This was originally posted as a section in my one-shot AU series, Toss of the Coin. Raikuge practiced her puppy eyes on me for a continuation, though, seconded by many of my other readers, so what's a girl to do? I gave in. Following chapters will be up as written (or evenly spaced out, depending.)

Ben Kenobi's speeder screeched to a halt in a cloud of dust even larger than usual. He sprang out, holding a piece of his robe over his face but otherwise ignoring the pervading sand as he fled into the house. "Owen! Beru!" He rarely raised his voice, even more rarely panicked. He could think of few reasons Lord Darth Vader would be coming to Tatooine, and such a rare event might well deserve a smidgen of alarm. "Owen Lars!"

"What is it, Kenobi?" demanded the moisture farmer, stepping into the courtyard.

"Vader," Obi-Wan said succinctly. "Get Luke."

Beru had appeared in the doorway, paling at the news. Now she turned and hurried down the hallway, calling. "Lu-uke! Luke?" Moments later, she reappeared, grey-faced. "He's gone."

Anakin had detested riding on animals, preferring speeders. Lord Darth Vader had retained this trait, but no speeders suitable for his purpose had been available, so he and his entire battalion were mounted on a motley mixture of dewbacks, eopies, and a handful of banthas. He was reflecting sourly on perhaps having to execute the lot of them once this whole raid was over, so the image of his indignity didn't spread, and how unsuitable a black suit of armor was to the twin suns of Tatooine, and how very much he hated this planet. The sooner they accomplished their purpose and left, the better.

"Sir!" came a voice from behind him. "A life form at ten-o'clock! Appears to be a human child..." the stormtrooper finished, tones distinctly puzzled under the dehumanizing helmet.

"Not our problem," came the disinterested reply from the captain of the troopers, but Darth Vader abruptly halted his deplorable beast and held up a hand. He felt the ripples of surprise from behind him as the troopers hastily reigned in their own mounts. Dismounting, Darth Vader approached the child, who blazed like a beacon in the Force. He was small, no more than five years old, tow-headed and blue-eyed - a son of the desert. He clutched a tiny model of a T-16 to his chest, his lip trembling, but he bravely held back tears as he wandered over the dune. He looked up in surprise as the monstrously tall, black-clad figure approached him.

"Are you a droid?" the child asked, and beneath his mask, Darth Vader blinked in surprise.

"No," he rumbled in response after a few seconds' pause. "I am a cyborg."

The little boy screwed up his face in concentration. "That means you have mechanical parts, doesn't it?" he said, although it was as much to himself as Vader. "Grampa Cliegg had prophetic legs. He wasn't my real Grampa, of course - it's kinda complicutted. I'm Luke Skywalker, what's your name?"

"Skywalker?" Vader echoed in disbelief. "Cliegg Lars?"

"Yes!" the child confirmed joyfully. "I live with my Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru," he added, gesturing vaguely behind him. "Uncle Owen's kinda stern, but Aunt Beru's nice, I know she loves me. But I'm lost," he finished, lip trembling again.

"That you are," Vader agreed dryly, rethinking his original plan of annihilating anyone even remotely connected to Anakin Skywalker, personified, in this case, by Owen and Beru Lars. "We shall take you back - but why don't you live with your parents?"

A wash of sadness swept over him. "They're dead," little Luke murmured, scuffing the sand with one foot. "They died when I was born." He sounded lost, forlorn, and Darth Vader knew for a fact that while his mother might be dead, his father was not.

"Come," he said, hesitating a moment before awkwardly putting out a hand to the child. "We'll take you home." As he led his son - for now the Dark Lord was convinced it was he - back to the dewback, he reflected that he would indeed have to eliminate the entire battalion for the sake of his reputation.

"Kenobi," Darth Vader rumbled menacingly as he and his men approached the homestead. The Larses and his former Master were all standing outside, and he was darkly amused by the stark horror on each of their faces. He got no further, interrupted by Luke.

"Aunt Beru!" the boy shrieked joyfully, sliding from his perch in front of Vader and running over to his aunt. She knelt in the sand to clutch him close, shaking violently, but he tugged her towards the dewback. "Come meet Lord Vader!" Luke urged, almost dancing. "He found me in the desert and saved me! He's really nice!" So excited was young Skywalker that he didn't notice the taut silence of the adults, or the funny expressions on his uncle's face or that of the man beside him. He didn't even notice everyone's flattened disbelief in the Force. It would've been fair to say that every adult present had no idea how to react to this last statement.

Darth Vader dismounted. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lars," he said perfunctorily, and skewered Obi-Wan with his gaze. "Kenobi! You have three minutes to explain this." He waved a hand at Luke, who took offense.

"I don't even know who he is!" the boy objected, and everyone looked at him. "Who is he, Uncle Owen?"

"Perhaps, we should go inside," Beru suggested timidly, hoping possibly in vain to avoid bloodshed but willing to work for it, despite its low odds.

Three pointed gazes from the men around her pinned on the stormtroopers, still waiting patiently atop their various transports, and one adoring gaze glued itself to her face. "Let's go inside," Luke echoed.

"I wish to speak to Kenobi, alone," Vader said menacingly. "Out here."

"Oh." Luke squinted at the stormtroopers. "Then they'll all have to come inside." He hurtled forward and gave an extremely startled Lord Vader a hug around the knees (as high as the little boy could reach) before the diminutive juggernaut sped for the stairway down into the house, beckoning to the troopers and his aunt. "Come on! But don't track in sand!"

Owen hung back outside, but a pointed glower from Vader and a subtle nod from Ol' Ben sent him inside after his wife and step-nephew. Vader rounded on the Jedi. "He is my son!" he thundered, furious! "What is he doing here? Why was he not brought to me? How did he survive?"

"Yes, being protected, you killed younglings and the Empire kills sensitives, and his mother lived long enough to give birth," Obi-Wan said crisply. "I knew that if he were given over to the Sith, he would be twisted and destroyed - if not killed outright." He gave his former apprentice a keen glance. "Kill me now if you will," he said quietly. "But think twice about destroying your son."

"What are you doing so close to him?" Vader asked suspiciously. "Indoctrinating him with your Jedi lies?" He wasn't sure whether he'd be angrier about the boy being taught or not.

Obi-Wan gave him a haughtily disappointed look. "No," he returned, his tone conveying 'you moron.' "Protecting him."

Force, how he hated being indebted to Kenobi. He pointed. "Go." Wisely, the Jedi left, and Darth Vader stalked down the stairs into the homestead. Unprepared for the low ceilings, he bumped his head on the doorjamb as he entered the room where everyone was gathered. Not that it mattered much, his reputation was a shambles already anyway. The stormtroopers were all outwardly silent, standing around in bored positions - doubtless they were busily gossiping on their handy helmet comms. Owen was standing in the kitchen, watching and listening as Beru, sitting at the table with Luke, scolded the boy for wandering off. Luke was drooping, but a mere second after Vader had entered the room, he perked up bright as the suns overhead and slid off his chair, running to the Dark Lord.

Beru blanched, but bravely stood. "Luke, don't annoy Lord Vader," she said tremulously, and the boy turned a beaming face upwards.

"I won't," Luke replied, self-assured and still clinging. "He's nice."

Vader sighed. This was going to take some work.