Disclaimer: Star Wars is Lucas', not mine. Too bad for me.
For some reason, the formatting is really, really not working. The scenes with Padmé, Owen, and Anakin are flashbacks. I have a mac. Anyone know how to fix formatting on one?
Please review. I like feedback.
Enjoy. :-)
Obi-Wan Kenobi no longer lived. There could be no more risk, no more chance. If his name got out, Anakin would find him. If Anakin found him, he would kill him. Perhaps not such a bad thing....or so the Jedi had felt for some time. He had, in fact, considered searching his apprentice out, dying with the knowledge that the last thing he had done was try to bring Anakin back to the light. Try. If Master Yoda heard that word from him again.... He'd had that lecture more times than he could possibly give number to. Yet, that was always what he had done. Obi-Wan had tried. He could not just "do," nor could he be content with doing not. Trying was a compromise. He had tried, for example, to do what was best for the children. Was he actually doing what was best? Who could possibly say? The girl had been easily taken care of. They would keep her in hiding for three months, enough time for a proper birth certificate to be made out. She looked so much like her mother it would be a wonder if anybody figured out the truth... that Bail wasn't her father. Not even the girl would know, for her own safety. Leia would fit very well on Alderaan. The boy, on the other hand, had no place. So he had been sent to the planet where he was least likely to be found, put in the trust of the last two people Anakin would suspect... and a Jedi in exile.
Obi-Wan could hardly bear to meet Amidala's eyes. "It'll have to be the boy. He and Vader look too much alike." "But why—I still don't understand -- why can't they both stay with me? He won't go after Bail again, not after what happened before...." "He won't go unless he's given a very good reason. Luke would be exactly that." The former Senator pulled her son closer to her. "You told me he wouldn't come to Alderaan. You said that I would be safe there." "And so you would be, both you and your daughter. Vader wouldn't suspect, looking at her, that she was his child. If he saw Luke he would know in an instant. Perhaps you would be able to hide it until he was three or four, but then Vader will realize it." He shook his head, locking eyes with her. "Palpatine will know. My lady, if Palpatine finds out he will turn your son into something terrible. If Luke is trained from the beginnings of childhood he will become a ruthless, fighting machine, free of conscience and soul. He'll-" Amidala's voice was harsh and pained. "He'll become like Anakin?" A lightsabre twisted in Obi-Wan's gut. Turmoil flashed through his eyes. He faltered, gripping the edge of the table with white-knuckled fingers. A mix of fear and concern swept over Amidala's face. "Obi-Wan, I'm sor—" "Yes. He will become just like Anakin." Obi-Wan cut her off, eyes blazing, a bite to his tone. But his voice was tired. The Jedi was tired, more tired than ever before. Nobody could successfully face a trial so great. Losing a Padawan was like losing a son or daughter. Losing a Padawan to the darkside was like watching a child bind himself to the Jedi funeral pyre and set himself alight. Losing Anakin meant failing to fulfill his master's last wish, and that was worse than anything he could imagine. He could not bring peace to his mentor, the closest thing he had to a father....
"Where will he go?" The senator's voice had become despondent and
subdued.
Obi-Wan recovered himself. He tucked his thumbs under his chin, touched his hands beneath his nose then looked back up. "I don't know, my lady." "He couldn't stay with you?" Instantly, the conversation reverted to its previous state. The words were exchanged formally, driven by necessity. Obi-Wan was once again the former senator's bodyguard. His services were strictly professional, and in the best interests of her children and herself. He was not Amidala's friend. "No. It's too great of a risk. Wherever he goes, I will watch over him, but only from a distance. To actually keep him with me would be too dangerous, for both of us."
He paused. "We need to him to be raised on a planet far from Coruscant, away from Vader and Palpatine. One of the rim systems would be best." Silence ensued. Then, painfully, Amidala spoke. "Tatooine."
It hurt to hear Padme able to form solutions instantly that he would perhaps never realize. Yes, his former padawan had spent a lot of time with the senator in the past few years, but he and the boy had been together for the ten before that. He should have known it would be Tatooine. Vader's years in slavery, his mother's death, his first two significant dips into the darkside... he would never return there. Obi-Wan couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it before. "Yes. You're right." The Jedi sighed.
"One of the Moisture Farms would be the most suitable. I'll contact Owen Lars and see if he would be willing to give us the names of a few farmers who might be interested in adopting a child."
"Owen?" Amidala asked. "Master Kenobi, are you sure that's wise?"
"I don't know if he'll be willing to help, but it's a place to start. If he won't assist us, I'll look for other options."
Obi-Wan hadn't expected Owen Lars to comply. On the contrary, he would have been surprised if Lars kept the comm. open for more than a thirty seconds. As it was, he was entirely taken aback. Lars offered to raise the boy himself.
"You'll what?" The Jedi asked Owen pulled his wife into the holo-image. "We'll raise Luke." Obi-Wan still didn't understand. "But... after all that his family has caused you... I feel horrible even asking your assistance in locating a home for him. I would never ask you to carry this burden yourselves." Beru started to speak. "Master Kenobi, Owen and I have wanted a child for over a year now, but I am unable to conceive." Lars nodded. "Shmi married my father when I was eleven years old. My real mother had died when I was a toddler, so that's what she- Shmi, I mean, became to me. Shmi was the kindest person I have ever known. If we could raise her grandson, it would be an honor." Obi-Wan sighed. "You would be putting yourselves in danger... perhaps not a great deal of it, but danger all the same." "We're willing to take that risk."
Obi-Wan didn't understand then. He didn't understand now. Anakin had killed Cleigg Lars. He'd placed the blame for his mother's death on the moisture farmer and gone after him. That was after he'd abandoned the order. It had been Obi-Wan who'd gone out to Tatooine to comfort the family, and look for any sign as to where Anakin had gone....
The force would be a mark of the past for Obi-Wan... and a hope for the future. Someday...he could see it in his mind's eye. Seasons would change. The farmer's life would grow to be as pointless and dull for Luke as Anakin's life during his time in slavery. He would grow curious. Lands beyond the dunes, beyond the sky would beckon him. And always Owen, standing close behind, grounding him. Owen, like his stepbrother, so full of fear. Not like Luke, brimming with vivacity and spirit. Luke deserved a chance to fly. He ought to sail among the stars, taking all that the universe has to offer. But he wouldn't. Luke would remain for far too long on this planet of misery and idleness. His friends would move on, attend the academy, become rebels and imperials both. Yet still Luke would stay at home, waiting season after season, until finally the force saw fit to release him to the Jedi once again. All of this Obi-Wan saw, and all of this he hated, though not for himself. He deserved the punishment. For all he had done, he deserved far worse. Luke deserved none of it. His suffering would be brought on by what Obi-Wan did...by his own stupid, horrible mistakes.
"Anakin! If you go with him, you'll never be allowed to return to the temple. You can't!" Obi-Wan's words were almost swallowed by the dull roar of the rain around him and the rapids below, but his Padawan heard him nonetheless. It seemed as if their bond was as strong as ever. He shouted back, fury resounding in his voice. "Since I was nine years old you've been making every decision for me. All the Jedi did was bring me from one life of slavery to another. Well, this is the end of that. I'm choosing not to stay. I'm going. You can't stop me!" Skywalker crawled towards the opposite side of the log, his foot almost slipping. Obi-Wan looked after him, distraught. One word could, would be the difference between returning home with his Padawan and returning home with a flurry of rumors and a heart full of painful memories. He had to think. He had to concentrate.
"Anakin, this is crazy!" The Jedi's voice was hoarse. "Come here. I just want to talk to you. You have to trust me this once!"
"How can I?" he yelled. "I won't! " He stumbled back even further, slipping into the fog.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan's shout was wrenched from his throat and he followed, fingers grappling for holds on the wet log, sweat and the first trace of tears running down his face. Rain pounded, plastering his cloak to his back and arms, darkening everything. The log seemed endless, stretching through the fog. Hand over hand, Obi-Wan crept along. One boot slipped off the side, followed by the other, and suddenly the Jedi found himself dangling by slippery fingers. The river rushed below him, its roar becoming strangely welcoming. He considered it for a moment, his head turned skyward, then wrenched himself back up. At long last the Jedi reached the other side of the treacherous rapids. He pushed up onto level ground and searched desperately for any sign of the boy. What he found was a small, metallic cylinder, placed carefully near the edge of the cliff, meant to be found. The symbolism couldn't have been clearer. Anakin was gone, and Obi- Wan knew then that his Padawan would never return.
Obi-Wan's head fell into his hands. He sat silently on the threshold of his small, out of the way home. It was far from the city and far from the moisture farms, settled amongst the countless dunes, perfect for a hermit. The force moved around him, mingling with the grains of sand, the dry air, the fading sunlight. It would be his last night as a Jedi for a very long time. When Tatooine's stars rose again, he would carry a different life, a different name. Sunlight at last flickered into darkness and still Obi-Wan sat, regarding the world, a part of it. Minutes melted away and meditation took him. He was looking into the eyes of a small child, one of the initiates. The boy was strong, stronger than most in his clan. There was a certain seriousness about him, and he always seemed to understand more about what was going on around him than most children would, even Jedi children. He had liked Obi-Wan, had enjoyed following him around the temple when not occupied with other things, and the Knight had welcomed his company. Many times he had toyed with the idea of taking him as an apprentice after Anakin was knighted. The boy's name was Bentablin Oris, but only Master Yoda called him that. Obi-Wan, like all of the young children for whom pronunciation was a struggle, like the other Padawans, Knights, and Masters, called him "Ben." That boy no longer lived. Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, continuing the Jedi purge, had struck him down without a thought. "We are both dead, you and I." Obi-Wan mused. The first of Tatooine's suns rose, and Ben Kenobi with it. He took a breath of the desert air and for a long moment gazed at the spot where he knew the Lars' homestead would appear if he traveled in its direction long enough. Then he turned his face to the ground and walked back inside.
For some reason, the formatting is really, really not working. The scenes with Padmé, Owen, and Anakin are flashbacks. I have a mac. Anyone know how to fix formatting on one?
Please review. I like feedback.
Enjoy. :-)
Obi-Wan Kenobi no longer lived. There could be no more risk, no more chance. If his name got out, Anakin would find him. If Anakin found him, he would kill him. Perhaps not such a bad thing....or so the Jedi had felt for some time. He had, in fact, considered searching his apprentice out, dying with the knowledge that the last thing he had done was try to bring Anakin back to the light. Try. If Master Yoda heard that word from him again.... He'd had that lecture more times than he could possibly give number to. Yet, that was always what he had done. Obi-Wan had tried. He could not just "do," nor could he be content with doing not. Trying was a compromise. He had tried, for example, to do what was best for the children. Was he actually doing what was best? Who could possibly say? The girl had been easily taken care of. They would keep her in hiding for three months, enough time for a proper birth certificate to be made out. She looked so much like her mother it would be a wonder if anybody figured out the truth... that Bail wasn't her father. Not even the girl would know, for her own safety. Leia would fit very well on Alderaan. The boy, on the other hand, had no place. So he had been sent to the planet where he was least likely to be found, put in the trust of the last two people Anakin would suspect... and a Jedi in exile.
Obi-Wan could hardly bear to meet Amidala's eyes. "It'll have to be the boy. He and Vader look too much alike." "But why—I still don't understand -- why can't they both stay with me? He won't go after Bail again, not after what happened before...." "He won't go unless he's given a very good reason. Luke would be exactly that." The former Senator pulled her son closer to her. "You told me he wouldn't come to Alderaan. You said that I would be safe there." "And so you would be, both you and your daughter. Vader wouldn't suspect, looking at her, that she was his child. If he saw Luke he would know in an instant. Perhaps you would be able to hide it until he was three or four, but then Vader will realize it." He shook his head, locking eyes with her. "Palpatine will know. My lady, if Palpatine finds out he will turn your son into something terrible. If Luke is trained from the beginnings of childhood he will become a ruthless, fighting machine, free of conscience and soul. He'll-" Amidala's voice was harsh and pained. "He'll become like Anakin?" A lightsabre twisted in Obi-Wan's gut. Turmoil flashed through his eyes. He faltered, gripping the edge of the table with white-knuckled fingers. A mix of fear and concern swept over Amidala's face. "Obi-Wan, I'm sor—" "Yes. He will become just like Anakin." Obi-Wan cut her off, eyes blazing, a bite to his tone. But his voice was tired. The Jedi was tired, more tired than ever before. Nobody could successfully face a trial so great. Losing a Padawan was like losing a son or daughter. Losing a Padawan to the darkside was like watching a child bind himself to the Jedi funeral pyre and set himself alight. Losing Anakin meant failing to fulfill his master's last wish, and that was worse than anything he could imagine. He could not bring peace to his mentor, the closest thing he had to a father....
"Where will he go?" The senator's voice had become despondent and
subdued.
Obi-Wan recovered himself. He tucked his thumbs under his chin, touched his hands beneath his nose then looked back up. "I don't know, my lady." "He couldn't stay with you?" Instantly, the conversation reverted to its previous state. The words were exchanged formally, driven by necessity. Obi-Wan was once again the former senator's bodyguard. His services were strictly professional, and in the best interests of her children and herself. He was not Amidala's friend. "No. It's too great of a risk. Wherever he goes, I will watch over him, but only from a distance. To actually keep him with me would be too dangerous, for both of us."
He paused. "We need to him to be raised on a planet far from Coruscant, away from Vader and Palpatine. One of the rim systems would be best." Silence ensued. Then, painfully, Amidala spoke. "Tatooine."
It hurt to hear Padme able to form solutions instantly that he would perhaps never realize. Yes, his former padawan had spent a lot of time with the senator in the past few years, but he and the boy had been together for the ten before that. He should have known it would be Tatooine. Vader's years in slavery, his mother's death, his first two significant dips into the darkside... he would never return there. Obi-Wan couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it before. "Yes. You're right." The Jedi sighed.
"One of the Moisture Farms would be the most suitable. I'll contact Owen Lars and see if he would be willing to give us the names of a few farmers who might be interested in adopting a child."
"Owen?" Amidala asked. "Master Kenobi, are you sure that's wise?"
"I don't know if he'll be willing to help, but it's a place to start. If he won't assist us, I'll look for other options."
Obi-Wan hadn't expected Owen Lars to comply. On the contrary, he would have been surprised if Lars kept the comm. open for more than a thirty seconds. As it was, he was entirely taken aback. Lars offered to raise the boy himself.
"You'll what?" The Jedi asked Owen pulled his wife into the holo-image. "We'll raise Luke." Obi-Wan still didn't understand. "But... after all that his family has caused you... I feel horrible even asking your assistance in locating a home for him. I would never ask you to carry this burden yourselves." Beru started to speak. "Master Kenobi, Owen and I have wanted a child for over a year now, but I am unable to conceive." Lars nodded. "Shmi married my father when I was eleven years old. My real mother had died when I was a toddler, so that's what she- Shmi, I mean, became to me. Shmi was the kindest person I have ever known. If we could raise her grandson, it would be an honor." Obi-Wan sighed. "You would be putting yourselves in danger... perhaps not a great deal of it, but danger all the same." "We're willing to take that risk."
Obi-Wan didn't understand then. He didn't understand now. Anakin had killed Cleigg Lars. He'd placed the blame for his mother's death on the moisture farmer and gone after him. That was after he'd abandoned the order. It had been Obi-Wan who'd gone out to Tatooine to comfort the family, and look for any sign as to where Anakin had gone....
The force would be a mark of the past for Obi-Wan... and a hope for the future. Someday...he could see it in his mind's eye. Seasons would change. The farmer's life would grow to be as pointless and dull for Luke as Anakin's life during his time in slavery. He would grow curious. Lands beyond the dunes, beyond the sky would beckon him. And always Owen, standing close behind, grounding him. Owen, like his stepbrother, so full of fear. Not like Luke, brimming with vivacity and spirit. Luke deserved a chance to fly. He ought to sail among the stars, taking all that the universe has to offer. But he wouldn't. Luke would remain for far too long on this planet of misery and idleness. His friends would move on, attend the academy, become rebels and imperials both. Yet still Luke would stay at home, waiting season after season, until finally the force saw fit to release him to the Jedi once again. All of this Obi-Wan saw, and all of this he hated, though not for himself. He deserved the punishment. For all he had done, he deserved far worse. Luke deserved none of it. His suffering would be brought on by what Obi-Wan did...by his own stupid, horrible mistakes.
"Anakin! If you go with him, you'll never be allowed to return to the temple. You can't!" Obi-Wan's words were almost swallowed by the dull roar of the rain around him and the rapids below, but his Padawan heard him nonetheless. It seemed as if their bond was as strong as ever. He shouted back, fury resounding in his voice. "Since I was nine years old you've been making every decision for me. All the Jedi did was bring me from one life of slavery to another. Well, this is the end of that. I'm choosing not to stay. I'm going. You can't stop me!" Skywalker crawled towards the opposite side of the log, his foot almost slipping. Obi-Wan looked after him, distraught. One word could, would be the difference between returning home with his Padawan and returning home with a flurry of rumors and a heart full of painful memories. He had to think. He had to concentrate.
"Anakin, this is crazy!" The Jedi's voice was hoarse. "Come here. I just want to talk to you. You have to trust me this once!"
"How can I?" he yelled. "I won't! " He stumbled back even further, slipping into the fog.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan's shout was wrenched from his throat and he followed, fingers grappling for holds on the wet log, sweat and the first trace of tears running down his face. Rain pounded, plastering his cloak to his back and arms, darkening everything. The log seemed endless, stretching through the fog. Hand over hand, Obi-Wan crept along. One boot slipped off the side, followed by the other, and suddenly the Jedi found himself dangling by slippery fingers. The river rushed below him, its roar becoming strangely welcoming. He considered it for a moment, his head turned skyward, then wrenched himself back up. At long last the Jedi reached the other side of the treacherous rapids. He pushed up onto level ground and searched desperately for any sign of the boy. What he found was a small, metallic cylinder, placed carefully near the edge of the cliff, meant to be found. The symbolism couldn't have been clearer. Anakin was gone, and Obi- Wan knew then that his Padawan would never return.
Obi-Wan's head fell into his hands. He sat silently on the threshold of his small, out of the way home. It was far from the city and far from the moisture farms, settled amongst the countless dunes, perfect for a hermit. The force moved around him, mingling with the grains of sand, the dry air, the fading sunlight. It would be his last night as a Jedi for a very long time. When Tatooine's stars rose again, he would carry a different life, a different name. Sunlight at last flickered into darkness and still Obi-Wan sat, regarding the world, a part of it. Minutes melted away and meditation took him. He was looking into the eyes of a small child, one of the initiates. The boy was strong, stronger than most in his clan. There was a certain seriousness about him, and he always seemed to understand more about what was going on around him than most children would, even Jedi children. He had liked Obi-Wan, had enjoyed following him around the temple when not occupied with other things, and the Knight had welcomed his company. Many times he had toyed with the idea of taking him as an apprentice after Anakin was knighted. The boy's name was Bentablin Oris, but only Master Yoda called him that. Obi-Wan, like all of the young children for whom pronunciation was a struggle, like the other Padawans, Knights, and Masters, called him "Ben." That boy no longer lived. Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, continuing the Jedi purge, had struck him down without a thought. "We are both dead, you and I." Obi-Wan mused. The first of Tatooine's suns rose, and Ben Kenobi with it. He took a breath of the desert air and for a long moment gazed at the spot where he knew the Lars' homestead would appear if he traveled in its direction long enough. Then he turned his face to the ground and walked back inside.