"I'm really drunk. That's just f-in' wizard." Anakin rested his spinning head on the bar, reveling in the lack of the force. Alcohol drove it away.

"Are you gonna be okay there, Mister Jedi?" Pete, the barkeep at Blastars Rest, was a little worried. He had never seen such a young Jedi so determined to drown his sorrows before.

"Dunno. Gotta lotta problems." Anakin raised his head, almost ready to fall off the barstool, but not quite there. "Whole lotta problems."

"Yeah, well, lay 'em on me." Pete looked at his other customers, turned on the server droid and then started washing glasses.

"Why would I wanna do that?" Anakin stared at the man, owl eyed.

"Cause I'm a licensed bartender. It's my job." Pete stared solemnly back at the Jedi, wondering if he could pull it off.

"Oh, yeah. Fair enough." Anakin downed another Bantha Piss and hiccoughed for a while. "Man, that's the sht."

"Another?" Pete knew that he should cut the Jedi off, but Jedi were nearly celebrities. No barkeep would dream of eighty-sixing a celebrity.

"Yeah. Hit me again and keep 'em coming." Anakin stared at the bar until another drink was in front of him. "See, I got a girl. Girl problems."

Pete frowned. "I thought the Jedi were all homos."

Anakin choked on his drink and then laughed until he was almost crying. After a time, he settled into giggling. "Maybe some of them. Most of them. But not me, man. I got a thing for-

"No names, please." Pete raised a hand in a gesture of negation. "It's unprofessional."

"Oh." Anakin drank. "Well, see, she's knocked up. They're gonna throw me out of the Jedi if they hear about it."

"Wow." Pete polished a glass, thinking. "Say, what does it pay? Jedi-ing, I mean."

"I get a place to stay, instruction in the Jedi arts and…" Anakin frowned. "Well, I'll get a stipend, if I ever do manage to get knighted."

Pete focused on the most important fact. "How ya gonna pay your tab?"

"I get a nice little pension from the Naboo Spaceforce for saving the planet." Ani grinned, crookedly. "It covers my expenses."

"Not the Jedi?" Pete was not surprised.

"Not a credit."

"So basically, you work for food," Pete summed up.

"Yeah." Anakin sighed.

"Pretty hard life. I saw some news footage. Choppin up giant friggin' combat droids, runnin' around gettin' shot at… so why even do it? What are ya, a slave or something?" Pete shrugged. "Lotsa good jobs out there. Especially for a man that's already got a pension and can take time to look for one that suits him."

Anakin stared. It had never really occurred to him before, but he wasn't a slave anymore. No implanted explosive would count down and kill him for being away from the temple. No Master would send the law to drag him back. In his childhood memory, Gi Quon had in effect purchased him and then willed him to Obi Wan. He had never really thought about his freedom in terms of being free to leave when he'd come to the temple. Why would he, at seven years old? All he'd ever known was slavery, and he even had to call them 'Master,' so it was really a no brainer that he would still feel like a slave at heart. Was that why he'd been pissed off at them for as long as he could remember?

"Whoooah. You know, Pete, you're absolutely right. I don't actually have to be a Jedi."

"There you go." Pete smiled and poured another.

"They're really pissing me off with their crap, too." Anakin gripped his drink. "Don't get angry, Anakin, no attachments, Anakin, don't spit your muraberry pits out of the windows, Anakin… I mean, what the hell! If I'm not angry or attached, why would I ever want to fight anybody in the first place?"

Pete nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and those murraberry pits really stain if you get the juice on your clothes."

"All too true. Thing is, she's going to die unless I do something." Anakin laid his head on the bar.

"What? Your girl? How is she going to die?"

"Childbirth." Anakin sighed. "I saw it in a vision. If I can just develop my force powers, maybe I can stop it."

"Childbirth? What is this, some outer rim dustball? No one dies from childbirth on Corescant anymore." Pete frowned, confused. "The force gives you some sort of special doctor powers, then?"

"No, but- No." Now Anakin was confused. Why had he ever thought that power in the force could stop his wife from dying in childbirth? That was just stupid. Who had suggested it? Oh yeah, Palpantine. Well, what could a politician know about the force?

Pete frowned. "I think you ought to think about taking her to see a really good obstetrician about this. Do you already have one?"

"She's seen a medical droid, but… no."

"A droid? Droids can't even wait tables right. Hell, man, you'd better get her in to the hospital to see a real doctor."

"I can't. The publicity would be pretty bad if the tabloids found out. I could get thrown out of the Jedi."

"So?" Pete shook his head. "Take it from me, I know about this. Look, I married a very beautiful woman that had a twin sister. I spent the next five years doing it missionary with the wife like it was a chore while I was having a really hot affair with the twin. But the bitch was actually faking me out. It was really her all along, you see, so I finally had to divorce her. Lies just don't work in a relationship, Anakin. You just can't live a lie. It just makes you crazy."

Anakin stared at him, mystified. "Uh, yeah. Okay, Pete, but the thing is, she's a senator."

Pete shrugged. "Oh, well then, no problem. Everyone expects that kind of crap from politicians. No one will care at all."

Anakin shook his head admiringly. "Man, I'm glad I met you, Pete. You're the wisest man I ever knew."

Pete nodded modestly. "All part of the job. Say, I got a question that's been bothering me for years."

"Shoot. And hit me, too."

Pete grinned and poured. "Look, you guys got them laser swords and can block blaster bolts and all, but why don't people just use grenades or shotguns?"

Anakin laughed. "Jedi listen to the force, Pete. The force always tells us to run away like hell from grenades and shotguns."

"Always listen to the force you should. Wise indeed are the ways of the force."

Anakin sprayed his mouthful of liquor. "Master Yoda!" He poked his head over and looked incredulously down at the sodden lump on the floor behind the bar.

"Tells me to drink, the force does, mmmmm? The ceiling to spin, it makes." Yoda's eyes were looking in different directions.

"Is this your frog?" Pete frowned, rubbing Bantha Piss out of his eyes. "He drank a gallon of Spacer's Ruin and I can't get him to leave."

"He's one of the Jedi Masters." Anakin rubbed his head. "Why didn't you tell me that he was back there?"

"Because he's always back there on Fridays, newby." Pete finished wiping his eyes and glared. "Look, I gotta go pour some drinks. Just be sure to take him with you when you go."