AN: Again thanks to everyone who has been reading, following and favouriting (is that even a word?! Lol...) this story. A special thanks to everyone who has commented thus far.
Thanks to Kazlynh for reading over this. Hopefully there are no mistakes this time!
The Previous Disclaimer Still Applies...
Insidious
Part Three
The Pupil
He was different.
Everything around him was the same; the same home, the same guardians, the same township and planet, but it had all taken on a different perspective. It had become temporary, something to suffer while he awaited for his true destiny to begin.
"You must have patience, my child, all will be revealed and explained."
With the echo of his master's voice in his mind Luke pulled the rim of his sunhat down over his brow, shielding his face from the worst of the suns. Leaning against the side of the store he sighed, bored and annoyed that his aunt was taking so long inside. He would rather be elsewhere than standing about in the Anchorhead main street. He would rather be with his master. He would rather be learning more sword moves, he'd rather be learning more about…
"… have you ever heard of The Force?"
The Force!
He had learned so much. He had learned about a power he had. He had learned that it came from within and that it was his to do with as he pleased. He had been taught to sense it, to feel it, to use it and manipulate it…
… to hide it.
He grinned, glanced around and, satisfied that no-one was watching him, he sent a small stone skittering across the roadway with only the thought in his head.
He had been taught to use the power to enhance his strength, his speed and agility. He had learned how to control it and himself.
His master had been pleased.
"You show the same strength your father did at your age. He, too, was a quick study."
The sudden mention of his sire brought Luke's head up to gaze in excitement upon his teacher's face. "My father? You knew my father?"
A smile, a soft murmur of humour, "Yes, I knew Anakin well. He became a Dark Lord of the Sith."
A Lord? His father hadn't been a Lord of….
"Sith…" he echoed in wonder, the word feeling strange on his tongue.
His master allowed him time to ponder the word and its meaning. He could feel his master's blue eyes on him, weighing him, judging him, and Luke knew that more was to come.
"Your father defended me when the Jedi rose up against the Chancellor and the Republic."
Luke's mind raced over his history lessons, wishing he had paid more attention in class; The Jedi rebellion had happened at the end of the Clone Wars and…
"My father didn't fight in the Wars," he denied, repeating what he had been told by his aunt and Uncle whenever he had asked about his father. "He was just a navigator on a Spice freighter."
His master laughed, cackled with delight. "I wonder what your father would think if he heard of his accomplishments being reduced to petty criminal acts." A hand was laid upon his shoulder, a gesture of friendship, of ownership. "Oh, my child, you have so much to learn about your father, so much to learn about yourself."
"Myself?"
The gnarled hand on his shoulder lightly squeezed and his master bent down to look him in the eye and again there was that flash of yellow in the irises. "You are strong with the Force, young one. You have the potential to become as great, if not greater, than your sire. You, my boy, are Sith."
"Sith…" He tried the word again, feeling the Force hum in anticipation.
His master smiled. "It is almost time, my young friend. Almost time to use your gifts, but you must show caution lest the Jedi sense you. That will be your test… if you pass it then I shall teach you so much more."
"Hey, Skywalker, dreaming of worms again?"
The derision in Fixer's voice pulled him from his thoughts, shattered his reverie and day dreams.
He wasn't Sith. At least not yet… He was still Luke Skywalker and he was still stuck here waiting for his aunt to come out of the store.
For now.
"Leave me alone, Fix."
"Leave me alone, Fix," the larger boy sang in mimic, his voice high pitched and mocking. "You're leaning against my wall, Wormie. You're standing on my sand. You know what happens when you touch my stuff."
Luke pushed up from the wall, his heart beginning to race. He glanced at the door, the shadowed opening was empty. His aunt was still inside, probably gossiping. He looked the other way, saw people he knew walking the dusty street.
"No-one's gonna help you and that old man hasn't been around for weeks."
It was true, his Master had been gone for a while, for longer than usual and he often wondered what it was that kept his master away for days, sometimes weeks on end.
He was on his own.
It is time…
Biting back a sudden grin, Luke looked directly at the larger boy and was immediately punched in the face. He staggered back. "I told you to never look at me, Wormie."
Luke placed a hand to his cheek, his eye. A pair of hands grabbed him, spun him around and he was propelled down the side of the store to an alley that was partially shadowed by the surrounding buildings. He was shoved, fell to the ground, was kicked in the ribs. Winded he doubled over, gasping for breath, one hand cradling his body, one hand grabbing a fistful of sand.
Fixer was also alone.
"Get up, Skywalker… you echuta Kung…"
Luke pushed up, stood, warily watching the older boy. "Where are your friend's, Fix?"
"I can take you on my own, Skywalker."
It is time…
The whisper in the Force was like an echo of his master's voice.
It was time. It was time to end this. It was time to prove himself to his master. He could feel it. He just had to control it, just enough to do this, but not enough to give himself away.
Luke licked his lips, grinned and called the Force too him.
"Give it your best shot, Fixer."
ooOOoo
The Jedi Knight
Obi-Wan didn't need the Force to tell him the boy was hiding something. The deception was in Luke's voice and in his gait. It was in how he carried himself and in the bruises on his face. The Jedi watched as the thirteen year old bounded down the steps and crossed the atrium of the farmstead to the covered dining room.
Blond of hair, blue of eyes and so much like his father that Obi-Wan's heart ached.
Beru set a cup before him and filled it with water and Obi-Wan took a long drink, relishing the feel of the liquid as it wet his throat after his walk in the suns.
"Luke," Beru smiled, welcoming the boy who now eyed him with recognition and suspicion. They had met before of course, but now there was something else in the boy's demeanour. "You remember Ben, don't you?"
The boy threw himself into a chair and Obi-Wan saw the fleeting wince; it was there and gone. It was obvious he was hiding some hurt from his aunt, just as his father used to hide his pains from his master. To be a Skywalker, one had to be stronger and carry more than anyone else. To be a Skywalker, one had to conceal their true feelings.
Except Luke couldn't hide the swelling and bruising currently colouring his left eye and cheek bone.
"That looks painful," The Jedi observed before Luke could utter a greeting.
Fingers tentatively felt the lump. "It's okay," the boy lied with a glanced at his aunt as she smoothed her skirts and sat at the table with them. "It'll heal."
Obi-Wan could feel the boy's tension, his unspoken questions about why Kenobi was here. "I have found a poultice of Funnel leaves and Eopie milk to be most effective… if a little fragrant," he smiled with a wink at the youth.
Luke grinned back, but the mirth didn't quite meet his eyes. "I'll be fine, sir."
Obi-Wan finished his water, and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Well, I had best be going. Thank you, Beru, for the water, it was most refreshing. New filters?"
Beru Lars smiled, shook her head. "No… Luke takes care of the homestead vapaorator. He's very good with his hands. He has a knack with machinery."
"A very handy gift to have in these parts, no doubt," Kenobi commented with a grin at his bad pun. "You are a credit to your aunt and uncle, young Luke."
Luke shrugged, nonchalantly, not enjoying the praise, or the attention. "I like fixing things."
It was on the tip of Obi-Wan's tongue to say it, to acknowledge it…
"Just like your father…."
…but he remembered his agreement with Lars. No mention of his father, no acknowledgement of Anakin Skywalker. Not now. Not Yet. Perhaps never…
Obi-Wan rose, nodding to Beru. "Perhaps young Luke could see me out?"
"If you waited a little while, Owen will be home. He could take you in the speeder to your place," Beru offered, standing and clearing away Obi-Wan's cup.
"No… no…" Kenobi declined, smiling, "the sands are cooling now the suns are falling. My journey home will be more comfortable."
Luke also dragged himself from the table, the frown of confusion clear on his face and Obi-Wan knew the boy was wondering why he had been shouted from his room to spend a few moments with the desert hermit and all round weird old guy.
"Luke," Beru was saying, "please see Mr Kenobi to the homestead perimeter. No further… you have chores before uncle gets home."
The boy sighed, "Yes, ma'am," as though the task set before him was the worst punishment ever. He eyed Kenobi with suspicion before plodding from the room with drooping shoulders.
Ben grinned at Beru, and commented. "I found twelve to sixteen years the worst with…" he trailed off, knowing Beru would understand of whom he spoke. "I would wish you luck," he quipped, "but I don't believe in it."
Beru Lars nodded, not returning the Jedi's smile. "See if he will speak to you," she pleaded. "Every day he comes home with new bruises and the other boys in town… well, they say they haven't touched him for weeks."
"And you believe them?"
Troubled, Beru looked down at the empty cup in her hands. "Not at all… but… this time Fixer had his own bruises, his arm was in a cast."
"You think Luke fought back?" Deep concern filled Obi-Wan. If Luke had, somehow, unconsciously used the Force…. If he had given into his fear, hatred and anger at his bullies and allowed…
…No! He would have felt it. He would have felt an uncontrolled surge in the Force. He would have known if that had happened. He had felt nothing in the last few days, not even the cold that infused the Force from time to time.
"I don't know," Beru's eyes came back up to meet his. "Help him, Obi-Wan."
Ben nodded, seeing her worry and helplessness. "I'll do what I can, Beru."
Luke was waiting for him by the steps that lead up and out of the homestead and the boy bounded ahead him taking two steps at a time with youthful impatience. He caught up with him just outside the farmstead dome.
"She asked you to speak to me, didn't she?" Luke's tone was an accusation, those bright eyes flashing with annoyance.
"Yes," Obi-Wan admitted, throwing his hood over his head, "your aunt is concerned about you, as am I. That is an impressive bruise on your face. Is there something you wish to tell someone?"
Luke glanced away, began to walk, his reluctance to speak evident even without the aid of The Force.
Kenobi kept pace, but allowed the silence to draw out.
At last Luke stopped. "You won't tell my aunt?"
"Well, that depends on what it is that you want kept a secret. If I believe there is a danger, or a threat to you then I may have to speak to your guardians."
The boy hesitated, looked down, scuffed his shoes in the sand, and Obi-Wan could feel the boy battling with his wish to hide, his wish to keep his secret. Then his hand crept into his pocket and he withdrew a short blade. The knife-edge glinted in the late afternoon suns. It was new, unused.
"I saved up my allowance for it," Luke confessed. He looked torn, ashamed and yet defiant.
Obi-Wan held out his hand. "Please, Luke…"
With some reluctance, and with some relief, Luke placed the knife into Obi-Wan's palm. "I thought… I just need to defend myself, sir."
Obi-Wan pocketed the lethal blade, thinking to himself that a Padawan of Luke's age would have built their own lightsaber by now and in the Clone Wars they would have already faced combat, would have already killed or been killed. "Defend yourself from whom?"
"The kids in town give me a hard time."
"Yes, I know," he confessed watching Luke closely. "Your aunt told me. She tells me that you won't speak about it."
"She fusses," Luke started walking again. "It's nothing."
"Nothing? You started carrying a blade for nothing?" Kenobi kept pace, taking a risk he allowed the Force to trickle through. He reached out and tentatively touched Luke's presence before adding, baiting, "When I was younger I would have been proud of that bruise…"
... annoyance, a weary acceptance that he had no choice but to engage in this conversation. A jaded understanding that he faced more taunts and torture from the youths who tormented him and a desire for it to end…
"…had I earned it in a fair fight, but I understand that the fights you have faced can hardly be called fair."
…a flash of anger, resentment…
"I'm smaller than them, Mr Kenobi…"
"…call me, Ben."
"… and there is only one of me."
"What about your friend, Biggs?" Obi-Wan asked
Luke shrugged his shoulders, winced. "They don't touch me when he's around, but his dad's rich so he's schooled in Mos Eisley… we don't see each other too often during term times..."
Luke hesitated, licked his lip and squinted up at Obi-Wan as he debated trusting this adult. Obi-Wan waited, feeling Luke's uncertainty. Then…
"…Biggs says they pick on me because I'm different to them."
Obi-Wan nodded, smiling, pleased that Luke had taken the risk of trusting him. "He could very well be correct."
"What do you mean, Mr Kenobi?"
Such an innocent question; the child truly could not see the potential of greatness within him.
"Please call me 'Ben,'" Obi-Wan said again. He stopped, placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Luke, you will find in life that beings feel threatened by people, places and events that they do not understand."
"I threaten them?" Luke snorted and turned away dislodging Obi-Wan's hand. "I'm the one they pick on, Mr Kenobi!"
Obi-Wan sighed, afraid that he had lost Luke with an ill-advised choice of words…
…so much for the Negotiator…
…but it had been a long time since he had spoken with a child and, truth be told, there were times when he had struggled with Anakin. A lot of times!
"Yes, because they see you as different…"
"That's what I told you Biggs says..." Luke was exasperated, frustration clipping his words. "How am I different? I don't want to be different…"
Now, that was a lie. But it would have been a lie for many beings. Luke wanted a different life to the one he had, that much was clear. Luke wanted a different future to the life his peers had on this Forceforsaken planet, but right at this moment he didn't want to be different so that his torment would stop.
"But you are different, Luke," Obi-Wan told him and the boy turned to him and Obi-Wan thought he saw a sharpness in Luke's face, a cunning that wasn't there before. It gave him pause and he reached into the Force once more and felt…
… nothing. A curiosity, a colouring of aggravation… but nothing more…
"You don't want to be a farmer, you are not content with this life, nor the future you see before your friends."
"They're not my friends," Luke said bitterly. He didn't look at Kenobi, he let his gaze drift off the horizon and Obi-Wan could feel the yearning of a better life within him. A life of meaning.
"That's where you are different to them, Luke. They know that the life they have is not the life you want. They know that you have a different destiny to them… and envy is a powerful emotion." He started walking again, still heading to the boundary of the Lars' land, smiling when he heard Luke's footsteps running to catch up.
"They're jealous?" The boy questioned from beside him. Incredulity underscored his words. "They beat me up because they're jealous?"
Obi-Wan nodded, "Partly… But you are also younger, smaller and therefore an easy target for those who wish power but have none…" he grinned, and joked, "…and there was that little incident with the sand-worms."
Luke screwed his face up, but was quiet for a while and they walked in silence the rest of the way to the border where Obi-Wan stopped and waited for Luke to speak.
"So, how do I get them to stop?"
"Not with a weapon, Luke," Obi-Wan told him simply, feeling a like a hypocrite; how many times had he used his own blade to stop a bully picking on the weak, "but by showing them that they have no power over you,"
"How do I do that?"
And that, unfortunately, was the million-credit question for what worked for one person did not necessarily work for another. "In my experience I found that by remaining calm, finding out what the aggressor needed or wanted and being prepared to negotiate mostly worked."
"Mostly?" There was humour in Luke's voice, a little flash in his eyes.
The Jedi sadly smiled as he thought of the boy's father once more…
… I hate you!...
There was no negotiating there… No talking sense to Anakin.
"Yes, mostly." He brought his thoughts away from Anakin Skywalker, dismissed his memories and looked to the now where the suns were gradually making their way down to the Horizon. "Well, if I am to be home before dark I had best take my leave of you, young Luke."
Luke nodded his goodbye and Obi-Wan could feel the boy's eyes on him as he walked away and finally the curiosity bubbled to the surface.
"Mr Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan smiled, shook his head, kept walking.
"Mr Ken… Ben?"
Obi-Wan stopped, turned around.
"You said they knew I had a destiny different to theirs."
"I did," the Jedi acknowledged. "That I did."
"What's my destiny?"
Another million-credit question.
"Well, young Luke, that is for you to discover," Obi-Wan bowed slightly and turned to walk quickly away all the while aware of the boy still staring at his back.
ooOOoo
To be Continued...
