I wrote this after hearing about a similar-themed story by xBlaze of FuryX. Hers is multi-chaptered, whereas - due to some extra length - mine is a two-shot. I am not intentionally stealing anything from her story, as I made sure not to read it until after I finished and posted this. That way nothing would be influenced by hers. Thought it was best. Anyway, I hope you read and enjoy mine, and I encourage you to read hers.

Drop me a review and let me know what you think, okay?

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything from this story, except the plot line. Mr. George Lucas owns it all.

"Luke!" The six-year-old's sandy hair snapped up, his face twisted with the guilt of crime he wasn't sure he had commited. Blue eyes met those of a darker shade that were surrounded by the wrinkles of Tattoine's wear. The older man frowned down at the six-year-old, letting him squirm uncomfortably for a few minutes before he began his lecture. "Luke, you've done it again! I just got a call from Huff Darklighter. Do you know what his son told him?"

Luke scuffed his foot and mumbled, "...We just wanted a look..."

"Jabba's Palace?! On Huff's speeder! That's dangerous, Luke! Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?!" Luke hunched his shoulders under his uncle's anger, staring moodily at his feet.

"They didn't catch us. We were real careful, Uncle Owen!"

"Luke!" Owen roared, "You could have been sold into slavery! Or killed! Your father might have done something this stupid, but I thought you were smarter."

Luke refused to raise his eyes, so his uncle wouldn't see the tears builidng up. Owen stood without saying any more, waiting for his nephew to speak. When the boy continued to keep silent, he turned and walked out of the dim garage, leaving his nephew to twist his hands around a wrench.


Luke stood for several minutes after his uncle had left, fighting down the tears that still battled for freedom. Finally, he gave up and threw the wrench across the room with an angry yell. 'His father might have done this'...Well, what was so bad about being like his father? What had his father done that made his uncle so angry?

"Wish I knew..." Luke muttered, "Wish I could meet him..." He kicked angrily at a storage bin by the wall, creating a loud bang and earning himself a bruised toe. He hopped on the spot, tears just beginning to spill over from the anger of all of it. A noise at the door made Luke stop his frantic hopping and he stood with his knee up to his chest. What if his uncle had heard and was coming back to yell at him again? Luke scrambled out of sight behind the workbench, peering out at the door of the garage.

It was only his Aunt Beru. The aged woman moved around the garage, peering under the speeder and into several of the storage bins. She didn't speak and didn't call for him, so Luke kept quiet, watching. Beru didn't seem to find what she was looking for and left, frowning deeply.

Luke watched her go, already planning out his revenge. Maybe, he thought, he'd just stay behind the workbench so his aunt and uncle would think he'd run away. And then he'd come back and graciously accept his uncle's appologies. Maybe he could even get him to tell what his father had done that was so bad. Luke smiled and curled up on the dusty ground, imagining how it would go.


He woke slowly, wondering absently why his aunt wasn't waking him, and stretched, yawning loudly. His hand hit something hard and jerked back, his eyes popping open. To see the sides of very, very tall skyscrapers reaching to the sky on either side. He sat up, his wide eyes sweeping around the alley he lay in. A large trash bin hid Luke from the street, and he crawled forward so he could peer around it. The street beyond could only kind of be called that, since the sidewalk ended abruptly, roughly thirty feet out, and then it was just open air. Buildings were everywhere, sprouting like a metallic forest from thousands of feet down. Speeders and skyhoppers of every sort sped past overhead and on the levels down below. It was fast, loud, bright, and overwhelming.

Luke stood slowly and edged around the bin until he was standing at the corner of a building. People passed him by without so much as a glance, rushing to whatever appointment they had set up. The six-year-old, unsure what else to do, stepped nervously into the flow. He was immediately swept away, into the stream in a panic.

The crowd bore him along, pushing and shoving him out of the way, so that he drifted much too close to the edge of the walkway. Each time he managed to save himself by bouncing off several people, into the crowd. Eventually, he wasn't able to bounce back, and he nearly fell off. He was saved by a hand that grabbed his tunic and pulled him gently forward, steadying him with another hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" The man who smiled down at him was in his early twenties, and dressed in the same sort of robes the old hermit Ben Kenobi wore. His brown-hair was cropped short, a very thin braid hanging down the right side of his head to his shoulder. An eyebrow rose over blue eyes as he repeated his question. Luke started and nodded, muttering a thank=you. The man patted his shoulder and started away. "Well, be more careful around the edge."

Luke watched the man thread his way back into the crowd, a choking feeling of panic gripping him. The man was the only one who had taken the time to talk to him, and however ridiculous it was, Luke was comforted by that. People complained loudly as he began to push his way between them, following the man. Only when he was a few feet behind the robed man did he slow, following in the his steps as the man strode steadily on. Eventually, Luke knew, he'd have to find someone to help him. Eventually, the man would get where he was going and Luke would have to leave and go somewhere else.

"Are you following me?" The man stopped and turned to face Luke, who stopped as well. The boy nodded nervously, forcing himself to meet the man's eyes. The man only looked curious, not irritated like Luke had half expected, and paced back until he was close enough that he could squat down to the boy's eye level. "Why?" Luke shrugged, gripping the hem of his tunic nervously. The man curiousity deepened and he glanced around at the crowd that continued to flow, splitting around them and joining back into a single flow on the other side. "Where are your parents?"

"They died. When I was born."

"Oh. Uh..." The man looked uncomfortable for a second, though he recovered quickly. "Who do you live with?"

"My aunt and uncle." Luke's eyes widened, "Uncle Owen's going to kill me!"

"Hang on." The man put out a hand to stop the boy's agitated dancing. "Where are they?"

"Um...Tatooine. On our farm." He missed the dark look that passed over the man's face at the name of the desert planet. It was clear by the time Luke looked back at him, his eyes wide. "How am I gonna get back?!"

"I'll help you get back, all right? But you need to tell me how you got here? What are you doing on Coruscant?"

"I'm on Coruscant?! Woah!" Luke stared around with new excitement at the city that stretched forever. The man drew his attention back and repeated the question, to which he got a blank look. "I dunno. I was sleeping in the garage, under the toolbench. And I woke up in an alley." He started to tear up, "I didn't mean to actually run away! I was only pretending! I just wanted Uncle Owen to be sorry for gettin' so mad at me."

"Wait a second," The man made calming motions with his hands, trying to stop the sobs that were beginning to break out of the boy. People were turning now to watch the scene as they passed, though only a half a dozen even slowed. He took the boy's shoulders and spoke quickly, "Hey, calm down, okay? I'll help you get back."

Luke rubbed at his eyes, fighting to keep back more tears. "I don't wanna get in trouble."

"I'll-we'll..." Anakin winced, though he hid it quickly, "We'll explain to your uncle, okay? You won't get in trouble." The man patted Luke's head awkwardly, and stood. He seemed to be thinking on his feet, for he glanced around and added, "Do...you want some ice cream? Or a ladybaby?"

"R-really?" Luke hiccoughed slightly, looking up hopefully.

"Sure. I know a place." The man held out a hand to the boy, "What's your name?"

"Luke." He shook the hand the man offered, "What's yours?"

"Anakin. Nice to meet you, Luke." Anakin turned and started away again, though at a slower pace now so the six-year-old could keep up. They went several blocks down, past the a large, important-looking building, and into a seedy shopping area. They passed a shop that had a sign proclaiming: "'Pets' "N" Pieces' - If you can't find it in our store, it may find you!", and stopped in front of a diner. "Dex's Diner" was written with glowing letters on the sign in the window. The diner itself was low, long, and rounded on the sides, though the roof was flat. Anakin started through the door, pausing for Luke to catch up.

The four-armed Besalisk in the kitchen called to Anakin as he stepped through the door, and lumbered out from the kitchen to thump the young man on the back. They spoke briefly, and then Anakin led Luke to a booth in the back. They sat down across from each other, and, after a moment, a woman appeared at the end of the table. She had blonde hair, most of it pulled into a ponytail on the top of her head, and was dressed in the short, pale blue dress of a waitress.

"Hello, boys." She greeted them cheerfully, pulling a small stylus from the garter on her thigh. "I'm Hermione Bagwa. What can I get ya?"

"I wa-" Luke broke off and glanced nervously across at Anakin, who nodded, smiling slightly. "Can I have some ice cream? Please."

"Sure thing, sweetheart. And what about you?" She turned to Anakin, her smile changing, though Luke couldn't place exactly how. Anakin ordered a Corellian noale and she repeated it into the stylus. "Alrighty, boys, they'll be out in a few mintues." They thanked her and she moved off to wait on someone else.

"So, Luke. How old are you?"

"I'm six. I'll be seven in a month, though." Luke puffed out his chest proudly and Anakin smiled, amused.

"You said you wanted your uncle to be sorry for getting mad at you. That's why you pretended to run away, right? Why was he mad?"

Luke kicked, letting his heels bounce on the base of his seat, and contimplated answering. He decided there was no reason not to, so he answered slowly. "Uncle Owen was mad because Biggs and I went to see Jabba's Palace. We were real careful, though." Luke peered earnestly up at the man, "Really. We took Mr. Darklighter's speeder so we could get away quick."

"That was a good idea. But what would have happened if you'd been caught?" Anakin thanked Hermione as she set the noale down in front of him, and the ice cream in front of Luke.

"Anything else?" Hermione glanced back and forth, but shrugged when they each shook their heads. Luke waited until she had moved away again before he mumbled an answer.

"Uncle Owen said we'd be sold into slavery. Or killed."

Anakin took a small swallow of his drink, watching the lip of the cup instead of Luke. "Then it seems like a very bad idea to go near this...Jabba's Palace."

"I know." Luke moodily poked his ice cream with his spoon.

"Well, then, you should appologize to your uncle. And then let it go and don't do it again." Anakin smiled once more at Luke and took another draft of his noale. Luke still looked downcast, and the adult cast around for something to reassure him. "Your uncle sounds like my Master. He tells me a lot what I'm doing wrong, and how we've been over it before. But," Anakin grudgingly admitted, "he's trying to teach me."

"Really?" Luke looked hopefully up at him, though it changed to confusion. "So...Uncle Owen was just teaching me a lesson by yelling?"

"Well...yes. Though the lesson might have been just not to do it again. He was probably worried." Silence fell again, uncomfortable now, and Luke took his first bite of ice cream. He smiled excitedly, took a much larger spoonful, and pushed the whole thing into his mouth. It was too cold and he squirmed, trying to get it all down so he could get a breath. Anakin laughed and, when he had air, so did Luke.

They each finished their treat and Anakin spoke briefly to Hermione, collecting a bag before they left. The noise was louder, if anything, when they stepped into the fading light outside. Anakin stood deep in thought at the corner of the building with Luke at his side, the seven-year-old trying diligently to lick the leftover ice cream from his face. After a minute, Anakin motioned to the boy and started away, Luke on his heels.

I hope Anakin isn't OOC. Really, there's not much to work off of on how he would treat a little kid. So...I did my best. Hope it was good enough.

I found out on this great site ("Wookiepedia" lol) that they do, in fact, have ice cream in the Star Wars universe. THought that would be cool, though I admit I'm not sure if Luke would know (or particularly want) it.