Part Two:
Owen and Beru.
Anakin's step-brother and his wife. I remember them from long ago, when I delivered young Luke into Beru's warm embrace. There was so much I wanted to tell them then, so much that should have been said, but I decided against it. I thought they would be better served by my watching from afar.
For twenty years I had looked out for them, for Luke. Twenty years of watching, but not participating. I know the things Owen told Luke about his father, about me. He blames the Jedi for what happened to Anakin, but yet he never really knew him. From my understanding, Anakin was only on Tatouine for a few days as he searched, and later grieved, for his mother, and most of that time was spent with Padme. How could Owen judge Anakin on such a short visit? What kind of person does that?
I resented for a long time the things he told Luke, how ruthlessly he discouraged the boy's latent force abilities. I remember, twelve years ago when we met up in Mos Espa how quickly he'd yanked Luke away from me, telling him I was just a 'crazy old man' and that he should stay away from me. How terribly difficult it was to reign in my anger at such a betrayal. I understand how protective Owen must be, how frightened that Luke might become what his father was, but this was not what I had in mind when I volunteered to watch over him. How could I watch over him while being constantly pushed aside? I was angry then. For the first time since Qui-Gon's death, I was furious. And I hated myself for it.
I had known even before our speeder slowed down in front of the great hulk of the Jawas' transport what had happened. The ripples in the force of the little creatures' violent deaths had warned me well in advance. This was no random act of terror – Vader was sending us a message. 'I'm on to you.'
I know that somehow, in the back of his mind, Luke knew it too, but as he was meant to, he suspected the SandPeople. 'He still has much to learn,' I remembered my words to Master Windu of Anakin. 'I sense much fear in you…' It appears that many things are hereditary.
"Only Imperial Storm Troopers are so precise," I hinted. He looked up at me, and I saw the thoughts swim past his eyes, felt the connections being made as he looked from the carnage, to the droids, to me.
"If they tracked the druids to the Jawas, they might know who they sold them to, and that would lead them…home!" Before he even moved, I felt him already bolting to his speeder. All at once I was gripped with a cold terror – just like his father, thinking before acting.
"Wait, Luke!" I cried, but he was gone. It was too late – I knew what he would find back there. I had felt those ripples too. My only regret is not making peace with Owen when I could. I regret so many things…
"Excuse me, sir," a tinny voice grabbed my attention as a metal finger tapped my shoulder. Threepio, Anakin's protocol droid. Now Luke's protocol droid. "By chance is any of this our fault?" I looked from him to his faithful astrimech counterpart, before clapping him on his metal shoulder.
"No," I said, more to myself than the droid, "it's my fault."