Archive: SWAL, WWOMB and JAOA - anybody else just ask.
Archive Date: December 11, 1999
Author's Webpage: http://digitalmidnight.simplenet.com/garden/jaoa.html
Category: AU, Drama
Disclaimer: George Lucas is god and owns everything... except this weird permutation
which is just for entertainment and I doubt he'd want it.
Feedback: YES! It keeps my plot bunnies fed and healthy.
Notes: This is what I get for going to see TPM again... amazing the plot bunnies
that follow you home. =)
Pairing: An, H
Rating: PG
Series: JAOA Tweener
Summary: Han gets a glimpse of Anakin's early life
The setting suns bathed the horizon in flames, casting long bloody shadows across the sands. Han wiped a cloth across his damp brow, grimacing at the hot, dry breeze that simultaneously dried the sweat in his cropped hair and sent itching trickles of it trailing down between his shoulder blades.
He had abandoned his outer tunic in the sweltering heat of mid day but even the thin fabric of his undertunic was unbearably hot, sweat drenched and sticking to his skin. The backs of his hands were reddened and he could feel the tight itch of a burn across his nose and cheeks. Sighing, he wiped another drip of sweat away from his eyes and shifted uncomfortably on his seat.
Below him, the crowds had dissipated, only a few scattered handfuls of beings still milling across the broad tiers of seats. The sounds of impromptu celebrations could be heard, raised voices and laughter, the scent of alcohol and food. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he had last eaten early that morning.
He had just leaned back, finding a meagerly tolerable position to lean his shoulders against the seat above him, when the light flicker of a touch skated across his mind. Groaning, Han struggled back up, wiping irritably at his forehead and throat as he rose to his feet and picked his way along the seats to the steps.
At least the steps were down, and not up, he thought sourly. The heat had sapped the strength from his legs, leaving his balance sometime precarious as he walked down the long flight of shallow steps to the sands below. Anakin waited there beside their landspeeder, looking insufferably comfortable to Han's sweating gaze, despite the older man's layered clothes.
"Aren't you hot?" he demanded when he came within hearing. "Even a little bit?"
Anakin looked genuinely surprised. Leaning one hip against the side of the speeder, he tilted his head back to glance at the blazing horizon. "It's sunset," he replied. "The temperature's already falling. It gets cold at night."
"Cold," Han repeated, disbelieving. "Small wonder you're freezing all the time. You think it's normal to be baked alive."
Anakin waved his comments away. "It was a mild day," he insisted. Glancing at Han, he shook his head. "I told you to keep your hood up. Your nose is going to blister."
Han groaned, lightly touching the offended skin and hissing at the feel. "Sith. If I'd left the cloak on I'd have melted." He glanced across the broad track of sand, then up to the tiers of seats. "And you think this is fun."
"It's entertainment," Anakin corrected. "And profitable. Fortunes are made and lost in betting." The smile appeared, bright and warm with a glint of mischief. "But if you're actually racing... yes, it was fun."
Han stared at him, then pointedly turned to stare at the still smouldering pieces of one pod that had cut too close to the base of one of the stands, and then back to the older man's smiling face again. "And how many times did you almost die?" he asked wryly.
Anakin paused momentarily, smile faltering as he considered. "A few," he admitted. "Not everyone races fair." The grin returned, silently laughing at Han. "And sometimes raiders will use the course for target practice."
"Right," Han said, sighing. "Eight... I and everyone I know were in initiate classes, and you... you had a death wish."
The older man laughed, reaching out to lightly ruffle Han's hair. "Don't be so dramatic." Turning away, he climbed into speeder, sliding over to the control seat. "Get in. I want to show you something."
Shaking his head slightly, Han vaulted into the speeder. "Just as long as it involves a cold drink."
"Later," Anakin promised. "Right now, I want you to see something."
In retrospect, Han realized that the glint in the older man's eyes, the persistent grin that hovered at his lips, should have warned him. Should have set off warning klaxons in his mind and raised the fine hairs along his neck. However, in heat dazed reality, nothing at all occurred to him until he saw Anakin's hand reach towards the speeder's controls and the premonition came a second too late.
"AnaKIN!" The whine of the speeder's engine as Anakin slammed open the throttle, forcing it from idyl to full speed, drowned out his yelp. Han ducked his head from the sudden onslaught of dry wind, grabbing at the edge of his seat as the small craft leaned into the sharp turn, tearing out across the smooth course before the stands.
Swearing, Han tucked himself lower in the seat. The wind grabbed at his hair and tunic, cold against the damp sweat on his neck. The stands were left behind, the desert sands flashing by to either side at reckless speed. A glance showed Anakin, gaze fixed ahead, hands steady at the controls, grin in place. Han swore louder, unable to hear himself over wind and engine.
Sand gave way to rock, towering jagged pinnacles thrust up like spikes through the desert ground. Han gave off swearing and gritted his teeth as the speeder slid around the obstacles with stomach churning sharpness. His hands were clenched, white knuckled, upon the seat, his entire body braced, muscles flinching with each wall of cream and rust layered rock that they rushed towards, only to twist aside at the last moment.
And then spikes of rock gave way to walls of it, a canyon carved deep, sunk in dusky evening shadows, and Han grabbed what breath he could from the screaming wind and started swearing again.
Shadows distorted the canyon walls, hid the rocks before them. Han held on until he felt his fingers numb, swearing reduced to one stubborn repeated phrase in guttural Rodian. He could feel Anakin's laughter in the back of his mind, the man's delight like the bubbling flow of an intoxicant beneath the surge of cold adrenaline in his veins. "You're insane!" he screamed, the words lost to the ears but burning through the link between them. "Sith, you're insane!"
Anakin's only reply came in the tortured whine of the engine as he edged it past the safety margin, control lights flashing warning amber beneath his hands, the speeder tearing deep into the next turn.
Down, plunging beneath the rock. The spikes returned, above and below, set like the gigantic fearsome teeth of some carnivorous creature, barely illuminated for flashing seconds in the speeder's running lights before Anakin deftly spun them past the formations. Han's voice died in his throat and he clamped his eyes shut, unwilling to watch.
One dizzying, stomach wrenching turn that dropped the reassuring reference of up and down away from him forced him to open them again, clutching desperately at the dubious safety of the speeder, teeth ground painfully tight.
He could dimly feel the overstressed vibrations of the speeder in the console beneath his braced hand, the keen of the engine painfully high. The controls before Anakin were lit up in solid bloody red, casting a baleful light across his hands as the older man coaxed another glimmer of speed from the little craft.
The speeder screamed around a last formation and light flared, blindingly bright as the underground course erupted back to the surface of the sands. Narrow, too narrow, and the scream building at the back of Han's throat finally erupted in full voiced glory as Anakin, without hesitation, forced the speeder to angle up the canyon wall and the ground suddenly filled Han's view less than an arm's length from the speeder's side.
Hard, jagged rock, flashing past the entirety of his all too brief life, and then the light was truly blinding and there was nothing but air as the speeder shot into the open. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, jarring painfully through his bones, and dimly he could hear Anakin's triumphant yell above the speeder's outraged shriek.
Jagged shallow rock levels carved by sand and wind, each jolt straining the speeder's abused anti-grav field and jarring Han's teeth together with painful hardness. He could taste the salty flat tang of blood where he had bitten his tongue, hands and feet numb from the pressure of hopelessly bracing himself. It was with an almost gasping insensitivity that he watched the remaining length of the obstacle ridden course curve into the clear stretch leading back towards the stands.
The whine of the engines deepened as they turned into the final curve, the flickering controls fading to a sullen orange, then yellow, as their speed dropped. In a last bit of cocky arrogance Anakin spun the tiny craft around, dovetailing it neatly into a sand spraying full stop at the base of the steps where they had begun from. The abrupt cessation of the drone of engine and wind was almost deafening, ringing thunderously through Han's ears.
The only sound for long moments was gasping, as both men caught their breath. Han forced numb fingers to release their circulation cutting grip, groaning beneath his breath as overtensed muscled protested the movement. He turned stiffly to the other man, voice ground through still clenched teeth. "Skywalker..."
Anakin, eyes bright, blonde hair tousled across his forehead, flashed a brilliant smile at him. "That," he said firmly, "wasn't pod racing." The smile grew a notch, pure invigorated delight. "But it was good."
Glaring, nerve and body exhausted, stomach clenched tight, Han hesitated and then slowly shook his head. He couldn't find words to mar the unadulterated enjoyment in the other man's expression. "Sith," he rasped tiredly. "Sith, you're worse then insane." Reaching out, he slapped Anakin's hands away from the controls. "Get away from that. I'm taking us back."
Anakin only laughed, a warm sound that spread like sparkling light between them, soothing Han's jangled nerves until he did nothing more then lightly flinch as the older man, with a grin, eased the engine back to abused, whining life. "Sithspawn," he muttered, slumping down into the seat.
Anakin shook his head. "My poor Han," he mock sympathized, the warmth of his tone taking away any sting. "A real race would go the course twice more."
"You're all insane," Han clarified firmly, watching warily as the older man slid the speeder into a low, easy glide. "The suns have burned away your minds." He made the words sharp but they had the intended effect - Anakin laughed again, chuckling softly, and Han, closing his eyes to the broad foreign spaces of the desert, let the familiar sound lull him.