Beru and Owen meet little Luke's savior. Anakin and Padmé argue and make a decision.

# # #

The Tribe was moving on. The Old Ones decreed it and the Elders agreed that the Others were getting too close, so when night fell they would fold their tents and load their banthas and be gone, never to return, leaving this place to the ghosts of the few who had passed on.

Their new Home would be far away, and Sentry wanted a last chance to see her Magic Baby. Watching him was more dangerous in the daytime, but she recognized the signs of approaching Others or Humans so she could hide from them. So as the suns began to wake and dim the stars she trekked toward the small domes where Man and Woman sheltered her Magic Baby.

He was a baby no longer; by the Elders' count, the suns had journeyed across the sky nearly one thousand times since she'd pulled him from the wreckage. He was walking now, sometimes awkwardly but with the determination that had kept him alive when he should have died.

She felt sadness at leaving her Magic Baby, though she had birthed a baby herself several suns ago. It had been given to the Caretakers to be nursed and wrapped and carried until it was returned to her when it reached ninety suns-journeys. It had been a bountiful season with eight babies born, ensuring the Tribe would continue - a blessing and a curse, said the Caretakers, complaining about the added burdens as they did every season even while they cooed and rocked the little ones.

Lying flat atop a high dune formed from yesterday's windstorm, she pulled the binocs from her wrap and focused on what she'd heard Man and Woman call 'the farm'. She'd never seen them dig deep under the sand for nourishment, but her Magic Baby appeared to thrive and grow on only the water their towers drew from the air.

Maybe the baby did not need normal sustenance but lived by Magic.

Suddenly - there he was! Sentry gasped and rose to her knees, focusing the binocs to see more clearly. Was he… yes, he was alone in the center pit. Anxiously she watched for Woman to follow because she knew Man was far away tending to a tower. But Woman didn't come, and her Magic Baby pulled himself up step by step. He got to the top and vanished, then emerged from the dark entry and pushed to his feet, wobbly but – oh, she knew he was laughing. He was naked except for a bottom wrap. If the suns had been higher, his bare soles would be burned, but the sand was still cool and he wouldn't be outside long, wouldn't run too far, because surely Woman would be following after him any second.

But he was running as fast as he could – not fast enough to outrun any creature that might come after him - and he was tottering on the edge of a small dune and-

He fell. Her Magic Baby fell. Sentry stood and clutched at her heart, waiting for his flaxen head to reappear over the sand.

It didn't. What if he'd fallen into a sinkhole? She'd seen a bantha swallowed by an unexpected hole; a toddler stood no chance.

Where was Woman?

(Woman!)

She couldn't wait. Sentry slid down the dune and ran.

# # #

"Luke? It's time to wake up." He didn't answer. Beru wiped off her hands and went to his room to check on him. The small bed was empty. She drew in a sharp breath, then scolded herself for worrying. Sometimes Luke liked to climb into his old crib in their room and scrunch into a ball so he could fit inside and rock and giggle.

"Luke? Where are you, honey?"

There weren't many rooms to search, and they were all empty. "Are you hiding from me? Tell Auntie where you are!"

She hurried down the steps and raced around the courtyard, checking behind every barrel and crate. He couldn't be here; he'd never managed the stairs on his own. Except… a few days ago he'd gone backward down several steps before she scooped him up. But he would never –

"Luke?" She should have kept him while she worked in the kitchen, but he loved to climb and she was afraid he would be hurt –

He loved to climb.

Heart pounding in her throat, she checked the upper steps (though she knew it was impossible, he would never – ) and saw….

…the plushie womprat that he'd clutched since he was a newborn. It was dusty and floppy and lying in a heap on the top step.

"Luke!" She lifted the hem of her skirt and ran.

# # #

It was his Sixth Sense (as Beru called it) (he scoffed and called it Common Sense) that alerted him. Owen paused, silencing the droid that was tightening bolts on the evaporator, and lifted his head. Did he hear something? A call? His name? Or was it just the wind through the distant mountains heralding another storm? The fine hairs on the back of his neck bristled, and he shivered.

The homestead was a smudge on a horizon, but not more than minutes away by foot. He grabbed his rifle and first walked, then jogged toward it. His trot accelerated to a flat-out run when he heard "Luke! Owen!" The call terrified him because Beru never screamed. Beru was strong and level-headed, she was always the one who –

She was running in ever-widening circles, calling "Luke Luke Luke!" over and over. She clambered over the small hills of sand that the storm had created and surrounded their home like protective walls. The wind was still blowing, and the dunes were shifting, beautiful and treacherous.

He caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

"I can't find Luke!"

"He couldn't get out here! He must be inside!" The words were meant to be comforting for both of them, but they choked in his throat when she held up the plushie.

"It was on the top step," she called as she pulled away and ran toward another dune, coughing as sand blew in her face. "Luke!"

He turned to search in the opposite direction – and a movement caught his eye. A dark figure, too big to be their child even in the distance. It was moving fast and purposefully. "Beru! A Tusken!"

He raised his rifle, trying to focus on the Raider, but it jumped and hid behind a dune.

"Oh Force help us!" Beru screamed and ran toward the dune, and he raced after her. If that creature harmed Luke – or hurt Beru –

The masked figure appeared over the sand mound steering a tiny one in front of it. Owen kept the rifle aimed, but Beru stepped in front of him. "Wait," she commanded. "Don't take the chance of hitting Luke."

He lowered the weapon slightly and watched through narrowed eyes. Luke waved to them.

"I here!" were the only intelligible words out of the babble that was mostly carried away by the wind.

The Tusken stopped, but Luke pulled on the long wrap, tugging it forward. Not for the first time in his life, Owen wasn't sure what to do. His finger quivered reflexively on the trigger, and Beru reached back and patted his arm.

"Wait," she repeated, softer this time, taking a few steps forward. "I think it's a woman."

"Does it matter?" he growled. "They're all monsters."

Beru stopped and crouched, holding out her arms. Luke ran toward her and threw his arms around her neck. "I faw down!"

"You know you're not allowed outside by yourself!" Beru scolded, kissing his forehead. She looked at the covered figure. "Thank you."

He could see the thing was female by the decoration on one narrow shoulder. She was small and held no obvious weapon, but he remained alert. Tuskens were quick and deadly with their knives.

The Raider nodded, then began gesturing. She knelt to make sweeping and digging gestures with her hands and pointed to Luke, then stood and continued with expansive motions. Either Beru understood or she was simply waiting patiently, but she nodded a few times before turning partially to him.

"She saved Luke from the ship crash."

"She did? How did you understand that? Now what's she saying?"

Beru watched, smiling slightly as the woman pointed to the sky, then made a circle toward Luke, and added a small curl of her wrapped fingers as she pointed toward the homestead entry.

"I think she's saying he was in a star – maybe she means the blanket – and that she left the jappor snippet." Beru bowed slightly in thanks.

He didn't know how Beru came to those conclusions or if it was her wishful thinking. Either way, he wasn't letting down his guard and kept watching warily.

The Tusken bowed her head in turn, then tilted it toward the west, making waves and an all-encompassing bowl with her hands that she held toward Luke.

He waved at her. "Bye-bye!" Luke called. "Go home now." He smiled and yawned and closed his eyes, slumping against Beru's shoulder, his thumb finding its way to his mouth.

The Raider looked at Owen and reached into her wrap. He raised his rifle, but she only pulled out a very familiar shape.

"My binoculars!"

She held it toward him. He bit his lip, considering her actions before lowering the rifle and raising his hand as if to push it back. "Keep it."

The woman tucked the binoculars back into her wrap and reached out toward Luke. But she hesitated and dropped her arm. She turned her back on them and walked away quickly. They watched, squinting until the Tusken became a dot against the sand, then disappeared.

Owen looked at Beru. "We'll never know what really happened," he said gruffly.

"We're certain that he came from the shuttle crash," she corrected, "and that she saved him and brought him to us."

He shook his head, not in flat-out denial but in disbelief. "I've only known violence from them."

"As they've known from us. Especially since the night of the massacre."

Owen sighed. "Maybe things can be different now."

"Not for her." Beru hummed as she caressed Luke's cheek. "They're moving away, west across the mountains."

He put his arms around her shoulders and stroked the child's hair, thanking the stars that he'd met Beru and she'd agreed to join their lives together. He couldn't imagine what he would have been without her.

On second thought, he could imagine, and it made him feel even more grateful.

# # #

"Imagine what our lives would be like if we'd never met."

"You'd be happy in public service and I'd be dead either on Tatooine or on a battlefield somewhere." He stared at the lights across the expanse of water, noting the stillness. No ripples marred the serenity of the lake's surface. All that existed was the dark, lonely silence of nightfall. And them. "We wouldn't be as miserable as we've been for the last three years because we wouldn't have lost our child. We wouldn't have a child. We wouldn't mourn for him. We wouldn't be – "

Padmé crossed her arms to soothe herself… or perhaps she was just cold. "Stop. Just stop. It's not my fault that Luke was taken."

"I didn't say it was." Anakin folded his own arms and refused to look at her because looking would acknowledge blame. "But it is. It's your fault. It's my fault. It's Obi-Wan's fault. It's Bail Organa's fault. It's the fault of the medical staff. It's the fault of whoever took him. Accusations haven't brought him back to us, and they never will."

A small breeze rustled through the trees overhead. The lake trembled. Padmé looked directly into his eyes. "Anakin, I want to go public. We should have done that as soon as we knew he'd been abducted."

"Oh, right! And ruin your career in the Senate?" he mocked. "Get me kicked out of the Jedi Order? That was what you cared about then."

"What we cared about was getting Luke back, but not by turning public focus on our family and our… scandal."

"Scandal? Is that what we are? You think our relationship is still a secret?" They were both so tired of futility, and arguing was the easiest outlet for their pain. They'd exhausted every resource to find their son, save one. Publicity. Turning their lives and their unspeakable loss over to the trash heap of speculation and nasty gossip by the voracious media.

"If only Bail had been there."

"Like he promised." He could help being bitter. "He promised to keep you and Luke safe. Instead he disappeared."

"Something must have happened. Maybe he… died. Maybe…." Padmé hesitated, unable to express the horror they'd never dared speak aloud.

"And Luke with him? No." He wouldn't believe his son was dead because there was no empty place inside him where his child should be. Instead there was a tiny glow, like an ember that struggled to ignite. "He's keeping Luke somewhere. He kidnapped him." It was an absurd scenario, and he knew what Padmé would say before she said it.

"That makes no sense. Breha would know. He wouldn't allow her to live in a permanent state of mourning."

"Like we are." Three years ago he'd been battling outnumbered at the front, and Obi-Wan had left Coruscant to reinforce his squad. Bail had offered to watch over Padmé. It had seemed the safest plan while the galaxy was in a state of upheaval. Luke and Padmé should have been taken to Alderaan and kept safe with Bail and Breha. Instead, Alderaan had unexpectedly become a secondary battlefield, and Bail must have… done what? Diverted? Ran? Gone into hiding? But if that were true, why hadn't he returned? The war was over; they'd won. It was safe to bring their child home.

"All right," he concurred finally. "There've been no leads for so long. We've failed on our own. We have to go public. Luke is alive somewhere, and someone will know where he is."

"I'll arrange an interview." Padmé straightened, invigorated by new purpose, appearing every inch the royal she had been in her youth.

"If this doesn't work…." He couldn't say the words that would admit defeat because he would never give up on finding his son.

He put his arm around Padmé Naberrie-Skywalker, and they shared their resolve as they watched the lake calm. She would be the best mother and he would be the best father….

All they needed was their child.