The characters in this story belong to George Lucas.
This is a rewrite of my original story, first published a few years ago. This version focuses more on the relationship between Owen and Luke from Owen's point of view. I see Owen as a introverted character who doesn't find it easy to show affection, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. We don't have much to go on their relationship from the movies beyond a few gruff words, but Luke was visibly upset to find his aunt and uncle dead so I think they must have loved each other. This story is the result of exploring that relationship.
The twin suns of Tatooine greeted Owen Lars over the craggy peaks of the Jundland Wastes as he and his eight-year-old nephew installed two new vaporators on the Western Front of the farm. Owen glanced at his chronometer and groaned. They were only about halfway done with their work, but it was already dawn and he had to have Luke back at the homestead in an hour or Beru would have his head.
He glanced at the second vaporator and wished he had left it on the speeder. Now they would just have to wrestle it back on since they'd never have time to finish installing both. His nephew grunted then, and Owen turned around just in time to see a frustrated Luke throw his tool at the panel in front of him.
"Don't you dare damage these vaporators, young man! These cost 30,000 Truguts apiece. I better not catch you doing that again," Owen growled.
Luke mumbled an apology and hung his head but didn't pick up the tool he had dropped. Owen sighed in frustration. Luke had always been sensitive to Owen's reprimands, even as a toddler. In his more introspective moments, Owen had to acknowledge that he was gruffer than he should be with the boy. Cliegg Lars had always been an affectionate man, but somehow his temperament had not been passed on to his only son. As a young man, Owen had suspected that the role of fatherhood would never be one that suited him but Beru had longed so much for a child that he had not been able to gainsay her when she accepted Kenobi's request to take the boy in.
The result was that Owen often found himself snapping at Luke and immediately regretting it the moment after. He was not too proud a man to admit that this was a personal flaw but every time he saw Luke deflate in response his defensive personality reared up and he always found himself struggling against the desire to scold him for sulking.
Had Beru been present, she would have tried to discretely prod him to apologize. Owen racked his brain to think of something Luke might respond to positively. He was damned if he was going to apologize for scolding the boy. Vaporators were not exactly cheap, and Luke needed to know that damaging them in a fit of frustration was not acceptable. "Come on, we don't have time for temper tantrums. You've got school today, remember?" he asked hopefully.
Luke jumped to attention and his eyes snapped up to meet his uncle's. He started to stand up then jerked back down to his knees as he remembered the hydrospanner lying in the sand at the base of the vaporator before him. He picked up the tool and reached out to the control panel with it before turning and shielding his eyes against the glare of the suns across the Dune Sea.
"Don't we need to go now?" he asked. Owen chuckled at Luke's tone. He could hear the excitement and worry in the boy's voice. Though Owen could not specifically recall his first day of school, he was relatively certain he had regarded it as just another chore. When he and his wife had told Luke they had registered him with the local schooling group, the boy had been unable to contain himself. Luke seemed to think that school was a great adventure.
"We have a few more minutes," Owen replied. "Let's get this vaporator installed. We'll have to leave the other for tomorrow." He glanced resignedly at the second vaporator. Luke was correct, they would need to head back to the homestead soon. He had been too ambitious this morning when they unloaded both machines.
Luke returned his attention to the vaporator they were working on. He once again reached out to start his work again, and paused as another thought occurred to him. "Do you think Aunt Beru remembered to make me a lunch?" he asked.
Owen's lower jaw jutted out in annoyance. "Yes, I'm sure she did. You only reminded her about it three times this morning. Now get back to work. I'll tan your hide if we don't get this finished this morning and I have to work on it myself this afternoon," he barked.
Luke was too distracted by the day ahead of him to notice Owen's tone this time. He scooted closer to the vaporator and finally started concentrating on the task before him. Owen sighed in relief. He idly wondered how he had ever managed to keep up with the chores on his own, before Luke had become old enough to pull his own weight. He would never admit it to Beru, but Luke was so sharp with mechanics that he had quickly picked up on the skills needed to help Owen with the daily maintenance and between the two of them they were usually able to finish in a few hours what used to take he and his father nearly half a day to complete.
"At least, when the boy is concentrating," Owen mentally added with an affectionate glance at his nephew. As much as Luke drove him crazy, Owen had to admit he loved the boy more than his younger self ever thought he would. The first few weeks of Luke's life at the Lars farm had been filled with nighttime feedings and lullabies. At the time, Owen had been completely dismayed to find out an infant was even more exhausting, mentally and physically, than he had ever imagined. Beru had been tired as well, but she had drawn a joy from the experience that Owen never had. There had been an emotional distance between he and his nephew until two years ago, when Beru had pressed him to take Luke with him on his rounds.
At the time, she had insisted that Luke was old enough to start learning the chores. He had at first thought she was crazy but he was soon impressed by how smart the boy was. He had also proved to be an excellent worker - provided Owen managed to keep his interest. Quicker than he had thought possible, Owen had grown used to having the company of the boy during the time of his day that had been spent in solitude ever since the death of Cliegg.
Last night, Beru had admitted to him that her primary motive had been to push he and Luke closer together. She told him that Luke had been asking many questions about his parents, and most of them had been about his father. Owen frowned as he recalled the conversation.
"He sees little boys with fathers on the holonet, and he doesn't understand why his isn't around," she had explained.
"I've never heard him say anything about it," Owen had replied, his voice muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head.
Beru looked over her shoulder at him as she entered the fresher. "I've never heard him ask you about it either."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he had barked.
Beru stuck her head back in the room. "Hush!" she scolded. "Luke's asleep."
Owen rolled his eyes. "I miss the days I could talk as loud as I wanted to in my own house," he grumbled. Owen sat down on the bed and started to peel his pants from his legs. "Why is it so hot in here?" he asked, noticing the unusual heat. "Did that condenser break again?" He started to stand up only to sit down hard when he came face to face with his wife. She was towering above him with a dark look on her face. He sat bewildered, trying to figure out what had upset her.
"Owen, I love you more than I thought it possible to love someone. Maybe even more than you deserve," she started. Owen let his hands fall to rest beside him on the bed. In almost twelve years of marriage, he had never heard Beru speak to anyone with as much anger as she addressed him then.
"But I have to tell you, it infuriates me the way you talk about Luke sometimes. I know you love him, and I know you love me, despite the fact that you hardly ever show it. Now, I'm a grown woman. I knew what I was doing when I married you, but Luke's just a boy. He's not responsible for his fortune, and it sure as hell isn't his fault he has to live with us," she hissed. Owen was shocked to hear the mild curse come from his wife's lips.
"As far as I'm concerned," she continued, "Luke is the best thing that ever happened to us. And it doesn't bother me one little whit that the price of that is we can't shout at each other in the middle of the night!"
She turned and stalked into the bathroom. Owen sat stupefied on the bed, unsure how to react. Had that tirade come from anyone else, he would have marched over to the door and mounted his defense.
He stood and threw his pants to the floor and turned to go out the door to the courtyard. He marched down the hallway and slammed his hand down on the door controls. A wall of dry, cool air blasted him in the face, and he was reminded that the climate indoors was unusually warm and damp. His toolbox was within easy reach, and he stalked over to the rattling condenser. He paused a moment as the though hit him that fixing it would probably take most of the night. Owen made a fist and slammed it down on the casing. It hurt more than he intended, and did not seem to make much of an improvement. Cursing, he bent over and dropped the toolbox on the floor and stalked back inside to continue the conversation with his wife.
We he entered the room it was already dark. Beru was lying on the far side of the bed, her back turned resolutely towards him. He sighed and bared his teeth in frustration.
"So that's it?" he asked. "You're going to attack me and then just go to sleep?"
Beru sighed and rolled to her back, partially facing him. She seemed to have lost the righteous anger she had earlier. Even in the dark, Owen could sense her regret.
"I didn't attack you Owen," she said. "It just hurts me to see Luke hurt."
"How is he hurt?" Owen cried, exasperated with the entire conversation.
"You make those comments, Owen. About how you used to be able to talk however you liked in your own home. They seem like little things to you, but they're not. They build up, like dew drops in the vaporator basin. Pretty soon there's a sea of resentment," she said.
"How is that hurting Luke?" he asked. "He's not even here!"
"No he's not," she replied. "Not this time. But you're lying to me and yourself if you insist he's never heard something like that come out of your mouth. And even if he hadn't, he still knows. Children are perceptive, especially him."
Owen's anger immediately subsided as shame started flooding through him. He crawled into the bed and towards Beru, instinctively seeking solace in her compassionate arms. She turned fully towards him then and her left arm snake around his back.
"He so damned sensitive," Owen complained. "I do love him, Beru. I love you too. It's just that I can't help it sometimes. Sometimes he just drives me crazy and I get so annoyed with him. I don't mean anything by it. I annoy myself too."
"I know," Beru said with an air of finality. "I shouldn't have said some of those things, Owen, really. I just don't think you realize how much it hurts Luke. And it scares me because he thinks it's because you don't want him, and it makes him wonder about his father, and whether his parents wanted him either. He's never said it, but I know what goes on behind those eyes. I don't know how to answer those questions anymore. He knows I'm keeping something from him when I say his parents are dead, and I'm afraid of what he thinks that reason is."
"I've never heard him ask about them," Owen said, aware that the same comment had started the whole argument.
"I've never heard him ask you," Beru softly replied again. This time, Owen understood what her words meant.
"We do talk when we're doing the rounds," he said, the words falling flat on his own ears. He could remember treasuring the time he spent with his father working the farm. As a boy, working with his father had meant so much to him. Cliegg had taught Owen nearly everything he knew about farming, about piloting, about what it meant to be a Tatooinian. Cliegg taught Owen that life in the desert was hard and barren, but that hidden under the sands and the rocks lived organisms that were so unique and complex it still took his breath away.
As the boy had grown into a quiet, introspective young man, Cliegg had been his voice of reason and his source of stability during those uncertain years, when it seemed the possibilities and choices that lay before him were too many and too complex. It had been Cliegg who had encouraged Owen to pursue his relationship with Beru when Owen himself was questioning his readiness to be a husband.
Owen blinked away tears as he realized that he had never shared any of his father's wisdom with Luke. The boy probably could not even pinpoint who exactly Cliegg had been. More than a disservice to his father's memory, Owen realized it was a disservice to Luke. He owed to to Cliegg and to Luke to show Luke the kind of man his grandmother had married, the kind of man that had shaped Owen into the man he was today, and would by extension shape Luke into the man he would eventually be.
"You're right," Owen whispered. Beru lay silent beside him. Her fingers curled and she gently running her hand up and down his back, gently scratching him.
"Remember when I pushed you to start taking him with you on the rounds?" she asked softly. Owen nodded into the pillow. "I was hoping at the time you'd start opening up to him. That you'd start spending time with him and that he'd be able to understand."
"I will," Owen vowed.
"I'm done," Luke announced, jerking Owen from his reverie. Luke was standing before him, the hydrospanner still clutched in his hand. The memory of his conversation with Beru fresh in his mind, Owen gazed at his young nephew with emotion. Luke was waiting patiently for Owen to finish his part of the installation, despite the fact that Owen had just been doing what he consistently chided Luke for doing: daydreaming.
Owen examined the vaporator and ran through his checklist, but it looked like Luke had finished the work needed. "Well, let's pack up and head out," Owen said, placing his hands on his knees and pushing himself upright.
Luke looked at him in surprise. "Don't we need to test it?" he asked.
"Nah," Owen replied. "Tomorrow morning is soon enough. Come on, let's get the other vaporator on the speeder. I want to show you something."
A short while later, Owen and Luke rode across the open expanse of desert, the second vaporator resting in the seat behind them. Luke had tried to help him get it back on the speeder, but the small boy's effort was no more than a token and Owen was exhausted from the effort. He leaned back in the seat and opened up the engine. He wondered briefly if it was wise given the extra weight of the vaporator, but he childishly shrugged the thought off.
Luke shrieked with delight when he noticed how fast they were going. Owen could see the ridges of the Jundland Wastes looming before them, and he paused a moment to consider if it was wise to take Luke there. Sandpeople didn't normally venture so close to Anchorhead, but Owen knew as well as any farmer that their normal habits could not be trusted. Luke's own grandmother was testament to that.
He slowed the speeder to a stop as they neared the first ridge and cut the engine. Luke perched on his knees in the seat beside him.
"Why are we stopped?" Luke asked.
"I'm just making sure I don't hear or see any signs of Sandpeople," Owen said. He turned to Luke and pointed his finger at the boy. "Never, ever, enter the Jundland Wastes without a weapon." With that advice, Owen leaned into the back and wrestled his rifle from under the vaporator. He rested it on the floor between himself and Luke, keeping his right hand on the barrel.
"Because of Sandpeople?" Luke asked in a whisper.
Owen glanced over at Luke, worried that he had managed to scare the boy more than he meant to. This trip would end up a disaster if all Luke could think about was bogeymen in the shadows.
What Owen saw in Luke's eyes was closer to curiosity, but the boy did seem nervous to have the rifle so close. Beru had made sure to instill a healthy fear of weapons in the boy. She had a younger brother who had been killed while cleaning a rifle. Owen tended to feel that anyone living so close to the Jundland Wastes needed to have a good bit of experience with weapons, seeing as the likelihood of needing to use one was so high, but he had always gone along with her wishes since the thought of Luke handling a weapon made him nervous. The boy's attention wandered far too easily.
"Yes," Owen confirmed. "They don't usually come this far south. It's too close to Anchorhead, but you can't ever trust them to stay away." Owen debated mentioning the abduction of his step mother from within the borders of their own farm, but he knew Beru would have a conniption if he did. He was also afraid of the questions that might follow. Luke was too young to be very interested in the gravestones that stood on the north side of the yard but someday he would notice that one of them bore his name. Questions about Shmi were likely to turn into questions about his father.
Owen had only briefly met Anakin Skywalker, but he knew enough about the man to see that same spark in Luke's eyes. Kenobi hadn't told them how Luke's father had died, but Owen had gathered it had something to do with the Emperor, and Kenobi had made it clear that the Emperor should never know of Luke's existence. Owen hoped he would never be in a position where he was forced to choose between lying to Luke to keep him on Tatooine and telling him the truth. To tell Luke what he knew of Anakin was likely to give Luke the desire to seek out the Emperor to avenge his father.
He turned his gaze back towards the ridges. Both his eyes and ears told him the place appeared deserted. "It looks like we're clear, but make sure to keep an eye out," he said.
Luke nodded solemnly and leaned on his elbows over his side of the speeder, eager to follow Owen's instructions. Owen grinned. When Luke put his mind to it, he never failed in a task. The only tricky part was figuring out how to catch Luke's attention and hold it.
He turned the engine over, and the speeder rumbled back to life. They proceeded into the canyon at a much more moderate pace than they had taken across the desert. The whine of the engine echoed back to them from the ridge walls, and Luke looked around in surprise.
"It's so loud!" he shouted tensely.
Owen grinned at him and nodded. Luke relaxed back in his seat and grinned back at his uncle.
"This is fun!" he said then.
Owen slowed the speeder more and leaned over his side of the speeder, observing the landscape for his target. He stopped the speeder again when he found what he was looking for. Cut into one of the great stone formations was a shallow cave. It was no more than a meter and a half deep, but the nature of it meant that the boulders underneath were shaded most of the day. He cut the speeder and grabbed the rifle.
"Come on," he said teasingly.
Luke looked around in confusion. "Where are we?" he asked.
"Nowhere special, but I think I'll be able to find what I'm looking for under that rock," Owen replied, pointing to the cave.
Luke watched as Owen climbed out of the speeder and walked around to his side. He offered his hand to the boy, and Luke eagerly took it with both hands. He used the seat as a springboard and leaped over the frame. Owen followed his motion and swung the boy through the air to land softly behind him. Luke giggled in delight and gave Owen an exuberant hug.
Owen stood still in surprise as he realized it had been a long time since Luke had voluntarily hugged him. As a toddler he had been very affectionate, but sometime during the past few years his display of affection towards Owen had begun to dwindle. His mind drifted to his conversation with Beru the night before and his good mood immediately diminished. His wife had seen that shift in their relationship and pushed him to fix it years before Owen had even been aware of the change that had taken place between himself and Luke. Owen had to forcibly stifle the feeling that he still was not ready for raising a child.
Swallowing heavily, he took Luke's hand and marched towards the cave. The boy seemed not to notice Owen's changed demeanor and skipped happily along with him. They reached the edge of the overhang and Owen released Luke's hand as he started poking among the boulders to find what they had come to see.
"Aha," Owen murmured as he spotted the tell-tale spindles of razor moss. He crouched on the ground and pulled Luke to his knee.
"You see that?" he asked, pointing to the miniature forest before them.
Luke leaned precariously far over Owen's knee, and he had to adjust his weight to keep them from tumbling to the ground. He snaked his arm around the boy's stomach to hold him firmly in place. Luke peered silently at the growth for a few minutes.
"There's bugs in there!" he exclaimed jerking back. The back of Luke's head connected solidly with Owen's chin and he could hear the click of his teeth impacting in his mouth.
"LUKE! Watch what you're doing," he said harshly letting go of the boy to rub his lower jaw. Luke fell to the ground and scrambled up beside him.
"Sorry," he mumbled miserably, keeping a wary eye on the moss.
Owen sighed and leaned over to take a look at what had Luke was so beside himself about. "They're just jiggers. They feed on the moss," he explained.
Luke wrinkled his nose. "It doesn't look very good. What does it taste like?"
"I don't know," Owen said in exasperation. "I've never tried to eat it."
Luke looked at Owen in confusion. "Why not?"
"What do you mean why not? Because I've never wanted to, that's why. If it was good to eat, I imagine they'd sell it in Anchorhead. It's not too hard to find," he answered.
Luke braced his hands against his knees and leaned back in to observe the boulder. "What does the moss eat?"
Owen paused. "I don't really know. The rock I guess," he ventured.
Luke's eyebrows wrinkled. "How can it eat rock?" he asked in disbelief.
"I don't know Luke! I don't know what it eats!" Owen stood in frustration. He could not remember asking so many inane questions of Cliegg when they went adventuring in the Wastes during his youth. As he stood, he noticed his head was clearly in the sun. Tatoo I had crested over the ridge opposite them some time ago. He looked at his chronometer and grimaced when he saw the time.
"Come on," he said. "We've got to hurry home now or you'll be late."
Luke jerked in surprise as he realized he had forgotten that today was his first day of school. He ran ahead to the speeder and climbed in. Owen grabbed the rifle from where he had propped it against the sandstone and followed at a more sedate pace.
He opened the engine up on their journey back and was dismayed to hear that it did not seem to be turning over right. He knew it was foolish to push the old machine, but he was too worried about getting home in time. If it would not start when they left the house, he would just have to take Luke to school on the swoop bike, though Beru would have a heart attack.
When they reached the garage Owen had not even managed to turn the off the engine before Luke jumped out and ran inside. Owen slouched down in his seat, threw back his head, and laughed heartily. He wondered how long this excitement over school would last. Knowing the boy's resentment when being made to do anything he didn't want to do Owen guessed that if Luke had his way, his first homework assignment would be the last.
He followed his nephew's track into the courtyard where Beru was drawing some water for the boy to take to school. She looked up at him and smiled. He grunted in response and pecked her on the cheek, and she said softly to him, "He's so cute. I haven't seen him this excited since that day we went to the party in Anchorhead."
"Yeah, well, it won't last long. The minute he finds out that he has to work, he's gonna try his damnedest to wheedle his way out of going. I suspect he'll be a much more sickly child in about three months."
They chuckled quietly together, but masked their amusement when Luke came back up. He waited expectantly for Beru to inspect his appearance. "That new tunic looks good. Do you like it?"
Luke sighed and said, "I guess."
"You guess?" Owen asked with a smile. "You don't like it do you, boy?"
"Owen-"
"No. It's too big. And hot."
"Well, you're wearing it, young man. That's the nicest outfit you own," Beru told him desperately, but she knew she had already lost.
Owen ignored her and kept his eyes locked on Luke's. "What do you want to wear?"
"The tunic I had on this morning."
"Beru, let the boy wear what he wants to wear."
Beru turned to him in surprise at the unusual defense of Luke. Owen normally scolded Luke whenever he tried to argue with either of his guardians. He smiled at her, trying to convey that he had understood what she had been trying to tell him last night. He knew he would never be able to admit it out loud, but she had been right about his relationship with Luke. Today was the first day he had ever really shown an interest in the boy outside of chores. It had not been like the times he remembered with his own father, but it was a step in the right direction. Beru's shoulders slumped when she realized she was beaten, but Owen could see she was happy that he was making an effort. "Oh all right," she relented. "Go put the other tunic on."
"Yippee!" Luke shouted and ran back to his room stumbling against the wall as he pulled the tunic over his back while he ran.
Owen laughed and Beru tried to hold her scowl, but he could tell she was more pleased than annoyed. When Luke returned wearing the tunic he had originally worn Beru walked them back out to the speeder and asked, "So what were you guys doing this morning anyway?"
"Man stuff," Owen replied mischievously.
Luke's eyes lit up. "Yeah," he said, grinning at Owen.
Beru laughed in delight and leaned over the side of the speeder to plant a kiss on Luke's cheek. "You remember to listen to everything your teacher says, Luke," Beru instructed.
"I will," Luke replied.
"Always say yes ma'am."
"I know! You already told me this last night." He growled and pulled the neck of his tunic over his face in frustration. "I'll be good!"
"Chew with you mouth clos-"
"I will!" he shouted. Owen normally would have scolded Luke for talking back to his aunt, but he felt that it would have been unfair since Beru was so obviously teasing the boy. Instead, Owen grinned at his wife.
"You done?" he asked.
Beru smiled and kissed Luke's cheek again. "Have fun. Both of you."
Luke sighed. "Okay. Bye," he said and gestured for Owen to start the speeder. He held his breath as the engine sputtered once before settling into its normal rhythm. He doubted he was going to get the other vaporator installed this afternoon, what with both the condenser and the speeder needing maintenance. He suspected with Luke in school during the day, he was going to start falling behind on the chores. Machinery just seemed to always be in need of repair on the Lars farm.
Beru stood outside the garage and watched them depart towards Anchorhead. The shape of their retreating form was amusing with the vaporator towering above them in the back seat. She had thought Owen was being a little too ambitious when they had set off in the morning to install the two new vaporators. Beru shaded her eyes as she gazed in the direction to which Owen and Luke had disappeared but the glare of the suns' on the white sands was too much for her eyes. She dropped her hand and turned away from the rising suns towards the Jundland Wastes that lay just out of sight across the desert. She knew the a short ride in the speeder would take her to the first ridges, but it was easy to imagine that the desert stretched endlessly in all directions.
She had seen a change in Owen when he and Luke had returned this morning, and he had not seemed upset that they had only gotten one of the vaporators installed. The night before, she had regretted speaking so harshly to Owen but she was thankful she had done it. The tension that she had seen steadily building between Owen and Luke the last few years seemed to have subsided some.
She had always considered herself happy, but Luke had brought a sense of contentment and purpose she had never realized possible. When she had been told at the age of twenty-three that she would never have children, Beru had been devastated. Early in their marriage she had broached the idea of adoption with Owen, but he had been obviously reluctant to consider it. Fortune had sent her a boon when Obi-Wan Kenobi had contacted them eight years earlier. Beru was saddened to hear of Anakin's death. She had loved his mother as much as Owen had and had loved him simply because Shmi had as well. Owen found turning away his step brother's son more difficult than turning away a child he had no relation to. Beru knew at the time that Owen's reluctance to raise a child would likely cause problems with Luke later on, but it had just felt so right to have Luke in her arms. She had known from the first moment she held him that she had been destined to love him and raise him, though she had not shared that feeling with Owen.
She had never met Anakin's master before, but the man seemed to understand her in a way that Owen never would. Luke was his destiny too, of that she was certain. Owen willfully ignored the fact that the Jedi had acted as their unseen guardian since that day, but Beru always greeted him with kindness and gratitude the few times she had met him in Anchorhead.
She peered in the direction of the Jundland Wastes, in the direction of the man she knew to live there. The man who she knew considered himself Luke's guardian, and by extension, hers and Owen's as well. Beru sent the man a silent thanks. On a planet as desolate as Tatooine, it was easy to live a life just as empty, but Beru's was rich and bright with love and laughter due to the gift he had brought them.
The plain white sands of the desert often made Beru think of the cheerful homestead and the courtyard as a planet in the vast blanket of space. Her own little world. The metaphor almost managed to become a concrete reality at night when the defense shield was raised. Its shimmering blue hue, though invisible to those inside it, could be seen by one standing on the outside of the family's little bubble.
Despite the heat she felt a breeze raise the hairs on her neck and arms. She knew it was her imagination, but she shivered as the shimmering sands whispered timeless wisdom in her ears.
All things must come to an end.