Chapter 4
Having spent two full days scouring the city of Mos Eisley, Obi Wan had finally found information on the whereabouts of Shmi Skywalker. Obi Wan had decided it was for the best that young Luke would be raised by his grandmother rather than by himself. Obi Wan had been utterly lost trying to take care of such a young child. He suspected Luke knew this as well; the child had hardly ceased crying when he was in Obi Wan's care for the past few days.
It was thus with great relief when he knocked on the front door of the Larses residence, the baby Luke miraculously asleep in Obi Wan's left arm. Hoping to be greeted by Shmi, Obi Wan was gravely disappointed when a man opened the door instead. He was further demoralized to notice that the man was carrying a rifle.
"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.
"Does Shmi Skywalker live here?" Obi Wan asked, nervously fidgeting with his lightsaber using his free hand.
The man narrowed his eyes. "No. She's been dead for three years," he said.
Obi Wan felt his optimism plummet into full on despair. Shmi was dead? How come Anakin had never told him?
"Owen, what's going on?" a female voice called from somewhere inside the house.
"Nothing," Owen replied. "You should leave," he said, turning back to Obi Wan.
Panicking slightly at the prospect of having to raise Luke all by himself, Obi Wan took a step forward. "No wait, you don't understand…"
"Owen?" From behind the suspicious man stood a kind-looking young woman, her light brown hair done up in a bun. "Who is this?"
Owen looked between Obi Wan and the woman, apparently debating whether he should kick Obi Wan out or not. Capitalizing on the opportunity, Obi Wan answered.
"Obi Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master," he said with a slight bow to the woman. "May I come inside? I have something I wish to discuss with you"
The woman's eyes widened in shock. She grabbed Owen's arm and pulled him away from the door. "Of course, please come in Master Kenobi," she said, giving Owen a stern look. "We would be happy to assist you."
Smiling kindly to his savior, Obi Wan stepped in. Passing through the front door, baby Luke suddenly woke up and promptly began crying.
"Oh, who is this?" the woman asked.
"Erm… this is Luke," Obi Wan said. Ignoring Owen's skeptical expression, the woman reached out.
"Let me take him," she said sweetly. Obi Wan looked at her as if she had just kissed him. Handing Luke over, the writhing child calmed nearly instantaneously when the woman took him into her arms. "Oh, he's adorable!" she said.
Hanging up his rifle on the wall, Owen turned back to Obi Wan and offered him his hand. "Owen Lars," he said, giving Obi Wan a stiff handshake with the calloused hands of a farmer. "This is my wife Beru," he added, gesturing to the woman who was smiling adoringly back at Luke.
Obi Wan nodded to each of them and gave Beru a faint smile. "Follow me," Owen said, leading Obi Wan down the stairs into the main complex of the house. Pressing a button, a set of doors flew open revealing a pristine white kitchen. "Take a seat," Owen said, gesturing to the table.
As he sat down, Beru came into the kitchen, baby Luke still wrapped in her arms. She gestured to give him back to Obi Wan, but Obi Wan held up his hand. "No, it's alright," he said. "He likes you much better, anyway."
Beru frowned. "Is he not yours?" she asked.
Obi Wan hesitated. Tatooine was so remote that the people here barely knew anything about the Jedi. Beru evidently was unaware that Jedi were forbidden to form connections with others. Was it truly a wise idea to ask that they assume the massive burden of raising the son of the most dangerous man in the galaxy?
"How did you know Shmi?" Obi Wan asked abruptly, not answering Beru's question.
Owen glanced at his wife before answering. "She was my stepmother," he said. "She married my father, Cliegg Lars, about ten years ago."
"I see," Obi Wan said, somewhat disappointed. He had been hoping that these people would be related to Luke somehow, but clearly that was not the case. If Shmi had been truthful and there had been no father, that meant that Luke had no other surviving relatives whom he could go to. Owen was the closest person to him in the galaxy who could look after him. "Are you familiar with Anakin Skywalker?" Obi Wan asked, not expecting an affirmative.
"We met him a few years ago," Beru said as she continued to rock Luke in her arms.
"You did?" Obi Wan said incredulously.
"Kind of a scary bloke," Owen said, scratching his chin. "He came here with some woman asking about Shmi." Obi Wan blinked a few times, thinking about when this could have happened. What woman was Owen talking about? Had it been Padme? Ahsoka? Someone else?
"I'm sorry, but why are you asking us this?" Beru asked.
Obi Wan looked up to meet Beru's questioning eyes. "Anakin is Luke's father," he replied.
"Oh!" Beru exclaimed, her eyes bright. "How wonderful! That makes him your nephew, Owen!"
Owen made a noncommittal grunt, clearly less enthused about this than Beru was. "I barely knew the guy," he said gruffly, but Beru wasn't paying any attention to him.
"Where is Anakin, then? Is he on his way?" she asked innocently.
Obi Wan looked away, a pained expression on his face. He hadn't expected this to be so difficult. He had planned on dropping off the baby and leaving, but now he realized he had a lot of explaining to do.
"Anakin has…" Obi Wan paused, realizing that telling them that Anakin had 'turned to the Dark Side' would mean little to these people. "Anakin has become a very dangerous man," he said eventually.
"Dangerous? Dangerous how?" Beru asked.
Obi Wan looked up at the ceiling, feeling frustrated. "He… he has joined forces with the Emperor. Have you heard about what happened?"
Owen nodded. "Yeah, some sort of a coup in the Inner Core, right? Honey, what was the planet called?"
"Coruscant," Beru provided.
"Right, Coruscant. The Republic is an Empire now, whatever that means."
Obi Wan nodded absentmindedly. Maybe it was a good idea to leave Luke here. Tatooine was so distant from the Inner Core that he would no doubt be safe. Then again, Anakin might think to look here given that he was born and raised on Tatooine. But Anakin thought his child had died, why would he be looking for Luke at all?
"Well, Anakin helped overthrow the Republic. He is a terrible threat to the galaxy," Obi Wan said, trying to emphasize the severity of the situation. "He doesn't know that Luke survived."
"What!" Beru said loudly. "You stole his child from him?"
Obi Wan winced, realizing how bad this sounded. "You don't understand, Anakin must never find Luke."
"But he's his father!"
"He is a murderer!" Obi Wan bellowed suddenly, shocking Beru. "He helped track down and kill all of the Jedi but myself. He slaughtered younglings without any regard for them! He is a monster who must be stopped. He… he…" Obi Wan stopped, his throat constricted with emotion. "He was my friend," he said softly.
Beru and Owen were silent, glancing at each other with concerned expressions. Obi Wan took a deep breath a composed himself. This was too important, he had to make sure they understood.
"The young man you met is gone," he said, as much to himself as to Owen and Beru. "Luke represents the only chance we have to stop him."
"And you want us to raise him," said Owen's voice. It was not a question. Obi Wan turned to look at him.
"Yes," he said simply.
"What about his mother?" Beru asked. "Where is she?"
Again, Obi Wan winced. "Dead," he said in a husky voice. "I… I believe Anakin killed her." Beru gasped, hugging Luke even tighter than before.
"Will you do this?" Obi Wan asked solemnly, looking directly at Owen whom he knew would be the harder one to convince. Owen looked at his wife, seemingly overwhelmed by the choice in front of him. Beru for her part was staring back at Luke, a sad look in her eyes.
"I understand that this is a difficult decision –"
"We'll do it," Owen interrupted. "We will raise him."
Obi Wan placed a hand on his chest and exhaled deeply. "Thank you," he said. "You will be doing a great service to the galaxy."
Beru looked up at her husband and gave him a radiant smile. Owen returned the smile weakly, a dazed and uncertain expression on his face. "We will raise him as our own," Beru said. "Luke Lars."
Obi Wan nodded. It would be wisest to change the boy's first name as well, but he couldn't bear to suggest it. It had been Padme's last wish, after all. Standing up, Obi Wan walked over towards Beru to look at Luke for one last time. Leaning down, he planted a kiss on the baby boy's forehead.
"Thank you," he said again. "I cannot express how grateful I am."
"What about you? Where will you go?" Beru asked.
Obi Wan frowned. He hadn't considered this question, having been so focused on Luke for the past few days. What was he going to do with himself? He had to stay near to look after Luke. He knew he owed this to Padme at the very least.
"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "I have to stay on Tatooine. Besides that, I'm not sure."
Owen walked over and extended his hand to Obi Wan. "We can help you. Tatooine can be a tough place to live for foreigners such as yourself." Shaking Owen's hand, Obi Wan marveled at how he had managed to stumble across the two most generous people in the galaxy.
"Thank you, I would appreciate that," Obi Wan said.
"You should probably change your name," Beru suggested. "Obi Wan is a pretty conspicuous name, especially in a place like this."
"I suppose you're right," Obi Wan said with a sigh. "I do like my name, though."
Laughing, Beru offered baby Luke to her reluctant husband. Scooping up the child with one large, calloused hand, Owen looked down at the child with an inquisitive look. Smiling, Obi Wan felt satisfied that he had given Luke the best possible life he could given the circumstances. As he turned to leave, he remembered one last thing.
"Nobody can know I was here," he said. "If someone comes looking for me, you must pretend you've never heard my name. Revealing my presence may endanger Luke as well. Promise me you will do this."
Owen nodded at Obi Wan, looking up from Luke. "You have our word," he said somberly. "You and Luke will be safe here."
Obi Wan sure hoped he was right.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Jobal turned around to find Padme standing at the entrance to the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her body as if she was shivering.
"No, that's alright, dear," she said, dropping a knife. "Have a seat."
Padme complied, sitting down on a high stool by the island in the kitchen. Padme watched absently as her mother went back to chopping up carrots for a stew.
"Where's Dad?" Padme asked.
"He's out in the gardens," Jobal answered. "He's a bit shocked, to tell you the truth."
Padme nodded, looking out the window at the chrysanthemums which were swaying cheerfully in the wind, the late afternoon sun casting a long shadow over the garden. Jobal ceased chopping, pouring the contents of the cutting board into a pot. Placing the board down, Jobal turned to her daughter with a concerned expression.
"Padme, please talk to me," she said. "Your father and I are worried sick about you."
Padme turned away from her mother's anxious eyes, this time focusing on the bubbling pot in front of her.
"You had to hide your relationship because Anakin is a Jedi, is that right?" Jobal asked.
With a grimace, Padme looked back at her mother. Everything she had said was true except for one glaring component. She couldn't tell her about that, though. She would be horrified if she knew what he had become…
Instead, Padme nodded her head in affirmation. Jobal pursed her lips as she continued to look at her daughter with great concern. "How long have you been together?" she asked.
"Three years," Padme replied, not trusting herself to say anymore. She wasn't in the mood to speak in complete sentences at the moment.
"And the child?"
With this question Padme finally broke down, great tears cascading down her cheeks onto the floor. She had kept this in for days, knowing all along that it was only a matter of time before the tears came. Sobs racked her body as Jobal scurried forward to give her daughter a hug.
"Shh, it's okay," Jobal cooed, stroking Padme's hair gently. "Just let it out." Padme didn't know how long they stayed like this. It could have been minutes or it could have been an hour; time seemed to have no meaning to her anymore. Padme finally stopped crying when she felt her mother stiffen and look up at the sound of approaching footsteps.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"
Separating herself from her mother, Padme looked around to see Anakin standing awkwardly at the entrance to the kitchen. He had evidently cleaned himself up in an attempt to impress his parent-in-laws, as he was looking especially dapper in his black Jedi Robes.
"Are… are you alright, Padme?" Anakin asked.
Padme stared back at him blankly. Was she alright? What type of a question was that? Suddenly, she felt a surge of anger course through her at the sight of him. He had done this to her. To them. And here he was, standing in her parents' kitchen as if nothing was wrong.
"No," she said bitterly, standing up from the stool shakily. "But why should you care?" Leaving a stunned Anakin in her wake, she pushed past him and stormed off to her room. Slamming the door behind her, she fell into the bed and began to cry once again. Crying for her lost son and for the life her husband had stolen from her.
Padme was staring sightlessly out her bedroom window, her face still wet from tears, when she heard a knock at the door. Sighing, Padme put her face in her hands. She didn't want to have this conversation. Why couldn't he just leave her alone…
"Padme?"
Padme spun around in surprise. It was not Anakin standing in the doorframe, but her sister Sola. Her face, often twinkling with humor and bubbling over with enthusiasm, was grim and concerned.
"Sola," Padme said with a watery smile. Taking this as permission to enter, Sola closed the door behind her and sat down by Padme's side. Enclosing Padme's hand with both of her own, Sola gave Padme a probing look.
"Mom told me what happened," she said in a whisper. "Padme, I'm so sorry."
Padme shut her eyes tight and looked away, but she had no tears left to spend.
"Padme, please look at me," Sola said urgently. Complying, Padme opened her eyes and turned back to her sister. "What did he do to you?"
Padme's eyes widened in surprise and fear. "Nothing! What are you talking –"
"Padme," Sola said sternly, cutting Padme off. "We're not blind. Mom said you lashed out at him in the kitchen."
"It's nothing, I just… we just…"
"We can help you, Padme," Sola said in a low voice. "You have to tell us what is wrong. Is he abusing you?"
"No!" Padme said quickly. "He… I–I can't tell you," she said lamely. Looking away from Sola's skeptical expression, Padme sat up from the bed and walked over to the window, watching as the last rays of sunlight faded beyond the horizon.
"Why not?" Sola asked softly.
Padme's lower lip trembled as the terrifying expression on Anakin's face on Mustafar flashed before her eyes. "It's...it's too terrible," Padme said quietly. From behind her, she heard Sola stand up. Turning around, she saw the steely face of a determined and overprotective older sister looking back at her.
"Try me," she said firmly.
