Anakin and His Angel: What Should Have Been

Chapter 11 (0 BBY)

Obi Wan made his way over to the counter, ordering a drink, and then sat down at a table with Anakin and Padmé.

"So...." Obi Wan took a sip of his drink, "clearly we have some catching up to do. How have you been recently, aside from the absence of your children?" He took another sip.

"Well, we're of no help to the Rebels whatsoever, and unfortunately, although it is undiagnosed, we're pretty sure Padmé has PTSD," Anakin looked down sadly, pulling Padmé against him and rubbing her arm.

"Really? That's horrid! Have you not been able to get counseling?" Obi Wan's face contorted in an expression vexation and empathy.

"No, the Rebels don't have that kind of services, as they can't afford them, and, of course, the Empire doesn't offer them either," Anakin hugged her tighter. Padmé looked down, biting her lip, trying to hold tears back from streaming down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he reached across the table and placed a hand gingerly on top of hers. She smiled, trying to reassure Obi Wan that she was okay. Padmé couldn't hold it in any more; as the smile spread across her face, tears spilled out of her eyes in small shimmering, bead-like droplets, almost like tiny shards of glass, piercing her cheeks and her heart.

"Padmé!" Anakin spoke in worry.

Wiping her hand across her cheeks, hoping to stem the flow of tears, Padmé took a deep breath, "I'm fine Anakin, I'm fi-" her voice shattered in a sob.

Anakin pulled her head against his chest, "shhh, it's okay to cry Angel, it's okay...."

Padmé's quiet sobs continued to rack her fragile body. Voices rose over in a booth nearby, and suddenly, there was a startling BANG! And the room filled with smoke. All three of them looked around frantically.

A man in a vest, with ruffled golden brown hair stepped over a corpse on the ground, mumbling to himself, "Nobody tells me I don't shoot first," came the angry susurration.

Obi Wan leaned over towards Anakin, "this is who I was thinking we could get a ride from" he whispered softly.

"And why is he so reliable, considering he just killed someone on the spot?"

"Well," Obi Wan paused for a moment, stroking his whitened beard, "he is a smuggler, but he has a Millennium Falcon, and he flew the Kessel run. Think you can do better than-"

"Pfft, please," Anakin waved his hand dismissively, "I could do way better than that. I did do way better than that. I won the Boonta Eve race, at ten years old, first human ever to podrace. Think he can beat that?"

Obi Wan ignored Anakin, and waved the man over. He walked over, his gait cocky, eyes on the money that Obi Wan had set on the table.

Obi Wan smirked under his beard, "Han, right?" he held out his hand for Han to shake.

Han shook his hand heartily, "Yes, that's me," his hand fell to his side after Obi Wan let go, "who are you?"

"You can call me Ben, Ben Kenobi," Obi Wan stated gruffly, "and this is Padmé, and Anakin," he gestured towards them.

"Well Ben, why did you call me over?"

"See, the the three of us need a ride. And I've heard rumors that you're a pretty good pilot, and that you happen to own a pretty great ship too, am I right?" he raised his eyebrows .

"A pretty good pilot? A pretty great ship? Please, I own a Millennium Falcon, probably the only one in the galaxy, not to mention the fact that I know how to pilot it," Han gave a cocky smirk, "So, yeah, with some money, I could give you a ride."

"Great! How much do you want in payment?"

Han leaned over and whispered in Obi Wan's ear. Obi Wan's eyes widened. I sure hope the Rebels have enough money for this... "Yeah, we can, it won't be immediate, since we'll need to gather some money from our allies. " Obi Wan grimaced inwardly, hoping that the Rebels would have enough money.

"Deal?" Han held out his hand to Obi Wan.

Obi Wan shook it, "Deal."