notes: I said I'd get it out Sunday or Monday. For some of you it's probably Sunday, for others of you Monday. So! Hah!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the resolution to this subplot.


CHAPTER 10

Leia was in pain.

Her last session with Vrosha had lasted longer than either of the other sessions, and had left her with more than a hundred cuts across her body, from her face to her stomach to the insides of her thighs and feet. Vrosha had then packed the cuts with a gel that burned, and had sewn the cuts shut using needle and thread.

She had also correctly deduced that Leia had been raped.

"You have the stench of sex on you," she said with a perfunctory sniff

"I didn't want—" Leia had begun, only to be cut off.

"No, of course you didn't want it. But that didn't stop it from happening, now did it?"

In that moment, Leia thought she hated Vrosha more than she had hated anyone—save, perhaps Twelfth Brother, who had murdered her father, and Pale Eyes himself.

The burning had not subsided. Leia picked at the stitches, pulling them out wherever she could and digging the gel out from within. That helped the burning lessen—but it did not abate entirely. That left Leia slapping and itching at the cuts, rubbing them with tears in her eyes and a groan in her throat.

She spent most of her time, however, with Luke, teaching him how to fight, working with him on a plan to take out the Tusken Raider. They worked for long hours, until Leia pronounced, "I think that's about as ready as we can get, unless you can get your hands free."

"Unfortunately I can't. Though if I could, that would make the whole thing pointless anyway,"

Then the fight had come.

Leia listened as Luke's adrenaline spiked, as pain lanced through him, as he cried out.

"Luke!" she cried out, reaching for him.

She could help him. She could. She could enter his mind. They would become one, and maybe—just maybe—she would be able to help him, would be able to teach his body as well as his mind how to fight. She was rusty, yes, but perhaps—just perhaps—it would be enough.

Fear still held her back, however. Fear of that wholeness, fear of Luke, fear of herself. Still the rain fell upon the fire of the Force within her; still she quelled it beneath the onslaught. She hid it, quashed it, quenched it.

Then she heard his scream.

"Leia!"

She saw the gaffi stick above him, its sharpened tip glinting in the moonlight. She saw the Tusken Raider standing over him, masked face unreadable, backlit by the spiral arm of the galaxy. She saw the stars behind him, glinting heartlessly in an ether of black, staring down with uncaring eyes.

"Help me!"

Leia made her decision.

She flung herself into Luke's mind, heedless of fear gnawing at her ribs and the rain falling in her soul. For the first time, she embraced the Force—embraced its shine, its light, its burning, until it filled her, brimmed over within her, captured her in its eternal orbit. It shone deep within her, a star going supernova. It was everything and nothing, infinity and eternity.

She felt it fill her, felt it run down her bones and into her heart, lungs, fingers, toes. It burned—but did not hurt. Shone—but did not singe. Overwhelmed—but did not drown.

In that moment, she could feel the entirety of the galaxy stretched out at her fingertips—every life an individual thread in a tapestry of a hundred billion, every star a point of light burning in the tapestry, every planet a shadow orbiting the light. She felt the darkness and vastness of space, felt the glory of stars burning in the void, felt the exaltation of the green and growing things on the planets below.

Mostly, though—mostly she felt Luke.

She felt every inch of him, from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. She felt the breath in his lungs, the beat of his heart, the rush of blood in his veins. She felt each and every thought in his mind—felt the shape of it, the tone of it, the color of it, until she knew what he was thinking with a simple glance.

More than that, though, she could see—could see what he saw, feel what he felt, hear what he heard. She saw the Tusken Raider standing above them, striking with his gaffi stick. She felt the sand beneath their back, the pain in their face, the cold air upon their bare skin. She heard the chatter and laughter of the other Tusken Raiders, heard the whisper of the wind, heard a voice within it chanting, A gift, a gift, a gift…

The echo of Luke's plea rang in their mind, echoing back and forth and back again, until it was all-consuming.

Help me.

Leia lifted a hand—and pushed.

~oOo~

Luke knew the instant Leia entered his mind.

It felt like a star going supernova. One second he was himself, one and alone, though his thoughts remained connected to Leia's—and then the next he was half of a whole stretched across the galaxy. His senses expanded, billowing outward in a crazed cavort, reaching the far corners of space and time—he saw stars being birthed and saw them die, saw the rise and fall of empires and civilizations, felt the life and decay of a thousand worlds—before contracting once more, collapsing in on himself like a star in its death throes. These were no death throes, however—these were the first squallings of a new birth.

The next instant he felt her in his mind, warm, bright, and shining brilliant red, gold, and purple like the canyons at dusk. She filled the spaces between his thoughts, between his bones, between each breath. He could feel her in his body and in his head, spreading out within him, encroaching on each crevice and nook.

It all happened in an instant—and for that instant time seemed frozen, the Tusken above him rigid, the gaffi stick immobile, the stars overhead still in their nightly galliard. Then Luke took a breath, and that instant was shattered.

He felt the command come from Leia even as it came from him. Lift your hand, she said, and his mind replied in kind, echoing and reechoing the order until his hand obeyed him, obeyed her, obeyed them, palm up, fingers splayed.

He pushed.

In later days, when he would reflect on the moment, he would not really understand how it happened. The spark of it came from Leia—that much, at least, he knew. The knowledge came from her, the understanding, the pattern of the movement. The power, though—Luke could not say where the power came from.

It was like an extension of his body. When he pushed, he felt something crack deep within his chest—something intangible, something impalpable, something no hand or finger could touch. Liquid blue fire unfurled within him, spilling into the palm of his outstretched hand and exploding outwards.

It looked, felt, tasted the same as the fire he had used when he finally broke through the barrier keeping him from Leia. It was infinity, it was eternity, it was all the stars and all the worlds and all the space in between. It was as vast as universe, as deep as the ocean. It burned, bright and blue and wild, as it raced through him, crackling down his veins and through his blood.

He pushed—and the Tusken standing over him went flying.

Luke picked himself up slowly, barely daring to believe what had just happened. He regained his feet just in time to see the Tusken pick himself up as well, gaffi stick still in hand, the rest of the tribe watching on in sudden silence. The Tusken roared, and charged.

"Snap his neck."

The order came again from Leia, though this time Luke could hear as much as feel the command she gave. He didn't even have time to wonder how to do so, however, before he knew, the knowledge flowing through the bond now wide open and shining blindingly within in his mind.

Luke lifted a hand and jerked it into a tight fist.

The Tusken's neck snapped. Luke heard the bones shattering from where he stood. The Tusken did not even have time to cry out; he simply fell, sliding face-first a few paces before coming to a halt almost at Luke's toes. Luke bent and picked up the gaffi stick, then turned on the rest of the tribe, arrayed around him.

They were watching him with eyes wide behind their masks and goggles. They whispered—whispered something Luke could not quite make out. He flourished the gaffi stick, heart in his mouth. How could he fight all of them, even with the power he wielded at his command?

"The Destroyer." The shriek came from a young Tusken, standing at her mother's side. "The Destroyer!"

Now Luke could understand the whisper passing back and forth between the Tuskens: The Destroyer, they whispered, again and again and again. The Destroyer has come again.

"Who is The Destroyer?" Leia asked, silent voice loud and confident in Luke's mind in a way it had never been before.

"I don't know," Luke replied. "But they think I'm it."

A tall Tusken, bearing a necklace of jade stones, stepped forward. "Please, Destroyer," he said, words coarse with the Tusken accent, "do not exact your vengeance upon my tribe. We were only doing what we must to survive. Sure...surely you understand."

Luke frowned. "What do I do?" he asked Leia.

"I don't know," Leia replied. Then she suggested, "Go along with it. If they think you're their Destroyer, whatever that is, then use it."

Luke took a step forward. The Tuskens scattered back, away from him, dragging their children with them and shoving them behind their bodies.

"Please, Destroyer, do not murder my people," said the Tusken leader again.

Luke did not know what was going on, but he did know one thing: how to barter.

"You will let me and the girl Talia go," he said, "and I will not murder you or your people."

The Tusken bowed. "Of course, Destroyer. At once. Please, follow me, and I will get the child for you myself."

Warily, Luke followed the Tusken back towards the camp.

"This could be a trap," Leia said.

"I know. But I can't just leave her here."

"Okay," Leia said skeptically. She did not fight him, however.

They reached the outskirts of the tribe, and the Tusken led the way to the central tent. He pushed back the flap, and motioned for Luke to precede him.

"Luke, don't—" Leia warned.

"No," said Luke. "I'll wait out here."

"As The Destroyer commands," said the Tusken, and then he ducked into the tent.

Luke waited, tense and wary, shifting on the balls of his feet and scanning the spaces between the tents for movement. The only moving shadows, however, were cast by the flickering fires burning in braziers outside of many of the tents.

The Tusken reappeared, leading Talia by the hand. She cried out when she saw Luke, though whether in excitement, gladness, or fear, Luke couldn't say. When the Tusken released her hand, however, she ran over to him.

"I thought they had killed you," she said, tears welling in her eyes. She hesitated for a second, then flung herself at him and gave him a tight hug.

"I'm okay," Luke reassured her, patting her on the back. "But come on, we have to go." He didn't want the Tuskens changing their minds and stopping them.

Reaching down, Luke took her left hand in his right. He turned toward the Tusken and asked, "Which way is Anchorhead?"

The Tusken pointed. Luke looked in the direction he pointed, taking in the dark smudge of canyons on the horizon and the shifting dunes between him and them, and swallowed. It was going to be a long night of walking. He nodded.

"Thanks," he said, not entirely meaning it. Then, squeezing Talia's hand, he started off in the direction the Tusken had pointed.

In a moment they were beyond the firelight lighting the camp. Only the moon and stars lit their way, gilding the dunes and the sand shifting around their feet with silver.

Luke walked quickly, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the Tuskens as he could. He did not want them coming to their senses and changing their minds to come after them.

That begged the question, though: Who—or what—was this Destroyer that they thought he was? They had spoken with the hushed tones of fear and honor. Was it a demon? A god? An enemy they had encountered before? If it was the latter, Luke would have thought they would know he was not their Destroyer; if it was a demon or a god, surely they would not expect it to come in the body of an eleven-year-old.

Whatever the truth of the matter was, however, Luke was glad to be free—and free with Talia, all the more.

He talked to Leia about it too.

"I don't know, Luke," Leia said. "It's a single name, so if I guessed I'd say a demon or god. Though I don't know why they'd think it was you."

"Unless it was because of the...well, the power I used."

"That power was the Force," Leia told him. "I don't know if it came from you or from me, but it was definitely the Force."

"Really?" Luke asked, amazed. "But I thought that the Force was evil."

"It is," said Leia, sounding tired. "But I...I couldn't just let you die. I had to do something."

"You think it might have come from me, though?" Luke asked.

"I don't know," said Leia. "I don't know if this is something that can travel across a bond like ours."

"Huh," Luke said, secretly hoping that it had come from him.

They lapsed into silence after that, content to simply bask in each other's presence. Leia was warm and bright in Luke's mind, and he was able to touch hers with barely more than a stray thought—though he no longer had to do that in order to sense her thoughts and feelings. She was a part of him now in a way Luke did not understand and had barely begun to fathom. Mostly, though, it was just comforting having her so near, even if they did not speak.

Luke and Talia walked for a long hour in silence, unaccosted and unfollowed, before Talia started to flag. When Luke slowed and looked back at her, she looked at him with wide eyes and then said, "I'm tired."

"We have to keep moving," said Luke.

Talia flapped a hand. Luke frowned.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded, but slowed, still flapping her free hand.

"Come on," said Luke, tugging at her hand. "We have to keep going."

Talia trudged on after Luke, though she continued to slow. After a few moments of dragging at Luke's hand, Luke stopped.

"Will it help if we stop for a few minutes?"

Talia nodded silently.

"Okay," said Luke, dropping her hand. He sat, and Talia flopped down onto the sand beside him. She continued to flap, however, her left hand joining her right now that it was free.

"Why do you do that?" Luke asked, turning and looking down at her.

"Do what?"

"Flap your hands."

Talia shrugged. "I do it when I'm happy, or tired, or bored, or watching something I really wanna focus on, or restless, or...or really any time I feel like it. Which is a lot of the time."

"Why is that?" Luke asked.

"My brain just works differently than most people's," said Talia.

"Oh," Luke said. "Okay."

"Does that...does that bother you?" Talia asked.

Luke shook his head. "Why would it?"

"I don't know. It just does some people."

"Well I don't know why it should," said Luke. "You're nice. That's all that really matters to me."

"Oh." Talia smiled. "Okay."

They sat for a few more minutes. When Luke started shivering, however, he stood again. "Come on," he told Talia, leaning down and taking her hand once more to help her up. "We have to keep going."

Talia clambered to her feet with a small groan, clinging to Luke's hand tightly. "Do we have to?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I'm afraid we do," said Luke. "We need to try to make it to Anchorhead before it gets too hot. We don't have any water, or any protection from the sun."

"Okay," said Talia. "I wish we could just sleep."

Luke tugged her hand and started walking again, pulling her along after him. "We can't sleep," Luke said. "We have to keep going."

Talia sighed. "Okay," she said again.

"Do you have any family?" Luke asked after a few minutes.

Talia was silent for a long few seconds before saying, "I have a dad."

"What about your mom?" Luke asked.

"She…" Talia trailed off, then took a deep breath. "The Tuskens killed her."

"Oh," said Luke, feeling as if he had been punched in the stomach. "I'm so sorry, Talia."

Talia sniffed, and paused in flapping her hand for long enough to wipe at her nose. "It was just me and mom at home when they came. My dad's a hired hand on a moisture farm close to Anchorhead. We live on a little patch of land between two farms about an hour away."

Luke squeezed her hand. "Well my aunt and uncle can help you find your dad," he told her.

"What about your parents?" Talia asked.

"I never knew either of my parents," said Luke. "My aunt and uncle raised me. I do know my dad was a navigator on a spice freighter, though," he added. "It's part of why I want to be a pilot. That and I don't want to spend my whole life as a moisture farmer."

"You want to be a pilot?" Talia asked.

Luke nodded. "Yep," he said. "I want to sail the stars."

"I want to be a writer," said Talia.

"A writer, huh?" Luke asked.

"Yep," said Talia.

"That's cool," said Luke. "I haven't known any writers myself."

"Maybe I can be your first," said Talia.

Luke grinned. "Maybe."

They reached the other side of the canyons that Luke had seen when the Tusken pointed him in the direction of Anchorhead. Light spilled across the horizon ahead of them, heralding the coming day. It colored the air, turning the dusty, inky blue of night to warm rose and orange.

"We've gotta be close," said Luke, turning back to look at Talia, who was flagging again. "Just a little further…"

He only hoped that they were close. He didn't know how much longer Talia—or he, for that matter—could go.

The truth of the fact, though, was that he wasn't even sure they were headed in the right direction. For all he knew, the Tusken could have pointed them straight into the desert in the hopes that they would die of heat stroke or dehydration.

Even if they had started in the right direction, though, Luke suddenly feared that they had veered off course during the night. Even a few feet off track at the beginning could mean miles out of the way by the time they would have reached Anchorhead.

Luke's stomach tightened. Had he just consigned Talia and himself to a long, slow death beneath Tatooine's twin suns? Had they traded slavery for death?

Turning back forward, Luke caught sight of a moving smudge of shadow. He tensed, and grabbed Talia to a halt. "Quick," he hissed, not knowing who it was coming their way—and not wanting to risk it. "Back into the canyon."

They ran back the way they had come, sand spurting out from under their heels, Luke half-dragging Talia after him. She ran doggedly, trying to keep up with him, holding his hand tightly. The walls of stone rose up around them, swallowing the light on the horizon and plunging them back into shadow.

Luke skimmed the walls to either side. "Come on," he said, and tugged Talia to the left, toward an area of darker shadow that promised a cleft in the rock. He pushed Talia down into it and, kneeling, whispered, "Stay here. I'm going to have a look."

"Wait, Luke," she called after him, reaching out with a hand and making a grab for the back of his shirt. He was already gone, however.

Luke waited just on the edge of the shadows cast by the canyon walls, crouched down by the cracked stone of the ground, watching the wavering figure draw closer. It seemed to ripple in the wind, and the nearer it got, the more indistinct it became, as if it was clad in water. Luke watched it come with rising horror, wondering just what it was that was approaching him.

The first sun lifted its head above the horizon, shedding hot light across the desert—and Luke at last recognized the figure bearing down upon him.

"Ben," he cried, standing up and running forward. "Ben!"

Old Ben Kenobi stopped in his tracks, startled. Then, abruptly, he laughed, hurrying forward. "Luke, is that you?" he called.

Luke barreled into Ben and hugged him fiercely around the waist, relieved to see a familiar face. "Oh, Ben," Luke laughed, "I'm so happy to see you."

"What happened, Luke?" Ben asked when Luke pulled away, grinning. "Where have you been? Your aunt and uncle have been worried sick. And what happened to your face?" he asked, touching a gentle finger to Luke's nose and eye.

"I was captured by Tusken Raiders," Luke said. "They were going to sell me to the Hutts."

"And how did you get free?" Ben asked.

"Come on," said Luke. "We have to go get Talia. I'll tell you on the way."

"Talia?" Ben asked, but obligingly started after Luke.

"A girl I met in the Raider camp. They captured her and killed her mom."

A dark look flashed across Old Ben's face, but he said nothing.

"She and her parents live outside of Anchorhead. I thought Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru could maybe take her home."

"I will make sure she makes it home safely," said Ben. "After I get you home. Now, tell me how you escaped the Tuskens."

Luke did so, but omitted the parts with Leia, only telling Ben that he had fought the Tusken—and not that he had learned how to fight from the girl in his head—and that he had no idea where the power he unlocked came from. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell Ben that his connection with Leia was still very real and very strong; after all, Ben had tried to sever their bond.

The first sun had fully risen and they were nearing the place Luke had left Talia when Luke finished his story.

"Any idea what they meant by The Destroyer?" he asked.

Old Ben frowned. "I've never heard of a Destroyer—but then, I'm not very keen on Tusken mythology."

They reached the hole Luke had shoved Talia down into.

"Talia?" he called. "Come on out. This is Ben. He's a friend."

Talia appeared slowly, face smudged with dirt and green eyes wide. Her hands were still at her sides.

"Hello there," Old Ben said, smiling gently and kneeling down to be on a level with Talia. He held out a hand. "I'm Ben Kenobi. And you must be Talia."

Talia nodded. Tentatively she put out a hand and shook Ben's. "Nice to meet you," she said in a shy, careful voice.

"It's very nice to meet you too," said Ben. "Luke here was just telling me about how you two escaped."

Talia let go of Ben's hand and rushed over to Luke, grabbing his hand and hiding behind him.

Luke laughed. "It's okay, Talia," he said. "Ben's a friend. He's going to make sure you get home."

Talia looked up at him. "You mean you're not coming with me?"

Luke hesitated. "No," he said, "Ben was going to take me home first."

Talia clung to Luke's hand. "Please don't," she begged. "Don't leave me with him." She looked up at Luke, wide eyes wet and lower lip trembling. "You can't… I mean, please don't… I don't know him, and…"

"It's okay, Talia," Luke said quickly. "Ben's a friend."

"But I don't know him."

Luke looked up at Ben, who was watching the exchange impassively, then back down at Talia. "It's okay," he said again. "I'll come," Luke said—and then looked guiltily up at Ben. "Please, Ben?" he asked.

Ben looked between Talia and Luke, then sighed. He seemed to note the way Talia clung to Luke's hand, and the way she hid behind him. "Very well," he said. "We'll stop by Talia's house first. But then we're going straight home, Luke."

Luke nodded, grinning. "Okay."

"Now, where is your home, Talia?" Ben asked.

Talia looked up at him and shook her head slightly. "I can get there from Anchorhead, but I don't know what direction it is."

"That's okay," said Ben. "We should stop by Anchorhead first anyway. You two need water and food—and I don't have much by way of either with me."

What he did have, however, he gave to them. As he had in the Tusken camp, Luke allowed Talia to drink first. She drank half of what was left in Old Ben's canteen, then handed it to Luke who gulped the remaining tepid water down in three large drinks. Ben also had some jerky which he split in half and gave to Luke and Talia. They gnawed at it as they started walking once more.

After only half an hour Talia started to slow once more. "Wait, Ben," Luke called to the older man, who was walking ahead of them. "I think we need to stop for a few minutes."

Old Ben turned and came back, looking from Luke to Talia. Instead of agreeing with Luke, however, he turned his back and knelt. He looked over his shoulder and winked at Talia. "Well, your highness?" he asked. "Do you want me to give you a piggyback ride?"

Talia giggled and started toward Old Ben before hesitating and looking up at Luke. Luke nodded. Talia ran forward and climbed onto Ben's back, hugging him around the neck. Ben stood, hooking his arms around Talia's knees, and then started walking once more.

He carried Talia all the way until Anchorhead was a brushstroke of shadow on the horizon. Only then did he put her down and let her walk with her hand firmly encased in Luke's once more. Even after that, though, it still took nearly an hour for them to reach the small town.

"My house is this way," said Talia, once they hit Anchorhead's main street.

"Before that," said Old Ben, "I promised you two lunch."

He took them to Anchorhead's single diner. It was a short, squat building made of adobe and sandstone, with tiny windows along the top of the outer wall that let in slanting shafts of sunlight. The floor was swept stone, and the walls were hung with various desert paintings and bleached skulls of various desert-dwelling creatures.

A rundown, puttering droid escorted them to a table at the back of the diner, then took their orders for water. It putzed away, making clanking sounds as it rolled and muttering to itself, leaving Ben with Talia and Luke.

Their waters came, and with it three menus. Luke read over it carefully, trying to decide what it was he wanted. He never got to eat out with his aunt and uncle, except on trips they took into Mos Eisley to trade water for parts and things they needed around the farm. Even then, they ate most of their meals from food they brought from home. Eating out was a rare and delicious treat, and Luke didn't want to waste a precious moment of it.

"Luke?" Leia asked, coming into his mind with a blaze of light and warmth. She had drifted off to sleep shortly after their conversation about the Force.

"Leia," Luke exclaimed excitedly, "Old Ben is here, and he's taking Talia and me out to eat."

He went to show her a picture of Ben sitting across from him and Talia beside him, only for Leia to say, "I see them."

"You see them?" Luke asked.

"Yeah," said Leia. "It's like I can see through your eyes."

"That's cool," said Luke excitedly. "I wonder if I can do the same thing." He tried.

He fell through the ember and into Leia's mind. It was easier than ever before, and felt as natural as breathing. He landed in her mind, and concentrated on seeing what she was seeing. For a second nothing happened—and then it felt as if he was opening his eyes inside of her. He saw light, and then duracrete walls. There was a mattress beneath him, and something soft pressing against his chest—their chest.

"I could sometimes feel things from you," Luke said, awed, "but nothing like this."

"Isn't it cool?" asked Leia.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay, Luke?" Talia asked, breaking Luke out of his conversation with Leia. "You have that weird look on your face again."

Luke blushed and glanced at Old Ben. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said quickly. "Just trying to figure out what to have."

"We can't talk right now," Luke told Leia, pulling the menu up in front of his face so that Ben couldn't see his face. "Ben is here, and I look funny when I talk to you. I don't want him knowing we're still connected."

"Okay," said Leia. She did not, however, withdraw. "Is it okay if I stay with you?" she asked. "I...I'd like to get to know your life better."

"Of course," said Luke, still pretending to read the menu. "I'd love for you to do that."

The droid arrived to take their orders. Old Ben looked at Luke and Talia, then, when they made no move to order, turned to the droid with a smile.

"I'll have the grilled womprat breast with blue milk sauce, bantha cheese, and sand crollix," he said.

Talia, taking her cue from Ben, wriggled in her seat and said, "I want the bantha burger. Please."

The droid input the order on the pad it carried, then wheeled around to Luke. "And for you, young sir?"

Luke looked frantically back at the menu—he had talked to Leia instead of deciding what he wanted to eat—and said the first thing his eyes fell on. "I'll have the bantha gyro," he said, hoping he wouldn't regret his choice.

"Perfect," the droid said, and collected their menus. "Your food will be out shortly."

Ben, Talia, and Luke waited in uncomfortable silence for a few long minutes, Luke and Talia shifting in their seats and periodically gulping at their tall glasses of water. Ben remained more sedate, sipping rather than gulping; he looked very regal, Luke decided, sitting there in his robes of brown and beige, his ginger hair and beard tousled from the desert wind. For an instant—but just an instant—he seemed more than just the crazy old hermit that lived out beyond the Dune Sea. He seemed somehow...more. Then the moment passed, and he was just Old Ben again.

"Tell me about your father," said Ben at last, turning to Talia. "Is he a good man?"

Talia smiled. "Yes. Whenever he's home he tucks me into bed and tells me a bedtime story. He tells the best stories, with different voices, and sometimes he acts them out too. And when we listen to the audiobox and a good song comes on, he'll dance with me on his toes. When he's home, at least."

A pang ran through Luke, from his heart to his stomach, ending in a tight knot. It didn't come from him, though—it came from Leia.

"Are you okay?" he asked, trying to keep his face straight and impassive.

"Yeah," Leia said—but she didn't sound okay.

"What's wrong?"

"I just… My father. He used to tell me bedtime stories. And dance with me on his toes."

For just an instant Luke caught a glimpse of a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and olive skin, whose eyes danced and lips curled into an easy, comfortable smile. He felt warm and happy, as if love poured from the man before him in a wave deep enough to drown any hate, any pain, any loss.

Then blood on flowers, a halo of glass, and a ragged, desperate scream.

Luke blinked, swallowing back a gasp of agony. He had seen the image of the blood on the flowers before, but never had he experienced such a profound sense of loss and pain when he did so. Was it his new, strengthened connection with Leia that let him feel this pain so acutely?

"Sorry," Leia gasped. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay," Luke said quickly. "It's okay."

"Are you alright, Luke?" Old Ben asked, his eyebrows lowering over his bright eyes.

"Yeah," said Luke hurriedly. "Just hungry."

I really have to work on this, he thought. I can't keep getting asked if I'm okay whenever I talk to Leia.

"No," said Leia. "You can't. And I should practice too."

"You could hear me?" Luke asked, startled.

"Well...yeah. Didn't you just talk to me?"

"No," said Luke. "That was a thought."

"You mean we can read each other's thoughts now too?" Leia asked, shocked.

"It would seem so," said Luke.

There was a pause, then Luke felt Leia nod. "That makes sense. I...I knew we could, even. That's part of why I was so afraid to enter your mind."

"You were afraid?" Luke asked.

"Yeah. But we should talk about this later."

"You're right," Luke said, and forced himself to smile at Old Ben, who was looking at him oddly again.

"You're sure you're alright, Luke?" Ben asked.

"I'm sure," said Luke. He turned and saw the droid returning, balancing three plates of food on its spindly arms. "Look, food's here!"

They tucked in ravenously—Luke and Talia more so than Ben—and for a few minutes the only sound coming from their table was that of chewing. Talia finished first, popping the last of the potato squares that had accompanied her bantha burger into her mouth. She settled back with a happy sigh, and drained the rest of her water glass, which the droid had refilled twice already since she had started eating.

Luke finished shortly thereafter, licking his fingers of the gyro sauce and also draining his water glass.

"How do you two feel?" Ben asked, cutting another small piece off of his womprat breast.

"Good," said Luke. He turned to Talia, who was flapping her hands again. "You, Talia?"

"Really good," she said, smiling broadly.

"Good," said Ben, finishing his womprat. He stood. "Let's pay and get going."

They paid at the front counter. Old Ben put down a stack of credits, which the droid tender counted. "Thank you for your service," it said in a bright, falsetto voice that did not match its bulky chest.

"Thank you," Ben said in reply, then ushered Luke and Talia out of the front door and back into the bright Tatooine sunlight. "Now," Ben said, once they were standing in the street, "which way to your house, Talia?"

Talia pointed down the street toward the first sun's position. "That way," she said.

"Okay," said Ben. "Let's go."

They walked in silence, Talia holding onto Luke's left hand and flapping her free one. Luke grinned down at her, and followed Ben.

It took over an hour for them to reach the homestead that Talia pointed out as her family's. It was a small adobe house set into a cliff face, with windows in the rock wall promising more room inside. There was a small, attached garage, and a tool shed off to the right.

As soon as they were within a hundred yards of the front door, Talia released Luke's hand and took off running, calling, "Daddy, daddy, daddy!"

The front door opened when Talia was halfway there. A tall, red-haired man appeared in the doorway, shock and amazement etched across his bearded face. He ran out onto the front stoop, leapt down the two short stairs, and took off sprinting toward Talia. He met her halfway there, falling to his knees to scoop her up into a tight, fierce hug.

As Luke and Ben approached at a more sedate pace, Luke could hear the man saying, over and over again, "Talia, my sweet, sweet Talia."

"I take it you are her father?" Ben asked, coming to a halt a few paces away from the man still holding Talia tight against his chest.

"I am," the man said, standing and lifting Talia with him. He settled her on his hip, and she clung to him with a smile, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I take it I have you to thank for her safe return?"

Ben smiled. "Actually," he said, "you have young Luke here to thank. He's the one that freed her, and got her halfway home. I only met them on the road."

The man knelt and extended his free hand to Luke. Luke took it, and the man gave it a firm shake.

"Thank you, then, Luke," said the man. "My name is Torfus, and if ever there is anything I can do for you, I hope that you will come to me."

"I will," said Luke, gripping the man's hand in return.

Talia yawned, her eyes blinking slowly shut.

"I believe it may be time for young Talia to get some rest," put in Ben smoothly. "I doubt she has had any good sleep in quite a while."

"Oh, yes," said Torfus. "Of course. Thank you again—to both of you." He held out a hand to Ben, who shook it as well. "And now I will take my leave of you to get Talia to bed. I hope to see you both again someday."

Old Ben smiled. "I think we will," he said.

With that, Torfus turned and began to walk away—only for Talia to wriggle in his hold. He said something to her, to which she nodded. He put her down.

Talia came racing back to Luke. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. After a surprised second, Luke hugged her back.

"Take care of yourself, Talia," he said softly into her ear. "'Kay?"

"Okay," said Talia into his chest.

After a long moment she let him go. She looked up at him, grinning through tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," said Luke.

Talia turned and skipped back to her father, who took her left hand in his. Then they turned and walked into the house.

Old Ben turned and looked down at Luke. "Are you ready to go home?" he asked.

"Yes," said Luke. "I am."

The twin suns were setting by the time Luke and Ben arrived at his home. They had talked only briefly on the way, instead maintaining a comfortable silence for most of the walk.

"Luke," Ben had said, though, once they were far enough away from the Talia and Torfus's home that they couldn't be overheard, "I need to talk to you about what happened with the Tuskens."

"Okay," Luke had said slowly.

"Do you know how you were able to push that Tusken away and break his neck?"

"No," Luke had lied.

"It's called the Force. You are strong in the Force. It comes from your father."

Luke doubted that. He wasn't strong in the Force, was he? It had just been Leia using the Force through him—hadn't it?

"But my father was just a navigator on a spice freighter," Luke had said aloud, frowning. "He didn't have any weird powers."

"There is much about your father that you don't know," Ben had said. "Much I need to tell you—but not yet. For now all you need to know is that your aunt and uncle don't like the Force."

"Does that mean I can't tell them what happened?" Luke asked.

"Only that you need to be prepared for them not taking it well."

"Okay," Luke had said. "Thank you."

After that they had lapsed into silence—a silence that carried them to Luke's home. At last, however, they reached the homestead, the white adobe guardhouse glimmering in the early evening sunlight.

Luke started to run forward, only to check himself. He looked up at Old Ben, who smiled and chuckled. "Well go on," he said, motioning for Luke to run ahead.

Grinning, Luke obeyed. He dashed forward, calling, "Aunt Beru! Uncle Owen! I'm home!" He reached the guardhouse and ducked into the cool, welcoming shadows within, all but tumbling down the stairs and out into the courtyard.

His aunt was just coming out of the kitchen when he reached the courtyard. She was carrying a plate—which she dropped with a crash when she saw Luke. She gave a glad cry and started forward. Luke ran into her arms, burying his face in her chest and hugging her tightly. She hugged him back, fierce enough to crush a gundark, and peppered his hair and face with kisses when he looked up at her.

"Oh, Luke," she cried, hugging him again. "We thought you were dead."

"Nope," said Luke. "The Tuskens took me. They were going to sell me to the Hutts, but I managed to escape."

Aunt Beru kissed his forehead, then the top of his head. "We were so scared," she said quietly. She drew back just enough to look down at him. "Your face," she said, touching a fingertip to his eye. "What happened?"

"Beru, what's going on?"

Luke stepped out of his aunt's embrace in time to see his uncle come out of the greenhouse. He was wearing gloves, and there was dirt smeared on his forehead and cheek. He stopped when he saw Luke, however—stopped dead, eyes widening.

"Luke!" he exclaimed and hurried forward. "Luke, where have you been?"

"The Tuskens captured me," Luke said.

Uncle Owen's face paled, but he nodded. "We were afraid of that. How did you escape?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," said Luke softly after an awkward few seconds. He didn't want to risk his aunt and uncle reacting badly to news of him using the Force—whether it was him or Leia—and he didn't know how to tell them about his escape without mentioning the Force.

Uncle Owen hesitated, but then he grunted, gruff and familiar. "I'm glad you were able to escape, no matter how you did it."

Luke stepped forward, then asked in a very small voice, "Can I have a hug?"

Uncle Owen opened his arms. Luke rushed forward, crushing himself to his uncle's chest. Uncle Owen hugged him tightly in return. For an instant, Luke thought he heard his uncle whisper, "I was so scared, Luke," but then his uncle released him, and Luke thought he must have imagined it.

Old Ben cleared his throat. He was standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the guardhouse, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his brown robe. "I will take my leave," he said.

"Thank you," said Uncle Owen, taking a step forward. "Thank you for seeing Luke home safe."

"He would have found his way home without me, I think," said Ben. "But you're welcome."

"If you ever need anything…" Uncle Owen began.

Old Ben smiled. "Thank you," he said, and bowed slightly. "Now farewell, Owen, Beru. Luke."

"Bye," said Luke. Then, "Thank you."

Ben's smile widened. "You're welcome."

With that, he turned and disappeared up the stairs.

Aunt Beru turned to Luke and said, "Dinner is almost ready. Why don't you come in and wash up? I'll help you get your face clean—and we'll take you in to get that eye and nose looked at tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," said Luke. It would be nice to clean off the sweat and blood and dirt.

"I'll see you at dinner," said Uncle Owen, turning back to the greenhouse. "I have just a little more to finish up and I'll be in."

Aunt Beru looped an arm over Luke's shoulders and guided him inside. At the door to the kitchen she stopped, turned, and kissed him once more on the temple.

"I'm so glad you're home safe," she said softly, and released him. "We'll take you in to get your eye and nose looked at tomorrow."

"Okay," said Luke. "I'm glad to be home too," he added, and turned to go to the 'fresher.


end notes: So I'm back to battling writer's block. Any and all encouragement would be much appreciated...(*hint hint* *nudge nudge*) Most importantly, though, I hope you enjoyed.