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And The Universe Intervenes

Summary:

Inspired by: ‘Always a Slave.’

Peter is a slave miner, entrapped upon the planet Nar Kreeta in Hutt Space.

What happens when the universe gifts him the opportunity to meet someone new, and then be taken by Jedi - forced to forget the connection he had.

Notes:

Tags are coming up in a bit.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Together

Chapter Text

16 Years Before the Battle Of Coruscant

February

 

Today was different to all the others. Peter could feel it. It was the same mountains. The identical jagged rocks strewn across the hilly surface. Ocean currents clicks away casting salty tastes into the air. To the east, the visible, continuous deserts that the space travellers compared to Tatooine and the other Outer Rim deserts - it was all the same. But today was different: Peter was early...

Last night he must’ve been blessed by an angelic figure. Sleep was hard to come across in these parts. And nothing nice was ever given out by the bad men. Only the slashed and beatings. If one of his little group disobeyed the strict rules, the clan was cast up against a growing Rancor that lived beneath ‘Gnarth the Hutt’’s palace.

Tiny, boney feet carried him onto the precipice of the rock face. Down below, at the mouth of his cave was his usually-drunken owner ‘Vamalab Trigaddios’ The creature was a Lasat. Tiny for his species and barely sporting more hair on his face then Peter had on his being. However he was still at least twice peters height and three times his width.

The Lasat stood, swaying slightly due to his recent hangover, but still proudly over his latest ‘buy.’ It was another human by his first glance. It was a girl. And they were tall for what he assumed was someone around his age. The face still had that slightly chubby element and the eyes were still bright with emotion and light. Where were her parents in all of this?

Well that’s what Peter had asked himself when he was first aware of his situation. She had the right to ask the same. Peter never knew his parents, but he could hear a voice. The gender was unclear. And it only said one phrase- but he could never make it out. Like it was blocked.

Pebbles dropped down toward his fellow slaves as his feet nestled into the solace at the crest of the mountain. The small rocks bounced mere inches away from the heads of the people but they didn’t move. Peter wouldn’t of doubted their conscious state if you told him they were asleep.

He had only just noticed them, and they hadn’t noticed him at all. That was weird. They usually took the first opportunity to mock him for everything. Their gazes were locked onto the Lasat towering over the girl. Peter stumbled and tripped his way down the cliff face, hoping to draw the attention of his owner. The girl didn’t look like she would be able to take the punishment. From many meters away, Peter could still work out her rib cage and thin arms.

One of his feet nestled it’s self onto the levelling gravel. A signature crunch drew attention to his presence. He held up a hand to shush his fellow slaves but they seemed to have been silenced anyway. The Lasat wouldn’t turn. ‘Damn, looks like I’m gunna have to do this the hard way.’ A cybernetic arm raises its self to the sky and slashed the girl across the face as it came down. She was silent, no screams, not even a reaction at all. Innocent eyes looked up and locked with Peter’s, a rich brown - darker than chocolate, but just as warm. Those eyes were still bright with childish passion. She shouldn’t be here. This girl was made for the Core Worlds. A will of steal, a deathly glare and vocabulary to match.

His master raised his hand once more and slashed deeper into her cheek, she screamed. Torment. Pain. The past few years of Peter’s memories flash before him and he slowly sprung into action, he couldn’t have the Lasat see him now.

With the girl still looking at him through tears that Peter was soon matching, he bent down. Trembling hands scuffled up a particularly jagged rock. Fine marks of white were left along his palms by the black speckled stone. His hands felt like charring against the baking rock. The Nar Kreeta sun beating down his neck and pooling the sweat near his waist and in-between his chest muscles.

For what felt like the thousandth time, he slashed open the scarring wounds on his knee and forearms. It was such a common practise that he only winced with it now. The girl was still looking at him, he realised that when he looked up to her. He began to plant the blood across his temple when he nodded to her. It was almost in comfort, ‘I see your pain.’ Lethargically casting the rock over his shoulder he set about his work. He moved away a particularly large rock, and threw himself down onto the floor and let out a fake anguished cry, partly masked by his realistic groan.

‘If he kept throwing himself down into this spot, he might leave a mark’ considered Peter as he waited for the usual drawl. “Aha!”
‘There it was!’ Peter smirked to himself in his head. “Slave 199999, the human of the hour. Early. That is a change I will except. I will not have to send you to the Rancor today..”

He bent down and picked Peter up by the back of his overly large tunic. The calloused, cold hands clutched at his limbs. “I see you have been punished anyway, no doubt down to your own dexterity, I presume?” Weakly nodding in reply, Peter looked down from where he was now situated in the air, toward the girl he had temporarily helped. “Very good... For your prematurity you will be gifted. It is quite the tedious task I have to admit. Showing my latest pet, new blood, round your cave. You are most familiar with the caves and she will be sharing your job - her weakness will not be tolerated in the mines.” He paused for breath. But seemed to breathe it into one malicious line right away. “Having been here the longest, I expect your satisfactory results as usual. Unlike this lot.” He motioned toward the others who were still in their line. “Get to work, the suns breaking the horizon...”

Each of the slaves slowly slumped into action. Damaged and broken forms heaved pickaxes out of the mountainside before disappearing into their respective cave mouths. The darkness consumed them all and that left Peter, the girl and the Lasat. “C’mon child, one-five-nine’s is waiting! You’re going to be here for a long time, so you might as well get cozy in that cave!” He shouted after them. The pair had long since left the gravel base of the mountain range.

Peter looked back. The girl was absolutely terrified. ‘Understandable.’ Thought Peter as he grabbed onto her still form. She flinched and went to draw her limb away. But stopped. The grip wasn’t a grip at all, more of a soft helpful offering. “I’ve got you.” Peter said, smiling as much as he would allow himself to within their current situation. “I’ll guide you, it gets really dark in here.” She put a hand over his, and began to move forward slightly. The distance between them shortened and they bumped shoulders before Peter snapped out of a sort of trance and moved forward through his little personal place. “Vamalab never comes into the caves. So I’ve been able to do whatever I want in here really, as long as I do my job when I’m asked. Here.” The pair stopped and the girl bumped into him slightly. “Push that.” He said, motioning toward a flickering purple light.

She stumbled and pressed it lightly. She thought she was dying. The light blasted her eyes and a slight whir filled her ears. She staggered and corrected herself, as to not crash into the other kid. He said something in surprise but she wasn't listening. Her head hurt. Her ears rung. It’s not that she was trying to shut the boy out. But she preferred the silence in all honesty. It didn't hurt her senses.

The small boy steps round a few jagged rocks and a tiny stalagmite like he had mapped out the place. He probably already had. And she can’t help but watch him as he sits down and leans back against a strangely smooth wall. Some kind of light flickered around them.

His eyes flick open and he watches her watching him. “Alright, it’s pretty clear you wanna be on your own - so im’a leave - and I’ll come back in a bit alright? You get settled or whatever.” She can’t help but be silent. He’s talked with her around, but never directly. And she freezes. His footsteps echo slightly on the walls and his shadow flickers out the doorframe before she reacts.

“No!” He freezes. One foot still in the air, like he’s been paralysed. “No. Don’t go.” Desperately she wants to say, ‘like my parents..’ but leaves that untouched. She won’t dare mention parents until she knows if she’s got it better or worse. She wouldn’t want to moan about something only to find that he’s got it even worse off then she does.

“Alright.” He says. Planting his feet onto the floor and walking back to where he was sitting mere moments ago. He goes to say something but stops, closes his mouth. He’s not even trying to hide the fact that he wants to talk. “I won’t go anywhere, unless I have to..” It’s like he’s practised this before, she reckons he’s probably dreamed of someone to talk to here. With all the other kids all about twice his age and size. And yet they’ve not been here as long as he has, supposedly...

“Out there.” She begins, startling him and herself with the fact that she’s started conversation. A quick motion toward where they came from brings the boy out of it and staring right at her with those doe eyes again. “Why did you... y’know...” She’s struggling to get the point out. He doesn’t quite get what she’s saying either. He did multiple things out there. However the slicing motions she makes with her arms tell him what she’s trying to understand.

“Vamalab, the Lasat.” Even with the clarification she’s still confused. “The big dude, who picked me up and....” He trails off, not wanting to bring up the pair of gashes that are only trickling blood now. “He likes our pain, lives to watch us bathe in it. If I was hurt he wouldn’t hurt you anymore.”

Eyes widen and the girl appears unsure what to say. Her thought process seems to be deviating between what she wants to say and what she should say. Peter can read it on her face. Her jaw drops slightly tears seem to materialise in the corners of her eyes. “Thank you.” She manages out, it’s all in one shaky breathe, on the verge of cracking.

“So that why I.. Used the rock.” He doesn’t need to say anything else, and can’t really think of anything. He’s lucky she’s rather thorough.

“No ones ever done anything for me before.” Her voice trails off once more, but he can still make it out. Her head drops and she sniffles up a tear.

“If you can help someone, and you don’t, then the bad things that happen - they happen because of you..” She smiles up at him, she like it. The line. Like it’s meant something to him during his short life. “People call if my saving people thing. Y’know.” He vaguely gestures in a curve with his hand. Referring to a few minutes ago. His left hand that he just moved comes down and rests on his ankle, his arm draped over his thigh.

The girl watches as he rubs away the blood on his temple. She steps forward to help him but halts herself. ‘Boundaries, we probably haven’t crossed them...’ Well, thats what she thought, until his previously stationary hand reaches up and smoothed his thumb against the blood leaking from her cheek.

“You should always help beautiful people.” She’s confused, Theres a bit of a dreamy aspect to his voice as he looks into her eyes. “Like you.” He states. She blinks. Once. Twice. In surprise. Peter watches her brow soften. Then blinks himself. He looks stunned. As if he's broken himself. He coughs and lowers his hand slowly in slight confusion. Then she smiles. A small blush patches across her tear and blood stained cheeks.

His hand has long since dropped down back into his own lap and the girl can’t help but miss its warmth. It was comforting, for when she’s stuck here for the rest of her life... “I don’t get it.” His head tilts up like a confused puppy and her lips twitch upwards. “Why do something like that? For me? You don’t even know my name...”

“Well then. What is your name?” She looks stuck. Something she’s since forgotten, crawling it’s way to the forefront of her memory.

“Michelle. I think. But I always remember my mum and friends calling me MJ...” Her eyes go distant as she stares at the intricate rock surfaces. Peter thinks she’s seeing past memories.

“What do you want me to call you?” Michelle notices his nervous foot tapping, paired with the anxious movement of his fingers against his little makeshift chair.

“MJ. Call me MJ.” It’s now an unspoken bond. They’re friends. They can brace the world together now, their lone wolf days are over. He smiles and stands.

Michelle sees it differently. She isn’t surprised. Last time she tried to make a friend they left.. So why would now be any different? That is until he offers forward his hand. “Hi MJ.”

Michelle smiles at him and shakes his hand. “What’s your name?” She asks. Curious eyes that he can’t deny look down at him from her taller frame.

“I don’t know...” She thinks he’s going to stop there, but he continues. He doesn’t have to, but he does. “I don’t know anymore. The others call me ‘Parker’ though. I think that’s linked with how they found me. I haven’t got another name..” She thinks her bottom lip is trembling, but she tries not to give it a second thought as she realises that: has he not been that short, he would’ve placed his skull straight into the rock mere inches above his head. She gestures and comments on it but in the end shrugs her off.

“Eh. Ive always been on the smaller side. Besides, it helps down here.” Michelle’s right eyebrow lifts on its own in question and Peter honestly thinks it’s kinda cute.

“And What is it that you do down here anyway?” Peter doesn’t really know how to answer that. But thinks ‘Fair question.’

“I’m small.” He starts. ‘Well done Parker. Great observational skills..’ This time he thinks out his words. That’s new for himself. Usually he just says as many words as he can and hopes that someone can make sense of them... “I can’t carry the pick, so they let me scout out stuff. I can get into the places they can’t. They don’t want us wasting resources as we get them minerals.”

Confusion replaces the curiosity on her brow. Peter notes it’s the big that she expresses I’m with most. Apart from her eyes that is. “Who’s they?”

“The Hutts” He says bluntly. He brews over using ‘The slug fuckers.’ But he doesn’t say that. If someone overheard him say that, he’d be facing that Rancor to the death this time..

“Who are the Hutts?”

“The Hutts? You’ve never heard of the Hutts?” He still dwells in calling them ‘The slug fuckers’ but goes against it once more when the almost hurt look on Michelle’s face looks back at him. “No I understand. Sorry. I was being rude. Everyone round here knows who the Hutts are.”

“Well apparently not everyone.” She says matter-of-factly. Gesturing to herself in her voice, not her hands.

“They’re drug traffickers, ship boarders, smugglers..They run everything.” Peter settles on saying that. It wouldn’t be possible to break down all that the Hutts do around here.

The dust is settling in the air when she plops down onto his make shit chair herself. He follows suit and nudges her over with his leg.

“Everything?”

Peter smiles. He’s not sure why. But something about the slight cluelessness is amusing. It’s been a while since he’d met someone that hadn’t personally been fucked over by the Hutt’s. “Everything. In the Outer Rim that is.”

Peter can see her deflate in front of him, he’s almost scared for the next question when she opens her mouth. He rubs her arm soothingly and waits for the words. “How long have you been here?”

He exhales, laughs a short bittersweet realisation. He didn’t know. It’s been a while since he’s been unsure of something. Recently he’s been pretty sure about everything. The only thing he always questioned was where would he be in five or ten years. ‘Probably dead in a ditch.’ Was always the first thought to his brain. “To be blunt. I have no idea. Lost count about halfway through the first year that I could count. Didn’t learn the numbers quicker then the days went up..” Michelle grabs his hand and squeezes it reassuringly. She nestled it back down on his leg and he continues. “I know how many times I’ve been trapped though. 16! They say it’s a record around here..” Michelle can’t help herself. She wraps her arms around him and he lets out a shaky exhale. He tries to hide his appearing blush when he buries his own head in her hair.

The hug lasts a while. A minute, maybe two. Reassuring each other of themselves. “It only gives me the occasional bad dream, it’s not that bad.” He says, but the girl can’t get past the fact that he doesn’t realise he shouldn’t be having nightmares at all.

His voice interrupts her stirring thoughts once more.“I have a feeling we’re gunna be alright though.” Michelle’s forgotten what he’s talking about but makes the effort to remember what he’s saying.

“Why’s that?” The boys enthusiasm and optimism were revitalising.

“Because, now. We’re together.”