Necessary Disclaimer: No part of the ever expanding and evolving Star Wars Universe belongs to me. This story was written purely out of admiration and the inspiration of those who can lay claim to that galaxy far, far away

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The specific inspiration for this story is the revelation in AOTC surrounding Owen and Beru Lars and the true nature of their relationship with the Skywalker family.

This interlude has an alternate universe quality to it in that I left out any mention of the Yuzzhan Vong but there's no reason they still can't be out there. Surely they aren't always spoken of.

A Vision of Love

The moonlight shone in the transparisteel causing a puddle of light to form on the raised platform where the crib lay at one end of the room. Luke Skywalker stood just outside that puddle and watched his son sleep.

"At last," was what his wife had sighed when she'd gently laid the three week old in his crib. She'd mumbled something that sounded like "I'm going to bed," and promptly had. And so Luke stood in a silent room as the two people he loved more than anything else in the galaxy, lay dreaming.

He moved closer to the crib and sat down so he was eye to eye with his son. Ben Skywalker was absolutely tiny. Luke tried to remember whether his niece and nephew had ever been that small. If they had, it had been so long ago when marriage and children had not seemed possible for him.

Now it was a reality.

Luke watched as Ben's fingers began to move slightly. Then the baby sneezed and his eye suddenly popped open. He screwed up his face and began to cry.

Luke was on his feet in an instant, sending his son soothing waves of serenity as he reached in and lifted Ben into his arms. Across the room he sensed Mara's sudden alert state. It's alright. I've got him. Go back to sleep.

He felt her sigh with relief and he sent her a Force caress as she drifted off again.

"Hi there," he whispered quietly to Ben as he walked with the baby to the window. The gentle movement and his father's presence calmed the infant considerably. His tears were reduced to whimpers and slowly even they faded out as Ben realized he hadn't been left alone in a dark room. His parents were there. Luke was amazed at how easily his son recognized him. Just like everything else about fatherhood, nothing could have prepared him for that moment of connection, that unbreakable Force bond. It was something he'd never had the chance to form with his own father. And Uncle Owen.

Luke let himself think of the couple who had raised him. Aunt Beru, her rough work hardened hands contrasting sharply with her perpetually soft expression and gentle manner. And Uncle Owen.

Why could he never finish his thoughts about the gruff moisture farmer? He'd always found it easy to believe that Owen Lars had seen the orphaned son of a Sith Lord as a burden, more trouble than he was worth. Luke remembered even sharing that belief with Akanah years ago while she'd shared lies with him. Yet, some part of him knew he had been grossly unfair to them when he'd drawn them as a domineering husband and a timid wife who'd caved to everything her husband wanted.

The power in the house had been far more balanced than that. He remembered a couple of times it even seemed that the true control had belonged to Aunt Beru. Owen could spout off bluster and judgement as much as he wanted and all she'd do was say, "I think it should be like this," and it was so.

He'd never seen them argue.

He and Mara, on the other hand, seemed to exist in a state of constant banter. Mild threats and cheery accusations had built their relationship, and they'd decided that they would keep it as part of their relationship. Mara'd noted that suggesting their son was incapable of distinguishing a voice raised in fun from a voice raised in anger would be to give him far too little credit. He knew his parents loved each other and him. Their banter would not cast doubts on that.

"Besides," she'd continued, "If I can't banter with you, I just might kill you."

Luke chuckled lightly to himself at the memory of that conversation and realized that Ben had once again fallen asleep. Moving slowly and gently, he returned the infant to his crib and rubbed his back in circular motions as he stared out the transparisteel at the stars, almost invisible behind the night traffic and lights of Coruscant.

The window seemed to go cloudy and Luke realized he could see another crib occupied by another infant. A hand was rubbing that infant's back in the same circular pattern. As Luke looked up he saw a young man's tanned and weathered face. The expression he wore was a caring and concerned one that quickly transformed into a stern gruffness that was deeply familiar to the new father.

Uncle Owen.

"No need to cry," the other man was saying with an awkwardness that betrayed the tender emotions he felt, "We're going to look after you and keep you safe."

The baby's whimpering dwindled and settled back into the even breathing of sleep. Owen Lars reached out a callused finger and brushed it gently across the cheek of the infant Luke now realized was himself.

He gently shut the door behind him as he left the room and then the scene changed to another room that was utterly familiar to Luke. His uncle poured himself a glass of precious water from the refrigeration unit and turned to regard his young wife who was sitting at the table piecing together a Bantha Paw quilt.

"I think he was having a nightmare," Owen told her.

"He could have just been lonely," Beru replied, "missing his mother and sister. He's been through so much and he's only a month old."

"Yeah," Owen's voice turned harsh, "all because of that father of his. I tell you, if Shmi could see what's happened to Anakin."

Beru switched one patch of dyed dryflax for another then turned to meet the embittered vengeful expression on her husband's face.

"Owen, surely you agree it's better she didn't. She loved him so much. It would have killed her to see him like this."

"You're right, " he sighed, "She always spoke about him as though he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Dad and I, we could never compete with that. I think Dad knew it when he married her. And now look at her sweet little son!"

"Shh," Beru shot him a worried look, "You'll wake Luke."

"And that's another thing," Owen continued, his voice substantially lower, "What kind of man claims to love his mother but won't stay with his wife or raise his children? Beru, I didn't like him from the moment he stormed in here, head full of steam about finding Shmi, as if none of us cared enough to try or something. You saw what happened to Dad! He dismissed us as though we had no brains, as though we weren't worth considering. And here we were, excited to meet him!"

"He was handsome though," Beru said quietly.

Her husband glared at her.

"I think Luke's going to look like him."

"Let's hope that's the only way he's like him," Owen growled.

"What do you think of this colour combination?" she asked, changing the subject. He walked over and perused the quilt over her shoulder.

"It looks good," he said with a touch of enthusiasm. His wife always did such beautiful work.

He paused, then put his right hand on her shoulder. It was a tender gesture that Luke could only remember witnessing twice. Once when the harvest was a complete failure and then after the first time Owen had run "crazy old Ben" off their property.

"You're really taken with Luke aren't you?"

She didn't look up.

"Owen, you know I've always wanted a child. He squeezed her shoulder slightly and she reached up placing her left hand over his right. Luke knew they were recalling a private sorrow they'd never shared with him.

"I mean it though, Beru." His uncle spoke up again, "We're going to protect him. I don't care what the jedi said about coming to get him when 'it's time'. If we're raising him, we get a say, and I'm saying no. It doesn't seem to me that hanging around with jedi ever did anyone a puddle of good."

Beru rested her cheek on their hands.

"I love him already, Owen"

He softened a bit, even smiled.

"I know, me too."

The vision of the two of them drifted away in the same fashion it had come, and as he watched his son snuggle deeper into his mattress Luke felt a corner of his soul become calmer. Something poisonous had been washed away and suddenly the air seemed clearer.

Luke sat down on the step beside the crib. They hadn't just been strangers who'd been roped into looking after him. They truly had been his aunt and uncle.

"And they loved me," he whispered aloud to himself, "All they wanted was for me to be safe."

"Isn't that what we want for Ben?" asked his wife's voice.

He turned and watched as she knelt down beside him. He slid closer to her and put his arms around her from behind.

"Of course it is," he murmured in her ear. He didn't ask why she was awake. His visions always affected her too.

"They didn't lie to me, Mara." He felt a lump form in his throat, "except about my father. They didn't pretend any of it. They really loved me, even Uncle Owen. And they were just trying to protect me from the Empire like so many other people. They were doing what they felt was right." He smiled at Mara, kissed her on the cheek, and turned to look again at the little boy they'd been granted the chance to raise themselves.

"And in some way, it was right."