Dawn was breaking on the horizon as he neared the Lanton homestead. Owen was tired. Exhaustion was nothing new, but today the cause was definitely unique. He hadn't had his usual nighttime comfort of holding Beru in his arms, hadn't felt the warmth of her body pressed against him or smelled the scent of her hair next to his face. Instead the tiny baby (he hadn't realized how small a baby was) lay between them, and Owen had remained awake most of the night, afraid he would roll onto the little bundle and smother it.

Beru, however, for the first time in months, had slept like a… well, like a babe, and the child imitated her, waking only once with a small cry that didn't disturb Beru. So Owen took the child into another room, changed his diaper and patted his back, trying to burp him before realizing that maybe the boy needed to eat first. He put milk on the stove to heat it, but the baby fell asleep again, so they both went back to lie down.

A child needed stability. He needed to be in a home with his parents. Luke wasn't theirs; they shouldn't keep him. Still, if it wasn't possible to find his parents, it might not be so terrible to have a boy to raise. They could teach him about survival and hard work and that dedication to family was the most important thing in life. More important than daydreaming about leaving Tatooine and building a new life somewhere else.

He pulled outside the entry and didn't see Kirta Lanton. Probably already out tending vaporators. Best to do the hard tasks before the heat of the day descended on them. However, Anya waved to him from the doorway and he parked his speeder, pulled out a casket of water, and headed her way. Their homestead was similar to his own but larger, dug out and built two generations earlier, a center pit surrounded by separate rooms, some half-buried in the sand for coolness.

"Oh, Owen!" Anya was adding something to a box on the table. "I was sorry to hear the news. It's so good of you and Beru to take the boy in. I know it's an added burden." She flashed a smile. "But you'll soon find out that a child isn't just a lot of work, it's a joy too. Windy is asleep, but you can peek at him if you want."

He shook his head, wondering why she thought he would want to 'peek' at their baby when he had a similar one at home. "I'll just take what Beru asked for. Brought this in exchange. If it's not enough, tell me."

She tsk'd. "You didn't have to bring anything. We help each other out, that's what neighbors do." But she didn't refuse the water. "Beru said she was sending you to town to get more baby supplies. Let me see your list."

He dug in his pocket and smoothed the flimsi before handing it to her.

"Oh, there are a few things here that I can give you. We got too much when we were getting ready for Windy, and I know Beru…." She stopped, flushing. "I know Beru hadn't bought… well… because she was… she felt… you know."

Yes, he knew. His father had died happy that there would be a grandchild to take over the farm eventually. Beru had been quiet for weeks afterwards, and he didn't believe all her sadness was about Cliegg Lars. She wouldn't tell him what was wrong until he had grown increasingly worried and pressed her several times. Finally she said, I can't feel the baby. She's not kicking. She should be kicking. And then the tears had come, hers and his, and a few days later had come the night neither of them would ever forget.

"At least you're lucky to have- Well, I shouldn't say lucky." Anya grimaced. "It's a shame about his parents. So young, both of them dying in such a terrible accident."

What? He bent over the box, pretending to sort through the contents.

"There's a fluffy in there too- a womprat. Kirta's mother gave it to Windy, probably because she knows I hate those things. I never gave the hideous monster- I mean, I never gave it to Windy, so it's brand new. Maybe Luke will like it. Oh, wait, I knew I forgot to add something." She folded a thick blanket that was the color of sand and placed it atop the container. "I could cry that Shmi never had a chance to meet her grandson. She adored her son, and we loved hearing her stories about his childhood. She would have made a wonderful grandmother. At least she got to see her son once- Oh, no, sorry! I mean… you were able to meet him, weren't you? When he… when Shmi… I'm sorry."

When Anakin brought kind, gentle Shmi home, wrapped in a shroud made from a Tusken robe, stained with blood and dirt. Anakin and his lady friend and Beru had cleaned Shmi's body and wrapped it in plain cloth. This blanket reminded him of that day. He laid his hand on it, feeling the complexity of the fine, expensive weave. He grunted in response to her embarrassed apology, hoping to end the conversation, but it only encouraged her to talk further.

"So that makes you his... step-uncle?"

"Uncle. We're his uncle and aunt." He picked up the box, disguising his confusion. "I have to get back."

"Of course! Windy will be wanting to nurse again soon, and I have to… well." She gave him a kiss on the cheek- or rather, an air-kiss aimed in the direction of his cheek. "Tell Beru to comm me if she needs anything else, we're always happy to share. Kirta and I send our love to both of you- and to little Luke Skywalker."

He grunted again in thanks and left, confused and anxious to be home.

Oh Beru, Beru- what did you tell them?

# # #

"He could be," she replied placidly as she sorted through the supplies, surprised and pleased with what Anya had sent over. "How do we know? I talked to a few people this morning and no one mentioned a lost baby, which would have been the first topic of every conversation."

Her husband was looking at her and shaking his head. "Beru…."

"Don't 'Beru' me. It could be Anakin's son. Why not? A war is starting, the Jedi are- Well, I don't know what the Jedi are doing. Whoever was in the shuttle could have been bringing the baby to us so he would be safe. It could have been Anakin." She inhaled sharply when she realized what she had said. "Oh, I hope it wasn't Anakin!"

"You're grasping at-"

"I know what you're going to say. But Owen, it's a miracle. The universe smiled on us and magically gave back a baby for the one that it took." Her voice began to tremble, but she controlled it and tickled the baby's chin with her knuckles. Luke was propped in Owen's favorite chair, surrounded by pillows that kept him more or less upright, and he looked at Beru with eyes that were wide and serious.

"That's unlikely." Her husband rubbed the new whiskers he hadn't bothered to shave off this morning. "You know if his parents show up…."

"We'd have to give him back, I know." Knowing and doing weren't the same thing. "But they won't, Owen. I can feel it. He's alone- he was alone. Now he has us, and we'll love him and care for him and watch him grow up, just like we would have done for our daughter."

He looked at her like he was afraid she was going to cry. There was a time when she would have, but her tears had been drained. She busied her hands with unfolding and examining the blanket. "This is nice. We can put it in…." Her voice trailed off and she waited.

"I'll bring in the cradle."

She nodded and hid her smile. After that terrible night, Owen had never mentioned the cradle again, pretending that he hadn't finished it. But she'd seen it in the garage covered with a tarp, tools piled on top to hide it. "Thank you, dear. Luke's pretty blanket is so dirty. I'll clean it as best I can, but it's very fragile. It's all hand-embroidered, beautiful work. We'll put it away. When he grows up, we'll give it to him. And there's something else. I found this on the steps this morning after you left. Did you drop it?" She handed him a small piece of bone.

He turned it over a few times. "No. Looks like a strand of leather stuck in the grooves. Maybe it was on a cord."

"It must have come from the shuttle crash. Maybe it was caught in his blanket."

"Not likely. I would have seen it." Owen rubbed his thumb on the engravings, tilting to look at it sideways. "Hand-carved. Don't know what the symbols are. Maybe a good luck talisman or a ward against evil. Or a name? Can't read it. Garbage. Throw it out. The Tuskens must have put it with him. On the steps, you say? You didn't hear anything, did you?"

"Anything or anyone? No. The one who left him here last night wouldn't have come back just to leave this. It must have fallen out of his blanket."

"Maybe." But she could see he was worried.

"Maybe," she echoed. "Did your mommy or daddy give this to you, little one?" She took the carving from Owen and touched it against the baby's cheek, a silly hope rising in her that the child would recognize it and respond.

Luke opened his eyes and yawned, then giggled and smiled before tears filled his eyes.

"Poor baby, you're hungry. Don't worry, I finally have formula for you." She lifted Lukka into her arms and gave him her thumb to suck.

Owen chuckled, then pretended to turn it into a cough. "I'll head into town, fill the rest of that list. Anything else you need?"

"Not right now." Beru hesitated, her conscience warring with the desperation in her heart. "If you hear anything…." Don't tell me! If anyone is looking- "If anyone has lost their baby, tell them we have him. Don't let them grieve."

Owen squeezed her shoulder and kissed her forehead. "I love you," he said gruffly.

"I know."