Crossposting from the October Writing Challenge Community.
Because I thought at the very least I'd continue to work some more in this verse until the next AU Big Bang rolls around or so. (Yeah, I know. XD)
Title: Love Don't Roam
Summary: Years after the events of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker returns, this time with Padme, to the bar where he, Kitster and the others used to hang out as children. There, they meet a man and his Wookiee that will someday prove instrumental in freeing the galaxy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: I originally wrote this for the October Writing Challenge community, for the prompt "Film noir". Not sure how noirish this turned out, but I think it turned out okay for what it's worth.
Also wrote this sort of inspired by Neil Hannon's "Love Don't Roam": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8IpQbszyUI.
Anyway, hope you enjoy! :D
The cantina was dark and filled with smoke, and in the distance, Anakin Skywalker could swear that he could hear the faint sounds of chatter somewhere. He liked to go to the cantina at times, if only for the sake of reliving what used to be. Not the matter of slavery or anything, but something else. Memories of his life with Kitster, with Wald and the others - he could not say that Tatooine was paradise. If anything, it was almost the exact opposite - dark, cruel, and seemingly stifling. And yet at the same time, there were glimmers of hope. He loved racing, for one thing - the feeling of the wind whipping through your hair, the thrill of the ride, and so much more. He loved repairing droids - if anything, he doubted that C-3PO as he was now would exist if not for the fact that he had found the ruins of the droid somewhere and decided to repair it.
He had been good at fixing things. Always had. And yet somehow, he couldn’t fix Obi-Wan Kenobi, his former friend. Obi-Wan Kenobi, now Darth Acheron. It was enough to make almost anyone sick. Anakin had never expected to simply walk in and see the younglings slaughtered in such a fashion. It was something that, if someone had told him that Obi-Wan would betray his own roots and commit mass-murder, he would have never believed. Because Obi-Wan Kenobi was a good man. A kind man, as powerful as Mace Windu and as wise as Master Yoda, and as kind as Qui-Gon Jinn. A man that Anakin was more than proud to be an apprentice for.
And yet...
And yet here they were now. Obi-Wan Kenobi, servant of the Empire, destroyer of planets. And he, Anakin Skywalker, outcast, last of the Jedi save for Master Yoda - and even now, he wasn’t sure if it was that simple anymore. Even hearing the news reports of the dead streaming in, people such as Roan Shryne and Rahm Kota, was enough to make him sick. It was enough to make him want to strike out against the Empire on his own, never mind the fact that he had to go into hiding. Never mind that he had to lie low. That he still had to learn from Qui-Gon - along with Padmè - about the ways of the Force before he could confront his former Master.
And it was more than that. It was also the fact that no matter what he thought, he never could quite kill Obi-Wan Kenobi. He hadn’t been able to do it on Mustafar - and everyone had paid the price for it.
It was later that Padmè returned to the table. The former Sith apprentice sat next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Anakin tried to smile. “A little bit.”
“And I’m guessing that ‘a little bit’ is...” Padmè paused, barely cutting herself off from saying the word “Jedi”. “Your way of saying ‘really not all right at all’?”
“One could say.” He turned to look at the patrons. “I used to come here, you know. With Kitster and the others.”
“Used to? But you’re here...now, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes,” Anakin said, “But it’s not really the same, if you get what I mean.” He sighed, rubbed his temples. “I swear to the Emperor himself that if they don’t stop playing that awful jizz - ’’
“We could always write to the owner of the cantina,” Padmè joked. “Tell him to stop playing that - ’’
“Good luck with that.” A new voice, suave, almost Corellian-sounding. “I think the owner of the cantina has a soft spot for that junk. It’s what he does."
The man was dark-haired, with brown eyes, wearing a ribbed jacket and a cocky smirk. There was something about him, though, that warmed Anakin to him. Or maybe, Anakin thought, he was a bit too lonely for his own good. He couldn’t really say, if anything else, if he had anyone except for Padmè. Not that it was a bad thing, of course. At the very least, Padmè was good company. And Qui-Gon...he was good company too. But most of what he really had was watching Jinn grow up on Tatooine - smiling Obi-Wan’s smile, bearing his father’s eyes and his mother’s attitude. Kind, not one to fight but willing to do so if need be. If anything, it was enough to console Anakin slightly, but he couldn’t say if there was much in terms of consolation.
“So,” the man said, “What are you two doing out on a night like this?”
“Oh, a bit of nostalgia,” Anakin said, trying to keep his voice casual. He couldn’t really say that he exactly succeeded. Something about saying it was enough to hurt, when it really shouldn’t. “I mean...I used to go up here when I was a kid. Friends and everything, at least when I had time off.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Time off?”
“Well, I used to...work,” Anakin said. Even saying it was enough to make him wince, if only slightly. “Don’t worry,” he said, “My master wasn’t...that bad. A bit cranky, really, but...really nice when you got to know him.” Even saying it was enough to make him realize how odd it sounded.
The man chuckled. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Anakin said. “I know it sounds a bit weird.” And weird was no doubt an understatement.
“So you’re just going up here - ’’
Anakin nodded. Even hearing the music in the background, the faint crooning of the singer - there was something about the lyrics that was enough to make him swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. He felt Padmè’s hand on his shoulder. “Anakin,” she said, “It’s all right. Trust me.”
“Wait,” the man said, “The Anakin?”
“There’s a lot of Anakins,” Padmè said, and Anakin made a note to thank Padmè for the saving throw.
“Ah. Okay. Don’t worry,” the man said, “I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“Well, that’s good.” In the distance, the Bith musicians were going crazy with their instruments. The singer too - singing about his shining star -
“Are you okay?” The man’s brows furrowed. “You don’t look good.”
“Nothing, nothing.” But even now, Anakin could not help but remember. Satine - a woman that he had loved dearly, even if she never quite knew. A woman, strong and beautiful and kind and principled, and thought pacifistic, knew how to defend herself. A woman who stood by her beliefs. He closed his eyes, remembering the sound of her voice, remembering her bravery, how he had stood by her if only to soothe her in her last moments.
“You don’t look like ‘nothing’ is on your mind, if you get my meaning.” The man again. Anakin opened his eyes, almost irritated at this point.
“Well,” he said, “If you want to know...there was someone I loved but she’s gone now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Anakin said, “I mean, it happens to everyone.” He sighed. “I just wish I’d told her...oh, does it matter?” After all, she was Obi-Wan’s wife. Whatever love Anakin had had for her personally was probably no more than just a childish crush, and honestly, the fact that -
Okay, the first one and the last one were true. The second one maybe, and yet even now, Anakin doubted he could really let go.
“What was she like? That woman?” The man sounded almost interested now.
“A good woman,” Anakin said, “Probably one of the best I’ve ever known.” He could feel Padmè’s hand on his shoulder, and even now, he felt better, if slightly.
“I can imagine.” The man turned towards the bar. “Chewie!”
A Wookiee let out an affirmative roar.
Minutes later, the four of them sat at the table, the sound of that jizz in the background, but at the very least, here, it didn’t seem too bad. At least for now.
“The Empire?” The man’s voice was sarcastic even as he said it.
“The Empire.” Padmè and Anakin echoed, equally sarcastically, before clinking their glasses of juma together and drinking.
Title: Love Don't Roam
Summary: Years after the events of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker returns, this time with Padme, to the bar where he, Kitster and the others used to hang out as children. There, they meet a man and his Wookiee that will someday prove instrumental in freeing the galaxy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: I originally wrote this for the October Writing Challenge community, for the prompt "Film noir". Not sure how noirish this turned out, but I think it turned out okay for what it's worth.
Also wrote this sort of inspired by Neil Hannon's "Love Don't Roam": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8IpQbszyUI.
Anyway, hope you enjoy! :D
The cantina was dark and filled with smoke, and in the distance, Anakin Skywalker could swear that he could hear the faint sounds of chatter somewhere. He liked to go to the cantina at times, if only for the sake of reliving what used to be. Not the matter of slavery or anything, but something else. Memories of his life with Kitster, with Wald and the others - he could not say that Tatooine was paradise. If anything, it was almost the exact opposite - dark, cruel, and seemingly stifling. And yet at the same time, there were glimmers of hope. He loved racing, for one thing - the feeling of the wind whipping through your hair, the thrill of the ride, and so much more. He loved repairing droids - if anything, he doubted that C-3PO as he was now would exist if not for the fact that he had found the ruins of the droid somewhere and decided to repair it.
He had been good at fixing things. Always had. And yet somehow, he couldn’t fix Obi-Wan Kenobi, his former friend. Obi-Wan Kenobi, now Darth Acheron. It was enough to make almost anyone sick. Anakin had never expected to simply walk in and see the younglings slaughtered in such a fashion. It was something that, if someone had told him that Obi-Wan would betray his own roots and commit mass-murder, he would have never believed. Because Obi-Wan Kenobi was a good man. A kind man, as powerful as Mace Windu and as wise as Master Yoda, and as kind as Qui-Gon Jinn. A man that Anakin was more than proud to be an apprentice for.
And yet...
And yet here they were now. Obi-Wan Kenobi, servant of the Empire, destroyer of planets. And he, Anakin Skywalker, outcast, last of the Jedi save for Master Yoda - and even now, he wasn’t sure if it was that simple anymore. Even hearing the news reports of the dead streaming in, people such as Roan Shryne and Rahm Kota, was enough to make him sick. It was enough to make him want to strike out against the Empire on his own, never mind the fact that he had to go into hiding. Never mind that he had to lie low. That he still had to learn from Qui-Gon - along with Padmè - about the ways of the Force before he could confront his former Master.
And it was more than that. It was also the fact that no matter what he thought, he never could quite kill Obi-Wan Kenobi. He hadn’t been able to do it on Mustafar - and everyone had paid the price for it.
It was later that Padmè returned to the table. The former Sith apprentice sat next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Anakin tried to smile. “A little bit.”
“And I’m guessing that ‘a little bit’ is...” Padmè paused, barely cutting herself off from saying the word “Jedi”. “Your way of saying ‘really not all right at all’?”
“One could say.” He turned to look at the patrons. “I used to come here, you know. With Kitster and the others.”
“Used to? But you’re here...now, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes,” Anakin said, “But it’s not really the same, if you get what I mean.” He sighed, rubbed his temples. “I swear to the Emperor himself that if they don’t stop playing that awful jizz - ’’
“We could always write to the owner of the cantina,” Padmè joked. “Tell him to stop playing that - ’’
“Good luck with that.” A new voice, suave, almost Corellian-sounding. “I think the owner of the cantina has a soft spot for that junk. It’s what he does."
The man was dark-haired, with brown eyes, wearing a ribbed jacket and a cocky smirk. There was something about him, though, that warmed Anakin to him. Or maybe, Anakin thought, he was a bit too lonely for his own good. He couldn’t really say, if anything else, if he had anyone except for Padmè. Not that it was a bad thing, of course. At the very least, Padmè was good company. And Qui-Gon...he was good company too. But most of what he really had was watching Jinn grow up on Tatooine - smiling Obi-Wan’s smile, bearing his father’s eyes and his mother’s attitude. Kind, not one to fight but willing to do so if need be. If anything, it was enough to console Anakin slightly, but he couldn’t say if there was much in terms of consolation.
“So,” the man said, “What are you two doing out on a night like this?”
“Oh, a bit of nostalgia,” Anakin said, trying to keep his voice casual. He couldn’t really say that he exactly succeeded. Something about saying it was enough to hurt, when it really shouldn’t. “I mean...I used to go up here when I was a kid. Friends and everything, at least when I had time off.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Time off?”
“Well, I used to...work,” Anakin said. Even saying it was enough to make him wince, if only slightly. “Don’t worry,” he said, “My master wasn’t...that bad. A bit cranky, really, but...really nice when you got to know him.” Even saying it was enough to make him realize how odd it sounded.
The man chuckled. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Anakin said. “I know it sounds a bit weird.” And weird was no doubt an understatement.
“So you’re just going up here - ’’
Anakin nodded. Even hearing the music in the background, the faint crooning of the singer - there was something about the lyrics that was enough to make him swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. He felt Padmè’s hand on his shoulder. “Anakin,” she said, “It’s all right. Trust me.”
“Wait,” the man said, “The Anakin?”
“There’s a lot of Anakins,” Padmè said, and Anakin made a note to thank Padmè for the saving throw.
“Ah. Okay. Don’t worry,” the man said, “I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“Well, that’s good.” In the distance, the Bith musicians were going crazy with their instruments. The singer too - singing about his shining star -
“Are you okay?” The man’s brows furrowed. “You don’t look good.”
“Nothing, nothing.” But even now, Anakin could not help but remember. Satine - a woman that he had loved dearly, even if she never quite knew. A woman, strong and beautiful and kind and principled, and thought pacifistic, knew how to defend herself. A woman who stood by her beliefs. He closed his eyes, remembering the sound of her voice, remembering her bravery, how he had stood by her if only to soothe her in her last moments.
“You don’t look like ‘nothing’ is on your mind, if you get my meaning.” The man again. Anakin opened his eyes, almost irritated at this point.
“Well,” he said, “If you want to know...there was someone I loved but she’s gone now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Anakin said, “I mean, it happens to everyone.” He sighed. “I just wish I’d told her...oh, does it matter?” After all, she was Obi-Wan’s wife. Whatever love Anakin had had for her personally was probably no more than just a childish crush, and honestly, the fact that -
Okay, the first one and the last one were true. The second one maybe, and yet even now, Anakin doubted he could really let go.
“What was she like? That woman?” The man sounded almost interested now.
“A good woman,” Anakin said, “Probably one of the best I’ve ever known.” He could feel Padmè’s hand on his shoulder, and even now, he felt better, if slightly.
“I can imagine.” The man turned towards the bar. “Chewie!”
A Wookiee let out an affirmative roar.
Minutes later, the four of them sat at the table, the sound of that jizz in the background, but at the very least, here, it didn’t seem too bad. At least for now.
“The Empire?” The man’s voice was sarcastic even as he said it.
“The Empire.” Padmè and Anakin echoed, equally sarcastically, before clinking their glasses of juma together and drinking.