(To reiterate, this story takes place in 12 BBY, 7 years after Order 66. What was written in Becoming Anakin was a mistake that ought to be ignored.)
"No. No, absolutely not," Owen said, his angry eyes flashing from Obi-Wan to Anakin. "Look at what happened to him! Do you really think I'd let Luke go out into the world and meet the same fate?"
"I assure you, Luke will be as well-protected as any royalty," Obi-Wan said in a faint attempt to placate the man's rising outrage.
Owen sneered. "Oh, by you?" Though, as he took in the form of Anakin as well, his disposition softened. "Don't mistake my hesitation for hatred, Kenobi. Luke is like my own son. No doubt you mean well. Sure, sure, it's all for the sake of a galaxy I can't see, and I know that that's all very important, but I can't just let him leave and fight the Empire. He's only seven!"
"With me and Anakin at his side, the boy will no doubt be in good hands," Obi-Wan said meditatively.
A sympathetic look overtook Owen's complexion as he studied Anakin. "Look. I've never been off-world. I don't know what's waiting out there, and I can't know how it'll treat Luke. Even then, what I do know is what the big galaxy out there did to you two. Look at yourselves and tell me you could save Luke from such a fate. Beru and I have had him for seven years. We're practically his parents. He's just a kid, he doesn't-,"
A gentle but firm hand fell on his shoulder and he craned his neck to meet the gaze of Beru. He seemed to melt in her grasp, all his red anger slipping from his face. Letting his calloused hand reach up to touch hers, he quieted.
Beru turned her head to their guests. "It's a bit earlier than I would have liked, but I understand." She smiled. And for just a moment, the deep, maternal strength she exuded banished breath from Anakin's lungs. "When we took in Luke, we knew this day would come. Didn't we, Owen?"
"Well," Owen said mournfully. "Yes, I suppose so."
She patted his shoulder a few times before turning and leaning down to catch Luke's attention.
Until now, the young boy had just been in silent, quiet awe of everything happening around him. His dad was here! And that weird old Ben guy who stayed out on the dunes. Luke didn't really know what Ben was doing here or what business he had with his dad, but he was sure it was very important.
He didn't like that Owen was mad, though. Now that Luke thought about it, his uncle had been angry just about all night.
This was weird for several reasons. Shouldn't he be happy his brother was here? Sure, Luke's dad was a pretty quiet fella, didn't really seem to show much emotion about anything, but Owen should like him, right? Well, maybe he did. Sort of.
Stranger yet, it wasn't as though uncle Owen didn't like bantha stew. He liked it quite well, as far as Luke remembered. So that couldn't be it, either.
Maybe this was about old Ben, then?
That was highly possible.
Through it all, during the entire argument over Luke's future, Luke had just sort of stood by, unsure of what to say and do. Really, he didn't even know what they were talking about at all. He just hoped his dad would make him a Jedi. Owen didn't like the mention of the Jedi, but Luke thought they were really cool.
And now, Beru was hunched in front of him, standing eye-to-eye. She had a kind face.
"You want to be a Jedi, don't you?" she asked. Luke nodded, his heart brimming with excitement. Her smile deepened, eyes growing sad. "From now on, you'll be living with Anakin and Kenobi. Okay? They'll make you into a Jedi, and you'll go on lots of adventures."
Luke felt like he was soaring on wings of light. But a single thought brought him back down to the ground. "What about you and uncle Owen?"
Her smile grew melancholy. "We'll be just fine, Luke. Don't you go worrying about it. When you're done adventuring, and you're a Jedi like your dad, you can come visit anytime." She placed one hand on the side of his face. "We'll be right here, waiting for you."
Luke didn't see Anakin wince, but somehow, some little overgrown seed of doubt found itself lodged in his heart. He said, "Okay."
She smiled, and when Beru had decided on something, neither Owen nor Luke could argue her out of it. All Owen could do was grumble some half-hearted complaint as Beru ushered Luke to the two who would from here on out be his caretakers.
Anakin and Obi-Wan, in turn, stood up from their seats.
For some reason, Anakin's heart was hammering quicker and quicker by the second as the young boy came closer. All of a sudden he felt so inadequate. Beru was to Luke everything Shmi had been to Anakin, and for him to come here and step between them, it just felt perverse. Next to ironic.
He'd never had a father himself. It wasn't as though he could expect Obi-Wan to father the child, no, Luke was for him to raise.
The boy stood beneath him. So short and little. Frail and innocent.
A perfect mirror of his younger self.
Anakin tried to smile and failed. Luke smiled for the both of them.
Sharing a glance, Anakin and Obi-Wan exited the hut, Luke trailing after them, shooting occasional looks at the two he had grown to consider his closest family. All they could do was smile and wave. Luke tried to muster a smile back, but all of a sudden he felt very mellow. Silently, he realized that this might be the last time he ever saw them. Or, he thought sullenly, it might be the last time they ever saw him.
His vision grew blurry. Then a metal hand settled on his shoulder and he looked up to meet the face of his father. The man showed a gentle smile. The kind that said, I know how it feels.
Luke wiped at his eyes and waved back at his uncle and aunt.
Fitting three people on one modified land speeder would have proven difficult if Luke hadn't been a child. Since Anakin wouldn't trust Obi-Wan to drive all three of them ("you can barely even fly with an astromech doing the hard work!"), he sat in front, with Luke lodged between Anakin's back and Obi-Wan's chest. It was a tight fit, but it would do. With a few final waves to the Lars homestead, they reared off.
Anakin kept their pace measured and easy, stretching out with the Force at every turn to make sure the path was clear.
It felt so… easy. For years, it had felt as though his vision of the Force was muddled and uncertain, filtered through a breathing apparatus and goggle-like visors, but now, he rode easily. Although his arms were far from luxuriously constructed, compared to his previous prosthetics, they were agile and flexible, though not as much as a pair of organics would have been. Every turn brought him exactly where he needed to go.
Within minutes, he'd let himself dissolve into the Force. No longer was he driving a speeder. No, he was the speeder, whizzing over dunes of sand, obeying the will of the Force as easily as though it was his own intention. He zig-zagged between dunes and cliff faces, following a pulse of the Force.
Behind him, pressed against his back, he felt how Luke quivered.
A man without access to the Force would have assumed this was out of fear, but Anakin could sense the childish excitement vibrating from the boy's small presence. So, too, did he feel how Obi-Wan's presence quaked and shook, clearly unhappy about the speed. It seemed, in merging with the Force, Anakin had accidentally sped up. Though, of course, this far from increased the risks. If anything, Anakin was more suited to flying fast than slow.
Distant presences of animals and creatures and beings flashed by, but until they arrived, Anakin hadn't actually thought about where they were going. He had just assumed he was heading to Obi-Wan's hut.
Instead, he found himself sliding to a stop in front of his crashed fighter.
It was a jagged scrap yard. Even now, hours past sunfall, small footprints in the sand alluded to the fact that dozens of sentients and creatures had gone by during the past days, scavenging what they could find useful, which was next to nothing.
The main part of the modified starfighter was just a razed-open shell, scrap metal dangling in its places, durasteel and titanium melded together into a heterogenous abomination. There was barely anything left at all except for half of a wing and a crater left from the ion blast closely following the crash. Slowly, Anakin realized that had he been unable to crawl from the wreckage, he would likely not have made it.
But even then, with almost everything of value ravaged and removed, Anakin found his attention drawn to a tawny presence, humming darkly in the Force.
He stepped off the bike, noticing only barely how Obi-Wan stepped off before lifting Luke down by the armpits. While Anakin strode towards the wreckage, he felt the gaze of his old master burning into his back. He wasn't saying anything, and Luke wasn't either. Neither of them knew what Anakin was doing. In a way, neither did Anakin.
Most of the wreckage had been removed, but beneath a clutch of twisted metal, he felt the Force pulse for him. Beating like a bleeding heart.
This part was likely too heavy for any group of Jawas to lift. But for Anakin, with his metal limbs, it was just a matter of leaning down and lifting it. The wreckage groaned and whimpered in his durasteel grip, giving away and breaking off and collapsing to reveal a little pocket between the hull of the ship and the sands.
In that little pocket, the hilt of a lightsaber gleamed mischievously in the light.
For a moment, one hand on the wreckage, Anakin just stared at it. Clouds swirled within his mind. In one swift movement, he leaned down and plucked the lightsaber off of the ground.
He turned to face his former master.
Obi-Wan wore a look of gentle concern. A mild question that played across the echoes of the Force.
Anakin ignited the lightsaber with a hiss, the blade of bright red tearing across the night sky. The wreckage was instantly basked in crimson, sands flaring alight. It thummed in his grasp, grinning and boiling with intense readiness. The hilt was long and thick, designed for a large pair of hands that Anakin no longer possessed. Both of his prosthetics had been heavily altered in the past days, becoming more slender than his old ones. More suited for easy movement than sheer intimidation.
Yet, the hilt almost felt right in his hands. Dark energies seemed to flood through his cold metal hands into his chest, threatening to corrupt the light he had worked so hard to restore.
A flick of a button returned the burning blade into its hilt. The dark of the lightsaber retreated into the hilt as well, draining out of his chest. Still, lingering wisps of the shadows trailed inside him.
He returned to stand by his master, holding the blade lightly in his hand. "If we are to fight the Empire, I must be able to cut them down. Our enemies will not show us the same mercy you would love to afford them." Obi-Wan held out an empty hand. Anakin watched it for a moment, hesitating before he placed his old lightsaber within it. The old master flinched, face darkening as his features tightened into a contained grimace of pain. "I constructed the blade myself," Anakin recalled ruefully, "but the crystal…"
"The old troll," Obi-Wan said, turning the lightsaber over in his grasp.
Anakin nodded. "Cin Drallig. I-, after the Jedi Temple, he…"
Obi-Wan shook his head, his face turning mournful. "A most dutiful man. He served the Temple well, in good and in bad." Reverently, Obi-Wan returned the lightsaber to Anakin, crystal and all. Likewise, Anakin accepted it with newfound respect. The hilt meant little to him now, apart from a grim reminder of who he was only days ago. The crystal, on the other hand…
It screamed.
If you didn't listen, it was just a hum. But once you were attuned to it, once you could sense how it truly felt, it was like a gaping wound in the Force. Wailing for release and repentance. Just holding it felt like holding an aspect of the dark, the deep hatred in it resonating with a part of himself he'd rather forgot. It called to him. Begging.
He clipped it to a loop in his belt, hoping he'd never need it. The weight on his thigh felt as natural as breathing, and yet, if only because it was what it was, it felt wrong.
After a moment of silence, Obi-Wan said, "When we get back, I would like to show you something." Somehow, he seemed to say it to both Anakin and Luke.
Meeting eyes, Anakin realized slowly that Luke was quieter than you'd expect, though that hardly meant his spirit was as subdued. His eyes were practically shining, hopping between Anakin's eyes and the lightsaber he kept clipped to his belt. Two pairs of puppy dog eyes stared up at him, large and silently demanding. Please, they said, I need to play with the cool sword.
It would be a cold day on Mustafar when Anakin let Luke touch the amalgamation of the dark side clipped to his belt. Ruefully, he shook his head.
Luke deflated.
That was until an old hand ruffled his half-long hair and Luke looked up to meet Obi-Wan's smiling face. "Just you wait until we get home. You won't be disappointed, I know that much."
Luke puffed up in excitement, eyes starry yet again. Anakin wondered if he might one day have been so innocent himself. But, remembering that a slave could never truly grow up to be innocent, he banished the thought. Eyes back on his son, Anakin felt his heart gently melt. Now, Luke was bouncing with excitement, tugging at Obi-Wan's sleeve, saying, "Are we going home, huh? Are we, are we?" Obi-Wan, in turn, laughed softly.
"I'm not the one driving," Obi-Wan said, turning meaningful eyes to Anakin.
Luke took the bait. In a mere moment, Luke had bounded up to Anakin, batting his eyes at his father, tugging at the hem of his tunic. "We are, right? It's late!"
Anakin ruffled his son's hair. "Sure we are."
The boy beamed at him, and Anakin wondered if he had ever smiled like that as a child. He couldn't remember ever smiling much at all. Always the subdued, emotionally withdrawn boy. Not much else you can do when you didn't even own your own life.
Still lost in memories, Anakin seated himself atop the speeder, helped Luke on, and finally pulled Obi-Wan up by the arm.
And off they were.
This time, Anakin made sure to periodically check whether they were actually heading for Obi-Wan's hut or not, and, well, they were. It seemed, at least, Anakin hadn't fully lost himself in the Force. Good to know.
Once they arrived at the hut, which took less time than expected, Obi-Wan had to spend at least half an hour showing Luke the whole place. Not because he would be living there or because Obi-Wan had anything important to present, but more so that Luke just wouldn't settle down without knowing where and what everything was. Due to this, Obi-Wan ended up showing Luke things even Anakin hadn't seen yet. The hut wasn't large by any measure, but there were quite a few things that drew Luke's attention.
In the end, when they finally settled down in the living room, Anakin sitting on his usual cot, all three had almost forgotten that Obi-Wan had something to show them.
As they sat in various places, winding down, Obi-Wan suddenly perked up. With purposeful strides, he marched over and removed a small, wooden box from within a cupboard. The box was as plain as they come, but within it, Anakin could feel some sense of recognition. Something about it that hummed and purred and seemed to reach out to him like a warm hand.
When Obi-Wan sat it down on a small table, neither Anakin nor Luke could remain where they were, both curiously approaching and sitting down around it. Eyes large, they watched as Obi-Wan slid off the top to reveal a small, silver cylinder Anakin would recognize anywhere.
"My lightsaber," Anakin mumbled, thoughtlessly reaching for it.
Obi-Wan took it first, placing the box to the side as he evaluated the lightsaber fondly. "Your life." Obi-Wan smiled sadly. "All these years, I've kept it. Not that I ever thought you'd return to claim it." Almost carelessly, Obi-Wan deposited the weapon in Anakin's right hand.
It hummed in his grasp, warm and welcoming. But it felt wrong. Not because of the natural light that seemed to brim about it, cradled by Obi-Wan for so many years, but more so the grip itself. The lightsaber he'd constructed as Darth Vader had been large, broad, similar to his old saber only in design. But now that he held his true saber, the one with the design he had been allowed to express so late, he found that it felt small. It didn't fit his metal grip. Too short, the grip was made for a body much more agile that his had been the past seven years.
It was his lightsaber, yes, but not his.
A pair of bright blue eyes drew his attention to Luke.
The boy had his knees on his chair, heaving his upper body atop the table, head cocked to the side to see the lightsaber as best as he could. His eyes glittered in the faint light, face bright with curiosity and excitement.
Silently, he gave Luke the lightsaber.
The boy accepted it with both hands. His little fingers only barely went around it, but it was alright. He'd grow into it, one day. For now, it might be a little too big though.
"Wow," Luke breathed. "How do I turn it on?"
"Here," Anakin said. "This is the activator. Turn the emitter away from you, hold it this way - both hands…"
The blade hissed out of the sheath with a deep, content hum. The room lit up in an electric, moon-like blue. Holding the blade in a dual-handed grip, Luke tightened his face in concentration. Moving to stand behind him, Anakin slid his hands across Luke's arms to help him hold the blade. "Here, like this," he said. Gently, he guided Luke with the blade. Swing it to the left, and to the right. Slowly, carefully, like a goldie shearing through the gentle waves of a gentle pond. "Don't think," he said. "Let it go where it wants to."
From where he sat, Obi-Wan gave a gentle chuckle. Seeing the concentration with which his former apprentice guided his son into the first usage of a lightsaber was a real blast from the past.
The first time Obi-Wan held a lightsaber, he'd been much younger than Luke. Anakin, on the other hand, had been two years older. Maybe it was alright to hope that Luke might become the intermediate between them.
After a few minutes, Anakin told Luke how to turn the blade off, and then Luke held it for a few moments, almost confused. "You aren't going to take it?" he asked, weighing the weapon in his hand.
Anakin shook his head. "It's yours, Luke."
"It is?"
"From now on, that blade is yours to keep." Anakin bent down to stand eye-to-eye to his son, and carefully, he clutched the boy's hand and blade in his right hand. "Just remember, this lightsaber is your life. Should you lose it, expect to forfeit your life as well."
Obi-Wan suppressed the need to describe in detail every single time Anakin had ever lost his own blade.
"More so, you mustn't let anyone see it. If someone sees you carrying it, we'll all be in deep trouble, okay?"
Luke weighed the weapon in his hands. Then, he clutched it to his chest. "Yeah, okay."
Smiling lightly, Anakin did the last thing necessary for him to leave his old lightsaber with Luke - namely to weaken the emitter to 10%. He'd rather not have his son lopping off limbs and heads, be it others or his own. Although Anakin's own first up-and-close kill hadn't been with a lightsaber, he could only imagine the sort of trauma and imbalance that would impart on his young son.
And with that, the evening quietly concluded, though not without a brief argument over where Luke would sleep. Anakin argued that Luke would obviously sleep best with Obi-Wan, whose nightmares were far less pronounced than Anakin's own. Obi-Wan, in turn, expressed how Luke clearly had to sleep in the same bed as his own father. That was only natural.
In the end, since Obi-Wan's bed had already been able to house both of them, it was decided that all three would sleep in the same bed. It was a tight fit, but it worked.
All night, not one of them had a single nightmare.