Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

From the very moment the twin suns’ pink and orange hues illuminated your face, a young Anakin knew.

It was the kind of feeling that lit a gentle fire within the soul, the origins of which unbeknownst to the wandering yet growing minds of children. The kind of feeling so grand it engulfed his very being from within. A sentiment, sense of belonging and excitement he did not yet know how to describe, but oh, could he feel it.

It made his heart falter, skip a small beat. It made his baby blues sparkle internally, rays reflecting out into the world of chaos around him with a fresh breath of happiness. His hands were just a bit faster, just a tiny bit more nimble as he worked with spare droid parts at his master’s shop.

He knew.

Just like he knew he would see the suns rise again. That he would see his mother that night with open arms and heart, beckoning him in to share a meal.

Like he knew, from the bottom of his heart, that he would be free one day, his family slaves to no one.

If only you knew.

A merely nine year old boy, albeit an exceptionally wise one, but just a little boy, knew he loved you.

How could he? How could a small boy know about love, let alone feel it?

That must have been love, right? The kind he heard whispers and stories of on the streets of Tatooine. The feeling that made all the beautiful things in this world appear - hugs, kisses on the cheek. Blue skies shining back at him. The sparkles on his red and orange speeder. The gentle beeping sounds of a functioning droid.

A dreamland full of water and beautiful trees adorned in all shades of green, the ones that existed in the better half of his dreams.

Love was happiness to him. The kind that made him laugh and smile even after being exhausted all day. Ever since you beamed into the shop looking for some scrap sensors to fix your passion project, it had been nothing but happiness when you were around, so much so that he lately did not mind his master’s ordering around.

He wanted nothing more to understand that little gentle light within him, to make sure it never disappeared from his life.

He wanted to find a way to keep the twin suns from setting. That would make it daylight forever, allowing you to stay with him.

That would convince your parents to let you stay out with him just a bit longer. Anakin was very confident that he could make that work, even if it took him forever.

He would not let go.

The gentle hum of buzzing machinery and a certain girl whispering a shallow profanity after a series of mechanical thuds took him out of his thoughts and back to reality of the desert.

Back to the sand that kept hitting his skin no matter how much he covered.

“Do you have it yet?”

“Almost,” came your voice from a bit afar in the scrapyard, knee deep in all the spare parts, screws, scrapped metal of all sorts around Watto’s shop. His master being gone to the outpost to scour for his necessities meant a certain relief, finally being able to work on something a bit more fun. A few more broken rotors and springs thrown out from the pile followed by an “aha!”, you quipped in excitement to the newly discovered part.

The slightly rusty body of the partially disassembled protocol droid stared at him, waiting to be granted life. With a clear intention in mind, the little Anakin had worked on the droid whenever his master’s watchful eyes were not all over him, and sometimes overtime after he was dismissed. Working on the manmade creature also gave him an excuse to tinker with you.

He had worked hard to dig for spare parts in the vast scrapyard, his talented fingers tightening each bolt and screw that connected the limbs together, the network of wires originating from the motherboard to each corner of the machine to grant energy to the droid when all parts were tied together.

Up until then, he had been missing the servomotor, if not the most crucial part of it all. He had been searching for it for the better half of a week now, and had requested your assistance as a second pair of eyes and hands.

How else was the protocol droid supposed to move to help protect his mother, if not for the motor?

The smile stretching your lips was contagious as your running legs carried you  towards a waiting blond boy, clutching the motor tightly in your small hands as you skipped occasionally to avoid the leftover parts, sand flying around under your boots with each stride taken. An excitement ran through Anakin, as he readied the metal opening to, almost ceremoniously, tie the missing piece altogether.

“Let’s do this.”

Sounds of metal clinks, wires strapped to their place, a few huffs following the cutter as the motor clicked into it’s place. The moment he had been waiting for for a while now, as he made sure to securely attach all the mechanical limbs and double check the circuits. With his heart thumping and you crouching next to him, he hit the switch.

He shot a smile mixed in with a laugh, catching your eyes with the biggest joy when he heard the whirl, focusing back when the droid’s eyes lit up a calm yellow, head turning with a screeching sound - but moving nonetheless.

The two little troublemakers found themselves laughing with content, celebrating their creation. Now, his mother had someone to help protect her against the heat, even if it required a bit more maintenance, polish and oil.

Your eyes found Anakin’s light blue ones, partially shaded under the fabric of the tent, yet the sparkles in them were enough to light the galaxy.

“You will do great things, Ani.”

The words flowed out as if they were the most natural. You always had meant everything you said to him, it made him believe that yes, one day, he would indeed do great things.

To that, he responded with a wide smile, laced with a child’s innocence and pure hope. Hope that kept his fleeting soul stay put, because it knew you would both be free one day.

Oh, the planets he would go with you.

While he believed your words, he found himself only hoping for them to become true if it meant seeing you smile beside him.

Chapter Text

It kept getting in your eyes.

No matter how much you covered up, every inch of potentially exposed skin besides your eyes that were necessary for the job at hand, the little grains found their merry way in, further annoying you in the process.

Ah, how much you hated sand.

You swore you could hear him agreeing with your thoughts in the depths of your mind.

It was ironic, really, considering you both worked to live and lived to work on a completely sand-covered, desert planet - when both of you despised it with a passion. It also did not help that it had to be one of the worse days of the year to tinker with the metal structure in front of you, as your body protested internally. The scorching suns radiated their never-ending heat over the partially covered corner of the vast scrapyard, your holdup point for today’s session stationed right next to a fairly tall sand dune.

But it had to be done. There was a goal, a joint objective, that failure could not withhold the hopeful hearts of two little troublemakers willing to risk it all.

Yours just had to be the fastest one. Anything below first place, was unacceptable.

You could never forget the light in his eyes and just how fast he stood up with excitement when you had first came to him with the over-the-top idea, which was slowly proving to be one of the most arduous tasks in hindsight.

There was a rather strong feeling within you that all of it would be worth it. One day, somewhere, sometime.

It had to be, after all this effort.

But nevertheless, up until that moment when you could relinquish in victory, both of you needed to hurry with the screws and bolts until Shmi Skywalker called for dinner later that night.

“Do you ever wonder how rain feels like?”

It was a question asked out of sheer curiosity, your hands busying themselves, tinkering with the large cables that would tie the racer together eventually.

The boy’s bob of scuffed blond hair tilted parted in the wind ever so slightly, a big pair of tired blue-grays found yours for a brief moment as he slid up his protective sand goggles - an accessory you should have also been sporting. His hands were holding on tightly to the rear wing, previously working diligently to connect the two motors through the recently acquired energy binder. Anakin had lost count of the hours spent on customizing the engines whenever he was out of his master’s watchful command, hand in hand with his best friend in the whole wide galaxy.

He would later realize that anything you told him took his attention away in a split second. This had been no exception, though the boy took his time to slightly ponder the question in his head, surprised you voiced yet another thought that he often found himself dwelling on before his slumber took him away most nights, before he would be woken up by nightmares.

Of course, he did.

It was a comforting thought. He had read about the rain that came sparsely once in a century on this desert planet, saw some holograms merchants would trade of far, unknown planets while roaming the dry and chaotic markets of Mos Espa as he trailed behind his master. He recalled seeing something akin to shiny little droplets, like clear jade bits falling down from the skies. His unusually vivid imagination somehow failed to fully comprehend just how it would look like if long-awaited water crowned the endless peaks of sand. Would it be humid? Would the existent heat cause everything to evaporate? Would it feel like that fresh splash of water he woke himself up with, yet coming down from the heavenly skies instead of a stale supply from the bucket?

The clinks of your screwdriver as you tightened yet another bolt to hold the connector wires in their places took him out of his thoughts, only to realize he had not properly answered you. “I have.”

A smallest blush creeped up his cheeks and he thanked the Maker for the high suns to disguise it. You, ever the patient one, shot him a knowing grin as another stabilizer to hold the control cable in place snapped tight, not yet attached to the engines as the cable slapped against the sand in a low thud. “I have trouble imagining so much water in one place,” the words flowed from your lips, eyebrows furrowing slightly in concentration as you found the strength to climb up the scaffolding stairs a bit further up on the blue and silver metal structure, attempting to reach what was going to eventually become the cockpit - not without a couple of huffs of complaint as a foot faltered slightly, yet it found a stable surface to hoist yourself up and into the makeshift seat.

Anakin sometimes wished you had let him help you more, though he chuckled slightly at your comment. “Anything is better than sand,” he mumbled just loud enough, hands clutching onto the metal levers of the rightmost racing engine to ensure the trailing wing had been properly attached.

“It’s not that bad most of the time, Ani. You had to choose one of the hottest days of the decade.”

“I don't like sand,” he started, as yet another gust of heated wind splashed minuscule yet annoying amounts of sand to both children’s faces, as if the galaxy had heard him.

“See? It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.”

All you could do was laugh, having heard the exact complaints many times before that it had become a cherished daily ritual. As he kicked his feet and attempted to pat away the sand that got on his cheeks and desert robes, you thanked the Maker for the small but mighty plexi-shield you had thought of putting over the edge of the cockpit that temporarily kept you away from the wrath of the sand. Fueled with even more desire to finish the tasks at hand to spend even less time out in the open, little Anakin lowered his goggles to focus on getting his scrapped engines to ignite properly.

“Maybe this thing will take us to a planet far, far away,” you mumbled to yourself as you attempted to attach control levers to internal wires trailing within the unfinished cockpit, stealing a small glance at him between movements.

Behind those goggles, his eyes acquired a spark that lit up his soul with the fire of dreams, not just of the desert heat.

Anakin still remembered his master, no doubt with the effects of a little too much booze and ill-placed bets, put him in a clunky podracer for the first time. “The smugglers offered me too much,” he had said as Anakin strapped his belt and helmet on with a newfound ease, stepping foot in a racer cockpit for the first time - yet it had felt like the millionth.

It certainly was not the last.

“They told me no human could race in one of these.”

The moment his hands had found the steering rods, his gaze switching up to revel in the roaring cheers of the crowd in the narrow, orange canyon, he felt the energy, the speed, the sheer momentum coax through his little being.

He just knew how to operate that thing, and his instincts proved him right as he crossed the finish line, a mere boy hailed a wonder in the small arena, an elated Watto running to him to pat his head.

Following his uncanny talent, he wanted to make one of his own, adorned with the blue of his eyes and the glorious silver of your choice, a racer so awfully fast. It did not matter to him that the majority of the material that tied the very vehicle together were scraps and junk rescued from the shop, no.

From that day on, he wanted to race. The gentle tremors of the engine jolting him, the corners quick and turns daunting. Feel the adrenaline run through his very being, when he crossed the finish line first. He wished to find only to find your eyes watching you with pride and with joy.

To maybe, one day, whisk you far, far away into the depths of the galaxy, find a planet on which you would dance in the falling rain with him.

It was what little Anakin would dream of that night, safe in his bed. He would be too far gone in the dreamland of greenery and blue heavens to notice the disturbance in the Force that shook like a tremor.

Chapter Text

Tremors.

Tremors across what seemed to be the whole planet, shook the dunes, the hollow valleys of sand and ashes, making the grounds rattle.

Tremors that only a certain select few could sense.

Only the few felt the jolts running down and fleetingly slapping their skin, fast and relentless, like dust particles amid an unfortunate sandstorm.

Only the few soaked in the feeling of the changing winds in the air, a fresh wave of relief after walking under the blazing sun too long. Pupils dilating, minds traveling to a place of consolation, full of shining rays of light.

The Force surrounding the universe shook the very ground in unknown yet potent ways - unbeknownst to the ever-flowing life forms on the planet going about their ordinary days, from the very moment the ship let go of passengers onto the uninviting sand with a loud hiss.

The instant he had stepped onto the hot sand, his senses got alerted, as if someone had been poking his skin all over with the faintest, bluntest of needles. Enough to elicit attention more than pain.

Whether his Padawan felt it too, he couldn’t tell, for the energy within him roared too loud to notice anything else.

At the moment, he was too preoccupied attempting to contain the feeling in him, to gently pull at the thread to find out something, anything, about this powerful yet concealed fragment of the Force.

Questions engulfing his mind to find out its source. Just where it could have flowed from into the ever-stretching void that only select few could tap into.

And just why it was so, so potent that it seeped into his being, yearning to pull, each step taken towards the bustle of the tented market, increasing the tautness of grip.

“Ani?”

A small grunt followed as an answer, echoing from the further corners of the tent.

“Did-did you feel that?”

Through the mountains of aluminum and rusted metal, you could make out the ruffled hair of the boy continuing his task uninterruptedly, various pieces scrambling around and occasionally thrown in the air. After a small sigh of defeat followed suit by his puff, he ran a quick hand through his hair as he raised his head in an attempt to meet your eyes, a slight tint of confusion in his.

“Felt what?”

The feeling of newfound unease slowly dissipated from your soul, yet never fully dissolved - stayed at the edges of your consciousness in a surprisingly comforting lull, almost waiting, no, begging to be awakened again.

It felt ever so potent, with enough power to shake your whole small being, yet so right. Something you had been longing for eternity - yet all unbeknownst to you, all this time.

Had he really not felt it?

Were you the only one?

You would not have thought the momentary burning sensation within had been solely reserved for you, especially with the ground under you giving way just a slight. The hollow within the pit of your stomach, a gentle shake traversing your body.

Anakin’s eyes squinted ever so slightly with concern.

It clearly must have been one of the sand dunes or a merchant dropping a big pile of merchandise on the not-so-stable sand grounds of the market.

Maybe an already unbalanced machine part finally met the ground as it fell.

Maybe it had been your overworked self playing simple mind games to you, pulling tricks to distract you from your project assigned by your master.

It surely had been that - just a simple blink out of consciousness. It had been true that your mind was focused on not much but finishing up the podracer with as much time as you could muster up after dismissal that night. Perhaps you could steal Anakin away for a couple of hours before the suns disappeared in the skies, and convince him to finally finish hooking up the motors.

“It was nothing. Must have been from the wind.”

Shaking yourself off of the lingering feeling and associated thoughts, much more maturely than many older than you - you dove back into the pile of junk in pursuit of your part again, an accustomed routine which Anakin followed suit without much question, the bob of blond hair disappearing once again within the metal mountains. For kids barely pushing to ten, the joint drive to work, to create, to succeed when the pair of you got together could conquer the stars.

And maybe, it just would be enough to one day.

That day did not seem like it was the right one though, when you heard the heavy steps of your master rushing towards the shop, and judging from the additional sounds, he had brought in clients this time around - hopefully ones to spend money to put Watto in a good mood, so he could release you a bit faster today. Out of curiosity and instinct combined, Anakin and you yet again let go of your chores to greet.

Humans, they sounded like from the short distance. The fabric covering the entrance was parted in a rustle, as a rather unusual-looking set of customers covered in tall, brown robes filled into the workshop with Watto nowhere to be seen just yet - he must have used the other entrance to the shop, rummaging through the back stock it sounded like from the noises emanating through.

The two little helpers of the shop, namely you and your partner in crime Anakin, acknowledged the newcomers with a curious gaze of surprise.

The balances holding the Force still shook in tremors the moment Qui-Gon stared at you both.

A cacophony of unanswered questions began clouding his judgement - which had usually been his trusted source of truth, always pointing to the way of light. This time, the unwavering stability morphed into curiosity as the two younglings focused their big, glinting eyes to the gruff-looking stranger that just so happened to be himself, walking into the shop unexpectedly.

“Ah, yes, I have just the part you need, somewhere - Anakin!”

Always the announcer, as the loud chant of his name by his master waved through the shop, Anakin rushed to the source of the noise in habituated ease whereas you stood next to the walls of scrap waiting.

The stranger’s eyes had been trained on you and your best friend ever since they stepped foot inside, and that made you slightly more uncomfortable than you had preferred.

“Here it is. The hyperdrive that will get you running back to whatever planet you hailed from in no time,”  Watto exclaimed in his sales voice as he and Anakin placed the part onto one of the only empty spaces for the potential buyers to examine.

Sensing that two people had been enough to deal with customers, you would silently move towards the mountain of a scrap pile of droid parts scavenged from all across the planet and somehow ended up in the forsaken shop - your small hands searching steadily for the part you desperately needed to help Ani complete the helper droid that you both had been building as a new project.

Unbeknownst to you, the strange customer’s eyes would switch back and forth between the two children that shook the very existence of the Force within him, in all of his surroundings, bending space and time in such a way that rocked his thoughts.

His fascination that had him in a semi-trance state only dissipated temporarily upon his Padawan’s rather loud exclamation.

“What do you mean Republic credits are not accepted?”

Another voice would follow merely steps behind the taller, wiser stranger - this time, belonging to a man with a braid, and a certain fire in his blue eyes. He was followed by yet another figure, a girl that appeared to belong in one of those shiny holobooks that you had once found off on a market corner.

“They simply are not,” Watto would exclaim, as if it had been the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

The very sand on the ground flickered, remnants of the Force making themselves known. Stronger this time around - yet, enough to make you feel it run its course through your bones. A sheer glint appearing in your eyes at the sensation, looking up at the customers only to find that their eyes were already on you.

Your fingers would still mid-search within the pile, curling around a scrap of metal to find a gentle grounding force.

Almost instinctively, Anakin stepped closer to you without a word, his presence further anchoring you to the moment again. Even as children, the slight tension under the tent was palpable, the wind incessantly hissing against fabric.

And yet… your eyes flicked toward the girl who had lowered her hood.

Her face, too clean, too noble to be from the slums. The slightly tilted chin of someone who had never had to answer to anyone for freedom.

And her gaze, especially when it landed on Anakin, felt like the kind of weight that left footprints on a soul.

“Who is she? Who are they?” you whispered under your breath, only for his ears to hear.

Anakin shrugged, whispering back, “Don’t know. But she looks like one of the angels we read about.”

“This is the part you need to get on your journey, yes?” Watto would then ask restlessly, his tone dry, seemingly unbothered by the currency discourse.

“The hyperdrive is good. A price is a price.”

“And how much,” the girl would raise, her voice exuding a certain calm, yet stern for her age, “ - for the child labor?”

An exposition of control that you had only seen out of grown ups.

To that, Anakin would raise his brows, your eyes then flickering from the angelic face, to the rest of the strangers, then landing on Watto.

“I assure you I pay them more than these useless droids with fragile hands that break,” Watto exclaimed, his remarks accompanied by one of those almost sinister smirks.

“On this planet, they have no choice - their fates are sealed.”

Hearing the repetition of truth echoed into the void, something that you had often tried to escape, sent a shiver down your spine. One that you could swear Anakin had also felt, as his eyes then found yours, your face hollowing with the harsh reality as your hands stalled over a piece you had needed for the helper droid.

Instinctively, Anakin moved a couple steps closer to your presence, because if there had been one thing life taught both of you early on, was the sheer choreography of carrying the weight of being owned without letting it bend your spine so young.

“Unless,” came the sleazy voice again, always aiming for some profit. “- unless you want to make things interesting.”

That earned the shop owner some tilted eyebrows coming from the strangers.

“We are listening,” the older one, standing in front of the others, would echo the sentiment.

Watto’s eyes squinted, tongue clicking against his tusks. He was looking at the newcomers now, but his wings twitched with greed.

“You Jedi love a wager, don’t you?”

You watched quietly from the shadows of the workbench, heart thudding louder with every syllable - the gravity of what was to come apparent. A quiet twitch of the invisible thread within you as you felt Anakin’s gaze perk up.

Watto’s gaze didn’t linger long on Anakin.

It instead landed on you, in a way that none of you had expected.

“Now, her - she’s clever, but replaceable,” he said, with a wave of his hand like you were some half-functioning droid.

“Him? The boy’s different. Special.”

Mere inches from you, Anakin’s fists curled, in a quiet rage that only a little boy could have. You felt his anger emanate within you - not loud, not violent, but bothered, beneath the skin.

“She’s not replaceable,” he snapped, earning looks from the newcomers. “Neither of us are.”

There was no hesitation in him. Not for a second.

There never was when it came to defending you, in any shape or form.

Qui-Gon’s gaze flicked toward the girl, yet, he said nothing.

The undeniable tremble within did the speaking for him instead, the tremors of the resonance between the two children.

Something weaved into the very fabric of the stars.

Something ancient, unexplored. Raw.

And, it was whispering to the depths of his soul, only to remind him that the greatest of all destinies began in places that most of the galaxy often forgot.

“The boy can fly for his freedom. The girl, though…” Watto’s impatient voice cut through any and all thoughts, slicing the stillness.

A murmur of an excuse on his lips that followed.

“The girl has duties to fulfill. I cannot lose both my help. ”

The mere implications of the deal landed a blow that you dared not show outwards. The weight of a thousand stones suddenly landing on your shoulders.

“If she stays, I stay,” Anakin protested immediately, the blues in his eyes electric. A reaction that both Jedi had expected out of the little boy, as Qui-Gon would tilt his head in an attempt to find a compromise.

Tension in the air crackled like particles of sand hitting plexiglass.

However, the Jedi did not argue. Not then. Not yet.

“Then, we race,” Qui-Gon conceded, his voice even despite the looming consequences.

Despite being able to see all the possible futures all at once, in the blink of an eye, yet not able to discern just what, when and how.

Just like that, in the silence that followed, with the momentary drop of your gaze towards your feet in an early defeat - the wheels of fate began turning faster, all unbeknownst to the untrained young minds.

“We will win,” Anakin declared, a certain confidence in his unwavering voice, too mature for his age.  His hand would instinctively reach to yours, a gesture of comfort, yet not unnoticed by the surrounding eyes.

The softest of touches, letting you know just exactly what he thought without uttering a single word.

We will get through this.

We will find a way. We always do.

That made your gaze perk up, unwaveringly so.

“And when we do,” Anakin continued, “ - you will let her go too.”

Watto grumbled, already calculating the odds for his profit as he waved Anakin off, turning around to commence preparations.

“You’ll be lucky if you live through it, boy.”

Chapter Text

The usually bustling market streets became an echo of themselves in the evening, readying for the next day ahead.

Watto himself had closed the shop early that night, for he did not need mere coin compared to what he was promised from the race.

As the hours bled into the rising stars, under the drop of violet skies as the twin suns set, the leftover shadows coated the the racer’s engines in the forgotten corners of the shop.

The familiar smell of grease, oil mixed in with rust kept your senses awake regardless of your exhaustion, as this had always been your element.

Your hands ran over the console you had only recently mounted, working to stabilize the stubborn clutch, wiping your brow with the back of your hand for a moment.

A soft yet audible clink sound followed by a huff came from the right of you, and you did not waste any time to pass the bolt clamp - no words were needed when the rhythm between you two was alive.

Unspoken, precise, something akin to second instinct.

After a flickering of light in the console, the podracer wheezed beneath your hands - tentative, loud and unstable, then it came to another halt.

A silence ensued, along with a frustrated sigh.

“Anakin,” you called for his attention, getting a hum in response, his tousled blond hair in your peripheral.

“You are not scared?”

“Of losing the race?” he asked in an attempt to clarify, not looking up from the circuitry - but, then, answered his own question, a soft no.

That was the least of his worries. A different sort of bad dream haunted his waking moments, echoes of what could and would happen.

A breath you did not know you were holding left your body in a gentle exhale.

Almost sensing him, you decided to clarify.

“Of dying,” you softly said, a piece of vocabulary that no young child should have known, escaping your lips so casually.

Another no left his lips without hesitation, head tilting upwards from the engines in an attempt to take a look at you.

There was a silent beat in the air, the wind halting as if it held its breath.

“I am scared of leaving you behind.”

The driver fell from your hands onto the cockpit floor in a thud.

You wanted to smile, maybe lightly toss a small cable at him in banter.

Tell him that he was being too dramatic, that he needed to harden up his resolve if he wanted to win.

No words left your lips.

Instead, with a shake of your head, your capable hands got right back to work, helping build the very thing that would take him away.

The roar of the functional engine made the night sky light up, slicing through the silence of the desert.

The illuminating glow of the racer painted your smiling, relieved faces with gold as you both stared at your creation - with hope, and with despair alike.

The wind kicked up dust around your ankles as the engines settled into their idle hum, and in moments to come, as reality dawned on you - your expression hollowed.

And, for the first time, you found yourself wishing the suns would never rise.

Anakin noticed the shift without needing to say a word, his eyes lingering just a little longer.

The fear evident in your gaze, the glint in your eyes dimmed. A slight tremble in your hand marred by grease and dirt, the grip on the driver finally loosening.

Grease-smudged brows furrowed - proud, yes, but afraid.

Afraid of what this could all mean in mere hours to come, afraid of losing a constant in your life.

He had never figured out just how to tell you, that the only reason he ever wanted to fly, was because you were watching.

He wondered if this was the right time - in the blink of an eye, he decided against it.

Instead, he chose to comfort you, in a way he knew how.

“You heard them - they would come back for you.”

Your throat grew dry, yet your eyes found his. Your tone unsure and openly concerned, a rare feat in itself.

“What if they don’t, Ani?”

“Then,” he would start, with a voice of maturity that had arrived way too young in life, a knowing smile stretching his lips against all odds.

“I will. As soon as I can.”

He would then extend his small hand, one covered in machine oil and copper residue, one that you took anyway - since yours were no better.

“I promise.”

And, at that moment, seeing the look in your eyes soften in belief, he knew he had to win the race.

At that moment, freedom meant more than escaping the sand dunes.

And, that night, unbeknownst to both of you, each bolt screwed and cable connected dragged you one step further to an inevitable goodbye.

For as far as you knew, that very night, as the podracer found a low, almost symphonic hum, it was not the only thing trembling.

That familiar feeling under your skin, the one that shone bright when near him and crawled through your skin when far, almost vibrated with a knowing conscience.

Tomorrow, he would be the celebrated winner of the famed race that would earn him his freedom - you had been sure of it.

But, that night, you were just two kids in a shop, holding the stars in your tiny hands.

Chapter Text

The Arena roared with such fervor that the Force could only dream to match. Workers, slaves and owners alike from all over the desert had seemingly chosen this as their attraction for the day, as the twin suns shone brightly in all their glory over the thousands of people packed into the stands, rays reflecting off the layers of orange and sandy brown shades of the canyons of Mos Espa. 

He had raced before - once, when his master had put him on the line for a lucrative bet.

They had thought it was sheer luck that time, the way he commanded the racer unlike any human could. Even Watto, who arguably earned the most out of the boy’s given talent, did not dare to bet again - unless absolutely necessary.

Anakin knew, in the depths of his heart, that he would step foot in this arena again.

He knew he would get behind the steering, and let his instincts take control through the winds again.

He knew that he would race again - but, never with these stakes.

Never with the price of freedom at the end of it.

Never with you watching him with the biggest yet broken smile that tried to conceal, your eyes diverting to the humming machine he was about to settle into.

It had been your creation after all, yours and his both. An almost living, breathing thing, the perfect symphony of scavenged metal and copper wires.

The hull was a mismatched beast of durasteel, repulsor fins salvaged from a wrecked speeder that you and Anakin had dragged into the shop one evening, under the setting suns, freckles of sand stuck in your hair.

It was alive, and, more importantly, it was yours.

Through the countless days and nights spent tuning and building, Anakin had always swore it listened to you both.

Maybe it did.

Maybe that had been the sole reason it had held together all this time, to make it all the way to the track.

And now, at the cusp of the race, you could only hope it brought his victory - with him in one piece.

From your standing position at the edge of the starting line, you felt the rumble of its engines deep in your chest, thrumming like a second heartbeat.

He was already in the cockpit, goggles down, glancing around the arena like he was drinking it all in. His fingers brushed the controls with a mature reverence, then muscle memory. The boyish hint of a smile spreading across his lips, from the untold ease of being right where he was meant to be.

From the distance, you would watch his shoulders tense, a telltale sign of stress he would never admit to. His tiny frame beneath belts and buckles that were never made for a child, yet somehow looked so right on him.

He turned in his seat one last time before the race started, eyes squinting through the sidelines to reach their target.

To reach you.

The ever-existing rhythm between you, screamed even louder within your chest as his gaze found yours through the confinements of the goggles, and he gave you the simplest of waves.

And you, through instinct, did the same, with the twin suns shining bright hues of hope on your face.

Time, unbeknownst to you, still flowed - and you both were reminded with the loud sound of the announcer, indicating the race was about to start.

A short countdown. A wave of the tattered flag.

It was not long until the gates dropped.

And, as expected, Anakin launched like lightning.

The air bending and snapping, as it collided with the racer - Anakin caught the gusts as if he had been born from wind itself.

The racer screamed with life, the low humming of the engines turning into a snarl, sand launching into the sky behind him.

He was seemingly unbothered by the speed of it all, as he gripped the throttles with steady hands.

The burnt orange hues of the track twisted ahead, uninviting, jagged and uneven as they carved into the belly of the desert - yet, he moved as if it had always belonged to him. As if he had practiced these runs thousands of times, over and over again. 

Soon enough, the first turn came in his sights. Anakin leaned the racer in, hard.

A bit too hard for your liking.

It made you flinch, nails digging into your palms.

As a result of his aggressive piloting, which you had warned him against, the left stabilizer groaned under the pressure - the same one you had attempted to reinforce with a patch weld just days ago. The slightest of misalignments - yet, he somehow felt to correct it mid-air, angling the repulsors just in time to avoid a full spinout.

That way, you would quietly admit, he had also avoided your wrath for not destroying your racer.

He threaded the canyon pass at full throttle, a section not many dared take, as he made his way through the lap with that icy determination engulfing his being.

The pack behind him thinned quickly - engines gave out, frames split on sharp turns, weak pilots lost to the sand before the first lap was done, stuck in the pile of debris and metal for their last journey.

However, one other pod kept his pace, and everyone in the arena knew exactly who he was.

Sebulba.

The reigning favorite. Ruthless, cunning as always. A Dug with a reputation that exceeded himself, his vast experience earned in wreckage and flame.

Someone who brutally ended races for others before he had proceeded with the win himself.

You had seen him do it before. Everyone had.

It had not been a sight you wanted to witness again.

And, then, it made the breath hitch in your throat to see that he was angling toward Anakin.

He did not pull back, not just yet. The sparks in his racer dwindled just slightly, something only the builder could notice, as his speed dropped, deliberately.

Your voice tore from your throat without a warning, a tone of silent protest.

“Anakin, I swear - ”

You should have known better that he would not listen, and as if to prove a point - he dove.

The crowd behind you let out a collective gasp as he vanished into the shadows of the track in rapid acceleration, skimming off of a cliff’s edge by mere inches.

Letting out a nervous exhale, your eyes diverted knowingly to the other side, while the crowd had focused on where he was last seen.

And, there he was, shooting out from the unbeaten path - faster than anyone, brighter than most, faster than cracks of blaster fire.

You swore he must have been mimicking your sly smile at that very moment.

The final lap approached steadily, with Sebulba pulling up beside him again, one final attempt in his relentless pursuit. Smoke trailed from his exhaust, the dark clouds aimed to blind a certain blond boy in his racer.

He did not slow down. At that point, guided by pure instinct running through his very blood, he did not know how to.

His fingers tightened around the yoke, eyes filled with fire against the risk of it all.

You would feel your heart still for a split second as he let the racers connect for a split second - a wild, almost impossible move to pull off.

Anakin twisted the yoke, harder than he had intended - yet, it seemed to do the job, as Sebulba’s linkage snapped into pieces, sending his pod spinning out into the canyon wall.

The sickening snaps of metal, fire, and fury were enough to send the crowd roaring.

Anakin did not think twice, nor stall for a moment.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, he had crossed the finish line - fire at his heels, wind in his lungs, the air carrying him like an arrow meant for soaring.

The crowd erupted before the dust could settle as his victory solidified. Then came the screams of disbelief. Cheers of profit emanating from the slave owners, the traders, the gamblers. Metal and fire still smoldering on the far end of the track.

Everyone on their feet, celebrating or yelling away their woes.

Not you.

You stood still, with a proud smile stretching your lips.

It was a smile that came from knowing - not the sheer joy of victory, or the leftover bouts of adrenaline coaxing through your veins. It was the weight of something greater than the atmosphere around you, pressing relentlessly down on your shoulders.

The feeling within you tugged onto the thread ferociously, the excitement, adrenaline and accomplishment echoing through.

He had done it.

The mere realization spread your smile into a laugh, as your eyes spotted his small figure, trying to make his way across in his haste.

You and Anakin collided like stars, laughter splitting from your throat amidst the chaos, against the true meaning of his victory. The looming truth tucked far away in the corners of your mind for the time being, as it had been the long-awaited moment to celebrate.

Against all odds, just the way both of you had always done it.

“We did it,” he gasped, his goggles broken, still half-attached to his helmet as they dangled.

The air had left your lungs.

An answer did not flow from your lips immediately, yet, soon enough, it came in the form of the purest of cheers.

The kind so contagious that it made him laugh, that made both of you forget the implications, and just revel in the unbelievable victory.

Lost in the moment, neither of you would notice the Jedi still watching across the arena - their eyes following not the eruption of the crowd but rather focused on the echo that lingered between you, long after the engines had gone quiet.

Goodbyes were not foreign to you.

As a child in the barren desert, you had learned what goodbye meant at an early time - when they had taken your droid you had spent months building away from your hands.

When the screw you extracted right out of the endless scrap pile left your hands in a tremble, only to be lost again.

When it had been time to go home for dinner after a long yet content day of working together in the scrapyard.

You had never thought those goodbyes would stretch their darkening claws through the daytime.

“I’ll fly faster than ever,” he said, louder this time. “I will not stop until I can come get you.”

“Do you promise?” you would ask one last time, finding the strength in yourself to utter the words.

A nod so fervent came from him instantly - so apologetic, so hopeful that it made the tears in your eyes wait.

“I promise. On the stars. On the suns.”

A sad smile stretched your lips, as a tear began its trail over your cheek. Anakin’s hug came in fast right after that, clinging onto his best friend in the whole galaxy for one last time - a hug that felt like the warmth of the suns, the purr of an engine, the right clink of the bolt, the joy of victory, all at once.

When he pulled away, his eyes were shiny but no tears fell.

Immediately fidgeting with the pockets of his tunic, Anakin then reached to shove something in your hand, in a quiet urgency.

A bolt from the racer, your racer, the one that won him the victory and the same one that would take him away.

Dark blue, a couple of dents on the sides.

You knew immediately. You had tightened countless of these on yourself.

“This one held the - ”

“Throttle,” you would complete his sentence by instinct, examining the bolt in your open palm.

Anakin chuckled. “Don’t lose it.”

You would not dream of it.

Yours fingers closed over the seemingly inconsequential object you swore right there and then that you would cherish for a lifetime.

And with that, after one final embrace with his mother, Anakin slowly made his way to the ship - steps reluctant, yet willing.

Qui-Gon waited near the ramp, watching him board with his arms crossed, yet a look of sympathy coated his expression.

Before he entered the ship, the Jedi let his gaze fall back to you once more - your small figure standing in the desert wind, the weight of goodbye coating your face, yet your stance straight.

Something tightened in him.

The Force still whispered, creating waves in the very sand for those who could feel.

It hummed between you and the boy, a connection no Jedi could ignore - not a faint noise, rather a current beneath the texture. Remnants of a storm, or of the thunders leading up to it.

Even from the distance, Qui-Gon felt it pulse every time Anakin’s gaze drifted back at you.

He felt it crack, in the way your breath hitched, in perfect rhythm with his.

He felt it ripple, the moment he stepped onto the ramp, when your throat knotted in a twist so strong.

Qui-Gon exhaled quietly, the weight of the unknown dawning on him.

Yet, as Anakin got through the open gate, he paused - only for a heartbeat, as though something invisible had caught around his ankle.

He turned back, eyes searching, that strange light within the two younglings dimming as if someone had blown off the candles illuminating the darkness.

Even with the promises Anakin swore he would keep, you could not name the burning, aching feeling within -  spreading wider, engulfing each and every sense with its daunting presence.

And, as you stood in the night desert besides Shmi Skywalker,  with her hand resting gently on your back, your eyes welled up in unspoken words.

Yet a bittersweet smile coated your lips - as you had always known Anakin was destined for the great. That this was meant to be.

“I’ll find a way!” he had yelled just before the engines roared too loud to hear anything else.

The smile soon disappeared and succumbed to tears, as the ascending ship took away your laughter, your stars, the twin streams of sunlight that had never ceased to shine through.

The warmth within you, running through the very marrows of your bones ever since you had known yourself, the inexplicable feeling that often brought you comfort in his presence, began to tether - threads of ice weaving into the conscious with the rising altitude.

The look in his eyes, the fading blues on board the ship destined for the skies, only screamed one thing.

We will come back for you.

Both of you.

In this lifetime or another.

And, with the light dimming in your eyes when the ship finally rose to orbit - you believed it, and let the words echo through your conscience, as if to etch the memory into your brain.

We will come back.

Chapter Text

They never came back.

A subdued part of you, tucked into the depths of your mind, had once whispered to you that they would. That, no matter what it took, the Jedi would have been correct to their word - especially after taking your sunsets, laughter and stars away from you.

That night, that one very mighty night that proved to be the turning point of two children who needed each other like the sand needed the sun - you had been taken.

A twisted run of fate, a turn of events so grim it was as if the galaxy mocked you relentlessly.

Shmi had retreated to the house she had once shared with her son, after giving you a kiss on your forehead so strong, along with a hopeful, knowing whisper of dinner tomorrow.

How could she have known that the hours that followed suit, would be the beginning of an end?

Your memory did not serve you the specifics - just the details that scarred too deep to forget.

An unusually rough hand, the taste of copper flooding your mouth, the sharp drag of fear slicing through the numbness left behind by loss.

And, by the time the twin suns vanished into oblivion for that endless night, you were already dragged far from your familiar dunes.

It all had happened because you wanted to take the long walk home, you would tell yourself all along, a mere coping mechanism from your innocent psyche. If only you had taken another route, the one you had always trusted, the one your family had engraved in your mind to always adhere to.

But, it was futile. There was no one to save you from the shackles that you were bound to, from the horrors the Hutts would then inflict upon you.

They had not hurt you - at least, not yet. Instead, from the very moment you had been thrown into one of their caravans for extraction, all they had cared for was your mere usefulness. You were small, nimble in your hands, able to fix things that others broke - qualities alone were enough to keep you alive and functioning.

The first couple of days spent in captivity, nothing but the memory of your family burned bright within you, eyes welling up at the thought of their open arms waiting for you at home. Warm embraces you wished you could hop into, your laughter that shone rays of light into their hearts.

After all, the galaxy had never shown you anything else - and now, the promises of a bright future were looking slimmer than ever.

The cruelty of your new reality settled slowly yet surely, over the course of days and months - like sand filling the cracks of your little soul that had only ever longed for home.

He was gone, your best friend, the one you chased the sandstorms with - and there was no apparent return in sight. In your soul, the grief of loss was fresh. Your feet dragged you through the dark market, faint whispers of assembled merchandise and plans being made - each step a painful feat to achieve, as you tried to stick to the shadows.

They had taken him.

The one that made you beg the suns to never set.

The one you had shared rations with, selflessly, if it had meant seeing the spark in his eyes again.

The one you had laughed with as the small kitchen droid you crafted dropped with a hiss, shooting sand into your eyes.

Now, on the planet that never slept, the sand beneath your feat was replaced by floors slick with oil, decay evident in the cracks of metal.

The only wind you felt was mechanical, not of nature, bouts of recycled air filtered through rusty gates.

The only warmth you felt was the metallic heat of the chains pulling your ankle in place, digging through your tattered pants as you laid in your cot tossed at a forgotten corner of the quarters.

Sleep never came easy on Nar Shaddaa.

On the nights your eyes finally closed to rest, your fingers would often cling to the bolt that once held together the throttle of your beloved racer, now hanging around your neck as a reminder of what it all once was.

And, when the daytime came without a warning, images of laughter and loss seldom flowed into your mind, a sadness that no child should have faced this early on in their journey of life. Tears did not shy away from their trails along your face, as each step through the worn sandstones of the market took you further towards yet another job unfit for a child.

They would often have you carry parts, some heavier than your frame, some tucked into the rough edges of a parcel - jagged coils, half-sparking terminals, crates that would take much too long to push to their destination.

You did not speak much. No one asked your name, where you came from, what you were destined to do here.

Once upon a time, not too long ago, you had heard the words that etched themselves into the very fabric of your soul, echoing for a long time thereafter.

“On this planet, they have no choice - their fates are sealed.”

The variable of a planet seemed to not matter in regards to your fate, for it would be sealed wherever you had so escaped, in the low, low odds that you ever could.

The first time you felt acid droplets raining from the skies of Nar Shaddaa, something within your young heart broke.

Rain fell over your frame, an acidic substance instead of clear water, almost burning through the torn tunics. It stung, a dull pain reminding you that you had unfortunately been alive before they ducked you under the cover of a building.

Rain certainly was not how they had described it in the holobooks.

For a fleeting moment, you were glad Anakin was not there to experience the unpleasant sensation of dreams molding into waking nightmares.

As you dragged the horrors no child should have faced right there in your sleeve, in the hanging chain around your body, you would look up through the slums - up to the endlessly tall skyscrapers, speeders buzzing beneath the thick air layered in ozone, the faint sounds of blaster fire.

And, you would pull.

Pull at the thread that seemed to be so interwoven within your conscience, your entire existence. Something that you did not quite yet understand, yet felt regardless. Something you had carried with you at the race that changed it all, through the broken down caravan and the gnarly ship you had been thrown into, on the way to the wretched planet. Something you kept clinging onto, the smallest flame of hope burning hot still.

And, you would pray that somehow, somewhere, the only person you had trusted more than yourself in the entire galaxy heard you from afar.

Nearly countless lightyears away, deep in the hyperspace he had never thought would witness, the Force pulsed with an unknown power as the same strings that relentlessly pulled within your conscience, had engulfed Anakin’s too.

He too had sensed the relentless movements of a certain feeling crawling under his skin, softly, wordlessly whispering to him at times.

In the corners of his mind he had yet to explore, the Force echoed warm with your presence.

And yet, that night, it would not reach far enough. You would keep pulling, hoping, aching for a feeling that you did not know existed.

Your efforts would not prove to be enough that night, as your whispers would not echo his back. Not through the weight of distance, nor through the steel of Nar Shaddaa.

The emptiness would stay silent that night, as the atmosphere around you would quickly remind you of your reality, one in which your fate was sealed.

That night, you would long for the desert suns, for all the days left too short before it all succumbed into darkness.