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Rating: G

Archive: Yes, and at my site, www.wyomingnot.com/rita/rita.html

Summary: Anakin learns about Obi and Bail's tattoos. He is not pleased.

Category: O/B, Anakin

Timeline: Anakin is around 13ish.

Author's note: This story was originally written in response to the "contre la montre" challenge to depict the pairing from the eyes of an outsider. Also, several people have asked me when Anakin began to turn against Bail. At this point, I don't have any particular story or event in mind. It's more of a gradual change. But this story is a significant point of contention.

Feedback: I'll take the good, the bad, and the ugly - on or off list.

Requisite prostration: I, being of sound mind and body, do hereby knowingly trespass upon Skywalker Ranch and all the galaxies contained therein. George Lucas, etc, etc.

Thank you: To the LJ gang for convincing me to expand this story and give some more of Anakin's history.

Story order:
Perhaps
Maybe
Falling
Back for Seconds - Obi-Wan and Bail
Bailing Bail
Padawan Games
Greener Pastures
Forgiven
Reality Check
Better Than Destiny
A Cross-Cultural Affair
Deconstruction
Reconstruction
Rewoven
Night Visitor
Father Figure
A Model Padawan
Not All Dreams Are Visions
You Don't Bring Me Flowers
Dangerous Fame
Labyrinth
Private Lessons (off-site link)
Owner's Mark
Epicenter
Duty
Penumbra
Nightfall
Batter My Heart

Anakin leaned back on his arms, turning his face to the hot sun. He had yet to visit a planet that was as hot as Tatooine, but out here on the sea, with Alderaan's humid air and only the faintest of breezes, the heat felt almost as oppressive as it had back on his homeworld. Anakin gleefully soaked it up, feeling the heat penetrate to thaw out the very marrow of his bones. Seldom did he ever feel so toasty.

"Honestly, the two of you ought to get out of the sun," came Obi- Wan's voice, always practical. Anakin cracked an eye open to see Obi- Wan sitting in the shade of the boat's canopy.

"Why should we?" Bail laughed, sprawled next to Anakin on the deck. "We aren't the ones who burn."

"You might not burn, but that still doesn't mean you aren't at risk for skin cancer."

"Vitamin D, Master," Anakin reminded him. "It's healthy."

"Fine." Obi-Wan dug through the cooler and pulled out a bottle. "Would either of you at least like some water before your brains boil completely away?"

The prince smirked, "While I do not consider my brains to be in immanent danger, I will take some water, thank you." He leaned across Anakin, stretching out an arm to take the bottle from Obi-Wan.

Anakin noticed a mark on the inside of Bail's right wrist. He'd seen it before, but never really paid much attention to it. Usually the prince was covered up by his robes, but out here in the sun he wore only a sleeveless shirt. "What's that on your wrist?" he asked.

"My tattoo?" Bail held out his arm so Anakin could take a closer look.

"061," Anakin read aloud. It didn't really surprise him that the prince would follow the ridiculous fashion of getting a tattoo, but numbers seemed too prosaic. He squinted up at Bail. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Bail laughed. "At least you read it the right way. Usually people ask me, '190 what?' But they aren't numbers; they're letters." His eyes flicked up at Obi-Wan, sitting in the shade. "Ob1."

Anakin froze as an image flashed before him, as clear as if he were seeing it with his eyes: marks, Huttese letters, on his mother's forearm, and a Troyeshan symbol on her shoulder. Revulsion surged in his throat, and he shot a horrified glance at Obi-Wan. "You knew he had that tattoo?"

Confusion flickered across Obi-Wan's face. "Of course."

Anakin lurched to his feet. "How could you?! How could let him do that?"

"It's just a tattoo."

"No, it's not! It's disgusting!" Anakin shouted. He felt like he was going to be sick. "How could you let him?"

Obi-Wan reached out to him, but Anakin couldn't bear to be touched, couldn't stand to think of his master's name tattooed on the prince's wrist. Watto's gravelly voice rang in his ears, rebuking Shmi, "None of your lip, or I'll add my mark to your collection, eh?" He eluded Obi-Wan's grasp, scrambling around the deck to the stern of the boat, away from the two of them.

He leaned heavily on the railing, staring at the sea, swallowing convulsively, as the memory arose in his mind, one of his earliest. Shmi's sleeves were rolled up as she gave him a bath. He couldn't have been more than five. He had always seen the marks on his mother's arm, but for the first time he realized they were letters he could read. "P, G, T," he said aloud, following the letters with the tip of his stubby finger. He looked up into his mother's kind brown eyes. "What's that mean?"

Shmi paused, just long enough to be noticeable, before easily replying, "Property of Gardulla, Tatooine. Do you remember her?"

Anakin wrinkled his nose. "Yes." Just barely. All he really remembered was her stench and her cruel voice, like sand rasping against the window in a storm. He reached up to touch Shmi's shoulder. "Can I read this one, too?"

Shmi tugged at the neck of her tunic, baring her shoulder and exposing the mark there. Anakin was disappointed to find he couldn't read it. "This is the symbol of the master who owned me before Gardulla," Shmi explained.

"Why don't I have one? Gardulla owned me, too." Anakin was still too young to understand what slavery meant.

"You were too young to be marked." Shmi shrugged her tunic back on and picked up the sponge to wash Anakin's back. "And Watto doesn't believe in brands. Be thankful for that, Ani."

But he had been disappointed. He'd wanted a mark to match his mother's. Only years later after he'd left Tatooine had he realized how fortunate he was to have escaped slavery without an owner's mark. If he'd had one, he would have tried to cut it out or burn it off with his lightsaber. He could not bear to think of those marks on his mother. Even when he finally freed her, she would still bear those horrid scars.

He squeezed the railing with both hands, his arms trembling as he struggled to control himself. He felt like he was going to cry, and he couldn't allow that. He'd gotten good at mastering his emotions over the past few years, forcing all of those unJedi-like feelings deep down into the pit of his belly where no one, not even Master Yoda with his penetrating eyes could find them. But to see such a mark on Bail - Obi-Wan's mark, Anakin's master - it was an outrage. Did Obi-Wan have the faintest idea what he had done? It was too much: anger, hot and fierce in his mouth like burning sand, the sharp knife edge of betrayal, and grief, like a little boy crying.

He heard the slap of footsteps behind him on the deck, and Obi-Wan appeared at his side. The Jedi said nothing, waiting for Anakin to speak first.

"I can't believe you let him do that," Anakin ground out, staring at the water.

Obi-Wan remained silent for a moment. "It's just a tattoo," he quietly observed. "I have one, too."

Anakin wheeled on him, wide-eyed. "What?! Where? I've ever seen it before!"

With a little smile, Obi-Wan explained, "Mine is in a place that's not usually visible."

Bile rose in Anakin's throat. "Where?" he demanded, his voice ragged.

Obi-Wan studied him closely, then hooked a thumb in his waistband, tugging down to reveal a tattoo low on his hip, stylized initials that clearly read B.O.

Anakin shrank back, turning away, trembling. "No," he moaned as his emotions at last overcame him and he began to cry. The tears came hot and fast, and before he knew it he was wailing, vomiting up agony from the pit of his stomach, a storm of emotion that he'd successfully held back for years, now released by this awful sight.

He felt a soft touch on his shoulder, Obi-Wan's hand. "I don't understand, Anakin. Why should it bother you so much that I have a tattoo?"

"It's not a tattoo!" Anakin snarled. "It's an owner's mark!" He turned toward Obi-Wan, his eyes venomous. "You let him mark you with his brand."

Obi-Wan fell back, his face slack with shock. He struggled to compose himself, then shook his head. "That's not what it is. I understand that you would see it that way, but --"

"You can call it a tattoo, but that doesn't change anything," Anakin accused, advancing on his master. They were almost of equal height now, and Anakin held Obi-Wan's gaze captive in his own. "It's a sign of slavery. And I should know. My mother had two of them."

He turned away again, looking back out at the sea, the worst of his emotion leaching away. He was still crying, but not so hard now.

"I'm sorry, Anakin," Obi-Wan said softly. "I should have realized how you would see something like this. I should have talked about it with you before."

Still not meeting Obi-Wan's gaze, Anakin asked between clenched teeth, "How long have you had them?"

"Since... since not long after you became my apprentice, actually."

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut as a fresh wave of nausea surged through him. "How could you?" he implored. "You, of all people?"

Obi-Wan paused a long time before answering. "In a way, you're right. It is a mark of ownership. That's why we did it, as a sign that we somehow belong to each other."

"But you don't belong to him. You're free. You have to be free. You can't be his slave."

"I'm not bound to him the way a slave is to a master. But I am bound to him, just as I'm bound to you." Obi-Wan reached out to him again, laying his hand on Anakin's shoulder, and Anakin let him. "I have an obligation to teach you and care for you and nurture you. I'm not free to do whatever I want when it comes to you, Anakin. There's a sense in which I am your slave, albeit by choice.

"But you and I have a formal commitment, one symbolized by your braid," Obi-Wan continued, running a finger down Anakin's plait. "Bail and I don't have a formal commitment, not one that is recognized by any authority. That's why we got tattoos, as a symbol to show..."

"That you're owned," Anakin said thickly.

Obi-Wan raised his chin, as if he were proud of it." Yes," he conceded. "To show that we're owned."

Anakin shook his head sadly. "You shouldn't have done it, Obi-Wan."

"I understand that you see it differently, and I am sorry for the painful connotation it has for you. But it means something else to me. I'm glad I bear his mark, and that he bears mine."

Anakin turned away again, looking out across the sea. It wasn't right. Obi-Wan clearly did not realize what it meant, but that did not change the meaning. Obi-Wan was a slave.

And how could Anakin respect slavery?