Chapter Text
He wasn’t supposed to leave, but he never liked following the rules.
It was the middle of the night when he quietly slipped away. Tip toed his way out of bed, and scurried into the hallway. However, once he realized he was alone, he sighed with relief.
Although he shared these corridors with his master, he wasn’t surprised to find it empty. He peered into Obi Wan’s bedroom and found his bedsheets neatly tucked, just like he’d left it this morning.
Probably in the garden again, he thought.
Obi Wan never slept well. Not since Qui Gon died. He spent most of his nights meditating.
He didn’t understand. Not fully. But he could feel the distance.
Obi-Wan trained him, lectured him, corrected him — but never truly saw him. Not as a person. Not as… Anakin. It made him feel unwanted, like he was just some burden placed on his shoulders.
Just a promise to a dead man. At least anything was better than a slave.
But being a jedi wasn’t what he’d thought it’d be. In some ways, it wasn’t much different than his older life… all the rules and restrictions. Of course, he was thankful to be here. However, he was developing a strange sense of homesickness. Sometimes, he missed Tatooine, being at home with his mother and dreaming of being a pilot.
Would she even recognize him if he came back home? His hair was getting darker and his complexion was much paler than it was before with the Tatooine suns. He was also eating more, and he’d grown strangely tall in two years. Sometimes he even found it hard to recognize himself anymore.
He felt so very alone here in Coruscant. Somewhere between a youngling and a padawan, he didn’t fit in with the others. Everyone else had grown up together, sharing the same experiences. However, since he joined the temple late, he was an outcast. It didn’t help that he already had a master, despite being so inexperienced. He always felt the need to prove himself. That he deserved to be here too, and was worthy of being a Jedi.
But he was just a boy from nowhere, pretending to belong.
He pried open the kitchen window and glanced out at the city. The Coruscanti skyline never ceased to amaze him. Even at night, the city seemed to glow even brighter than the Tatooine sunrise. Alive. Free.
The boy dug his hands into the pocket of his long cloak, and was reassured when he felt the handful of credits buried deep within it. If he was lucky, he’d return in the morning with triple the amount.
He’d been saving up for awhile now, but he soon realized, whatever he could scrape up off a padawan’s allowance wouldn’t be enough to free his mother. So, he’s been forced to turn to… other options.
The Chancellor had told him about the races. Not officially, of course. Palpatine had said it in whispers. With a smile that felt like a secret handshake. Told him he was gifted — special. That he deserved the chance to help his mother. That this could be a way.
And flying? That was easy.
He was made for it.
Feeling the cold midnight breeze, he flipped his hood over his head and climbed onto the window ledge. His padawan braid swayed with the midnight breeze, lashing against his cheek.
He glanced at the dark streets below, waiting for the coast to clear. It was a long way down, but with the force, he’d survive it. He knew the schedule of the temple guards, and his opening was approaching.
Anakin Skywalker took one last glance behind him. The Temple slept. As always, without him.
He flipped his hood up. Closed his eyes. And jumped.
He didn’t know it yet, but he would never return.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Lower Coruscant was dangerous, Obi Wan had always said. A place filled with scum and villainy. It didn’t help that he was several floors lower than he should be.
The air smelled like oil and ash.
Anakin stood beside a beat-up yellow speeder he'd “borrowed,” parked along a cracked strip of landing deck. With the hood drawn low and his posture straight, he hoped his height would pass for someone older.
Nobody gave him a second look.
The entrance was through an alley between a smoky cantina and a mechanic shop. There was supposed to be a door here. Instead, just a blank metal wall.
He knocks on the wall, and to his surprise, it’s hollow.
“What do you want?” A gruff voice answers from the other side.
“I heard that there was racing here,” Anakin cleared his throat, trying to speak deeper than normal, “...Sidious recommended it to me.”
The Chancellor had said the name meant something powerful.
There was a brief pause before the wall made a sputtering noise. With a mechanical clank, a panel heaved open, revealing a greasy man who was much taller than he was.
“Well, are you gonna just stand there, or are you coming in?”
Anakin obeyed, taking a step inside. The door slammed shut behind him.. If he had thoughts of turning back, it was too late now.
“A friend of Sidious, eh kid?” The man remarked with an unsettling smirk, clamping his hand on his shoulder, “...must be some big shot then.”
The man’s grip on his shoulder hurt, but Anakin let him push him through the hallway.
He gulped, and tried to muster up his ‘deep voice’ again, “He said I could make credits – Flying.”
The man laughed in response, “Oh yeah, kid. Many of our clients make tons of credits… if they don’t get in trouble first.”
“Trouble?”
But before he could get a response, Anakin was shoved into a room. It was a small room. No windows. Bare walls. Cold floor.
“Just wait here until it's time for the race,” the man says, and surprisingly, Anakin doesn’t believe him.
And then — the door sealed shut. In the darkness, he could hear the mechanical grind of a lock setting in place.
Anakin spun, panic setting in. He slammed his fists against the metal.
“HEY!” he yelled. “LET ME OUT!”
No answer.
He shouted again.
Nothing.
He stopped. Pressed his hand to the door. Closed his eyes.He could still feel the Force. It hummed faintly — all around.
But it wouldn’t open the door.
He was trapped.
He tried to take deep breaths. Calm himself. Everything was going to be fine. This is fine. The Chancellor had recommended this place to him, so it must be fine!
Palpatine was his friend! One of his only friends. Although he couldn’t give him the money himself due to his position as Chancellor, he had always supported his efforts to save his mom. Even volunteered to take him to Tatooine himself!
However, as time went on, he was beginning to have some doubts. How long had he been stuck here? Hours? Was it already morning? It was hard to tell in pitch darkness. He could barely see his hands in front of his face.
He’d given up yelling. He didn’t get a response anyway. As hopeless as it was, he tried punching and kicking at, what he thought was, the door to no avail. Even with the force, it was a slab of metal. His knuckles throbbed; he was sure they were bleeding.
Eventually, he found himself slumped on the floor. He was beginning to worry they just left him here. No food, no water, he wasn’t sure how long he could wait like this. With nothing to do, his thoughts spiraled.
Surely Obi Wan would find him. Of course, Palpatine knew where he was! Yes, he bet they were on their way to rescue him right now!
Right?
Then again, Obi Wan never wanted him in the first place. The Jedi never wanted him either. He was too dangerous. Too unstable.
Too afraid.
What if no one was looking for him?
It was a terrible thought, but as his stomach growled and his eyes acclimatized to the darkness, he came to accept that he was going to die here all alone. He always thought that tears were a waste of water, growing up on Tatooine, but he couldn’t help himself from sobbing.
He wished he’d never come here. He wished he never became a Jedi. He just wanted to go back home.
Anakin was tired. When he found himself drifting off to sleep, he dreamed of his mother’s arms.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
He awoke to talking. It was coming from behind the door.
“I have the boy, but I want the credits first.”
The man from before. Relief flickered for a second — at least he hadn’t been forgotten — before a colder realization struck. Someone had paid for him.
“You will have your reward,” another voice replied, “Now where is he?”
Anakin’s blood ran cold.
That voice. He knew that voice.
The Chancellor.
He pressed his ear to the cold metal door. He could hear them. Talking. Negotiating.
“You never said he was a Jedi, and a baby one too. Aren’t they gonna be looking for ‘em?”
“That is none of your concern.”
“It is! I’m the one they’ll look for, so I’m gonna need extra!”
The Chancellor’s voice. The same one that had called him “my boy,” that had told him he was special. Now it was bargaining for him, like property.
Another thought came to mind.
What if Palpatine set this all up in the first place?
No, he couldn’t have. The Chancellor was kind. Thoughtful. He couldn’t have arranged this.
Right?
But then, he heard it. The sound of bone giving way under pressure. A dull crack. A wet pop. Ribs splintering like kindling.
It was over before the man could even scream.
Then, silence.
All of a sudden, he didn’t want to be found anymore. He clasped his hands over his mouth, withholding a frightened sob. His own breathing was loud, echoing throughout that tiny room.
Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me. He muttered in his head, but in the quiet, he worried his thoughts were too loud.
He heard footsteps behind the door. He made one last ditch attempt to contact Obi Wan through their bond.
Help me please!
But their connection wasn’t the strongest. He could have sworn he felt a response. However, he was interrupted by another terrible noise.
It happened so quickly. The metal door grinded as it compressed and squeezed open. The light on the other side was blinding, he could barely make out a silhouette at the door. He shut his eyes closed and turned away, wishing he’d never come here.
Then he hears a voice.
“Anakin, my boy. Are you alright?”
It was the Chancellor’s voice. However, it was sinister in a way Anakin couldn’t grasp. Almost genuine, but not quite.
When he reopened his eyes, he was shocked by a terrible scene. It was Palpatine standing at that door, looking more like a shadow against the light. At his feet was a pound of flesh; the man’s body twisted beyond recognition. He nearly vomited at the sight of it.
Anakin opened his mouth, but he couldn’t say a word. Seeing his terror, the Chancellor reached out his hand to him, but he flinched in response.
The Chancellor’s eyes were bright yellow.
“Come with me, child,” He said… no, commanded.
And Anakin did as he said, almost as if he were in a trance. He took his ice cold hand, and was taken away from that small room. He made sure not to step on the man’s body on the way out.
Even though he despised him, no one deserved what happened to him.
“Are we going… home?” He gulped nervously, managing to scrape up the courage to speak.
“Yes, we are.”
Anakin knew he was lying.
Palpatine took him away. Far far away. Someplace where he’ll never be found again.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Obi Wan was awoken by a sudden sense of fear that washed over him like a tidal wave and left just as quickly. It was barely morning. He was in the gardens, having fallen asleep mid-meditation again.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
He leapt to his feet, and for some odd reason, found himself sprinting to his corridors where his padawan was supposed to be fast asleep.
Only to discover that Anakin’s bed was empty.
It wasn’t terribly out of the ordinary. The boy had a tendency to sneak out when he wasn’t supposed to. But this time, the Force screamed a strange, gut-wrenching feeling of LOSS.
He didn’t yet know what it meant. But somewhere far below the city, the boy he’d sworn to protect was already gone.