When Yoda returned, Padmé was sitting on a rather uncomfortable chair. She was sitting straight as a rod, her hands folded on top of the small table in front of her. She was staring at the curtain that separated them from her children as if she could see through it.
"I will take Cordé to Alderaan," she spoke calmly but did not look at either Jedi. "Senator Organa's wife Milla recently miscarried. They have been hiding the tragedy from their people, as the royal house does not have an heir. She will not be able to have another child. They approached me before about adopting both of the children." Padmé finally looked away from the curtain and at the two Jedi and said with a small smile. "Dormé is married to one of the royal family's attendants and I will assume the identity of one of their retainers and remain in the court." That way I will be able to see at least one of my children.
"Alderaan. Good choice that is. Their adoption law simple it is. Train your daughter as a good diplomat, Senator Organa will," Yoda said very pleased with the choice.
"And Ruwee?" Obi-Wan asked, waiting for the instructions that could very well alter the rest of his life. He had pledged to look after the small boy.
"Owen and Beru on Tatooine," she said simply, resuming her looking at the curtain, never as much as muscle on her body moved from its rigid pose.
"Owen?" Obi-Wan asked, puzzled, he had never heard the name before and wondered at the connection.
"Owen Lars is Anakin's stepbrother. Beru is his wife. I met them when Anakin's mother died," Padmé explained, still not looking at him. "Beru and I exchange communications from time to time. She is barren and desperately wants a child. They are moisture farmers. Ruwee will benefit from the hard work. And Anakin vowed never to return to Tatooine."
"I will remain on that planet to watch over Ruwee and provide guidance when he is ready." So it will be Tatooine. He smiled grimly to himself. Qui-Jinn would have found the irony in this, hiding the son of Anakin Skywalker in plain sight in the very place that this all began.
"Thank you, General Kenobi," Padmé said with one of her gracious smiles, finally turning to look at him. She then turned her attention to the other Jedi. "What of you, Master Yoda? Will you come with me to Alderaan?"
Yoda shook his head. "Remain here I will. Send the children to me when ready they are."
"Then we must not delay. We will leave this night," Obi-Wan said.
"I will accompany you to Tatooine, Owen and Beru do not know you." Padmé said, standing.
"As you wish, my lady," Obi-Wan bowed his head quickly, then glanced at the curtain. " I need to converse with Master Yoda."
Padmé understood his glance and nodded slightly. "I will pack up the children."
Beru Whitesun Lars was in the kitchen of the dwelling she shared with her husband and until his recent death, her father-in-law. Owen had just come in and she was busy fixing the evening meal. Her thoughts did not wander from the task at hand. Her life was a simple one, that of a farmer's life. Not that it was an easy life, not at all; life on a moisture farm was hard, constant work, constant worrying that they would not break even this year, with the ever-present threat of Tusken Raiders, strange desert beasts, and sandstorms. But there was a rhythm of life here, a simplicity about it that Beru was quite content with.
Into the general quiet of the late afternoon came a sharp pounding on the home's outside door, the one that led up from their dwellings and work areas to the desert above. "What in blazes?" Owen mumbled, brushing past her on his way out.
"Who would be visiting at this hour?" she asked the empty air around her as Owen had already gone.
She ran after him, up the stairs to the door. Standing in the doorway was a young woman, dressed in a simple brown gown, wrapped in a plain cloak. In her arms, she held a bundle, tightly wrapped against the desert. Standing behind her was an older man, also dressed simply.
The woman looked so familiar to Beru. The farmer's wife stared at the woman in front of her and suddenly a flicker of recognition crossed her face. But, it couldn't be. Could it? Padmé, Owen's stepbrother's friend, the glamorous Senator? The last time she had seen Padmé, her city ways and her splendid gowns had dazzled Beru, clothing far more ornate than anything Beru would have ever thought to own. Even a dress that Padmé would have considered simple was far more glamorous then even Beru's wedding gown. What had happened?
"Padmé?" Beru asked with uncertainty.
"Hello, Beru." Padmé smiled. "Can we come in? We are in great need of assistance."
Beru's eyes flicked to her husband and he nodded at the travelers.
Once inside, Padmé quickly introduced the couple to Obi-Wan and then told them her story.
"I don't wish to be parted from Ruwee, but we must protect him from his father. Please, Owen and Beru, I beg of you, could you please take him? Protect him? Raise him, love him for me?"
Beru looked at the infant in Padmé's arms. How she longed for a child of her own. He was so cute, sandy wisps of hair, big blue eyes. But Owen's decision was the final one. She looked over at him.
Owen sat, thoughts swirling around him. On the one hand, he did have a duty to the child, even if he was related to the boy by marriage. He had cared deeply for his stepmother, this child's grandmother. He had never really gotten to know Anakin, the only time he had met his stepbrother was when Shmi was found dead. He mostly remembered Anakin's anger, his intense, suffocating anger. One did not need to be a Jedi to have seen that anger. The thought of it sent shivers down Owen's spine. And Padmé's story only increased his unease. He could be taking something quite dangerous into his home. This Obi-Wan character was to stay around and watch over the boy. That didn't make him feel any easier. But then he saw Beru's face as she looked at the baby. He knew how much she wanted a child and how disappointed they had both been when they found out she could not have one. He would do anything to make her happy and they could use another person around the place. As for the Jedi thing, he knew that Anakin hadn't always been dark and creepy, not from his stepmother's stories. If the boy wasn't trained, nothing would happen. He'd be damned if he'd let this child go the way his stepbrother had- he'd promise his dear stepmother that much.
"All right," Owen said finally.
Beru let out a squeal and took the infant from Padmé's arms. She looked him over and laughed, "But Ruwee is no name for a moisture farmer's son. Do you mind if we renamed him?"
"He won't be our son, Beru," Owen interrupted.
"What? You just said . . . ."
Her husband again interrupted Beru. "You know the adoption rules on this planet are complex and confusing, Beru. We tried to adopt before and you remember what happened. The idea is to keep Ruwee safe, not let the whole planet know who he is. He will be, as he is, our nephew. There are no laws against taking in an orphaned family member. But you are right, Ruwee is no name for a child of a moisture farmer."
Padmé nodded. "Very well, perhaps a change in name will help protect him."
"Luke," Obi-Wan who had been very quiet until now, suddenly said. "Name him Luke."
"Huttese for 'Chosen One'." Beru smiled and looked down at the child. "I like that. Luke Skywalker you will be."
"My lady," Obi-Wan said softly, "We must go."
Padmé looked up at him, sadly. "Yes. Can you give me a moment?"
Obi-Wan bowed and walked out of the room. Owen followed him. Beru handed Luke to his mother.
Padmé held her small son tightly. Then she cradled him in her arms, looking down into his face, the face that had so much of his father in it. But this time, she did not see Anakin just the sweet face of her baby, her little Ruwee. "Goodbye, my sweet precious Ruwee. You were born of love, created in the light. Never forget that. Some day, you will bring the light back to the darkness. Even if I was distant, I always loved you. I will always love you. And somehow, some way, I will always be watching over you." She kissed him tenderly one last time.
Padmé blinked back the tears, trying to remain stoic. She handed her son back to Beru. "Thank you, Beru. Thank you so much." Then Padmé took one last longing look at her son and dashed out of the room.
As Padmé dashed past, Obi-Wan turned to follow her. Owen caught his arm.
"You say you plan to stick around here?"
"I do indeed."
"If you plan on staying on the planet I can't stop you. If you think it's necessary to protect Luke, that's fine. But I'll be damned if I let you come any closer than this to my nephew. Anakin went from the bright promising child of a wonderful woman to some kind of dark, half-machine monster because of you and your damn Jedi." He poked a finger into Obi-Wan's chest accusingly. "I owe it to Shmi not to let the same thing happen to her grandson. You got it? You're not welcome on this property."
"Owen, you can't stop destiny. Some day Luke will come to me."
"Get out!" Owen's normally pleasant face flushed, his fists clinched in anger. He was angrier than he had been in years. He was very close to getting his blaster.
Obi-Wan simply turned and left. Owen watched as both Padmé and Obi-Wan boarded their craft, then turned and went back to his wife and nephew.
