A bit of information beforehand:

This story was gravely inspired by James Luceno's "Star Wars: Tarkin" and black101's "Son of Suns Trilogy". Both book and fanfictions are an amazing read and I really do suggest you read them.

Secondly, this fanfiction might have some dark themes from time to time and will contain DarkSide!Luke. Don't like, don't read I guess.

Please don't forget to leave a review after reading; I really do appreciate any feedback you could give to me and it inspires/motivates me immensely.

Enjoy :)

- PROLOGUE -

Tatooine, Beggar's Canyon. 4 BBY

Covering his mouth with his right hand, he backed up against the rock behind him. He could feel the ground shaking and a few paddles dropped from the cliff. They made small sounds, hitting the sides from time to time. With the AT-ST only a few meters away, the rebel could barely hear them reach the bottom.

"Did you hear that?", he could hear one of the Stormtroopers say below him. He swallowed.

"Go check it out, I'll make sure this cave is locked down", his partner replied.

Realizing that his left leg was slightly hovering over the edge of the cliff, he braced himself and pulled his back with both his hands. He couldn't help but hiss as the pain coursed through his body.

He could hear the AT-ST's massive feet turn and take one step towards him.

This was where he was about to die. Not in a space battle, not during a mission, but here; on a desert planet in the Outer Rim with his A-Wing crash-landed a few kilometers back and a blaster wound in both his stomach and leg. He still had his blaster pistol though, but knew it wouldn't do any harm against a bloody AT-ST.

As the AT-ST took another step closer and the Stormtrooper beneath him inspected the area, he briefly wondered if Brand had survived the crash. It was a small hope, but a significant one nonetheless. That him being here would be a good distraction for his friend to get away.

The Walker shot at a spot to his right and he flinched, tensing up. One of the rocks fell down due to the impact and the rebel could hear one of the Stormtroopers yell: "Hey! Watch where you're shooting!"

There was a moment of silence. The only thing that made a sound was the AT-ST walking around his rock, trying to find him. With a shaking hand, the rebel took a hold of his DH-17 and held it to his chest. If he was going to die, he would rather die fighting.

A shot rang through the sky, loud enough to be heard from a mile away. The rebel could hear-feel-the Walker turn away from him, looking for its assaulter. Another shot could be heard. Hearing it for the second time, he knew it was not a laser blast but in fact a solid projectile. Not many people wielded that kind of weapon anymore.

The AT-ST walked away, shooting at something in the distance. The Stormtroopers beneath him followed suit, most probably convinced that they had found their target. He released the breath he was holding, but didn't allow himself to relax just yet.

Someone—or something—yelled somewhere far away from him. It sounded like an animal taunting its prey.

Suddenly, the rebel got unsure whether his 'savior' was actually better than the Empire or not. He surely wasn't going to stick around to find out.

He pulled himself up, leaning against the rock to keep him steady. He knew he could probably have climbed off the cliff easily in a different situation, but with his current injuries, he wasn't even sure if he could take a single step. There was however no other choice but to try. The Imperials would come back at one point and this was the only way he could take without possibly being seen.

Step for step he made his way forward. His left leg was almost completely numbed from the pain, but he ignored it for the sake of surviving as he lowered himself down the cliff, using all of his strength in his fingers and other leg to not fall down.

He was shaking and he had trouble keeping himself close to the rocks. Carefully, he took another step downward, using his left leg to step on a rock momentarily and quickly switching it with his right soon after. His breath hitched. He clenched his hands tighter against the rocks but could feel his strength slipping.

"No, no, no...", he muttered, panicked. "Not yet... Please."

He had to take another step down; he had to. But his body would simply not allow it. His muscles were frozen into place, trembling under the pressure. He felt himself slipping and there was nothing he could do but hold on with all of his strength.

It was not enough and he fell down.

A sharp pain ran through his back and then—nothing.

.

.

.

"Okay so, we take the long turn left, do a long circle around the Rid, through Beggar's and whoever comes out first wins", Tank summarized. "Sounds good?"

"If it wasn't good, we wouldn't have decided to take the route ten minutes ago", Laze or 'Fixer' pointed out, sounding quite irritated. Luke knew him well enough to know that he was just teasing though. "Besides, it's your last race before you leave, so it's only fair if you were the one to choose the route in the end."

Tank nodded slightly. "We'll do this route then. The loser will have to clean the speeders. All of them." They all agreed; it was a penalty they used quite often. "Anything else?"

"Only that I'll see you at the finish", Biggs laughed and jumped into his X-14 Landspeeder before going off.

"Hey, that's a false start!", Luke called after him and got into his speeder as well.

Luke had always liked racing, especially when it was with his friends. He liked the feeling of the wind going through his hair. To see his surrounding blur. It was a moment of freedom, as if he was suddenly not a farm boy anymore and had ventured in a completely different reality. One where there were no responsibilities and where only one thing mattered: whether you won or lost.

And he was not going to lose today.

Already caught up with Biggs, he steered himself a bit to the left. He glanced up at the Rid, trying to judge their position from the angle of the rocks. Using his instincts to judge the right time, he put his foot on the break, took the sharp turn right and immediately pressed the gas again. He couldn't help but let out a laugh when he cut Biggs off and flew by.

Now on the lead, Luke only had to concentrate on the road ahead of him. He knew the others knew a lot more about this route due to their experiences in the past, but with his reflexes, he knew he would be able to pull this off.

His concentration suddenly left him when he could hear a shot somewhere in the distance. Probably the Sandpeople. He let out a curse and glanced back at his friends. He was relieved to see Biggs still on his tail, followed by Tank and Fixer, who were both going neck on neck.

Knowing he couldn't allow himself to be caught off guard, he looked forward again. He breathed in deeply and let out a shaky breath. Now, all that was left was Beggar's Canyon.

From his friends and some other people back at Anchorhead, he knew that the Podraces used to be held here, a long time ago. That whoever raced through the canyon and got out of there alive, almost automatically won the race, just because of how dangerous the passages and other racers were. Luke grinned slightly at the thought; how awesome would it be if he was able to participate in something like that?

Of course his Aunt and Uncle would never allow it, but hey, he could dream, right?

From a corner of his eye, Luke saw Biggs trying to go by him from his right side. He pursed his lips. He did not know when the next corner would be. He could cut his friend off of course, but if the passage were to go left during that time, Luke would get in serious trouble. He was just about to take the risk anyway, when suddenly he felt really agitated to do so.

Something was wrong.

That was when he saw the body lying on the ground only a few meters from them.

Luke widened his eyes and made the split decision to angle his speeder to the side and put his foot on the break, forcing Biggs to do so as well.

"Hey! You could have killed us both with that", Biggs exclaimed.

"What's going on, guys? If you wanted to clean the speeders, you could have just said so." That would be Tank. Both him and Fixer had stopped behind them as well, forced due to the width of the passage.

"That's all Luke, I swear. That kid just stopped out of nowhere."

"... Wormie?"

Luke swallowed. "There's something over there. I think... it's a body."

His friends were slightly alarmed at that. "Tusken Raiders?"

"Could be... You guys heard that shot too, right?"

"Yeah, I thought that was farther away from here though. C'mon, let's check it out", Biggs was already out of his speeder when he said that.

"If the Sandpeople shot them, they might still be out there."

"All the more reason to find out what happened, c'mon!"

There had always been something about Biggs that made Luke want to follow him. There was an air of confidence around him, knowing when to do the right thing and when to just mind his own business. It might just be a form of blind trust-biased because he saw him as his best friend, an older brother even-but to Luke, everything he did made sense. Including this.

Coming closer, Luke could see that the body was actually that of a human male whose skin had already reddened because of the sunburns. Off-worlder, probably. It looked painful, but not nearly as painful as the odd angle his legs seemed to be in, one bone sticking out of his skin, or the wound he had in his stomach. Luke swallowed. "He must have fallen off the cliff somehow."

"That's not all. Do you see the wounds in his leg and gut? Those aren't cycler-wounds. They're from a blaster." Biggs knelt beside the man to inspect him more carefully and gasped. "He's still alive."

"It must be a Hutt mercenary then. If that's the case, I'd rather just go back and keep my head, thank you very much", Fixer looked around warily.

"We can't just leave him here to die!", Luke exclaimed.

"If we get ourselves caught into Hutt business, we don't only get ourselves in trouble but others as well. Trust me, Wormie... It's better if we stay out of this."

Luke hated that nickname. Usually he didn't really mind it, as it had always been affectionate to him. But now, it just seemed patronizing. "If we walk away, we won't be any better than them."

"Luke's right. We have to help."

"Biggs, you know this is a bad—"

"We don't know if he was taken out by the Hutts. It might as well have been something else completely. It should not matter anyway: if others are in trouble, we don't turn our back on them."

Biggs and Fixer stared at each other.

Tank coughed to get their attention. "Even if we do try to help him, how do we get him away from here?"

"We have our speeders, no?", Luke said, confused as to why that would even be a problem.

"Yes, but this guy's legs are clearly broken. If we try to move him, his condition might get worse."

Luke pursed his lips. "We'll figure something out."

"And even then, where do we take him?", Tank pointed out. "We can't take him with us to Anchorhead, at least not to my home... My parents have finally allowed me to go to the Academy, I will not pass the opportunity by bringing a stranger into our home."

"Neither would my aunt and uncle", Luke looked down. "They hate strangers."

"Tosche Station." Everyone looked at Fixer confused and he glanced away. "We can make the space if we try our best. No one comes there these days anyway, except for us, Deak, Windy and Camie at least. What? If we do help him, we might as well do it right. This way we won't involve anyone else." With Deak and Windy looking for parts in Mos Eisley, only Camie would be there. They all knew her well enough to know that she'd want to get involved.

Biggs smiled slightly. "Let's do it."

.

.

.

Tatooine, Tosche Station. Two hours later.

"I've done all I could but without any bacta treatment, don't expect he will be back on his feet any time soon. Or at all, for that matter." The old man tied the bandage together, pulling it tight. The wounded men arched his back and groaned, though still didn't give any sign of consciousness. "Make sure he keeps hydrated. He is your responsibility now, realize that." He pointed his finger against Fixer's chest and left the station.

Luke released a breath he didn't know he was holding ever since the healer had entered the building. The old man hadn't seemed to choose between smacking and helping them—and that was quite the understatement.

After having explained the situation to Camie, she persisted someone had to look at him, even if it had to mean involving someone else from Anchorhead. Biggs and Tank had agreed with her—and it wasn't even a question whether Fixer agreed with her or not; he was a sucker to anything Camie said these days.

They hadn't even asked Luke about his opinion on the matter.

"So, what now?", he asked to fill up the silence.

"We wait until he wakes up and then we get him to talk. We can't really find out what happened to him otherwise", Fixer answered. Luke suspected Fixer was still pissed off at him, but was mature enough to not let it show in any other way than a slight irritation in his voice.

He sighed and sat down. "Sorry that we didn't get to finish the race, you guys." Luke couldn't help but look at Tank while saying this. The guy shrugged.

"Who knows, this guy might bring us more excitement than that race could ever give us. Besides, we already knew who would win anyway."

"Yeah, me", Biggs couldn't help but say.

"Hey, I was way ahead of all of you."

"I was catching up to you and you know it. A few seconds longer…"

"But you didn't get a few seconds longer", Luke smirked.

"If it were up to me, you'd both get disqualified", Fixer interjected. "You both started way before we said you could."

"Technicalities", Biggs laughed. His laugh was infectious to the rest of them as well.

Suddenly, Luke's eyes were drawn to the wounded man, who they had put on one of the tables earlier and was now trying to sit up. "Hey, don't!" He rushed towards him and pushed him down slightly. The man seemed to comply.

"Where…?" His voice seemed dry and croaked. It reminded Luke a bit of how his own voice had been when he got dehydrated last season.

"You're wounded and dehydrated. Drink some water." He lifted the man's face and helped him drink. "Easy… Too much at the same time and it'll lose its purpose." Luke—and everyone on Tatooine, really—was accustomed to the heat and the consequences it could have. He could remember his Aunt Beru saying the exact same thing when he was younger.

"My legs", the man's voice croaked again, but sounded a bit better now. "I can't feel them."

Luke frowned and looked at the others, a bit lost on what to do now.

Biggs moved forward. "Can you remember what happened?", he asked.

The man looked panicked. "I… Brand… we were attacked. Our squad was ambushed and— "He gasped and sat up. Luke tried to push him down again but to no avail. "I need to get out of here."

"You're in no condition to go anywhere. Your legs are broken and the blaster wound on your stomach nearly killed you", Biggs informed him. "You won't be able to take one step."

"You don't understand. If the Imperials find out that I'm here…"

"Wait, the Empire? There are no Imperials here, not in Anchorhead."

"If they're not here already, then they'll come. And they'll kill me and every one of you for helping me."

"You're a Rebel", Tank stared at him.

"That the Empire is after him doesn't mean he's a Rebel", Biggs looked at him pointedly.

"Why else would an off-worlder be here on Tatooine? With a squad no less?"

"But— "

"I am part of the Rebel Alliance", the man confirmed, interrupting him. They all looked at him in shock. "We were only going to Tatooine to repair our ships, but the Empire must have tracked us somehow. They were already waiting for us when we got here." He swallowed. "They will try anything to get a hold of us. So please, I have to go. For both our sakes."

The childhood friends looked at each other, unsure on what to do. Luke briefly thought of the possibility to take the Rebel somewhere else again, even without the others' help, but he just didn't know where to take him.

"I will not help a Rebel", Tank lifted his chin. "We should turn him in before it's too late."

"I agree."

"Fixer— ", Camie tried to reason with him, but the youth shook his head.

"I will not put ourselves and other in danger any longer, especially not you. I promised the old man that I would take care of this station while he's not here, but if this is truly the Empire we're talking about here and not the Hutts, there won't be any station to take care of and no Merl Tosche to explain what happened to it either."

"By helping a Rebel, we'll mark ourselves as a traitor to the Empire", Tank added. "What happened to your sense of justice? How could you defend someone that is a part of the organization that caused the terrorist attack at Fondor earlier this week? Hell, I bet you participated in it, didn't you?" He was glaring at the Rebel now.

The way the Rebel tensed his jaw and straightened his back was enough of an answer.

"I don't want you to help me anymore than you do. Just get me far enough from here and I swear I'll be out of your lives forever."

"They will find you before you can get anywhere else", Biggs shook his head.

"And that is if you don't die from your wounds or dehydration first", Luke added. "You need someone to take care of you, even if it's just for a little while."

"Didn't we promise each other that we'd all go to the Academy one day?", Tank asked. There was a hint of sadness in his voice. "Biggs, weren't you able to go there in just another year or two? And Luke—your dream was to be a pilot, wasn't it? Are you really willing to give that all up, just like that? For a stranger, no less?"

Luke looked down, silenced. Tank was right; it would not be worth giving that all up and getting everyone killed if the Empire were to find out. But still, to turn in a man, wounded no less, just because he was a part of the Rebel Alliance was wrong. Didn't he say he just wanted to repair his ship when he came here and that the Empire ambushed them? He swallowed. "And what if the Empire won't find out we have him here?"

"I can't believe this…", Fixer shook his head and sighed exasperated. "You can't be that naïve. It is the Empire, Luke. It's what they do."

"We have a whole bunch of converters downstairs. We can hide him between them, make it seem like he isn't even there. Please, Fixer. If he is out there any longer, he'll die. You know the consequences of dehydration." Fixer's eyes hardened and Luke knew he made a mistake saying that; his niece had died of dehydration last season and Luke knew he still hasn't moved past it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— "

"It's fine", Fixer cut him off. He sighed. "Alright. We'll let him recover for two more days. After that, you're on your own." Camie seemed to brighten up with that. He glanced at her and looked away.

"I'll make sure everything's set up downstairs", Luke stood up and grinned at his childhood friend. "I swear; you will not regret it."

Fixer nodded and smiled back slightly.

.

The Imperials came the day after.