Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize.

18. The Skywalkers, Reunited

Elara stood silently, staring at the Toydarian sitting under the shade of a cloth overhang. He grunted and muttered as he scrubbed a brush over the head of a broken pit droid. In the time that Elara had been standing across the street, watching, he'd dropped the brush several times. Unlike Tatooine, Watto had changed quite a bit. Hair had sprouted under and around his mouth, coarse and unkempt. His skin looked like it had spent more time out in the elements, dry and wrinkled. A hat sat crookedly atop his head, which reinforced the idea that he spent more, if not most, of his time outside. What hadn't changed, however, was the grating rasp of his voice. Watto was a being that Elara thought she'd never have to see again; and she had been happy for that. But there she was, preparing to buck up the will to go over and talk to him because she had to. She hated that he had something she needed. It turned her stomach.

Finally, with a lifted chin, Elara approached the griping Toydarian. She stopped with her toes at the edge of the shade of the overhang. Watto didn't acknowledge her presence, and instead continued to brush and mutter to himself. And she did nothing to announce herself. She just stared. Stared at the being that she'd called her slave master for too long. The being that had risked her and her brother's life in podraces. Every memory Elara had of Watto was bad, and it took all of her training not to snap out some nasty words in Huttese. Very suddenly, Watto threw his hands up, droid head toppling to the ground.

"What!?" he exclaimed, head shooting up, hat wobbling. "What do you want!?" The agitated wrinkling of his forehead suddenly let up. His yellow eyes widened and his mouth went slack. Then, suddenly, he laughed in disbelief and threw his hands out. "What do you know, eh! Elara Skywalker! I recognize you! How grown you are now; you have a face that would sell a thousand pit droids!"

Elara tried to shoulder off the way the 'compliment,' and the leer that accompanied it, made her skin crawl. In response, she cooly raised her eyebrows. "I suppose ten years away from this planet does do one good." Then she leveled him with an even stare. "I want to know where my mother is."

The question made Watto recoil a little, an agitated 'ehhh' leaving his mouth; his wings twitched in annoyance, and he lurched forward, teetering dangerously on his make-shift seat. A clawed finger jabbed at her in a familiar reprimanding gesture.

"I remember you being the more agreeable sibling! At least your brother offered to help me before he asked a thing," Watto grumbled in annoyance. Elara's ears perked up at the mention of Anakin; her heart throbbed painfully in her chest, and anxiety started to claw its way up her throat. With a slow breath, Elara pushed it back down. She would need a level head if she was going to proceed and succeed.

"I tend to be more agreeable when someone has been kind to me," she quipped. The flatness of her voice reminded her of Anakin, particularly of him when his annoyance started to rule his head.

Watto sputtered indignantly. "I was kind to you! To your family! I was much better than that Hutt I won you from, ehh?"

"You were less cruel than Gardulla, yes. But a slave owner is still a slave owner, no matter how they treat who they own." The disdain that dripped from the word 'own' twisted the corners of Elara's mouth. Watto narrowed his eyes and grumbled.

"I allowed you and your brother to go free!"

"You lost us in a bet."

"I let your mother keep her home!"

"You sold her," Elara bit out in a dangerous deadpan. She stepped under the overhang, the shadow of it enveloping her. She stared the Toydarian down, face impassive. Watto stared up at her before his eyes briefly cut down towards the lightsaber on her hip. In response to his glance, Elara let her hand dance along the hem of her robe, and watched his reaction when it stopped at the height of her hip. His eyes widened slightly, his mouth fell a little more open. He was scared. Scared she would draw it. Activate it. Use it on him. Elara slowly opened the robe––before she pulled it around her front to hide the weapon. His eyes shot up to meet hers, and she raised her brows coolly. "I'm not going to use it."

There was a moment where Watto held her gaze, seeming to search her face for some indication she was lying. But then he laughed and his wings fluttered. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he lifted into the air and hovered at Elara's height. "No, of course not! I know you, Skywalker, never forget that! Always the level headed one, never one to jump to violence!" Watto threw his hands up relentingly. "You want to know where your mother is? She's living on a moisture farm on the other side of Mos Eisley. Sold her to a man named Lars, who set her free, apparently! You see? I've done your family great favors!"

Bubbles of anger started to boil in Elara's blood. Watto had never done a single one of them a favor. In all the years that she had been training to become a Jedi, she had learned how to handle anger. But not once had she felt it so strongly. It prickled under her skin, burned in her nose, and caused her fingers to tremble. Watto continued to grin smarmily, chuckling under his breath. The sound inspired her ire. It nearly tipped her over the edge. Her fingers started to curl, and she could feel an unfamiliar energy start to buzz in the spaces between them. Something in the back of her head whispered to show Watto just how she felt about him––and that dark thought was enough to snap her out of it. The pain in her chest reminded her of why she was there, and why she couldn't lose her temper. Elara inhaled sharply––but let the breath out slowly, unfurling her fingers as she did so. She inclined her head to Watto, which tore her eyes away from him. Almost immediately, she felt her anger start to dissipate.

"Thank you for the information you've imparted. I'll leave you to your work."

Elara turned on her heel and walked away without another word.

In the time that Skywalkers had been enslaved, Elara had always tried to teach Anakin to take the high road. It was why she'd never talked back to Watto, or encouraged him not to go charging after someone who'd made him upset. And she had almost forgotten her advice just then––almost let her anger get the best of her. But by the grace of her training, Elara had not given in. She had remained strong. And it was all she could hope that whatever she found in Mos Eisley wouldn't break her.

OOOO

The moisture farm wasn't hard to find.

It was the only standing structure for a good handful of miles outside of Mos Eisley. A simple domed structure rose out of the sandy ground, and oddly welcoming against the barren landscape. Vaporators dotted the property, standing tall and unwavering. Moisture farms were common on Tatooine, but every one looked different. This one appeared to have taken a more underground approach, with a sunk-in courtyard that was barely visible from ground level. It was a quaint area, but it was as cozy as somewhere on the sand-swept planet could get.

Elara had landed her ship a reasonable distance away from the farm, beside a mirror-plated Naboian ship. It looked out of place by the quaint moisture farm and the barren desert. But the only thing it was good for, at the moment, was a confirmation that Anakin had, indeed, come to find the Lars family. Elara strode towards the domed entrance to the home, heart throbbing against her ribcage. The air buzzed around her, the Force trembling with something––a confirmation that she was where she needed to be, where she was supposed to be. That what she was looking for was there. But that wasn't a relief. It was a stressor. Because everything that she had felt leading up to that moment led her to believe that something terrible had happened. To Anakin. Their mother. Their family. Elara was not sure what waited for her on this little moisture farm, but she was about to find out.

But the person who appeared in the arched doorway was not who she expected upon her approach.

"Padmé?" Elara queried, stopping in her tracks.

Sure enough, the Senator of Naboo had stepped into the intense sunlight, jogging up the few steps that brought her to ground level. She was dressed far too nicely for Tatooine, the dark blues and shining beads of her dress standing out against the swath of tans and browns of the landscape. And just as surprise had registered on Elara's face, it had registered on Padmé's.

"Elara? We thought you were Anakin," she said. She approached Elara, her arms slowly extending in invitation for an embrace. While a shared hug was something not uncommon between the two women, there was something different about this one. The way that Padmé had started to reach out for her was akin to the way a mother might greet her missing child. It was concerning, given the situation.

"I came here looking for Anakin," Elara explained. When Padmé was close enough, she reached out to accept the hug, arms wrapping around her friend. "Is he alright?" Padmé's arms tightened around Elara, who felt a spike of panic drive its way through her stomach. "Where is he?"

When Padmé stepped back, she kept her hands secure on Elara's arms. Her face crumpled into one of apology, lips tugged down into a deep frown.

"He's… it's hard to explain."

"Padmé, what aren't you telling me?" Panic was audible in her voice. "Where's Anakin?"

Just then, someone else appeared through the doorway. A man in a hoverchair appeared, gliding towards the two women with his eyes narrowed into the sunlight. His right leg appeared to be missing below the knee, but aside from that, it appeared his years on Tatooine had done him well. His skin was pinked from exposure to the suns, but that didn't appear to have prematurely aged him, as it had done to some others. Despite the way his face scrunched up in reaction to the suns, he appeared as a kindly man, and the way the Force moved around him gently only heightened that idea.

"You must be the sister," he deduced. He glid to a stop and offered a hand. "Cliegg Lars."

Elara gave Padmé a lingering look before she turned to shake his hand. They were calloused from years of working with the vaporators, but they were warm and welcoming. "Elara Skywalker."

Cliegg nodded, eyes soft despite the way they crinkled against the light. "Your mother told me much about you. Said you were a sweet girl, very independent." The slightest rush of relief flushed through Elara's system at the mention of her mother. It must have registered on her face, because Cliegg chuckled a little under his breath. "I recognize that look––Shmi always got that gleam in her eyes when she was excited."

The way that he spoke of Shmi was so familiar. It wasn't the way that someone spoke about a slave they had bought, even one that they had set free, a rare occurrence in itself. Then it struck her––set free. She searched Cleigg's expression, from the way he smiled upon saying her name, to the fondness with which he spoke about her. A slow realization started to dawn.

"You set her free…" she murmured. Cliegg nodded. "Why?" The question was gentle, inquiring, like she already had a hint of what the answer would be. It was then that she realized that their hands were still clasped, hovering between them in a frozen handshake.

"So I could marry her," he explained. Cliegg squeezed her hand quickly, a silent assurance that what he said was true.

A surprised breath puffed out of Elara's mouth. She stared at Cliegg for a quiet moment before a small smile appeared on her face. "You love her."

Cliegg nodded, surprisingly more solemn than Elara would have expected. Her smile started to fall and her eyes darted towards Padmé. The senator had an arm curled around her ribcage and a hand placed over her mouth. Elara darted her eyes back to the man in the power chair, who released her hand and let his own drop into his lap.

"I do love her. And I know that you love her; and that's why I can't beat around the bush with this. Your mother's been missing. About a month. Taken by Tusken Raiders in an attack on the farm early one morning. Lost a leg trying to go after her, lost a lot of good men who came with me, too…" Cliegg explained. His face had creased with worry lines, which were too predominant even when he wasn't frowning.

The pain in Elara's heart swelled again. It felt like someone squeezing a blaster burn. Shmi had gone missing a month ago––and a month ago she'd started to have bad dreams. Dreams of screaming and crying and pain. Her eyes welled up with tears, her nose started to sting. She fought to keep her expression composed, but it was hard to prevent the inevitable cracking.

"Is she…?" Elara trailed off brokenly.

"We don't know. I figured… a month? There's little hope after a month, especially with them Tuskens. But your brother, he wouldn't hear it. He left yesterday to go and find her. We've been expecting him back all morning, we thought you were him."

Elara slowly turned away, glassy eyes brimmed with tears. Just one blink sent them pouring down along her cheeks. The pain in her heart continued to grow exponentially, getting worse and worse with each beat. Because, in that moment, Elara knew what had happened. Anakin had found their mother; and their mother had died. The entire galaxy suddenly seemed to implode in on her. Her hand rose to her throat, which was so tight it felt like she was choking on the very air she breathed. But before Elara could crumble in on herself in her grief, she saw something on the horizon. A dark shape speeding towards them, getting larger as it approached. The sound of a landspeeder began to fill the air, roaring with vicious intensity. In a matter of moments, it was close enough to see who sat astride it.

It was Anakin.

When the speeder stopped, he was off of it immediately, eyes downcast and face twisted in anguish. Cliegg maneuvered his chair closer, but Elara was frozen to where she stood. She watched as Anakin moved to the back of the speeder bike, where a crumpled lump wrapped in fabric had been curled. Upon his heaving of that lump into his arms, it became clear what it was––a body. Upon turning to the group assembled––including a man and a woman who had just dashed outside––Anakin's face morphed into something dangerously tense, and frighteningly neutral. But fury and anguish blazed in his eyes, which stared dead-ahead from under his browline. He walked towards the entrance to the home, but stopped when he was about to pass Cliegg. The stare he leveled down at the older man was chilling. Accusatory. Angry. It was a fleeting look, but it was unignorable.

And when Anakin turned away, his eyes fell on Elara. The dark look in his eyes shattered in shock. Elara stared right back, cheeks wet with tears that still threatened to fall from her eyes. She approached her brother––and her mother––with heartachingly slow steps. Anakin moved to meet her half-way. The two siblings stood before one another, silently regarding the other with heartbroken eyes. There was nothing to be said. Not yet, at least. Elara could see the pain behind his previously heated gaze; she could feel it in her heart, growing exponentially, threatening to overwhelm them both. And she was sure that, in her eyes, he could see the same emotion, the same hurt. Their shared sorrow weighed on their shoulders, threatening to drop them to the sandy ground. When they'd left Tatooine some ten years ago, there had always been a hope they'd come back one day, return to Shmi, and ensure a better life for her. That the Skywalkers would all be reunited, even if only for a little while.

This was their grand family reunion––but not the one they had wanted.

Then, silently, Anakin turned to descend into the Lars household.

Elara stared after him, eyes wide, expression struggling to remain anything than utterly broken. The image of her little brother cradling their mother's corpse was too much. It was horrific, something that she never should have had to see. That he never should have had to do. It was a cruel, sick joke that the galaxy was playing on them. The Skywalkers had finally been living good lives; and, suddenly, one of those lives was destroyed, thereby fracturing the livelihoods of the remaining two. In the hardest times of their lives, Shmi had been the glue that held the family together. And now she was gone.

It all shattered, then. The reality of everything came crashing down on Elara. It was no longer just Anakin's anguish that she felt––it was her own. And it was all consuming. It blinded her, numbed her, deafened her. It moved her through the doorway of the Lars' home, gliding through space without knowing where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to be somewhere that she felt safe, where the world didn't seem nearly as cruel as it did out in the heat of the Tatooine suns. When she wasn't burdened by multiple gazes that watched and waited for her to break. Elara moved till her feet stopped her, blinding allowing intuition to guide her to where she needed to be. And when she did stop, she let out a shaky exhale, absorbing where it was her feet had taken her.

It was the Lars' workshop. It was small, but it was respectable, with all the proper tools and worktables. There were parts carefully stored to the side in crates, a couple strewn across tables. Elara recognized some of the parts––for vaporators and land speeders and common household appliances––and a strange blanket of comfort settled over her. After years of working in a junk shop, of her whole livelihood being focused around breaking down and rebuilding parts and components, workshops and garages had always felt familiar. They always smelled the same, like oil and grease and metal. And it was that familiarity that Elara needed at the moment. And it was the comfort of that familiarity that let her finally break.

A chest-rattling sob wrenched its way out of her body. A hand pressed itself against her chest, right over her heart, pressing against it like that might mend it. But the pain overtook her wholly, after hours and hours of keeping it at bay, it consumed Elara whole. Her knees went weak and crashed to the stone floor. It felt as though a part of her heart had been forcibly removed from her chest. The whole world was composed of sorrow and grief and pain. It was what Elara had felt on Kamino, only elevated. She had never felt an emotion so strongly before in her life; perhaps it was because, now, her connection to the Force was stronger. Whatever the reason––be it Force elevation, pure, unadulterated emotion, or some cruel combination of the two––it was all too much.

Elara had been reduced to nothing but a crumpled ball of fabric and limbs on the workshop floor. She was hunched in on herself, like she was trying to disappear from existence. And she did, in that moment. She wanted to disappear. Because the pain was too much, the sorrow was too much. Both of Elara's arms were wrapped around her torso because she felt that, if they weren't, she'd tumble into a million pieces. And all the while, she sobbed openly, brokenly.

She didn't know how long she'd been there before Anakin came in. But when he did, she could sense it; another aggrieved presence to match her own. When Elara looked up, there was no hiding her flushed cheeks, tear-soaked lashes, and red eyes. They regarded one another silently, her hiccupped, stuttered breathing the only sound in the room. For a moment, Anakin's face was impassive. But then, with a particularly long blink, a stream of tears rolled down his cheeks. He fell to his knees beside his sister and wrapped her in his arms. Elara collapsed into her younger brother, hands fisting in the front of his tunic. For years she had let Anakin cling and cry against her in the exact same way; years of hushing him and smoothing a hand along his hair to calm him down. And now the roles were reversed. Elara clung to Anakin like he was the only solid thing left in the galaxy, the only thing that could ground her. She sobbed into his chest, body shaking in his arms. One of his hands cradled the back of her head, fingers shaking. Anakin, too, was crying, but it seemed marginally more controlled. His breath would gasp in through his mouth, his chest would go still as he tried to hold it, and then it would whine its way out brokenly in a cry.

Eventually, when they were both cried out, they just sat on the floor holding one another. Elara had come to wrap her arms around Anakin's middle, her head propped up against his shoulder. They were surrounded by the eerie calm that came after an emotional break. It was a quiet that acknowledged what had just happened; and recognized that they didn't know what to do or say afterwards. That quiet was disrupted, however, when Anakin started to sing. It was quiet and hoarse, but his voice was warm and the words were familiar. It was a song their mother used to sing to them as children. One that Elara had sung to Anakin whenever he was frightened during their first few months on Coruscant. And now, he was singing it to her. She closed her eyes and listened, the familiarity of the tune and his voice lulling her into a more livable state of calmness.

"How?" she asked once he'd stopped singing. Her eyes had come to open, and were staring indistinctly at something just beyond Anakin's shoulder. The word was slightly muffled by the fabric of his tunic. "How did she die?"

It was one hell of a question. Because any answer was going to be heartbreaking, especially given that Shmi had been taken by Tusken Raiders. Elara and Anakin had lived on Tatooine for many years––they knew what they were capable of. She could feel Anakin stiffen, the question straightening his back and causing his head to lift away from hers.

"I got to her and… she was all tied up… I got her down, and she was awake," Anakin explained flatly, voice beginning to tremble. His arms curled around Elara tighter, like he feared she, too, was going to be taken away. "She recognized me. After all that time, she recognized me… and then… then she… she died. In my arms." The way his voice croaked, how his breath hiccuped afterwards broke Elara's heart all over again.

She pulled away enough to stare up at him, eyes wide in the horrific realization that Anakin hadn't just found Shmi dead. He'd watched her die. He'd felt it. And that was what she had felt on Kamino; not just Anakin's anguish, but the feeling of their mother's life-force slipping away. Elara withdrew her arms from around him and let her hands jump up to his face. Both of his arms fell limply to his sides, hands resting slack in his lap. Elara shifted to kneel in front of him, aware that his eyes stared brokenly into nothing. Tears had started to fall along his cheeks again, and her thumbs were there to swipe them away.

"Oh, Ani…" she murmured.

"They must have been torturing her the whole time she was there, they must have been…" His lips pulled back over his teeth as air hissed in between them. Elara continued to wipe at his tears, sniffling to herself. She watched as both of his eyebrows furrowed, and his nose crinkled. Something dangerous passed over his expression, which froze her thumb mid sweep. "I killed them."

A cold sensation settled in the pit of Elara's stomach. She blinked at him and wondered if she'd heard him wrong. Both of her hands fell away from his face and instead came to rest on his shoulders.

"What?" she whispered.

"I killed them." This time he spoke the words more vehemently, spittle flying from between his teeth. His eyes cut towards Elara, blazing with a kind of fury she'd never seen in them before; it was all she could do to gape at him as he continued his tale. "Every single one of them! The men, the women––and the children, too! They're animals." He bared his teeth again, eyes sharp and fiery. "What they did to mom was animalistic––so I treated them the exact same way. Because it's not fair that they should get to live while she's dead! It's not fair!"

The anger that radiated off him was equally as overwhelming as his grief had been. Elara could feel it burning through the Force, which moved around him so rapidly, so erratically, so dangerously that it made her head spin. Her fingers tightened around his shoulders, which rose and fell with every enraged breath that hissed in and out of his mouth.

"Anakin," Elara tried, voice firm but breaking half-way through his name.

His breath started to come to him rapidly, his angered expression morphing into one caught between pain and distress. More tears fell, heavy and fast. "It's not fair… it's not fair!" he sobbed.

Anakin's cheeks were all pink, and despite how much he'd grown up––he suddenly looked very, very young. He started to cave in on himself, hunching forward while his hands caged over his thighs like claws. Elara reached forward and pulled him into her, allowing him to collapse against her. He sobbed angrily into her neck, groans and cries of anger muffled into her neck. She stared wide-eyed across the room as she stroked fingers soothingly through his hair. Anakin had killed a whole settlement of Tusken Raiders. Not just who he thought had been responsible for their mother's pain––but all of them. Every man. Woman. And child. The information was both disturbing and heartbreaking. And it shook Elara for many reasons. The first being that this was her little brother; she knew he had a temper, but she had never figured it would amount to this. The Jedi weren't pacifists, but they didn't set out to murder anyone on a whim; and it was terrifying to think of her sweet little brother doing anything of the sort. And the second being that, had she been in his place, she would like to think she wouldn't have reacted that way… but she couldn't be totally sure that she wouldn't have. If Elara had held their mother as she died, watched the life leave her eyes, she couldn't say she wouldn't have lost herself in the pain. And that was simply frightening.

When Anakin had finally calmed down, he muttered something into Elara's neck. Broken out of her entranced state of shock, Elara hadn't caught what had been said.

"What?" she asked.

Anakin slowly detached himself from his sister and sat back on his heels. His eyes were glassy and tired. The emotional drain of the last twenty-four hours registered on his face. He met Elara's gaze and took her hands in his. "What if she didn't have to die?" he asked. "What if something could've been done to stop it?"

Elara blinked at him before she slowly shook her head. "There's nothing we could've done, Ani. It was out of our hands. I wish there was something that we could've done, but… there wasn't," she said, soft and regretful.

"Lari." Anakin scooted closer on his knees, holding her hands tighter. He arched his brows, which lightened the look on his face significantly; but there was still pain alight in his expression. "You and I… we're powerful. There are things that we can do… things that we don't even know how to do. What if we could've… if we'd known…"

Desperation had started to creep into his tone, eyes darting around as they sought for an answer somewhere. Elara squeezed his hands, prompting him to keep his attention on her. When she garnered it again, she offered as much of a smile as she could.

"It would be wonderful if we could've. But no one has ever been able to stop death, not even the most powerful Jedi."

"But we could learn. We could learn to stop death, we're powerful enough to, surely! More powerful than any Jedi Knight or Master living!" Anakin insisted. He pleaded like he used to when he wanted to stop for pallies on the way home. He even pulled on her hands in the exact same way."W-we just have to learn how to do it! H-how to use our abilities, find someone who will teach us!"

"Anakin," Elara stressed firmly. She held his hands tight and leaned forward, eyebrows furrowing. Her head moved in a slow shake, mussed hair fluttering around her face. After a moment, she watched the frustration on Anakin's face dissipate into something desperate and tired. A shaking breath fluttered in through his mouth, and left in a shuddering exhale. "I'm angry, too. I know you can feel it, because I feel your pain. I felt it as you did, and it hurt. It hurt so bad… Your sorrow. Your rage. But we cannot let it get the best of us. We're better than that. You understand?" His head moved in a shallow nod. Elara brought a hand up to cup his cheek, redirecting his eyes up from his lap. Their eyes met and she vaulted her brows over teary eyes. "Remember that, always."

He nodded again, a little more confidently, and sniffled. Elara could sense his regret; or what felt like regret. A recognition that he was better than what he had done.

"I will."

"I love you, Ani. So much," Elara breathed. Anakin's hand tightened around hers, almost painfully so. It was the grasp of a man worrying he was going to lose everything he held dear.

"I love you too, Lari. Always," he promised.

Elara's hand slipped to the back of his head, guiding his head forward as she craned her own upwards. She kissed his forehead, eyes falling shut. If there was one thing that she knew that Shmi would want for them, it was to carry on. Continue living the lives she'd so desperately wanted them to have, continue loving one another wholly and completely. And Elara would honor that. No matter what else the galaxy threw their way.

OOOO

The Dark side of the Force was something that had always been an enigma to Elara. It seemed like some inky entity miles away, far out of reach. It felt like something one couldn't just stumble into, like a deliberate journey had to be taken to it. She had been warned that she and Anakin were predispositioned to fall prey to it, due to their deep connection to the Force and their lack of initial training. But it still felt so distant, so hard to get an idea of what it truly was, what it looked like. That day, Elara's whole perspective on the matter shifted.

It wasn't distant. It was so very close, at all times. One could trip into it, fall into the Darkness without meaning to, drown in it on accident. Because Elara had felt it trembling at her fingertips as Watto stirred up a deep-seated anger within her. She'd felt it buzzing around Anakin as he admitted falling prey to his anguish. It was so easy to let their fingers dip into the Dark side; and to feel tempted to linger in it. To use it. Elara hadn't––Anakin had, falling victim to the circumstance of the situation, but she sensed that he regretted doing so. It was a day filled with harsh reality, and Elara could feel that it was far from over.

"Hey," someone greeted gently.

Elara, who had been pondering this all at the Lars' dining table, looked up to see that she had been joined by Cliegg's son. He stood, almost sheepishly, in the wide, arched doorway to the kitchen area. He was fiddling with his hands a bit, eyes lingering on her. She smiled gently and inclined her head in greeting.

"Hello."

"I'm, uh… we've haven't met. I'm Owen Lars, Cliegg's son." He offered his hand, shuffling closer to the table. Elara accepted the handshake, leaning over the table a bit in order to do so.

"Elara Skywalker. I'm pleased to meet you, but sorry it had to be under such circumstances," she admitted. As she settled herself back in her chair, Owen gestured back towards the kitchen.

"Can I get you anything? Something to eat? Drink?" he offered. Elara glanced back at one of the well-lit counters, eyes skimming over a pitcher of blue milk. It was an Outer Rim specialty, hard to find anywhere else. And, she had to admit, she'd missed it.

"I wouldn't mind some milk, actually."

"Of course."

Owen dutifully made his way around the table and proceeded into the kitchen. He poured two glasses and returned to the table, passing one drink off to Elara. He seated himself across from her, vaguely toasting to her before he took a sip. Elara repeated the gesture before she brought the glass to her lips. The blue milk was sweet, sweeter than any other type of milk she'd had in her last ten years of travel. It brought back memories of childhood, Shmi urging both of her young children to the dinner table with the promise of blue milk. It made Elara smile sadly down into the glass.

"I, uh… I suppose we're siblings, aren't we," Owen posed carefully.

Elara looked up, met his gaze, and considered the question. The tentative expression on his face made her wonder if he'd posed the question to Anakin and had been met with an unfavorable, or underwhelming response. With a gentle smile, she nodded and watched as Owen's face relaxed.

"Yes, I suppose we are. And I'm sure that means that today has been as hard for you as it's been for me."

Owen folded his hands on the tabletop and visibly squeezed them together. There was a heavy furrow between his brows, and a frown threatening the corners of his mouth. After a prolonged moment of silence, Owen cleared his throat and met her eyes.

"Yeah, it's been…" he trailed off and cleared his throat again. "I loved Shmi very much. She was… a good woman, a good mother." The two of them shared a fleeting smile, awkward from their lack of acquaintance, sad for their shared loss. "She, uh… she mentioned you and your brother quite a bit. Was always sad when she did. It was clear she loved you very much."

A melancholy smile spread over Elara's face, eyes drifting off to stare at nothing in particular. But in that nothing, she could see Shmi's smile, her kind face, her loving demeanor. It made her heart ache.

"When Master Qui-Gon escorted Anakin and I off Tatooine… I knew the hardest thing would be leaving my mother. She had done so much for Ani and I, I wasn't sure if I could leave her. But she told me that we had to. That we were meant to live our lives away from this place… we left with the promise of seeing one another again. And we vowed that, one day, we'd come back and get her off this floating sand pit… But we were too late, it would seem." Elara's melancholy reminiscence turned into something more reflective, her eyes focusing in on Owen. "But I am overjoyed she found happiness here. You're good people, I can sense that."

Owen smiled, tears a little glassy as he considered his surroundings. The white walls, the black patterns painted on the ceiling, the courtyard bathed in sun. A quaint but homey space, filled with good memories. His brows furrowed, though, and he brought his attention back to the woman sat across from him.

"What will you do, now? Are Jedi allowed to mourn?"

It struck Elara, then, that she had never considered that question. It had never occurred to her. In her time as a Padawan Learner, she hadn't lost anyone, and there were no deaths in the Order that impacted her directly. She had never been taught whether or not mourning for a loved one or a comrade was permissible. When Master Yoda––and the whole of the Council––discovered that Shmi died, would they tell her and Anakin to buck up and get over it? Or would there be understanding? The future was uncertain in that regard; but there was no one there on Tatooine to tell her what to do, or to tell her otherwise.

"I don't know," Elara admitted quietly. "But I will mourn for my mother. I will not do her the disservice of ignoring how much she means to me. And if that is not accepted by the Jedi Code––then they will have to forgive me."

As Elara sat there with a man she supposed she could call her brother, something twisted in her gut. A flush of realization that, from this moment on, things were going to be different. There was nothing that really tied them to Tatooine anymore, save their memories. The Dark side seemed a more present threat, now that both Skywalkers had received a taste of it, acknowledged how easy it was to fall into its clutches. They both were realizing their relationship with the Force was different; and the questions that would arise from that would surely lead them down some fascinating paths. And, to top it all off, Elara and Obi-Wan seemed to be starting a tentative dance around something that neither of them particularly knew how to name or address. The gears of change were already turning––and Elara felt hopelessly trapped in the center of it all.

Afterword: I could have named this chapter "The Skywalkers Get Absolutely Emotionally Wrecked" but that didn't seem too eloquent. This chapter was a wee bit shorter, but shit kicks off again next chapter. I have fun with characters being nostalgic, can ya tell?

Review Replies!

fantasy92: I'm still working through Clone Wars, but I am excited to get to the most recent season! I can't give anything away, but I do have Elara's whole journey planned out. What I can and will say is that while we see Anakin lean towards the Dark side, we'll see Elara struggling to figure out how to deal with how close she seems to constantly live to the darker side of the Force. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

bambam411: I couldn't have not posted on May 4th, that would've been a travesty. And, honestly––I needed a pick me up too. I had fun figuring out how to fit Elara into the Jango fight, 'cause it's obviously Obi-Wan's fight. So I wanted to have Elara in there as support, but also in a position to get hit with that emotional punch. I'm also so excited to get to Geonosis. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Duchess of Lantern Waste: Alas, Satine is not of my own invention––but I have always wondered if the writers named her in reference to Moulin Rouge. Which, I will say, there are parts of Moulin Rouge that have quasi-inspired parts of this story. I listen to Roxanne a lot in conjunction with writing this story. Also, Ewan's love-struck acting in that film is just A+ so it's fun to put those expressions on Obi-Wan's body. I'm happy that you enjoyed the previous chapter, and hope you enjoyed this one as well! Thanks again!

MsRosePetal: So, I realized that writing Obi-Wan's POV this late was a detriment. In my head, I figured he realized that he felt something for Elara sometime after returning from Gleann. And in the years since, through their sporadic encounters, he's started to come to the conclusions I wrote in the last chapter. I also realize that, maybe, there was some stuff I should've held off on putting in there till later, but I've been so excited to get Obi-Wan's POV on the romance stuff that I might've jumped the gun. I'll probably retroactively do some flashbacks for clarification on Obi's side of things.

But, yes, we are finally in the part of the story where we're gonna be seeing more intimate moments between the two of them! I'm very excited for all of those possibilities. We'll see more comfort moments ('cause there's a war coming babyyyyy), and a whole lot of flirtation.

I will be doing the Clone Wars! Not all of the series, obviously, but handfuls of episodes, as well as some original content. I keep saying, if you've got recommendations, lay them on me and I'll give them some consideration! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

ZabuzasGirl: I've got an idea of what'll happen on Geonosis, now. I've done some soul searching on Elara's part to figure out what she'd be doing. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

LordMaster123: I gave Anakin and Elara a nice brother-sister moment to discuss the murder of the Tuskens. And I'm also excited to get Elara into the Clone Wars! I've got some ideas, and it'll be fun to put her up with that cast of characters; thanks again! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

LoveFiction2020: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Amelia831: I have been toying with the idea of a Force Bond. I've just been doing research to figure out logistics and how I could utilize it. I think that it's highly possible they would have one, what with how strong the Force is with them, and just their close connection as siblings. They're… so close, so connected––a Force Bond probably exists there. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Lyanna Arwen Narsillia: Thank you! I'm glad you've been enjoying this story so far, and I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter!

PrettyRecklessLaura: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

Guest DCDGojira: Oh, you best believe that Satine and Elara will be swapping embarrassing Obi-Wan stories; and he's going to regret the moment that they ever became friends (not really, but he'll gripe about it. And I will absolutely be doing parts of Clone Wars! I'm always open to episode suggestions! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Rebecca Rivera: I didn't plan on ever really focusing on Elara's astromech droid, but… I'm kinda feeling Arthree's vibe. 'Cause Elara's more diplomatic, not easily inclined to use violence unless necessary; and Arthree's willing to zap any bitch that Elara allows them to. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

masterdude94: I actually haven't made it to the last season of CW, so I had no idea I'd named the last chapter after one of the episodes! Sorry for the pain! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

KanadeAkatsuki13: I'm still planning out stuff for Clone Wars, so I'll keep the Domino Squad in mind! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

And thank you to those that have added this story to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
I'm really in the throws of ideas for this story! I'm culminating ideas for Clone Wars, and fully developing some relationship arcs and ideas! I'm really happy that I'm so inspired for this story. Thanks again, y'all! I hope you get another chapter up soon!

~Mary