A small tribute to Owen and Beru Lars and the little known danger and troubles they put themselves through all in the name of one little boy.
Author: Balrogs Breath/Oro
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers for the first movie, A New Hope
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars and make no money from writing this. I do however, own the adventures they encounter.
Summary: A small tribute to Owen and Beru Lars and the little known danger and troubles they put themselves through all in the name of one little boy. Includes: Luke Skywaker's first years, several adventures and just a lot of answered questions.
AN: I don't know much about this, so parts of it may end up being AU, if that is so please forgive me and realize that I am human too.
The people of Tatooine were strong and resilient in ways only a Corellian could compare to, although a Corellian would never admit to it. They were stubborn too, never admitting they were wrong or backing out on a decision. These traits were arguably good or bad, of course the people of Tatooine would tell you that they were standards the rest of the galaxy should live up to, but the rest of the galaxy couldn't even place Tatooine on a star chart if they were paid.
As a backwater planet it housed a strange array of races from Hutts to Humans and in-between, an innumerable number of strange things that had either gotten stuck there, were too stupid to leave, or actually enjoyed it.
Among the few who actually enjoyed living on the dusty planet were Beru and Owen Lars. Their mothers and fathers had been moisture farmers, and their mothers and fathers before that as well. In fact, there was no time that either of them could remember, that their family had not been tied up in the moisture farming business. And there was a good market for moisture on a planet that never rained, had no oceans and largest body of water was the sink you washed your good dishes in. Even when Tatooine was predominantly a slave planet, there had been moisture farmers, and as long as there were moisture farmers, they could trace their family back.
The two had been married ten years ago, their anniversary was only two cycles away, and had been enjoying what they had thought as a very successful life. They had a decent amount of money, a good sized farm, enough droids to help out, and they were quite happy together. Sometimes Beru thought Owen was too quiet and stern, and sometimes Owen thought Beru was too soft, but generally they were content. There was nothing startling to speak of, only the set and rise of the two suns changed each day. Things were quiet.
That is, until a certain Obi-Wan Kenobi showed up in the stooped, sand covered doorway that kept their home out of the night wind.
He came in the evening, after all the droids had been shut down, and the lights turned off. The night wind was just beginning to pick up, its eerie howl starting to shift the grains of sand, rolling them gently against each other and creating the screams that defined a Tatooine midnight. He stood on their stoop, hunched over and nearly as dark as the dunes behind him. They didn't notice that he held something in his arms until he was seated down and given a cup of something warm.
Nothing was said for several minutes, and nothing was needed - both parties were remembering, remembering things of years past.
"So where have you been brother?" It was Owen who asked. His hands were clasped around a mug of his own, containing the sought after liquid that was so scarce on this planet. His fingers were sore - it was Tatooine's hottest season and the water evaporated almost as quickly as it was collected, requiring quick work and fast fingers. Beru sat beside him, her fingers equally as stiff. Both of them were silent.
"Here and there," was the response. Obi-Wan sat stiff as well, one arm wrapped around his bundle and the other lifting the mug to his lips.
"Jedi business?"
A nod.
"You missed the wedding."
The Jedi looked at them both apologetically. "It couldn't be helped," he said. "There was a civil outbreak on one of the unstable planets. A diplomat had to be there."
Silence again.
"Why are you here?" Beru sat up in her chair, closer to both her husband and to her brother-in-law. "There must be a reason." She said it politely, making up for Owen's brashness, but the Jedi didn't seem to mind either.
"I have to ask you a favor. A very big favor but you must first understand its significance." The Jedi was tense, poised on the edge of his chair. He knew how important this was, even if they didn't.
Owen was about to open his mouth but Beru stepped on his foot and spoke up first. "We will help in any way we can." There was a firmness to her voice that reminded Obi-Wan of his own mother - a feeble memory of a strong woman with strong hands and sandy hair. She would make a good mother, and he noticed for the first time, that Owen would make a good father as well.
The desert howled outside and only the Jedi seemed unnerved by it.
The bundle moved in his arms.
He unwrapped it slightly, to show tiny little hands and fingers poking out of the dust covered cloth and even more to show a fuzz covered head and two very small blue eyes.
Beru was the first to react, gasping and running over to him, first glaring at him and then scooping the child into her arms and cooing at it. Owen, who was not far behind her, only stared at them with his mouth open. Then something in his mind clicked and he began to back away.
"No, no, no, no!" The younger man sat back down in his chair. "There is no way we are taking in a child!"
Beru took this opportunity to once again step on her husbands foot and glare at him. "No one said we were going to do anything of the sort, I was simply looking at what a beautiful little boy he is." She stopped petting him for a moment to look at Obi-Wan. "Who is he?"
The Jedi sighed and Owen immediately grew uneasy. It was not every day you saw a Jedi-Knight express not only pure emotion, but worry.
"I took a padawon years ago. This is his son." Obi-Wan felt empty without the boy in his arms and had to put himself through several calming techniques to replace his emotionless exterior.
"You and your Jedi ways… keeping a son from his father. Despicable!" Owen paused. Still sitting he looked in the eyes of his brother. "Does that mean he's not a little Jedi? If he was you would keep him wouldn't you?"
Memories shot up, memories that had long ago been buried in the dunes of Tatooine. Years before Owen had been born, Obi-Wan had been taken from their mother. The Jedi had come to their home, requested council with the lady of the house, and taken the force sensitive child. It had long been debated, for years before the name Kenobi had even been heard of, whether the means of spiriting away force sensitive children from their families was humane, but no action had been taken. It was true that the children were given a good life in the care of wise knights, but everyone knew there were failures. Children who couldn't quite keep up, not quite bright enough, or quick enough to compete with the more talented.
Obi-Wan seemed to catch onto his train of though, through force means or not Owen had no knowledge of. "The Order is breaking, if it has not broken already, you know that as well as I do." The Jedi felt remorse for his upcoming statements. He hated lying, though it was necessary to show only a certain point of view for diplomacy purposes quite often, this lie was no easier to spit out then any of the others he had in the past. "But no, he is not a force sensitive. His father is a more complicated matter."
Beru shot him a look that once again reminded him of his few memories of his mother. The look that she gave their older brother when he was caught stealing sugar from the cracked bowl above the doorway. Although she was not nearly as connected to the Jedi as her husband was, she knew their ways from tales. Jedi knights weren't allowed to wed, to have children, or to have a family at all. They were destined to a life alone. She continued to rock the child and smiled when he squealed at her in such a way that only babies can manage. "What about the mother? Why isn't she taking care of him?"
"The mother is dead, and so is the father in a sense."
"In a "sense"?" Owen clutched at his mug harder. He had dealt with Jedi evasion for years now, but when it came to dead or not dead he could hardly see any area for margin. "Either the man is in his grave or he is not!" Beru seemed to agree with him, but stepped on his foot and told him to be quieter or he would disturb the baby. By this time Owen's foot was quite bruised.
Obi-Wan sighed again. This was turning out to be more difficult than he had anticipated. "Would you like me to be frank?"
Both Beru and Owen turned to him, gob struck, but it was Beru that spoke. "It would be nice," she said.
"Alright. My apprentice was Anikin Skywalker, he used to be from Tatooine in fact. I should never have taken him, he was too old and too reckless…" His voice dwindled off and melted with the howls of the desert night. "Needless to say, he went dark."
"So he isn't dead?" It was Beru again, she seemed to have the more common sense.
"No."
The stout woman raised an eyebrow at him and stopped rocking. "Well…"
"He now goes by the name of Darth Vader."
There was silence. The wind screamed, an imitation of their minds, and little wars waged themselves inside of them. Reason against fear, and hate against love they continued, until, after an uncomfortable silence, Beru spoke.
"Well… I see your dilemma." She began to rock the child again, who had begun to cry softly during the quiet. "Are you going to raise him then?"
And Obi-Wan looked at them with pleading eyes for the first time Owen could remember. To him the Jedi had always seemed emotionless, perfect without a fault, to a fault. To see this look in a Jedi's eyes, his brother's eyes, was startling. It startled Beru too, for she shared a quick glance with her husband before setting the child awkwardly in Owen's arms. He stared at it for a moment. It had blue eyes, a common trait of humans who lived on Tatooine, blond hair that was only a fuzzy layer on his tiny head. Little fingers lined equally little hands and arms and he couldn't help but smile. There was undeniably something strange about children that brought out parental feelings in adults.
"I couldn't raise a child, what with the Order crumbling as it is." The look was still in his eyes, just as raw.
Beru stood with her hands on her hips and stared at him. "You want us to take him don't you?"
He nodded and Beru nodded back.
"What about his father? Vader? Are we in danger?"
All pleading left Obi-Wan. "Yes," he said, and it was true. They were in extreme danger, both from Vader himself and the Jedi Order, who had not given him permission to walk out with the child. Only his mother, Padme, had given her consent, and to Obi-Wan, that was all that was needed. "But I will be nearby at all times. All you must do is raise him to be different from his father, keep him safe, and not let him out of your sights."
Beru looked at her husband, who was looking between them and the baby. He glared at them, muttering something along the lines of, "Crazy Jedi," and then looked back to the child and smiled, touching the tiny fingers with his own calloused ones. Beru smiled back at Obi-Wan. "Yes, we will take him in as our own."
Owen, handing off the boy to his wife, asked his brother, "What is his name?"
"Luke, Luke Skywalker."
"Luke Skywalker. It is a fitting name for a moisture farmer," he proclaimed, and Obi-Wan began to laugh.
"And here I thought it sounded more like a pilots name! I should have known better." He continued laughing, and Owen was tempted to join him but decided against it.
"He will not be a pilot if I can help it." Beru nodded her head. "Where are you staying?"
The Jedi smiled softly and began to stand up. "I have a place in the wastes."
"The wastes! Do you have a speeder?" Owen, now baby free, stood up as well.
"No but I can use the exercise."
"You can't be leaving now! It is freezing out! You must stay the night." But despite the firmness in Beru's voice, Obi-Wan made for the door, looking exactly the same as when he had come in, only now without a child in his arms.
"I'm afraid not, Beru, I really must be going." He shook hands with his brother, a formal goodbye since they had long ago lost all the joys of being friends and brothers, and kissed Beru on the cheek, before opening the door to the cold of the desert and walking out.
Owen shut the door.
They both sat down, poured each other another glass of water and listened to both the wails of the night and the sounds of their new child.
"It is strange," Owen finally said, "I never thought I would have a son…"
Beru smiled sadly at him. "He is not truly ours though. We will love him as a mother and father, but he will only love us as an uncle and aunt." She stated into the face of Luke Skywalker, who was by now gracefully asleep. She said his name out loud, once to herself and then once to her husband. "Its not a moisture farmer's name you know."
"I know."
Another silence settled in before it was broken by a yawn first made by Beru, but soon followed by another from Owen.
Silence came again.
"What do we do now?" Beru looked between her son, her nephew she reminded herself, and her husband. "We don't have a baby room."
Owen looked up at her. "You're right." He stood up and rummaged around, pulling out a basket and extra bedding he made a make-shift crib. "Will this do?"
Beru smiled at him, placed Luke gently in his bed and kissed her husband briefly. "It's perfect," she said.
Alrighty then! That is the end of part one of my fic. This is not the end. Please keep in mind this is my first Star Wars fic and I can use all the support you can give.
Also: Updates are not a set thing, I post them when I feel like it. I may be influenced by reviews though. I have another five pages written, but please, tell me what you think should happen, and what you want to see.