Master Apprentice
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Chosen One
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SUMMARY: TPM, Obi-Wan. Drama, angst, AU. What if Obi-Wan were the slave, and Anakin the little twit apprentice?
NOTE: I've paid attention to canon when it suited me, and ignored it when it didn't. Don't expect this to go exactly like the movie. The story was also originally intended to be longer, but that was a long time ago, and when I found it in my folder of unfinished works, it seemed reasonably complete as it was.
ARCHIVE: Please. As often as possible, and wherever you like.
"Yeah, well, shove it down your nostril holes and regurgitate it for breakfast!" the voice called. "And don't even think about bothering her again!"
A man stumbled out of the ramshackle building, a bruise forming on his face, "You're a slave, Kenobi. There's nothing you can do about that."
Another man, much younger, sun-bleached blonde hair over tanned skin followed him. "Being a slave is something I can change. Death, however, is dead. No one can change that. And that's what you will be if I see you near my mother."
The man snorted and brushed past the Jedi and his two companions. Yeah, and maybe you'll actually finish one of your pod races someday and buy your freedom. Before Wattoo realizes he can get more money for you pimping you to Jabba."
The slave's face flushed, but he didn't retreat. "For now..."
"I'll save my money. Maybe Wattoo'll find you a place where you can live with all the rest of the whores. I'm going to look forward to reaming your sweet ass when that happens."
"How rude!" said the Gungan.
"I rather think that was the point," the Jedi master said in a quiet voice. He stepped forward, between the two men, interrupting the heated discussion. "I'm looking for some parts for my hyperdrive. I was told that this was the place."
Kenobi unwillingly refocused on the tall man. "Yeah. Wattoo's out back. He's got enough parts to build a ship. If you don't mind it being fifteen different kinds of ship."
"This Wattoo is your owner?" Padme asked.
Kenobi nodded curtly. "That's what they usually call someone who has slaves."
"I didn't think that the Republic allowed slavery."
"This isn't the Republic." He smiled tightly. "Welcome to Hell, lady."
Once Qui-Gon settled down to bargaining with Wattoo outside the shop, Padme and Jar-Jar were left alone inside with Kenobi. The Gungan seemed fascinated with all of the mechanical gadgets lying around the cluttered interior, and soon stumbled into trouble, activating a group of droids that had been put away for storage.
"Jar-Jar!" Padme said sternly.
"Meesa sorry," Jar-Jar said, "Meesa fix this." He grabbed for one of the droids, succeeding only in knocking over a pile of merchandise.
Kenobi jumped up from the bench where he'd been working and all but growled at the Gungan. "Just hit them on the nose."
"Okeday!" And promptly swung, hitting the slave instead.
The slave coped grimly with the droids, putting them back in their places, and quickly righted the mess as well. Then he stared up at Jar-Jar, and waved his hand at the bench he'd just gotten up from. "You will go sit over there. You will not touch anything else. Do you understand?"
Jar-Jar nodded. "Meesa sit over there. Meesa no touch anything." And he did just that.
Padme turned to Kenobi. "How did you do that? You looked just like a..."
"You think you some Jedi or something? Waving your hand around like that? Mind tricks don't work on me, only money!" came the sound of the owner shouting from outside.
Padme winced.
"Like a Jedi?" Kenobi said with a bitter smile. "Yes. All Jedi work as slaves. When you grow up, they ask you, 'What would you like to do? Roam the galaxy? Eat regularly? Watch people bow and scrape to you? Or be a slave and wonder when your owner is going to get tired of you and sell you, wonder when your mother is going to get raped because you aren't there anymore.' I chose slavery. Seemed like fun at the time."
"You don't have to be so cruel."
"Yes," he said bleakly. "I do."
"You..."
She was cut off by Qui-Gon emerging into the shop. "We're finished here," he said.
Padme shared a long glance with Kenobi before turning to follow the Jedi. Qui-Gon was three steps outside into the street before he realized Jar-Jar was not following them. He returned to the shop. "Come along."
Jar-Jar was up and out of the shop like someone released from a trap.
"Didn't have what he wanted?" Kenobi asked as Wattoo came back inside.
"He didn't want to pay."
"Oh. One of those."
Wattoo squinted at the outside. "Storm's coming up. Go home for the day. Wouldn't want you caught in a sandstorm, eh?"
Wouldn't want my skin to get anymore beaten up than it is, Kenobi thought, Might hurt my eventual resale value, but didn't say so, losing no time in exiting the presence of his owner.
Outside, he made his way to the market. His meager funds would not stand up to a purchase, but there was a podrace upcoming, and he wanted to see what the competition looked like. Not that he would be in it. There was the little matter of the entry fee. Wattoo might pay it -- but he'd take all the winnings too. Leaving nothing for Kenobi, especially not money to free his mother and himself. Still, the life of a pod racer, short and violent as it often was, was still better than that of a 'pleasure' slave. Perhaps he should get Wattoo to sponsor him. If he could win... well, a podracing human would be a novelty. And he'd rather sell those skills than what Nedrosb had wanted to buy.
Sebulba was indeed at the market. Sitting back, boasting with one person Kenobi knew on sight as a hanger-on, and others that he didn't know. Trying to stay out of view, he hung back, only his better-than-average hearing allowing him to listen to the conversation. One thing you learned well as a slave -- how to listen. Paying attention to what was said, especially what was said that you weren't supposed to be able to hear, was a key part of survival.
Not walking directly into Sebulba, by the sounds of it.
He risked looking over at Sebulba, who was picking a dead something off his head. The Gungan again. Kenobi wasn't sure what the Gungan had done, but it was standing there, and he would lay odds that the bumbling fool was behind Sebulba's bad temper.
Kenobi wondered idly whether Sebulba would try to kill the Gungan. It would be an uneven fight. Sebulba was meaner and better-trained, and the Gungan was a walking menace.
Before anything could happen, the tall man from the shop had stepped between Kenobi and the combatants, blocking his view. A few moments later, the odd trio walked away from Sebulba, toward him.
The Dug was still angry, and Kenobi turned his attention to the trio, who'd stopped to buy something at a booth. The tall man reached under his tunic for his money, and Kenobi saw the lightsaber on his belt. The tall Jedi, then. What was a Jedi doing in this Sith-spawned place, bargaining for hyperdrive parts? The Hutts despised the Jedi; this one wasn't here because he'd been invited here. If he needed parts for a hyperdrive, the obvious conclusion was that the Jedi had a broken ship somewhere, and while he might be broke on Tatooine, the Jedi themselves were surely wealthy. And powerful.
How could he use this to his advantage?
The slave did not consider asking the Jedi for help. No one did anything without a reason. He'd learned that as well as he'd learned other hard lessons. But if he were to help the Jedi, then possibly he might be able to find a way that they could both be helped.
"Sir?" he said subserviently. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, from Wattoo's shop... I wondered -- do you have a place to wait out the storm?"
The Jedi's gaze focused outward. "Yes, there is a storm approaching." His brow furrowed and he looked at his companions. "We'll have to get back to our ship."
"Your ship -- is it far?"
The Jedi looked at him cautiously. "On the outskirts of town. Why?"
At least the man had the sense to guard himself against thieves. But then, if you believed all that was said about the Jedi, this one might know if he were lied to. "You don't have enough time to make it. The storm will be upon us soon." The slave looked around them pointedly at the merchants beginning to close up their shops and move their goods inside. "Come home with me. You can shelter with my mother and me."
The Jedi examined him thoroughly. "That's a very generous offer. Thank you. We accept."
Kenobi nodded, glad that his plan had worked. Now, to find a way to get the Jedi what he wanted while getting what he wanted for himself.
He set off in the direction of his home, checking once to see if the trio was following him. Assured that they were, he made his way there quickly. It was not far, but already he could feel the wind whipping up and sense the darkness in the air. Soon, very soon.
By the time they reached their destination, the storm had already begun. Wattoo would not be pleased if he knew his property was out in this weather. Obi-Wan grinned. All the more reason to be out here, lowering his value.
He opened the door carefully, not allowing the wind to take it from him. "Mother, I'm home."
His mother appeared from the tiny room she used to work on her own tasks for Wattoo. "And nearly too late, Obi-Wan. I can hear the wind."
"I ran into some people in the marketplace. He moved forward into the small house, letting the people with him be seen. "They needed a place to wait out the storm. I told them they could come here."
"Of course," she said immediately. He loved her heart, and her willingness to welcome the new into her life. She had not always been a slave, unlike Obi-Wan who had been born into it. Without her, he did not think he would understand compassion, or indeed anything other than how to survive. By existing, she had changed him, made his life different than that of other slaves, and he did not know whether that was a blessing or the vilest curse.
His mother's only question for their guests was what they wanted to eat; he had expected nothing else. She would greet anyone the same way, whether they be gangster, king, thief or, in this instance, Jedi.
During their meal, Obi-Wan thought about what he could offer the Jedi. It was unfortunate but true that he could offer little. If he had had much, he would not be a slave. What he did have, he did not think the Jedi would want. But if he revealed the risks and the Jedi accepted... it was a fair trade, if you did not mind that the person making it was insane, and that the person who accepted it would have to be worse off than that.
"Sir Jedi?" he began.
The man peeled his fruit slowly, even calmly. "What makes you think I'm a Jedi?"
"The lightsaber was a clue."
"I might have killed a Jedi and taken it from him."
A reasonable answer. But not the right one, he thought. "You are in disguise. As you are a Jedi, I assume it is not because you are alone, or because the Hutts would pay a great deal to have you--" It occurred to him then that he could have tried that option. Except he wasn't naive enough to trust the Hutts, even if he were still naive enough to believe that trust was possible at all, possible with this Jedi. Naive, or desperate. "You must then have something of value with you or you must be in a certain place as soon as you can. You would not stop here if you had not been forced to by your hyperdrive problem, and as a Jedi, you would have sensed before you began your journey if the problem had been a routine one. It was damaged in battle, wasn't it? And I heard Wattoo say that it was a Nubian... not much could catch that to fire at it. You're escaping from somewhere. Somewhere where they would attack a Jedi."
"It happens more frequently than you seem to think," the Jedi murmured.
Obi-Wan's eyes flashed triumph. "You are a Jedi!"
"And you have quite a gift. Was your father strong in the Force as well?"
Obi-Wan's face hardened. "I don't have a father." He would not honor his mother's rapist -- her former 'owner' -- with that title. His mother said nothing. She knew his feelings on the subject and did not feel much more charitably than he did toward the man, despite her far softer heart.
"Ah." The Jedi sectioned his fruit into pieces. "What did you want to ask me?"
"You don't have any money. Or if you do, you have Republic credits, which is the same thing out here. Without money, you can't buy the parts you need. So you have a problem." He looked directly at the Jedi. "I have a problem too. You heard what Nedrosb was saying. I'm a slave. My mother is a slave."
"I'm not here to free slaves."
Obi-Wan's mouth quirked up. "If you're here long enough, you will be. No, I think we can help each other. You need money; I want something I can only get with enough money. And I think I know a way to get that."
"And that is?"
"I have a pod. There's a race coming up. The prize should be enough to buy your parts and my mother's freedom. Get her off planet."
"Obi-Wan, you can't do that," his mother said, even as the Jedi said, "And what about you?"
He looked between them. "When I win," and it felt good to say that, as though in saying it, it had become true, "I'll be the first human to ever win. I should be worth something for that. And if I'm bought as a podracer... it would be easier to buy my freedom. And if I couldn't... I think podracing would be enough freedom for me."
"You don't have to do this, Obi-Wan," his mother said. "I don't expect it. And I'm used to being a slave. I'd rather see you free. You still have most of your life left. And the worst has already happened to me."
"I don't want it to happen ever again."
"I'm too old for anyone to care. Save yourself."
"No. This is what I want to do, mother." He looked at the Jedi. "If you put up your ship as the entry fee, I can enter. It's a risk, but if you do need to be wherever you're going by a certain time, then it's the only chance you have. Without the parts, you aren't going anywhere either. If you have to send off-world for help, it'll take time that you don't have. If I win, you have your parts. If I lose, you're in the same situation you are now -- you've got to wait for the Jedi to rescue you or make some sort of deal to get one of the smugglers to take you. And you don't want to do that, because whatever it is you've got with you isn't something you want anyone seeing, much less one of them."
"And if the prize money isn't enough to buy both the parts and your mother?"
"It will be. Enough for one slave and the parts." Obi-Wan smiled again, still with a bitter edge. "More than enough for several slaves of my mother's value. Wattoo has... other plans for me. And I'll be more valuable once I've won. It's a risk, but an acceptable one, I think."
The Jedi finished his fruit. "I agree." He wiped his hands and mouth off. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn, and a Jedi master. And you are very strong with the Force. Why are you a slave?"
"I'm a slave because I was born one. Do you think I want to be a slave? Do you think I wouldn't rather be..." He shut his mouth abruptly. He could feel the pain leaking out along with the anger.
"You weren't tested?"
Genuine surprise in the Jedi's voice. Almost enough to make up for the man's assumption. "By who? For what? This Force? You're the first Jedi I've ever seen."
The Jedi nodded. "It is unimportant. I have accepted your bargain."
Obi-Wan nodded. It was what he wanted. That was enough.
The pod race went about as he had expected it to. Alert to the possibility of sabotage, he had made sure that no other racer, especially Sebulba was ever within touching distance of the pod. He'd never doubted its performance, as long as it remained in an untampered state.
His mother and the Jedi and his party watched him; each had a stake in the outcome of this race. He watched the pod and the competition and the course.
That he won surprised him only a little. Obi-Wan had known he would do well. But first, and by such a decisive margin was unexpected. As he swung around the stands, racing past the finish line, he knew that he had secured his future.
His win had changed everything.
When he climbed out of the pod, he immediately sought out his mother, striding toward her and sweeping her up in his arms. "I did it, mother. I did it. You're safe. You won't be a slave anymore."
As she hugged him back, his eye caught those of the Jedi, standing still and staring at him with an unreadable expression. That look blew threw him like a hot wind, withering his elation. Obi-Wan set his mother aside carefully, not breaking contact with Qui-Gon. "She is safe now, isn't she? You will keep your bargain?"
"I have every intention of doing so."
"Every intention?" He did not look at his mother, although he wanted to. "I have done what I said I would do. You should have your money. Wasn't it enough?"
"It was. However, I made a small side wager with Wattoo." The Jedi smiled unexpectedly. "For your freedom as well."
His mother gasped. "Oh, Obi-Wan..."
The news stunned him. And made him suspicious. "Why? Why would you do such a thing for me?"
"There are no coincidences. That I met the one person who could assist me, and that I was the one person who could assist him in return -- this is a message from the Force. I believe that you should come with us."
"To be a Jedi? Like you?"
"No. You are too old to be trained, and... too angry. You would not make a good Jedi."
Obi-Wan wiped dust from his face, and walked past the Jedi, to get inside where he could clean off. "You want me to be what, then? A servant? I don't see how that's much different than what I have now."
The others followed him, Padme and the Gungan remaining at a distance.
"You would be with your mother..."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. When he opened them, his pang of longing had passed. "Maybe. Maybe not. I've got a future here as a pod racer. I know it."
"A future where you might likely die the next time you raced. Where you would perpetually be among those who are different than you. Have you never wondered why it is that you're the only human racing pods?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "I do it because I can. Everyone else is just slow. They don't focus."
"Everyone else doesn't have the Force to assist them. If you come with me, you'll be among others like you." The Jedi paused for a moment, assessing his audience. "There are techniques you can learn that will allow you to achieve more control of the Force than you have. If you learned them, it would make you a better pilot. You would be able to do consciously what you now do instinctively."
"I thought you said I couldn't be a Jedi."
"Understanding of one's own mind is something that everyone can learn."
Obi-Wan nodded. He thought he understood now. "And if you trained me, you could make sure I learned to use it the way you want me to -- or get rid of me if you think I know too much." He considered the deal for a moment. Stepping closer to the Jedi master, he said in a soft, dangerous voice. "If you're going to kill me, don't do it in front of my mother. And take care of her if you do."
The Jedi's eyes widened a fraction.
"Bearing that in mind, you got yourself a deal."
-the end-