep anyway. 

“A heart is not a thing to build a wall about. A kiss is not a thing that you can stall about. If you don’t know it’s a thing to have a ball about, you know nothing at all about LOOOVE!”  

The crooner was at least not criticising his work habits, so he settled down for sleep as the song continued. 

Despite the coffee he drank an hour before, he was asleep before the song ended. 

Chapter Text

The day kept busy, with a steady stream of customers. He did his best to fulfill their requests, despite the heavy heart he had throughout the day. If nothing else, he could probably get a good recommendation.

He smiled at the customers (Ahsoka teased that his accidental flirting worked better than anything else, even if Anakin always protested that he wasn’t flirting.) He procured whatever toy they wanted. He would even go to other departments to get what the customer wanted (why someone decided they had to have a toy department person get them a hat was beyond him, but he did his job.) 

All of this meant that he was hungry, sore, and utterly exhausted by the time his lunch break started and he walked to the employment office. 

Because his streak of luck had been so consistent, he was halfway there when he felt his binder rip.  He wanted to cry, he had no time to head back to his apartment and get another one. He stepped into a bathroom at a diner two doors down from the employment office and threw away the useless garment. He pulled his coat tight, trying to hide his breasts. As he walked, he couldn’t help but wish he had worn one of his other binders that day. The coat, cut in a more flowy style than most around him, more like the ones boys and girls grew up wearing in Tatooine, at least gave him a measure of comfort. It reminded him of those cold nights back when he, mom, and Ahsoka would cuddle for warmth when he had demanded they go camping.

Glancing up at the window, he looked at the job postings available. As he read each of them, his heart sank a little lower. All of the jobs required more certification and education than he had. With a sigh, he straightened his shoulders, pulled his coat tighter, shook away the tiredness and hunger, and entered the employment office.

He waited in line, which was at least fairly short. He’d be in and out in no time. Perhaps he could even stop to get a bite before his lunch hour was up. After about ten minutes, he was called over.

“Seasonal work over?” Mx. Oriza asked him. He and xem went back to when he first came to Coruscant. Xe had taken pity on him and got him any job either of them thought he could do and he would bring baked goods and chat with xem about random things.

“Unfortunately. I’ve got the rest of the week and then I’m cut loose. Anything available?” He felt so tired, sitting there.

Xe typed on xer computer for a minute.

“Lack of positions available right now. Only the stuff that requires more qualifications than what you’ve got are popping up. I can ask around, but with seasonal work ending, a lot of those will be snapped up quick.”

Anakin sighed, feeling even more tired.

“Will you pass along anything you can? You know my contact info, I’m not too proud for anything.”

Mx. Oriza looked at him sympathetically.

“Of course. I’ll put your name at the top of the list. I’ll even see about any jobs that wouldn’t mind informal education.” They were rare, but sometimes there were companies that let you certify through them if you came in with enough knowledge. And Anakin had done his best to do so when he had first given up his original plans and still had hope for one day becoming an engineer. In the meantime, he had some savings. He hated the idea of spending them just to survive but needs must. He could always rebuild them; it’d just add the delays.

After thanking xem, he headed out, noting the time. If he hurried, he could stop at the hot dog stand three blocks over and eat leisurely before returning to work.

As he walked out of the building, he was a touch annoyed that he had to do this all over again, but what could be done. Mapping out the route in his head, he walked down the street, and almost missed the woman in front of him.

She was older, bundled into a large shawl and coat, and, having pressed the doorbell, was walking down the stairs of the foundling home. While he knew there were reasons for somebody to leave children there, this woman was simply leaving them on the front porch, like they were a package! He hurried over, letting go of his coat as he tapped her on the back of her coat.

“Don’t you dare.” He commanded. “Don’t you dare leave your babies out on the step like that.” Before he could suggest taking them in herself or offering support, the woman turned towards him.

“I’m not the mother. There isn’t one. They’ll be taken good care of here. They’re such lovely, wonderful babes.” The woman said a little wistfully, looking up at them. Anakin looked over as well. The woman took her chance and slipped away before Anakin could do anything.

Dumbfounded, he shook his head. By the time he looked up again, one of the covered lumps was starting to roll towards the steps. Not thinking, he immediately ran up and caught it before it could hurt itself.

“There, there.” He murmured, unsure of what to do. The last baby he had dealt with was Ahsoka when he’d been barely old enough to be allowed to hold her.

The door opened. A matronly-looking person stood there.

“Won’t you come in?”

Unsure what else could be done, Anakin stood up, still holding the baby in the blanket. A little face looked up at him. The matron, in the meantime, had collected the other one and handed it to Anakin. Holding them carefully, he followed the matron inside. They walked down the clean hall, where there sat benches with cushions and childish artwork lining the hall.

After a minute, they reached an office. As he entered, one of the babies started fussing. Remembering old shows, he bounced it slightly, murmuring little assurances. As he did so, he noticed that the baby looked more developed than a newborn. He remembered newborn Ahsoka and his own pictures as one. Newborns weren’t cute like everyone thought. They grew into it. These babies had definitely grown into it, he confirmed, looking at the other one.

“Hello” a man sitting at one of three desks in the office greeted. He returned the greeting and returned his attention to the babies.

“Your name?”

Distracted, Anakin answered. It was only when the man followed up that question with one about his employment that Anakin started to notice. Perhaps they wanted to follow up later?

“I work at Jedi & Co. Well, I did, I’ve been let go today.” He looked up from the babies and their cuteness. In that instance, he noticed the way the man was looking at him.

It hit him like a ton of bricks. Best to clear things up.

“Just a minute! They aren’t my babies. I found them on the doorstep outside.”

The looks the matron and the man gave showed clear disbelief.

Anakin frowned.

“No, really! An older lady left them on the doorstep like a package! And I was afraid one of them was going to roll off, so the best thing for me to do was…”

The man stood up and cut Anakin off.

“My dear young person,” Anakin knew his lack of binder could cause confusion. Not his fault he hadn’t had time to go home and change. “we’re only here to help you. We’re your friends in this.” The man’s tone was sympathetic and professional. Anakin decided he disliked this man.

“I wasn’t leaving them.” He reiterated. What would be the point of constant denial? If he had been the mother, then he surely would have admitted it by now. The foundling home would take the two babies in either way. “I was just…picking it up.” The excuse sounded weak to even his ears, but it was the truth!

“Many mothers deny the babies are theirs. We’ve found, through experience, the wisest course is to make a clean break of the whole thing."

That was sensible. That was logical. He simply needed to smile and nod and be on his way as the two babies adjusted to their new home. Unfortunately, one of Anakin's faults was stubbornness. He’d known it. Ahsoka knew it. Sands, his mom was more than aware of it.

“Well now, look, this is ridiculous. These are not my babies, whether you believe it or not.” He handed the babies to the matron, who took them with little aplomb.

As he walked past, the two babies immediately started crying. The matron gave them back and they instantly quieted.

“Enough of this.” He was tired, hungry, unlikely to get lunch, and was just done with this whole farce. He handed back the babies, storming off as their cries echoed.

Anakin hurried out of the foundling home, determined to at least buy a hot dog to eat as he clocked back in at work. He could only hope that they believed him and found those babies a good home.

Meanwhile, back at the foundling home, Matron Lee tutted as she quieted the babies in her arms.

“Mothers these days.” She groaned to her secretary, Mr. Barks.

“And so young!”  he agreed.

“Look at them, they’re several months old.” Matron Lee handed one over to Mr. Barks, who held the babe with due consideration. “The blankets are good material and they’ve been well cared for.”

“It has to be the loss of that young person’s job.” Mr. Barks stated. “If Mx. Skywalker could be returned to employment, then there would be no impetus to deny these lovely children.” And lovely they were, with beautiful eyes and Mx. Skywalker’s nose.

Matron Lee sighed. The foundling home did the best they could, but they were hardly the best substitute for a real parent, especially one that had previously cared for their children so well. And, while arranging adoptions could be done, the state preferred for the reunifications of families if possible. And such a reunion could perhaps be more easily done than an adoption, in any case.

“Mx. Skywalker told us where they worked…” Mr. Barks stated. Matron Lee immediately grasped onto the hint.

Soon, a plan began to form.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan’s day was much as before, only he was a bit more rested. He had managed five hours of sleep and began working through lunch. Qui-Gon wanted him to have a life, so Obi-Wan would do his best to finish early. He could easily find something to do afterwards.

In truth, a quiet night at home with his book sounded ideal.

Obi-Wan shook his head and signed another form.

There was a faint buzzing sound. Obi-Wan stopped writing and began moving his papers around. Underneath a small pile, his notification system was alerting him with the buzz. Mystery solved, Obi-Wan answered.

“Yes? What is it?” He asked his personal assistant. Threepio may have been a bit high-strung, but he could work circles around anyone else, Obi-Wan included.

“There are some representatives from the Organa Foundling Home that wish to speak to you. They don’t have an appointment, but insist they must speak to you today, preferably as soon as possible.” Threepio’s voice came through, sounding a mix of exasperated and worried. Obi-Wan wished his assistant was a touch more flexible. If they didn’t have an appointment, Threepio followed procedure to the letter. The Foundling Home’s representatives refused that, meaning Threepio was floundering and hoping Obi-Wan had a minute.

“Send them in.” Surely it wasn’t anything too bad. Their monthly donation was delivered the week before and the store discounts for them were still in place.

A man and a woman entered.

“I’m Matron Lee. We’re looking for Mr. Jinn?” The woman stated.

“You’re looking at him.” Technically, Obi-Wan’s last name was a hyphen, but it made things easier for some of the older investors to be reminded forcefully of his status as heir.

“We thought you were older!” The man exclaimed in shock.

Obi-Wan was feeling a bit impish.

“I will be, it just takes some time.” Obi-Wan stood up. “You’re thinking of my father, Mr. Qui-Gon Jinn. He’s currently out. Whatever the issue, I’m more than happy to help. If it is about the discount, Mr. Windu in sales primarily takes care of it. We can call him in if need be.”

“No, that isn’t necessary.” The Matron assured him. “We haven’t come about the discount.”

“The donations then? As far as I was aware, everything was in order. The donations to the Foundling Homes here in the city is one of my more enjoyable responsibilities.” It was true. Qui-Gon had started the practice when Obi-Wan was only a kid, it was how they met in the first place. When he first started working for the store, he had taken over the donations with glee, ensuring they had enough supplies and even a few luxuries that went a long way with making children happier, the kinds of things he had to do without in this home or that. "If there is a problem, I am more than happy to review what could have happened and ensure it is prevented in the future."

“No, not that either.” Matron Lee stated. “Actually, this is about something of a rather personal nature.”

“Well, why don’t we sit down?” Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what this was about, but he was prepared for whatever it could be. He slipped into his professional mode and waited.

“Thank you.” They sat down. “We’re here concerning a young person that works here, Mx. Skywalker. You see, they left two babies with us today, twins. They mentioned losing their job here. We called the personnel department, who confirmed Mx. Skywalker had been let go as of the end of this week.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at that. He’d have to find out who gave such information to the man, as it was not something that would be allowed to be given out to strangers. At most, they could confirm the person was currently working for the company, but nothing more.

“I see.” Focusing on the reason for their visit and not the misuse of the personnel department, Obi-Wan continued, “I’m not really sure what can be done about this situation.”

“Mr. Jinn, we believe the loss of this job is why Mx. Skywalker decided to give up their children. The babies are not newborns, they’ve clearly been cared for until now. We would not be here if we did not think that the best place for these children is with Mx. Skywalker.” Matron Lee explained. She then clasped her hands together and gave a pleading look to Obi-Wan. “Please give them back their job.”

Biting back a sigh, Obi-Wan tried to formulate a response.

“This isn’t really my area…” He began.

“Mr. Jinn,” began the man, “you are in charge of the store. If you could have only seen them, denying these two adorable children, when mere minutes before, they had looked upon them with such tender affection! It would have touched your heart.” The man stood for emphasis.

Obi-Wan wasn’t unfeeling. It was clear that the incident with his worker had made an impression. Obi-Wan pushed the button on his notification system.

“Threepio, please get me the file of a Mx. Skywalker, one of our workers.” Obi-Wan turned to his guests. “I will look into the matter thoroughly before coming to my decision. If I am satisfied with them, I will agree to aid you in reuniting parent and children. Where can I reach you?”

After exchanging contact information, Obi-Wan walked his guests out. Threepio returned with the file shortly after.

As Obi-Wan sat down and read, he couldn’t help but wonder at the situation. He knew desperate situations often caused these issues, even knew a few such cases in a few of his old roommates before his adoption. He supposed he had been fortunate in that. His parents had died in a rather public way. There was no doubt they wanted him, no sadness over not even knowing if they were alive or dead, and no resentment towards them for treating him like garbage. Given the issues he did have, it was likely he wouldn’t have survived his teenage years with such issues in addition.

Enough about him, he thought and began to read.

Anakin Skywalker, aged 25, born female, but currently identified as male, secondary schooling completed with high honors, some post-secondary education (but nothing more), worked several jobs of a fairly wide variety and range, had a sister that also worked for Jedi & Co. and a mother living in Tatooine. Nothing too out of the ordinary. The background check had been done a year before when Mr. Skywalker first applied, though he was not hired until a few weeks ago for seasonal work. It was entirely possible that he’d had twins in the time between the check and hiring. If things were desperate, then hoping seasonal work became something more permanent was not a thought without some foundation. They did regularly do such practices for exceptional workers.

According to the file, Mr. Skywalker had potential to be such, but was in the habit of overselling. No doubt it was to try to impress the company, given the circumstances. The problem was that the store tended to prefer that, while sales remain good, overselling be avoided. Such habits often brought about more trouble than they were worth, according to the complaints and returns departments. Obi-Wan had implemented the system himself, convincing the investors that employee morale had a better long-term effect on profits than doing whatever they could for the sake of a sale.

After his adoptive father, Qui-Gon (who tended to be blunt with what he thought of the investors), his grandfather, Lord Dooku (who, before ascending to his title, had run the store as his personal fiefdom), and his great-grandfather, Yoda (who abandoned both the store and the title to go and live in a swamp when Obi-Wan was in secondary school for reasons that were never fully clear), Obi-Wan’s gift of persuasion had the investors willing to put up with any idea, provided he phrased it correctly and focused on the benefits of each plan.

No doubt that Mr. Skywalker could easily pass the system to become a permanent employee, if Obi-Wan gave his recommendation. A recommendation plus an acceptable record could often be accepted as easily as an exceptional record.

With that, Obi-Wan decided on his course of action. He would put forth the recommendation, allow Mr. Skywalker to keep working at the store (perhaps with a raise in order to more immediately help his children. Obi-Wan imagined upkeep for even one baby was not cheap, let alone twins), and reunite parent and children.

It even had the benefit of not being completely work related! He could spin it appropriately to Qui-Gon as a potential new friendship. Obi-Wan had often made friends with people on all levels of life (his friendship with both Satine and Jango proved that), many of whom were quite beloved to him over the years. Yes, this new project would work nicely to allow Obi-Wan to please Qui-Gon and gain a new friend in his life.

Obi-Wan pulled up the file on his computer, beginning recommendation and allowing the system to do its work. It wouldn’t take more than an hour and he could talk to Mr. Skywalker about the good news before the end of the day!

Feeling accomplished, Obi-Wan decided to get lunch out by himself. An hour away from work would suit. And he could get a head start on that book he’d planned to read later that night.