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The quiet of the small home on Tatooine was pierced by the wind's howl, the sandstorm outside now roaring like an untamed beast. Inside, Peter's mind churned with urgency as he replayed the failed connection with Padmé, every second weighing on him. The feeling of helplessness and worry was one he despised, and he refused to let it linger any longer.
His eyes sharpened with resolve. He knew what he had to do.
Peter stood abruptly, drawing the attention of the crew who were still gathered in the modest room, their faces shadowed by the dim lantern light. Rocket cocked an eyebrow, his tone laced with curiosity and suspicion. "Where are you going now?"
Peter's expression was firm as he glanced at his friends. "Stay here with Shmi and Anakin," he said, his voice low but commanding. "I have something to take care of."
Natasha narrowed her eyes, stepping forward. "Peter, what's going on? You're acting strange."
He gave her a reassuring smile. "Everything is fine. At least for now. But I need to go and deal with something. I'll be back in an hour, tops. Just be ready to leave when I get back."
His words did nothing to calm Natasha's worries. "But I thought you wanted to spend the night?"
"Just trust me on this," Peter said, leaning in to peck her on the lips.
Before anyone could protest further, he grabbed his jacket and stepped outside, the storm's force pushing against him as he made his way to their ship. Sand whipped at his face, stinging his skin as he climbed aboard.
The engines roared to life, and he guided the ship into the turbulent sky, breaking through the storm's chaos until he soared above it, the stars glimmering against the black canvas of space.
Peter set the ship's coordinates to Mos Espa and flew off.
…
The journey was short, and soon enough, he hovered above a small shop, Watto's shop, the lights within flickering dimly through the dusty windows.
Leaving the ship hovering above, Peter donned his mask and jumped out, silently landing on the rooftop. Peering off the edge, he found an unlocked window on the second floor and slipped inside, the darkness enveloping him.
The room was cluttered, filled with trinkets and jewelry that Watto seemed to be hoarding. At the center, Watto lay sprawled on a large bed, snoring loudly, his wings twitching with each breath.
Peter's nose twitched. 'Something smells off in here,' he thought, just as Watto released a loud fart, causing the stench in the room to intensify. 'Disgusting…'
Without hesitation, Peter grabbed Watto by the collar and yanked him from the bed. The Toydarian awoke with a startled yelp, eyes wide with terror as he flapped his wings uselessly, trying to regain control.
Peter slammed him against the wall, the impact rattling a shelf of gold trinkets. "You're going to set Shmi and Anakin Skywalker free," he said coldly. "Do it, and I'll let you live."
Watto's eyes narrowed as he realized who he was dealing with. "Wait! Wait! Hold on! Let's talk about this—!"
Before he could finish, Watto's hand darted to the side, reaching for a hidden blaster tucked into the folds of a cloth. But Peter's reflexes were faster. With a flick of his fingers, the blaster flew from Watto's grasp, clattering to the floor out of reach.
Peter tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'll take that as a no."
Watto's confidence crumbled, replaced by desperation. "Wait! I—I'll do whatever you want! Don't—"
The plea ended with a single blaster shot, the sound muffled by the storm raging outside. Watto's body went limp, his eyes wide with shock as he slumped against the wall, lifeless.
Peter exhaled slowly, the adrenaline thrumming through his veins. He turned and scanned the room, reaching out with the Force to sense any hidden compartments. His focus led him to a small, rusted safe beneath the floorboards. Pulling it free, he pried it open to reveal an old device with blinking lights—the control mechanism for the slave chips.
With the device secured, Peter stood, glancing once more at the lifeless Toydarian. "I better get back," he murmured before leaping out of the window, disappearing into the sand.
————
The roar of the sandstorm outside masked the sound of the ship as it descended in front of the small Skywalker home. The vessel landed with practiced ease, and the crew inside the house exchanged glances as they saw Peter disembark, his silhouette framed by the swirling sand.
Rocket squinted through the window, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "What's he carrying?"
Mikaela stood near the door, worry creasing her brow. "He's back…"
The front door creaked open, letting in a gust of wind and sand. Peter stepped inside, shaking off the dirt and closing the door behind him.
Instantly, the room fell silent, all eyes on him and the device cradled carefully in his hands.
Shmi and Anakin had rushed to the doorway when they heard the ship land. Shmi's worried eyes searched Peter's face as she asked, "Where did you go?"
Peter's expression softened as he looked at them, taking a steadying breath. "I went out to brighten your day," he said, holding up the small device. "This will deactivate your slave chips."
Anakin's eyes widened, disbelief and hope flashing across his face. "Is this real? Are we… free?" His voice trembled with a mix of joy and fear, as if daring to believe it might shatter the fragile dream.
Shmi's breath caught in her throat, the weight of years of silent suffering pressing down on her as hope sparked within her heart. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she said nothing, waiting, watching.
Peter didn't waste any more time. He activated the device, the lights flickering as it emitted a low hum. Anakin and Shmi flinched, expecting pain, but there was only a warm, tingling sensation. And then… silence. The device powered down, and with it, the invisible shackle that had bound them for so long.
Peter looked at them, a small smile on his lips. "The chips are deactivated. I'll remove them completely when it's safe, but for now, you're free. You don't have to answer to anyone anymore."
Shmi's eyes filled with tears, her hand trembling as she reached for Anakin, pulling him into a tight embrace. Relief and disbelief washed over her features, the reality of freedom setting in at last.
Anakin buried his face in his mother's shoulder, his tears falling freely as joy and shock overtook him. "We're free…" he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. His small hands clenched at Shmi's clothes, holding on as if she might slip away if he let go.
Peter stepped back, giving them space, but Anakin's gaze found him. His eyes shone with gratitude and wonder as he asked, "What about Watto?"
Peter's smile took on a knowing edge as he patted the boy gently on the head. "Watto won't be bothering you anymore," he said simply.
Anakin's brows furrowed in confusion, trying to piece it together. "Did you… buy our freedom?"
Shmi's expression shifted, the understanding settling in. She glanced at Peter, a mixture of gratitude and worry in her eyes. She knew the truth without him having to say it. The cost of their freedom had been paid in blood, and while that unsettled her, the sight of her son's joy was worth the risk.
Anakin, still lost in his relief, didn't notice the silent exchange. His tears continued to flow, this time with a beaming smile that stretched across his face.
Unfortunately, he was unaware that his hero, Star-Lord, had been the one to grant his greatest wish. But one day, he would come to know.
Across the room, Natasha observed the scene with a faint nod, her expression softening for a moment as she recognized the significance of what Peter had done.
Mikaela watched with tear-brimmed eyes, one hand covering her mouth as she tried to contain the overwhelming emotion that swelled in her chest.
As the reality of his freedom set in, Anakin's laughter filled the small space as he pulled Natasha and Mikaela away, recounting stories about life in Mos Espa and showing them around the house.
Shmi seized the brief moment of quiet and approached Peter, who stood by the doorway, eyes distant as if his mind was elsewhere. She stepped closer, her voice low and sincere. "Thank you for what you did, Peter. I don't know how to express my gratitude."
Peter looked down at her, a warm smile touching his lips. "You don't need to. You and Anakin deserve better than this."
A flicker of concern shadowed her eyes. "I need to ask you something though." She hesitated, taking a breath before continuing. "I know you likely killed Watto to free us." Her voice was steady, though a tremor of worry underpinned it. "While I'm grateful beyond words, it puts us in a difficult position. If we stay here, it won't take long before someone notices Watto's death. Questions will be asked, and without a master, we're vulnerable. They could re-enslave us or worse… accuse us of murder."
Peter's gaze softened with understanding. Relief washed over him. This was the perfect opening for what he needed to do next. But before he could respond, the sound of metal clanking across the floor drew both their attention.
"Look at this!" Anakin called, supporting a half-assembled droid with wires and panels exposed. The droid walked unevenly but managed to stay upright with the boy's help, its photoreceptors glowing faintly as it spoke in a stilted voice. "Hello, I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations."
[Insert picture of C-3PO here]
Mikaela and Natasha exchanged wide-eyed glances, impressed by the droid. "Did you buy this?" Mikaela asked, amazement clear in her voice.
Anakin nodded enthusiastically. "No, I built him myself! I found parts over the years and put him together. He's not done yet, but he can already understand and speak a lot of languages."
Tony stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he examined the droid. For a moment, there was silence as he took in the craftsmanship. Then, a grin broke across his face. "Hey, kid, you want a job?" he said, his tone half-joking, half-serious.
Anakin's eyes sparkled, a mischievous grin forming. "How much are you paying?" The gleam in his eye hinted at the dreams of someone who knew he'd never work for free again, not after today.
Tony chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. "We'll talk numbers later, but I can promise you, it'll be more than enough..."
Peter, watching the exchange with a fond smile, stepped forward and caught Anakin's attention. "Anakin, I need to ask you something," he said, drawing the boy's focus. "Would you and your mother like to come with us? At least until we can find somewhere nice and safe for you two to start a new life. After all, I doubt you want to stay here on Tatooine."
Anakin's eyes widened in disbelief and excitement, a grin spreading across his face as he looked up at his mother. "Can we, Mom? Please?"
Shmi's expression softened, a wave of relief washing over her features. She knew that staying on Tatooine meant eventual danger, and the opportunity Peter offered was the hope she had never dared to wish for. She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes as she spoke, "Yes, Ani. We can."
Tony clapped Anakin on the back lightly, a smirk on his face. "Looks like you're coming with us, kid. If you're going to work for Stark Industries, you're going to have to leave this place behind anyway."
The smile on Anakin's face could have outshone a sun as he turned to Peter. "!"
Peter's eyes held warmth as he said, "Alright, then. Go pack your things. We're leaving tonight."
Anakin blinked, surprise flickering across his face. "Tonight? But why—"
Peter interrupted with a reassuring smile. "It's best we don't linger. Trust me."
Shmi nodded, understanding what Peter didn't say out loud. It was only a matter of time before Watto's death was discovered, and their best chance at freedom lay in a swift departure.
As Anakin and Shmi hurried to gather their belongings, Peter's gaze fell on his datapad. He tried once more to contact Padmé, but the call refused to go through, the screen stubbornly blank. His worry deepened, gnawing at the edges of his mind. 'What's happening? Could it be the Trade Federation… but it's too early, isn't it?'
The crew worked quickly, loading the few possessions the Skywalkers had onto the ship. The storm outside raged on, but the urgency inside was even more intense.
Finally, with everyone aboard and the engines humming to life, the ship lifted into the dark, stormy sky. Anakin's eyes sparkled with anticipation, staring out the window as the only home he'd ever known grew smaller beneath them. Shmi sat beside him, her hand gently on his shoulder, a hopeful smile playing on her lips.
Peter stood at the cockpit, staring into the swirling sandstorm as it faded behind them. But his mind was elsewhere, on the flickering image of a girl with fire in her eyes and a spirit to match.
'Hold on, Padmé,' he thought as the ship rocketed toward the stars. 'I'm coming.'
————
Meanwhile…
In the heart of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the towering spires shimmered under the planet's artificial glow. Inside the sacred halls, the atmosphere was one of contemplation and quiet urgency.
The Jedi Council chamber, with its grand panoramic windows overlooking the cityscape, was filled with the soft hum of debate and the occasional murmur of concern.
Rumors had begun to spread—whispers of Naboo's fate, of an invasion, of something more sinister lurking beneath the surface. The reports were fragmented, brought back by pilots who had been turned away at the blockade. It was enough to rouse the Council's attention but not enough to act on with certainty.
Jedi Grand Master Yoda sat in his seat, his ancient eyes closed as he listened to the discussions around him. Jedi Master Yaddle's voice carried over the room, clear and crisp. "If these rumors are true, Naboo is in grave danger. But sending the full might of the Jedi is premature without knowing what we're dealing with."
Yoda opened his eyes, a glimmer of contemplation reflected in them. "An investigation, we must conduct. Confirm the truth, we will, and assist if needed."
Across the room, the doors swung open as Jedi Master Qui-Gon-Jinn came walking in, his expression calm yet focused as he bowed before the council.
Beside him, his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, maintained a poised silence, his gaze flicking between the masters with disciplined attentiveness.
Yoda's eyes met Qui-Gon's, a subtle warmth passing between them. "Master Qui-Gon, to Naboo, you and your Padawan will go. Discover the truth of these rumors, you must. Mediate the conflict, if peace still possible it is."
Qui-Gon inclined his head, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips. "We will depart immediately, Master."
Obi-Wan nodded as well, his eyes showing a mix of determination and curiosity.
Yaddle's brow furrowed slightly. "Be vigilant, both of you. If there is more at work here than meets the eye, we need to know."
"Careful, you must be," Yoda added, the weight of centuries of wisdom in his voice. "Darkness shrouds much these days. Trust in the Force, let it guide you."
With their orders given, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan turned to leave, their robes flowing gracefully behind them. The council chamber settled into a contemplative silence as the two Jedi made their way down the winding corridors of the temple, the mission ahead of them more significant than they could possibly know...
A/N: 2650 words :)
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