To Dwell In Dreams
Chapter four – The Family Joke
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The two Tatooine suns beat down on their planet, heedless and uncaring for the many lives which both depended on them for survival and cursed them for lack of water. The suns did not think. They did not feel. Only followed the will of the Force which had created them, which would remain long after the two stars had burned out.
If someone had been watching from the sky, they would have been able to see (if they had inhuman vision of that level) a seemingly ordinary scene being played out in front of a seemingly unimportant area not far from Anchorhead and the Jundland wastes. The moisture farm looked nothing special because, in all the ways that mattered, it was nothing special. The people too seemed nothing more than ordinary.
Yet here, just as much if not more so than almost any other place in the galaxy, appearances could be decidedly deceiving.
The four people gathered outside the entrance to the farm and right by two kitted up speeders had all changed in the past six and a bit years. The adults had all grown older and wiser. Owen was finally starting to accept that not everything that Anakin Skywalker had unwittingly gifted to his son was bad. Beru was slowly gaining ever more respect for the Jedi and, more importantly to her, the dozens of others who must have existed before the empire and the thousands now living in the empire who had grown up as or raised Force-sensitive children. They were, as she would say to anyone who was sympathetic with her situation – mostly only her husband and his brother-in-law's old master, though Luke himself found himself on the receiving end of her speeches more than he would like sometimes – the most troublesome kind of children that there had ever been created by the Maker, and she could only find herself thankful that her nephew was more well behaved most of the time to bother with inane practical jokes like those that some of his friends played in the town.
And Luke himself –
At that moment, thirteen year old Luke Skywalker was grinning like there was no tomorrow, backing away from a hug and a proud look from his Aunt. Even the unobtrusive yet scowling form of his uncle could not take his joy from him – he knew that the man didn't actually mean it anyway, not anymore.
Because today was Luke's thirteenth Life Day, the day when he officially came of age.
Because today, for the first time in over six years, he would be learning how to use something other than a training 'saber.
He was going to be using a real lightsaber.
He was going to be given his father's lightsaber.
The morning had been all about family, like all of his Life Days before. He was given gifts – Aunt Beru had even dyed some of his drab white Tatooine tunics brown as uncle Ben's Jedi robes. They had all laughed at that, even uncle Ben himself, and uncle Owen had said that he didn't mind, so long as he didn't get anyone's suspicions up by acting like a Jedi while he was around others as well as dressing like one.
The midday heat had been spent with the four of them eating as the suns beat down on the sands, the meal consisting of Luke's favourite foods, the same as always on this day each year.
What was happening now, however, was that uncle Ben was going to take him over to his place to present his father's 'saber to him, and since it was afternoon already, that meant that Luke would be staying at uncle Ben's for the night. His father, who had agreed and been pleased to have Luke receive his old lightsaber even if that meant that his son would not be making his own, would be getting the full run down of events that night since he was unable to be there in person.
He had never been there in person for almost any of Luke's greatest achievements – there had been the odd time when he would learn a technique from his father instead of uncle Ben, but those times were rare, few and far between. Anakin Skywalker had never set foot on Tatooine since finding out that he existed, and for some reason although that made him slightly sad, it didn't really matter at the same time. His father might not be there with him, but he was with his father, and that was all that really mattered.
Plus the fact that he knew that if he truly needed the man for whatever life-threatening reason, his father would come, Sith Hell or high water. It was a given.
So Luke grinned, the light of joy and happiness filling him as he said his temporary goodbyes. Sheer contentedness filled him as both he and his adoptive uncle clambered onto their respective speeders and flew off into the desert. Luke smiled as he remembered the reaction he had received the first time he had offered to give his Jedi uncle a lift over to the farm once – outright rejection. At first he had been dejected, thinking that it was a jab at his piloting skills, that it was because of his age. Then, when Ben had told him that it was simply that although his father had been seen as an excellent pilot, he, Ben Kenobi, had found that he was just plain suicidal even if he was brilliant, it had made him laugh. Ben had grimaced at that, reminiscing over the fact that both generations of Skywalker boys seemed to have similar tastes in flight.
Luke found – and had said – that he simply could not help it. He felt alive in the air, more so than he ever did when stuck on the ground, and it was for that reason that he had been pushing his family to let him attend the imperial academy. So far, he hadn't had any luck. But that didn't meant that his present fun could be impinged upon.
Flying was fun.
It took them no longer than perhaps half a standard hour to get to Ben's old place out in the wastes. The ride was familiar to the both of them, passing quickly. Sure, maybe he would have liked to believe sometimes that if he tilted his head that way, then he could see the infamous Beggar's Canyon, Needle tall, proud and arrogant, just waiting to be threaded. Not that he needed to, but. . .
He might be a Jedi (all right, Jedi-in-training), but he didn't think that meant he couldn't daydream. Plus, if he really wanted to, he could. A learner he might be, but he had his father's reflexes with the Force when it came to piloting, even uncle Owen admitted that.
In the house out in the wastes, Luke followed his uncle with excited yet subdued anticipation to where the Jedi had been known to keep his strange and wonderful things from long ago.
Once, he had discovered a box of old holos dating all the way back to the Clone Wars. He had barely recognised his uncle Ben in the pictures as the person who taught him now. The only thing that had made him absolutely sure had been the person standing next to or near to him in almost all of them.
Anakin Skywalker, while arrogant and self-assured twenty-odd years ago, had – or even still did – look just like him.
He was distracted from his thoughts when Ben put a hand on his shoulder, holding out in his other hand a long, cylindrical and yet familiar object. Ben looked at the silver and steel for a sombre moment or two, clearly remembering its previous owner, before handing the weapon with a certain amount of reverence to Luke.
"Your father's lightsaber, Luke. I had kept it for you even before you revealed that he was still alive. I was sure that he would have wanted you to have it once you were old enough."
Luke felt the sensation of the weapon in his hand, the comfort in which it rested there. Everything about it seemed to whisper to him, so that, unlike most times where he would cling to the old Jedi's words like they were the last dregs of water in the Wastes, here and now he felt himself slipping away from it all. This was Anakin's, it practically thrummed. This was his life, and this was his safety. My father fought with this. . .
Looking at the hilt with no small measure of wonder, Luke pushed a button, making the blade's beam shine forth. Blue. Blue as the Tatooine Sky. Blue as his eyes, his father's eyes, or so he'd been told.
"Never forget that this is the weapon of a Jedi Knight, Luke. It is to be used as one. If you want something clumsy or random, use a blaster. But the lightsaber is an elegant weapon for a more civilised time, and the one in your hands a prime example – one of the best, I would say."
Luke stared at the light of the blade for a moment, but not enough to get blinded by it – he had learnt that lesson years before, on getting his first practice blade. It had irritated him for what had felt like forever until the flash wore off. He chuckled slightly.
"Just one of the best, uncle Ben?"
His uncle smiled.
"Your father may be the best mechanic that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he was still young when we – parted ways. So yes, Luke. One of the best."
"I bet he's loads better by now then, huh? He's had this long just to make sure his lightsaber's perfect. I wonder what it'd look like."
A shadow passed over Ben's face that Luke didn't see, but mistook for sadness at the subject matter. After all, it had been over thirteen years since the two had seen each other, unlike him, who had the chance to talk with his father each time he went to bed.
It went almost as soon as it had appeared, however.
"Remember, Luke, that a lightsaber like this is not the same as a training blade. There will be slight differences; differences that to a normal person would be imperceptible, yet to a Jedi could be the line between life and death. For a while, the balance will be off and you will have to adjust your blows in certain ways. For some moves, you will not need to utilise quite so much strength, and since this will be the first time that you use a full-powered blade, you will also need to learn when to use that power."
Luke was still grinning like a child, despite his thirteen full years. He had tuned some of his uncle's speech out, having heard most of it before, but the actual meaning had not been lost to him. He needed to get up to speed with the quirks and intricacies of duelling with a real lightsaber. He had a feeling he'd enjoy it.
"Hey, uncle Ben? Could I - ? D'you think I could. . . ?"
Ben answered him with an easy smile and a twinkle in his eye as he led his adopted nephew into a rarely-frequented gulley that they had often used for lightsaber training. Its out-of-the-way location had been a great asset, since it was considered treason to either be a Jedi or be training one, and the clash of even just training blades would have attracted some attention if they had not been careful. It also had the supporting factor of being a large area with plenty of obstacles and shady areas, making it perfect for either an all-terrain fight or a late afternoon resting place.
Luke rolled the hilt of his father's blade around in his palm, still not having gotten over the feeling of connection that it gave him.
Finding himself and Ben standing in an open space, he sketched a hasty bow and took up his favourite stance.
Ben started, a wash of memories and emotions coming over him in a wave so hard and fast that Luke could not tell one thing from another. Unlike the earlier shadow however, this pain did not simply vanish, but rather dimmed, the worst of the pain and suffering bleeding off into the Force. The Jedi made his own bow – making it look infinitely better than Luke's own – taking the stance of his own favoured style. Lightsaber in one hand over his head and other hand almost parallel underneath, the defensive Soresu style was one that Luke would feel rather accomplished by if he even got one hit in.
He continued to grin. Nothing would stop him from enjoying this day, even if he got so soundly trounced that he needed bacta.
As he started forward to attack, he felt content, for the most part. And. . . he felt pride. Not just his pride, either. Uncle Ben's pride in him.
It was that which lead him to do his best in his fight – he wanted to show Ben that he was worthy of that pride, that he could live up to it.
Because this was his day, and his Jedi heritage, the lightsaber his legacy.
---
Luke opened his eyes, knowing full well what he would see once he did. He wasn't usually let down. The same rooms, the same ship, mostly the same feel about it as it usually had.
Mostly.
The euphoria at the reason of his visit drained steadily from him as he truly began to notice the strange sensations that the place sent to him. As far as he knew there was nothing and no-one else here in the silence, yet something was different.
For a moment he simply opened himself to his surroundings and the noisy silence of the place as he waited for his father to return.
Some cultures would say that if the room could speak it would have plenty of stories to tell. That, of course, was impossible, even with the Force. Rooms could not speak, and that was the end of it. But those cultures were closer than they knew however, because while the room could not speak, the memories of what had happened in them remained, imprints in the Force. Memories and memories of memories flashed through Luke's mind as he reminded of various events. Traces of their lives that had built up over years.
Luke flinched as more recent events came to the fore. Waves of anger, frustration, arrogance, stubborn pride and constant annoyance, sometimes tempered with dark humour. Emotions that had been felt in this room not so long ago. . .
Emotions that, as he focused more on the here and now, had not entirely dissipated. He opened his eyes and looked around, remembering that although his uncle Ben had told him that his eyes often lied to him, he was also told that what you saw could also be different from what you felt, and that if you paid attention to both then you would be able to see all the picture instead of jut a bit of it.
So far, Luke hadn't seen anyone, but that didn't mean that there wasn't anyone there.
"Hey, kid. Didn't anyone tell you now tell you not to go exploring on the big ships?"
Luke jumped, startled, hand reaching unerringly to where his lightsaber usually was, but in his waking realm of dreams was an unreassuringly big nothing.
There was someone here who wasn't usually here, he realised as he turned around. Someone who could see him. And hear him. In most normal cases, that would have meant that he was a Force-sensitive – like his father and uncle Ben – and so deprived him of the opportunity of looking at their faces, knowing for sure who they were. Other than through their Force signatures, of course. This guy, though – he broke all the rules. He could see Luke. . .
. . . And Luke could see him.
The stranger, Luke noted, was brawny. Older than him, but younger than either of his uncles. There was an undrawn blaster at his side that looked as though it had seen a fair amount of use, and a pair of goggles hung around his neck. The man's brown hair was tied back into a long but serviceable ponytail. The overall effect was that he looked like he had just come out of one of the less reputable bars in Mos Espa or Mos Eisley – a real space pirate of some kind. At any other time Luke would have felt much more delighted to be seeing one out Tatooine. But this was his father's freighter, and if there were space pirates of any kind on his father's freighter, then he would. . . he would. . . do something.
"Who are you?"
Luke attempted to use that same kind of voice his father used when he did something the man did not like and he was trying to get his son to open up. Giving the matter a small amount of thought, he crossed his arms for good effect.
This, however, didn't seem to do exactly the same as it did whenever his father did it. The spacer simply cocked an eyebrow and crossed a short amount of the distance between them.
"Look, kid. Who I am ain't important. I don't even care who you are. In fact, what'd be real good would be if we just parted ways and forgot the other even existed. You don't make no trouble for me, and I don't have to make any trouble for you. Got it?"
Luke's eyes narrowed as he frowned.
"Nope."
---
Wrenga Jixton was taken aback. He didn't know how in Sith Hell the kid had gotten himself in here – he was supposed to be the only one in the known galaxy to be able to break the security all the way to Vader's private chambers either in his chambers in that castle on Vjun, or on whatever ship the guy happened to be flying on. But what he did know was that Vader was bad enough when he found out that Jix had broken in to the inner sanctum of the day, and if he found out that some snot-nosed kid who looked straight off the farms on Tatooine had been able to do it, heads would roll.
Specifically, blond-haired, blue-eyed heads.
"Kid, I don't think you understand. My Uncle D's gonna be coming back here any second now, and I don't think you want to get caught by him."
The kid's jaw clenched, and he started pointing his finger at Jix, punctuating his words in a hauntingly familiar manner.
"Look, you. I am not going to be leaving here till my father gets back. I don't know when that'll be and to be honest with you I don't care about your Uncle D. I'm not moving."
"Whoa, your father?" Well, that complicated things a bit.
"Yeah," said the kid, putting that arm back to his chest in that oh so familiar way. "Ana- the captain. If you can see me, that means you know my father."
Wait, what? Who was that 'Ana' something or other? And –
"What the hell d'you mean by if I can see you? You ain't exactly invisible, kid."
He took a passing glance at the door and the chrono and when he looked back the kid was smirking somewhat, the effect ruined by the mostly naive nature of the rest of him.
"You'd be surprised."
Jix shook his head, both frustrated at the kid's stubborn resolve not to budge as well as bewilderment at how innocent he still seemed, even on board the Empire's flagship.
"You know what? I don't care. You're getting out of here whether you like it or not. If my Uncle D finds out you're here, then he's going to- "
"Then I am going to do what exactly, Jix?"
Oh. . . Sithspit.
He could feel the blood deserting his face, his mind going blank for all but a few choice words. Not because of the sheer presence of the man; he wasn't afraid. Might as well be afraid of something as inevitable as death itself. More like that if he had heard more than even just a few seconds, then it wouldn't be just his head on a Force-pike. What could he say – the kid was cute. Cute things like him didn't deserve to be pulverised and decimated into tiny little pieces or –
Jix blinked. There was a notable lack of blood-red light, no humming of the energy blade, and most importantly, no screams.
He was definitely missing something here.
The door hissed shut, and he looked first at the black masked and robed Sith Lord that he served under, then at the white robed, blond-haired and blue-eyed boy that he had been talking to before.
The kid was looking at Vader, and Vader was looking at him.
The boy reached up and gently caught a handful of Darth Vader's sleeve in his hand. Jix was interested to note that while the kid knew where the arm was, it was as though he was seeing through badly configured transparisteel. Even more interesting was that Vader didn't even seem to mind.
"Er, Father? Who is this guy? And what about you – how are you? I thought – I thought something had happened!" The kid's eyes widened. "Hey! He called you his Uncle D!"
Jix was sure that if he asked most members of the Imperial galaxy – or even anyone who wasn't – then they would say that Darth Vader showed no emotion. That he was a cyborg that was more machine than man. For Jix, however, this wasn't the first time that he had ever seen something other than anger or hate coming from the Sith. It was, on the other hand, the first time that he could ever have said that he thought that the man looked like he was most likely to slap the palm of his hand against his head or hit his head – or would that be helmet? – onto a had surface.
He grinned.
"Jix," Vader said with amazing self-control, "we will talk about all of this later. For now, you will go somewhere to wait for my call, and you will try to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. Is this understood?"
Jix smirked. "Understood, Uncle D."
"And you will stop using that name for me, Jix."
"Sure thing, Uncle D, sir."
The door slid open and shut again behind him, but he still heard fragments of conversation.
"So who was that guy?"
Vader let out his approximation of what passed for a sigh with that damn respirator of his.
"Jix seems to live to get on the nerves of anybody and everybody that he meets. Although this makes him an embarrassment, he is also very good at what he does."
"So what is it that he does?"
". . . A lot of things."
Jix fought to keep from laughing hard. Instead, he called back to them as he walked away, loud enough to still be heard.
"I'll take that as a compliment, then."
---
Obi-Wan was making tea – two cups – just as Luke started to wake up. He smiled. The boy looked even more innocent and childlike in his sleep than he did when active. A stark contrast to Anakin, who had only ever looked truly at peace when he had been asleep. Or, as eh had come to realise and accept, when he had been with Padmé Amidala. Luke's mother.
"Hey, uncle Ben! Uncle Ben!"
Obi-Wan chuckled. Some things didn't change. Skywalkers were Skywalkers, and the Force-strong family was nothing if not expressive.
"Yes?"
"You'll never guess what happened!"
He smiled and held out Luke's cup for him to take.
"If you are so sure that I would have no clue, then by all means, enlighten me."
Luke grinned and set the cup down on a stable surface so that he could use his hands to full extent.
"Well, at first I thought it was just another normal time when Father just wasn't there yet, you know?"
Obi-Wan did know. He was pretty certain that the only way that the situation had progressed thus far had been because of Luke's ability to go back to that one place, so long, of course, as his father was present on the ship.
"Except then I met someone – or rather, they saw me somehow. I don't know. But. . ." Luke trailed off, the grin fading slightly but the inherited mischievous gleam in his eyes more than made up for it. "Did you know," he said with mock severity, "that I apparently have a cousin?"
Obi-Wan's eyes widened. It was an unofficial fact that Anakin was not going to remarry. His pain over losing Padmé and his subsequent subversion to the Sith Order had made it impossible. Surely, then, perhaps it was the Naberries, Padmé's family. But then, why say simply 'cousin', while ignoring the rest?
Luke seemed not to have noticed all of this going on in his mentor's mind. At the very least, he continued as if ignorant. Obi-Wan's suspicions as to the latter of the two seemed to be validated without much further confusion
"Er, actually," the boy said, with an embarrassed laugh, "It's more like a kind of joke. You see, Jix didn't know who I was when he said it, only that he thought the captain was gonna be real angry if he saw me there, problem was he didn't know the captain was my father either. . . Needless to say it got kinda funny when I realised Jix had been calling Father 'Uncle D', and then Father replied – and you should have seen the look on his face! – and then I realised and I asked Father about it 'cause Jix had gone already and he said that Jix was just like that with everyone, just does stuff to get on people's nerves. I said I thought it was fun, because I'd never had a cousin before."
"I'm sure that your father liked the sound of that," Obi-Wan said dryly, before the rest of what Luke had said caught up to him. "Wait. . . Uncle what!?"
"That's pretty much what I said," Luke chuckled, giving in to laughter for a moment or two. "I asked father and he basically said to ask Jix the next time I saw him." The laughter died down. "I look forward to that, though."
A smile lit up his face and he picked up the cup again before leaning back against the wall.
"There's so much I'd still like to know. . . So much to see, to do. People to meet. Someday I'll be able to fly among the stars and get to know Father and Jix on their own terms. But for now. . . I think I'll be able to make do with telling Jix how to best prank Father," he said, making Obi-Wan laugh.
"Well, you might want to try . . ."
---
AN: Well, there you have it. No one got it right! I bet none of you ever expected Jix... and I told you it'd be EU characters in the profile summary, too. The term 'the family joke' comes from two sources - another fanfic, and Narnia, the first Crow who became the first Joke. Poor thing. I had the idea from the first when I thought of Luke's reaction to what Jix calls Vader; much Sith humiliation to be had ;D
I hope I've got Jix in character in his scenes. I've only got snatched glimpses of Shadow Stalker to go by, as well as other fanfics and wiki/wookiee pedia. Keep in mind that in this AU, things happen differently. Jix was found later (?) than in canon, and I believe, or am lead to believe, that the moniker 'Uncle D' only comes into use in Shadow Stalker to derail the Bothans. I liked it, so what.
Just so you know, there are going to be one or two mini/extra/omake scenes after this before the story really picks up again. The first extra will follow almost straight on from the events on the ship, the second extra having a time gap of about a year, and the next true chapter will be even more.
