Hello! Thank you for clicking and/or reading. I apologize for the length in-between chapters—I'd like to blame writer's block, work, and real life in general. A special thanks to my reviewers as follows:

Dovasary: Thank you again for your kind review! Yes Luke and Mara are quite a couple aren't they? I hope I did them justice. To answer your question for any other curious minds, so far in the novels Ben is the only child. However, I figure that there will be another Skywalker baby along the way (at least I hope so)…even if I won't be featuring this hypothetical character here. At any rate, I enjoyed your story Emotional Sacrifice very much and I'm looking forward to any new Star Wars gems you put out.

Luvinna: Thank you for reviewing! Yes, R2-D2 is awesome. One of my favorite "side" Star Wars characters. Truly under appreciated on the whole, I think. I'm glad you find the story humorous. I'm trying to keep it lighthearted without letting it slipping into utter silliness. Let me know how I did!

Jas-TheMaddTexan: Thank you!

torgofan: Thank you very much! Impressed by the first paragraph? Wow, you honor me. I hope you enjoy this last installment as well. Be honest with your review.

Deaka: Thank you very much! I'm glad you like Ben's characterization. Let me know if it's believable here as well. And keep up the good work with your own writing!

And that's really all I have to say, so here's the last part of this little story. If you have any suggestions/criticism/comments, please review! I'm also open to challenges/ideas/requests for new stories so let me know. Otherwise, thanks for the support with my first attempt.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to George Lucas. No, literally. Everything.

"Dad?"

"Come on in Ben…watch out for the water," calls my dad's voice from somewhere back in his office.

I step in cautiously, avoiding one of several puddles of water lying all about my dad's office. I frown in confusion and look around for the source of the element. I blink in surprise and then sudden understanding when I see the broken water pipe—now twisted off so that no more water gushes out into the room.

I'm surprised there's not more of a flood in here. Though, as I look over the ruined holopads my dad possesses, I'm sure my mother more than made her point.

My dad chooses this moment to walk out from his back, more private conference rooms, rubbing his hair with a towel. He stops and sees me eyeing him curiously, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Dad," I say after a moment. "What did you do?"

"Nothing worth getting a water line dropped on my head," responds my dad, but there's no fooling me—after all, I've seen this sort of thing many, many times before— and I arch an eyebrow.

My dad grins. "Well, I may have, may have mind you, upgraded your mother's lightsaber slightly. As a belated birthday present."

I shake my head in mock disbelief. "You didn't."

My dad nods solemnly, pulling on his "Jedi Master" persona so easily that I'm almost fooled by his next words. "She should know that pink is a very respectable lightsaber color for Jedi Masters these days."

A pause.

"Pink? Dad, you're going to die…"

My dad shrugs good-naturedly as he takes a seat and begins to sort through his ruined work. "At least I'll die happy. And just imagine the look on your mother's face when she slices me in two—and my robe falls empty to the floor… "

I roll my eyes in exasperation. There's no winning with these people. How any of them managed to save the galaxy repeatedly is beyond me sometimes.

And then suddenly, as I make myself comfortable, my dad calms down a bit, reaching out with the Force to me. I respond in kind, and for a moment I join my signature with a grasping tendril of light that is only part of his presence and I immediately feel calmer.

My dad shakes his wet hair as he speaks further to me. "But you didn't come over here to check on your mother and father's eccentric relationship, I'm guessing. What is it Ben?"

I shrug slightly. "Well, it's not that big of a deal. But it's left me kind of…unfocused."

My dad raises an eyebrow. "Go ahead."

And so I relate my story again, realizing as I do that while R2 has—quite literally—shocked some sense into me, I am still searching for some resolution on the whole issue. Indeed, some resolution on my names, Ben and Skywalker. What role does destiny have in store for mere namesakes?

My dad is silent for a while after I finish my tale. I glance at the dripping Jedi Master and fancy that his hair has taken on a strange hue. I blink and shake my head, focusing slowly back on the issue as my dad finally speaks.

"That was a very nice thing to do for that girl Ben," my dad says approvingly and he tilts his head to the side quizzically. "But you're concerned about her—immediate approval of you?"

"Basically," I nod. "I told her I wasn't a hero—but she still insisted I was—because I was a Skywalker. And I felt…I don't know…sort of pressured…"

I trail off and hesitantly look up through my bangs at my dad wondering if he could possibly understand my dilemma.

"Well, I know your mother and I have told you this before Ben—but we don't expect any crazy heroics. In fact, we'd rather you didn't go rushing off to save the galaxy before you complete your training," my dad gazes at me intently.

"Yeah, I know, but I mean…" I fall silent for a moment as I struggle to gather my thoughts together. "When I do finally go off on my own, on my own missions and all that, how in the galaxy am I going to be able to live up to my names?"

"You don't have to live up to anyone, Ben," my dad says firmly. "We only expect that you follow the path the Force lays before you and that you do your best."

I blink. "But dad," And even I have to admit that my voice sounds somewhat whiny at this point. "People will keep bugging me until I do…they expect me to…well, to be you again, basically."

There's a spark in my dad's ice blue eyes that I could almost mistake for anger, except my dad doesn't give into anger easily. It's more like irritation. He rubs his eyes almost wearily and I feel instantly ashamed for the headache I'm probably giving him.

"Ben, it doesn't make any difference what people say or think you should be. And you certainly shouldn't be another me—your mother would go insane." He arches an eyebrow at me. "Think about it Ben. If your mother went by what everyone else thought my wife should be like, she'd wouldn't be herself—and by extension, she'd be very unhappy, which would spread misery all around."

I pause for a moment, thinking this through. Painful and annoying as it is, I have to admit my dad is right. There's always someone uppity who thinks Luke Skywalker's wife should have been different—usually way different—than the fierce redhead my mom is. If the critics had their way, my dad would be married to some powerful politician or royalty. And that wouldn't suit him at all.

"And think about this as well Ben," my dad continues as my thoughts continue to race around in my head. "When your mother and I named you, we were hesitant to give you my old mentor's alias at first."

"Really?" Curiosity piques sharply in me.

"Yes." My dad pauses momentarily, eyes far off in some distant, hazy memory. Then they focus sharply and rest on me once again. "Especially me. I'd seen what kind of conflict resulted from your Aunt Leia naming her youngest after my father."

I wince a little. To be essentially named after Darth Vader…I begin to think that I have it relatively easy here.

"Your cousin Anakin was often worried that he had inherent evil in him, that just by being named after a man who became an evil Sith Lord—even the good side of that man—he was predestined to fall to the Dark Side."

"But he didn't succumb dad," I say hastily. I remember this part of the story well.

My dad nods at me. "No, he didn't. He did not let his name define him. Can you imagine what would have happened if he did?"

I shiver. Even if I haven't become a full Knight yet, I've seen the power of the Dark Side. And I've heard enough stories to have some idea of how powerful its seduction can be—and what pain and misery it can cause.

A sudden thought crosses through my mind and I freeze. What if dad had let his name—Skywalker—define him too? If he'd given up and joined my grandfather as a Sith? Considered it his inevitable destiny?

And what if he had believed his old masters when they told him that Anakin Skywalker was irredeemable?

The thought is an utterly new one. Up until now, I've kind of always taken my father's deeds for granted—it's just who he is, what he did. But, I realize suddenly, it didn't have to be that way at all. Things could have been a lot worse if my dad had listened to what everyone else said. I look up at my dad with newfound respect.

My dad continues on, oblivious to my breakthrough, "The point is Ben, we named you after Obi-Wan Kenobi to emulate and honor him. We certainly don't expect you to be my master's clone, but wanted to give you a starting point, a role model to look up to. And if you're anything like any of the Skywalkers or Solos—you'll certainly be your own man. And that's all we ask of you."

I blink again, mind racing at light speed in a way that would make Uncle Han proud. I don't have to be held down by my name. I have the freedom to be who I want, even a backwater planet farmer if I wanted, thanks to my family. Why in the name of the Force are you whining Skywalker? I scold myself.

There is still an uneasy part of me that I suspect will never truly go away. In truth, there's no way I can ever live up to the legacy of my names completely, at least, not in a way that will satisfy me. But I can establish my own life, at least, and do my best to make them proud. And perhaps it will be enough. A sort of peace settles deep within me and I smile proudly at my dad.

"Thanks dad. I hope I'll make you proud someday," I say fiercely.

My dad smiles at me without any "Jedi Master" reservations—he's just my dad. "You make me proud everyday son."

And the love shines through the Force so brilliantly I'm amazed that I don't go blind.

"Well," I say a moment later, looking away a little embarrassedly. "I'd better get back to my room. I promised mom I'd get it cleaned up before—"

I stop suddenly as I look back at my dad—looking at him closely for the first time since the conversation started. Disbelief and horror register on my face.

"What is it Ben?"

I stutter a little bit. "Dad…y-your hair!"

My dad blinks and then quickly reaches over for a ruined holopad, staring at his reflection in the blank screen.

His jaw practically hits the floor.

"Sithspit!" And now my jaw hits the floor as for one of the few times in my life, I hear my dad cuss. I imagine what the reaction of his peers would be. The words "heart attacks" and "multiple strokes" randomly float through my head.

"You like it Lukie, dear? I thought this shade might match your lightsaber color and make you more respectable, but I welcome your thoughts, since you seem to be such an expert on the matter."

I turn and see my mother leaning on the doorjamb of dad's office, a pleasantly wicked grin on her face.

"My hair is green!" My dad cries getting up with a disbelieving look on his face. "I have to teach three more classes today! Mara!"

My mom smirks. "Oh dear…how very inconvenient. Isn't it such a shame that that water pipe had such a nasty effect on your appearance dear? I do believe someone could have tampered with it!"

My dad gets up, eyes flashing and my mom strides over, meeting him halfway.

Run, Ben, run!

And I don't need to be told twice, as I pivot on my feet and bolt out the door—wanting to be fully intact for whatever destiny I create.