A/N: Just a heads up, the lullaby I use here is my own edits imposed upon the traditional song/lullaby All Through the Night. So if you recognize it in any capacity, that's why.

While our moons, their watches keeping
All through the night
While this weary world is sleeping
All through the night

Obi-Wan Kenobi was singing. He thought he was singing – or, wait, no, humming along. The voice he heard was far too high to be his own tenor. It was Beru Lars who was singing, somewhere over his shoulder. He was sitting in a cozy, fire-lit living room, cradling Luke's small body warm against his own. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Beru was not sitting by Owen, but by Bail Organa, who held Leia against his chest much like Obi-Wan held Luke. She crooned over the sleeping babe and the lullaby wafted gently over to Obi-Wan, who hummed it over Luke, its words unspoken but engrained on his heart by some ancient memory he couldn't place.

O'er our spirits gently stealing
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure and holy feeling
All through the night.

The song was his song, he knew. He couldn't remember where he'd learned it, but surely it'd been him who had taught it to Beru, to Bail after the war had ended. The war had ended; the Empire defeated, things were as they were meant to be – they had to be, or else they would not all be together like this, together here and at peace. Luke's face twitched in his sleep, infantile lips quirking in a mindless smile. The Jedi master ran a thumb gently down a small, bundled arm. Absently, Obi-Wan considered that, in a different life, fatherhood would've been a grand calling.

A lightsaber ignited.

Leia screamed, high-pitched and frantic, and Beru's shriek rang in twisted unison. Luke grabbed weakly at Obi-Wan's tabards and the Jedi turned, shielding the child as much as he could while taking a defensive stance. He reached for his own saber, but as his fingers brushed the hilt it flew from his belt and into the grasp of a monster, a spindling mass of metal and seared bone, rasping clouds of volcanic ash, smelling sweet and thick of roasted flesh.

"Anakin," The name escaped like a curse. Luke cried harder against his not-father's chest.

The Sith said nothing, angry gold eyes screaming everything he'd said before in a silent, murderous reprise. Obi-Wan took a step backward. "No," he hissed, bringing up both arms to wrap around Luke. He took another step back, and tripped over Welk Sarlin's corpse. Another step, and he was ankle-deep in Qui-Gon Jinn's ashes, in Mace Windu's blood, in Adi Gallia's gore and Siri Tachi's bones. "No," He protested again, to the advancing Sith and the hell-flooded ground. Luke screamed with him. Jedi corpses brushed his boots. Kit Fisto's lifeless lekku tangled his leg. Garen Muln's bloodstained pilot helm bobbed in the waves, beating against his calf. He grasped Luke tighter against himself. "No! You won't take him, too!"

Darth Vader extended a hand toward Luke and pinched, and the silence that replaced the screams was worse than Obi-Wan could've imagined. "No!" He screamed, trying to loosen Vader's grasp, but then he was choking, too, and forced to drop Luke into the drowning flow of death as he grasped aimlessly at his own burning throat. Vader released him suddenly and he tripped backwards, almost stepping on Luke's floating body.

He fell onto a saber and blue fire sprouted from his chest, his own weapon. His head lolled back and he saw the face of Anakin Skywalker, as he'd once been, looming dark and remorseless over him. He looked back down at the blue blade and saw that blood seeped out of his body now despite cauterized agony, spreading like a virus along the sacred blue, tainting it until it glowed crimson to match the tidal flow beneath them, which grew, and grew, and grew, until it hissed hot against his burns and flowed up to smother his face and eyes and into his mouth and –

Obi-Wan opened his eyes.

A low ceiling greeted him, homely plaster chipped in places to reveal the duracrete structure beneath. A small room. No lightsaber glow. The floor was dry and light in color. The lights were off, but the window shades wafted in an air current, allowing gentle waves of light to dance across the room.

Where was this? Obi-Wan's heart still beat a drummer's tempo against his ribs, nightmare not yet past. As if still in a dream, he sat up to look around… and immediately regretted it.

The headache ambushed him and made him remember. The TIEs. Welk. Re-entry, power failing. Parachutes were pulled to late, a crash, dark… head. He was not Obi-Wan. He was Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. The heartbeat in his temples chanted his reality at him as he felt himself over – a nasty lump on one side of his skull, and a cut, too, from the feel of things, which had been taped closed by unknown hands. He drew back a hand from the injury and looked at it, rubbing dried bits of jam-colored bacta between forefinger and thumb. Healers? He looked around the room, at the hand-made lampstand, the quilted coverlet over his legs, the box of old holobooks. No, not a healer's ward. A home. Whose home?

He didn't have his saber. Frantically, he reached out with his senses, seeking the small light, the extension of his own arm. The crystal hummed contentedly back at him from somewhere in the next room. Cautiously, Ben limped to the door and peaked out. It slid open, mercifully quiet. He stepped out into a large living area, tall windows gazing out into a terrestrial climate dusted with moisture. The smell of petrichor filled his senses, calming him through his confusion. He cast eyes around for his saber. Comfortable furniture. Steps down into the den. Bookshelves. Holoscreen. Curtains. What looked to be…children's toys? A half wall at the far end. And… noise. Clatter. Controlled flames. Kitchen? And his saber, glowing softly, somewhere in that direction. He shuffled toward this location, clutching his side gently where he felt a bruised rib. He saw the resident chef before she saw him. A woman, about his age. Blonde hair, freckled skin, pointed noise. She dressed plainly and carried some extra weight on her lower half that indicated at least one victory over childbearing. Ben cleared his throat politely.

She turned with a pan in one hand, saw him, and yelped, reflexively bringing up her domestic weapon like a club. She managed to recover exceptionally quickly, lowering the pan before Ben could even remember to apologize. "I'm so sorry," She said, and took a steadying breath. "You're awake." She set the pan aside and took a hesitant step toward him, looking at the worn and miss-matched robes he still wore, a spot of blood on his left shoulder. She tried to disguise her suspicion, which he supposed he should take as a gesture of goodwill. "And able to walk, that's good. How do you feel?"

Ben wasn't sure how to answer that familiar question. He had long despised everything having to do with medical anything. Healers, hospitals, bacta tanks, the lot. Back in the temple healer's ward, from his youth he had always interpreted such inquiries about his wellbeing as permissions to unleash his most ungrateful and caustic wit. But compassion and hospitality coming from a stranger's home were never invitations to use a sharp tongue. "I…" how did he feel? Physically he had sustained far worse. It was the mental state of things that had him in a tizzy. "I'm sorry, I don't… where am I?"

"Well, this is my house," the woman chuckled. "My family's house. Sorry for the cramped room back there, it's the only spare we have."

"Yes," Obi-Wan could've deduced that. "But… where… what planet is this?"

"Oh, dear, that bad," the woman looked deeply sympathetic. "This world is called Stewjon. You heard of it?"

"Stewjon…" Ben wrinkled his forehead. Oh, he'd heard of hundreds of planets. He didn't know for sure. But… the name seemed familiar. "Yes," he might've lied. "In the, um… eh…"

"We're in the outer core," the woman helped.

"Of course, yes, thank you, uh,"

"Era-Tai." She extended her hand.

"Ob-uh, Ben," Ben said, shaking the fog from his mind and meeting her handshake. That dream had done a number on him, for sure. It'd been years since he slipped up with his name. But there was another lingering concern…

"I um… I think you must've taken something of mine?" He asked politely, patting the space where his saber should be. "Or left it somewhere?" He knew it was here in the room, but he played dumb out of consideration.

"Oh! Yes," Era-Tai's eyes widened a bit, and she turned to a high cabinet, standing on tip-toe to reach. She hesitated, but brought down the lightsaber from its hiding place. "I am sorry… It gave my daughter quite a fright yesterday, and I didn't want it within her reach."

"Your daughter?" Ben took the 'saber gratefully and replaced it on his belt, taking time to straighten his clothes.

"Yes, she's the one who found you." And at this thought, Era-Tai shook her head ruefully. "She wasn't meant to be out so late so close to sunset, but she saw the dust tossed up by your pod and went to investigate. Incorrigible. But a good thing, I suppose." She gestured to Obi-Wan, who nodded in understanding. "Your pod was ruined, cracked open. Your, uh… weapon was on the ground. Eli stepped on the ignition; it scared her bad enough to make her scream, which is what drew Bruan and I over. Thank heavens it was pointed away from her foot."

Obi-Wan shuddered to think how this moment may have gone differently if it hadn't been pointed away. Thank the Force. "I am so sorry," He said politely, folding hands into opposite sleeves.

Era-Tai shook her head. "No need for what ifs," she said easily, and went on, "You were pretty banged up. Bruan – my husband – brought you back here last night and we patched you up best we could… you uh…" she looked nervous now. "You didn't, eh, seem to have any… any Empire symbols on you," it was a question disguised as a statement.

"No," Ben said emotionlessly. Era-Tai's eyes flicked nervously to the lightsaber she'd just returned to him. "I'm hardly a clone," He added. She eased, a little.

"Hardly," She agreed. Before she could say anything more, a small girl appeared from a door across the room. She flew across the den towards the visitor, ginger nerftails swinging on their axes in wild figures.

"You're awake!" She exclaimed with the enthusiasm and frankness of a child who did not need to stand on principles of unfamiliarity. She bounded up to Ben, who looked down at her as she approached. "I thought for sure you were dead!" She said with a gap-toothed grin.

"Eli-Lay!" Era-Tai scolded. "That is a horrible thing to say!"

"No no," Ben placated, "It's quite alright." He turned his attention to the young girl beside him. "Eli-Lay, is it?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Well, Eli-Lay, I believe I owe you a very large debt of gratitude. If you had not found me, I likely would be dead. You saved my life." This seemed to impose an air equal parts solemnity and pride onto Eli-Lay's demeanor. "Thank you."

Instead of receiving this grave admission of thanks with grace, Eli-Lay's attention was distracted elsewhere.

"Where'd you get that?" She asked, pointing to his lightsaber. "Are you a real jedi?" Era-Tai's eyes widened in horror and she hissed a rebuke. Obi-Wan glanced at his saber, a bit taken off guard by the sudden shift in topic, but knowing that to not answer would be the more dangerous route.

"Ah, well…" He wasn't sure how to phrase it. Cornered in a dive bar or at held at blaster point, Ben was used to coming up with suitably gory tales of dead jedi, bloodstained graves, prying hilts out of dead hands, but to a child… "Perhaps I am a man who has killed real jedi," He posited, putting a little Force suggestion behind his words and what he hoped was an intimidating facial expression. Eli-Lay was taken aback for about two seconds. And then,

"No."

"No?" his eyebrows lifted.

"If you killed jedi, you would have just said so."

"And why would I do that, young one?" Ben asked, crossing his arms imposingly. Eli-Lay shrugged, and looked to her mother for affirmation.

"That's what the other ones did," she said guilelessly, unaware of the dagger she'd just slipped between Ben's ribs. Era-Tai's face was a picture of tortured apprehension, wishing to stop the conversation but unsure how. Mercifully, a charm signaled that an exterior door had just opened.

"Ah, Eli, that'll be your father, go help him bring in his gear."

"But he was just going to town, he doesn't have any-"

"Go, Eli."

With a small grumble, Eli-Lay trudged obediently downstairs. Era-Tai forced a taught smile at her houseguest. "Would you like something to drink? Water? Caff? Tea?"

"Tea would be lovely," Ben answered politely, voice still small from the shock of Eli's exclamation. He shuffled awkwardly while she worked, adjusting a hand against his sore ribs. Over her shoulder, Era-Tai eyed him – and his saber - with curiosity. He knew she was wondering too, now, but was grateful she hadn't pressed the matter.

"Yes, I can see that," Bruan was saying as he stepped up the stairs with his daughter bouncing at his side. "He is indeed very much awake," he said now to the room, giving his wife a soft look. He turned to Ben. "I hope you're in a better way than I left you," He said with a friendly look.

"Very much so, thanks to your family. I cannot repay you for your hospitality."

"No need, friend," Bruan glanced at the lightsaber but chose to smile past his doubts. "Please, sit."

Bruan was about Ben's height, but stockier in build. He seemed athletic and strong, but carried some weight on his belly and under his chin, which was dusted with a dark scruff. He had a receding hairline and a few grey hairs, big round hazel eyes, and well-worn laughter lines. All in all, he was an extremely relaxing figure to be around. Even his force signature was calming. Ben focused on him, releasing the young girl's words from memory.

"So tell me," Bruan asked as Era-Tai served tea and came to sit with them in the den. "What on earth happened to land you here?"

Ben sighed, wondering how much he should relate. "An unfortunate flying accident," He said at length, earning a snort from Bruan.

"An understatement, perhaps."

"Yes, well… my ship sustained some undetected damage some parsecs away. I made the jump to hyperspace and it tore a rip in my fuel line. Your planet's orbit pulled me out of hyperspace and I had no choice but to abandon ship." Literally no choice, he added silently, wincing at the memory of Welk Sarlin's final farewell. It was not my idea.

"You are an incredibly lucky man to have survived that,"

"Lucky," Ben said, a touch ruefully. There was no such thing, he knew. "Indeed."

Bruan nodded at Ben's lightsaber. "I see you got that back. Gave poor Eli a bit of a fright," He flicked his daughter's nerf tails with a chuckle and she pouted, mumbling something along the lines of "wasn't scared" under her breath.

"I am sorry about that," he said, "I'm afraid the power to my pod was running low, and I pulled the emergency chutes entirely too late. The impact must've tossed it from the pod."

"He's a real jedi, dad," Eli-Lay had meant to whisper, but didn't know how to do so quietly. Ben's eyebrows raised. Bruan's face jumped into an expression equal parts surprise and alarm.

"Is that so?" He said evenly to his daughter.

"The jedi are extinct, little one," Ben told her, a touch sadly. "You ought to know that."

This seemed to end the conversation, but Eli-Lay crossed her arms and squinted at Ben even as he continued talking with her parents.

Their conversation was awkward but helpful; they established that Ben may have sustained a small concussion and should stay close by for another few days to make sure the damage was not severe. Been protested, but he was outmatched. Era-Tai and her husband were a tag team of smothering hospitality, and in the end not only was he their houseguest, but he had a change of Bruan's clothes at his disposal, a promise of a homecooked meal, and hot bath in store, should he want it. He was unsure of how, exactly, this had come about, but he managed to thank them with a straight face.

It wasn't too much work for Ben to put the family at ease about his character without ever revealing too much about himself. He had no Imperial symbols on him, no blasters or bombs. Lightsaber aside, he was a picture of charming manners and grace, impossible not to like. For all they knew, he was an unfortunate courier pilot who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Non-threatening and not military. Every reason to trust him. Bruan and Era-Tai took him at his word. Eli-Lay, however, did continue to squint at him - and his lightsaber. He made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

Over the course of the evening, Ben learned that Bruan's parents lived closeby, and had been expecting the family that evening – Era-Tai would have to comm them and explain their unavailability.

"No, I need to head over there," Bruan explained, "Dad needed to borrow my toolkit for their thermo unit. Thing's started cutting out at night, and you know how cold it gets."

"Oh," Era-Tai winced in understanding, hauling out cooking equipment suited for a four-person meal. "Alright. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself fixing it."

Bruan smiled. "I'll probably stay. Eli, could you give me hand with this?" Bruan asked, heaving up a metal box of tools. A leather toolbelt remained on the ground. "Eli?" He sighed and shook his head. "Disappears at the worst times, I swear…" Ben smiled.

"Please, allow me."

"You're injured,"

"It's not nearly as bad as it looks," he picked up the belt and slung it over one shoulder. Bruan shrugged, thanked him, and led the way outside.

"Speeder's just this way," He said, walking down a long muddy path to a garage. Ben took a quick survey of his surroundings. It was dusk, the horizon a deep blue. They were in the middle of a wide valley, mountains purple on the horizon. Farming domes and rows of crops rose up some ways off into east. On the west, at the edge of the valley, twinkling lights and lines of air traffic suggested a bustling cityscape. Even in the Empire's shadow, it seemed, Core worlds were doing well.

"It's been some time since I've been to the Core," Ben said conversationally. "Your world seems to be doing well."

He could sense he'd struck a slight nerve. "Well enough," Bruan conceded. "But with the Empire here now, all's not always as it seems."

Been absorbed this. "You are not a supporter of the Empire," He said. Fear flashed briefly over Bruan's expression. He clenched his jaw, unable to lie.

"No." Then he glanced at Ben's saber, swaying against his thigh as they walked. "Though with that thing there, I'd wager you wouldn't be their number one fan, either."

Ben tilted his head in subtle acceptance. "Not exactly, no," which made Bruan chuckle.

"I don't suppose you actually killed that jedi?" the man ventured, now alone without Eli-Lay's innocent ears.

Ben weighed his words before saying them. "No, not as such." It was vague enough to give Bruan pause. Even so, by the time they had reached the garage he'd worked up another bit of courage to speak.

"Are they really all dead? The jedi, I mean."

"I'm afraid so," Ben nodded. Did it count if he was the only one left?

Bruan looked sad, but unsurprised. "My brother was a jedi," he said, and then looked away as if it'd slipped out unbidden.

Ben's eyebrows shot up. "Really?" He asked, as Bruan reached up to yank on the garage door lever.

"Or so I've been told. Never got to meet him." He grunted and the door screeched open, rust falling from one track. "Hell, for all I know he was killed years ago, before the whole…" He gestured widely, used to censoring his rebellious sentiments. He shrugged and glanced again at Ben's lightsaber and shrugged. "It's a pity. Anyway." He lifted the hatch on his landspeeder and deposited his toolbox. "Just stick that back here," Bruan instructed. "I'll be back in a few hours, hopefully. Era and Eli will take care of you."

Ben was nodding along amicably as he tossed the toolbelt into the back of the speeder. It was a worn leather affair, obviously standard issue for an engineer or mechanic. It wasn't surprising, then, that Bruan's name and ID number were branded into the leather in dark letters. However, seeing his name made Ben's heart leap into his throat so he could neither nod nor speak.

#20683

KENOBI, BRUAN

SR. ENGINEER

DOCK #7

"You alright there?" Bruan noticed he stayed hunched over the speeder's rear hatch. "You didn't make that rib worse, did you?"

"No, no, I'm quite alright, thank you," Ben's eyes stayed on the belt as Bruan came over. "You're an engineer?" He queried.

"Was. The Empire wanted me to design better starfighters for them. I told them it was it was time for me to retire back to my home and take care of my old decrepit, ailing parents." He laughed, as though this idea were funny. "I managed to sneak that souvenir before I left.

"And, uh… Kenobi?"

"My surname," Bruan said, closing the hatch and walking around to the driver's seat. "I'd best be off before it's completely dark. Save some of Era's cooking for me?" He kidded, and closed the hatch. Ben could not manage anything more than a smile and a nod.

The speeder jumped to life, its repulsors thrumming in a low, steady rhythym. Ben was frozen where he stood, staring openly at Bruan through the window. Bro-ther. Bro-ther, bro-ther, brother brother brotherbrotherbrother, the accelerating rythym chanted at him, his heart clenched in a way he would never had expected, if ever he had gathered his wits to consider this impossible scenario before.

Bruan left him there the garage. Ben walked slowly back outside and closed the garage door with a wave of his hand. He looked back across the field to the glowing windows of the… Kenobi household.

When they'd said they'd give him a family-style dinner, he hadn't expected it to become so literal. A lump formed in his throat.

Of course, neither had they.

He walked back to the house in a numb daze, wondering why his eyes were watering for strangers.