Sneaking in slowly, slowly, Luke aimed for his bedroom. If he could just get past Aunt Beru and get to his room, he could explode in happiness in there and Aunt Beru would be none the wiser. It wasn't as if he could explain his burbling delight, and she was bound to pick up on his happiness.

"Welcome home, Luke." And just as he thought that he'd managed to sneak in without his Aunt noticing too. Turning towards the kitchen, he tried to tone down his grin, but was rather sure he didn't make it.

"Hi Aunt Beru! Have I mentioned today how much I love you?" If you can't hide the proof, try to make it invisible. His Aunt just chuckled, her gentle eyes shining with patience and love.

"No, I can't say you have, dear. But whatever it is, I'm glad it happened. I haven't seen you this happy in a long time, Luke."

Inwardly cringing at that, Luke nonetheless smiled and hugged his Aunt. He felt like scum. He could have died while racing, or at the very least been severely hurt, but did he think of that? Nooo. He just had to have that podracer, and that had taken precedence over everything else, even his Aunt and Uncle's concern for him.

Just the thought of his Aunt's eyes shimmering with tears made him want to kick himself. And while he was used to the disapproval and slight disappointment in Uncle Owen's eyes, Luke knew his Uncle would be upset if anything happened to him. But at the same time he knew he would have done it, had he had the chance to choose again. Luke could just not give up the fierce feeling of pride, happiness and delight at the thought of the 'racer. It would be the first step to help him reach the stars. And while he was slightly shameful now, it couldn't dissipate his happiness at all.

He may have done a bad thing, not thinking it through fully, and placing himself in the direct line of danger, but it had been worth it. It would be worth it even if his Aunt and Uncle found out now and (stars forbid!) Uncle Owen scrapped the podracer in anger. Not that he would let them find out.

"Thanks Aunt Beru! I'll try not to be so gloomy anymore. Anything you need help with?" Since he was feeling so happy, he could offer his help instead of being reluctantly roped into it. His Aunt just laughed softly and shook her head.

"I don't think you will be able to help it Luke, but the effort will be appreciated. And yes, I want you to lay the table for me, but later. There's someone waiting to talk to you outside."

Blinking in confusion, Luke walked from the kitchen and out into the central sunken court-yard, and up onto the desert outside at his Aunt's gesture, as she didn't seem inclined to say anything more about it. But her rather nervous glance upwards had him suspicious.

The wind was whipping gently around him when he came up and looked around, wondering just where this 'someone' that wanted to talk to him were. He didn't even have to search, a tall man in a brown, hooded robe stood by the crater created by the central sunken courtyard to the left of the entrance, looking at the twin suns. Luke neared him cautiously, because while the man seemed harmless enough, slightly bent by his years but still standing proud, Aunt Beru's telling glance had made him suspicious. Just as he came up to stand behind him, the man turned around and threw his hood back, smiling gently down at Luke. There was no danger here, only bright, gentle warmth. Luke smiled back, having relaxed instantly at the other's smile. The man was clothed in rough, homespun clothes, that reminded him of traditional Tatooine clothing, but there were differences. A name teased the edges of his mind.

"Hi, I'm Luke Skywalker."

The man chuckled and shook his hand.

"I know, Luke. I'm Ben Kenobi."

"The craz... uh... the old man who lives alone out by the Dune Sea?" Luke coughed embarrassed, now remembering what Uncle Owen had said about the "crazy old hermit". Ben chuckled good-naturedly, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Yes, the one and the same. And don't worry about it Luke, I know what your Uncle says about me."

Shrugging awkwardly, since even if Ben excused Uncle Owen's behavior, Luke still thought it embarrassing and slightly mean of Uncle Owen to say that about the man. He was maybe slightly different, didn't seem to really belong on Tatooine's desert wastes to Luke's eye, however much he actually blended in with the surroundings, but saying all the things Uncle Owen did? That was just mean.

"Um... so what did you want to talk to me about?" He had to admit to being curious, what could Ben want with him, since they didn't even know each other very well (he could remember one time of getting lost in a sandstorm on the way home and an old man finding him, leading him to the homestead. It had been Ben, he realized now)?

"Well Luke, it was more of checking up on you. We both know you have a tendency to tangle with trouble, so I thought I'd come by when you weren't in any sort of quandary. You're growing up fine, Luke. Your father would be proud." Ben placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled down at him gently, encouragingly. It was a little strange to be looked at with that kind of expression. Ben didn't seem to expect anything from him... then Luke's blue eyes grew wide and he floundered.

"You knew my father..! Was he... I mean, how..."

"Luke! Could you come and lay the table now? Uncle Owen will be back soon." Aunt Beru's call interrupted his flailing thoughts, and Ben smiled apologetically at him. It was as if she'd been listening on them, and interrupted just when the conversation may have had a chance of becoming interesting.

"Maybe some other time, Luke. And just so you know," Here Ben leaned down to whisper in his ear, "you look just like he did when he was this age. Take care Luke." Raising his voice at the last three words, Ben raised the hood again, patted his shoulder and walked away, seemingly unconcerned with the distance between the Lars homestead and his own home.

Stark white surrounded him, and endless sea of blinding brightness. Why ever was the inside of the hyperbaric chamber white? He couldn't remember now. But it seemed slightly ridiculous and working against its own purpose now. He couldn't relax in it. He was breathing on his own, free of the helmet for a short while, but he couldn't relax as he usually did only in here.

But, he had to admit, that had probably less to do with the interior, and more with the mysterious "distress" call he'd heard earlier. That the Force-sensitive had been in peril and desperate for help, that much was clear, but he shouldn't have felt it so sharply, as if it had been his own, or heard the mental "voice" so clearly.

And there was no reason for him to have answered at all, and even less with "son". That the officers present in the room had heard him made him angry, that he'd been so careless made him even angrier. That someone somehow had lured him in replying with a word he would never be able to utter for real enraged him.

It was a mockery to him and he could not let it pass! And yet... What if it had been his son? But that was simply impossible. To even think that was betraying the memory of his... shaking his head, Darth Vader corrected himself. Padmé had not been his wife, but Anakin Skywalker's. And Anakin Skywalker was dead, killed by his Master Obi-Wan and his wife, Padmé. He had made a slip earlier by thinking of the woman as his own wife. He had to distance himself. His Master had told him he had killed her himself in his anger, and while that made the secret part of his mind cringe in horror and denial, that meant he had no children, even less a son.

But whoever this imposter was, he was good. There was a connection established already, tenuous and fragile, and harder than any durasteel, pulsing strongly between him and the Force-sensitive who had cried out in need. That anyone this bright and innocent (this was what could be felt most strongly through the infant bond), and, indeed, so earnest, could have used such disgusting subterfuge made Vader feel frozen.

Of course... there was a possibility someone had fed the boy lies, someone telling an innocent Darth Vader was his father and planning to use the boy as bait, while the innocent believed a lie.

In the back of his mind, Vader was very much aware that this kind of link, so new and yet impossibly strong as it was, could not exist between two people who were not connected in some other way. But denial has always been humanity's best friend, and the dark lord was not ready to contemplate any other possibilities, than the one stating this was some sort of ruse.

He simply, but unconsciously, shied away from any implications of this being what it appeared to be (a son calling out for and connecting to his father). Anakin had so very much wanted a family with his beloved, and the child that she bore had brought such new, seemingly impossible highs, that he would not dare to think anything else than that Anakin's wife had died, and the child with her. It was best that way. But that still meant he had an imposter, or a misled innocent, on his hands, and he'd find him and deal with him accordingly.

When Luke disappeared through the doorway for his visit to his grandmother after the dinner, Beru turned to her husband with a sigh.

"He was so happy when he came in today, Owen. He didn't want to tell, and all boys need secrets, but I just know we can't keep him that happy." She wanted her nephew happy, he was such a bright and sweet boy and didn't deserve the darkness that lured somewhere just out of sight to pounce at the first unguarded moment. Owen grunted and glowered at the ceiling.

"He should be content with what he has. He's too much of a dreamer, just like his father. It will do him no good."

And while that may be true, not everybody could be like her beloved husband; disciplined, with down-to-earth wants and goals in mind. The difference between the two younger generations of Skywalkers that had visited in the past or lived here now and her husband was a gaping chasm they simply couldn't seem to cross. Only the older Skywalker, Owen's step-mother, held more than embarrassed affection or grudging respect tinged with anger.

"That may be, Owen, but can you really see any Skywalker being content with such a simple life as this? For you and me, yes, we don't want anything else, but this life is not for everyone. You know that."

"The point is moot, Beru. He's too young to leave anyway, and he will find no reason to leave from us. The Empire is too strong. What does that kooky old man expect from the boy anyway? A bloody miracle? I won't let Luke go off and get killed because Obi-Wan Kenobi want him to go on some bloody fool crusade!" Owen growled and sat back, crossing his arms. For him, it was that easy. And maybe it was, but Beru couldn't help but think that they would not be able to keep Luke here, in their home, and on Tatooine indefinitely.

Standing up and collecting the dishes, Owen rising from his own seat to help her, Beru thought back on that evening when Obi-Wan had come riding out of the purple gloom and handed her a baby. Luke had been such a sweet baby, and he was a fantastic boy, who would no doubt grow up into a fine young man. But however she looked at it when she looked at Luke; the blond, slightly curling at the edges hair, the sparkling, clear blue eyes, the tanned skin from being out in the sun and the endless energy, she did not see the sands of Tatooine surrounding him.

What she always saw was the star-sprinkled void of space, forming streaks around him as if he was traveling at great speeds. Tatooine may be Luke's beginning, but it was neither his middle, nor his end. Those lay among the stars. With a smile she turned to Owen and kissed him on the bearded cheek affectionately. Around Owen and herself however, she was sure the burning golden sands of Tatooine stretched into infinity, and she could not want anything else.

Sitting down with an oomph, Luke crossed his legs at his ankles and shifted around to make himself comfortable.

"Hi, Grandmother. I hope I'm not disturbing you. Not that you can tell me if I am, of course..." Luke trailed off, staring down in the sand and drawing squiggles with one finger.

"I did it. I won!" He had to stop here, to let the laugh bubble up freely, to express some of the happiness he felt for the reason that he felt it, and not having to lie.

"It was great, Grandmother! I haven't felt anything like it, the wind, the speed, the... everything!" It was so hard to properly express the feelings tumbling around and over each other inside of him, and he wanted back there, to feel the 'racer hum all around him, in him, with him, hurtle down the corridors of Beggar's Canyon and the expanses of desert just to feel it all again. He hadn't experienced anything like it, and at that moment when he closed his eyes to thread the Needle, now that he thought back about it, he could remember imagining in the back of his mind the void of space all around him, and trying to catch up with the stars, outrace them in their own element. The he sighed.

"But you know, I want to apologize to Aunt and Uncle, even if they don't know what for, because if I had crashed... I could have died or gotten hurt, and they wouldn't even have known. I wonder... would my father have been angry because I had worried him, or would he have been upset, but hugged me and been proud anyway? I hope it would have been the last." Finally winding down after a day filled with excitement and adrenalin, Luke breathed out explosively, sagging where he sat.

He had to admit that this was among one of the most stupid things he'd ever done. And that reminded him... looking inside, he found that strange, softly pulsing thing, both connected with his own inner "light" (he had never been able to figure out a better name for it), and separated from it. It was black, like the night, shot through with streaks of crimson, and beneath it all lit up by a hesitant, resilient pale light. Sometimes that underlying light seemed to collapse under the weight of the darkness and the crimson streaks, but it was still there Luke knew, just not as... clearly as it could be. It felt tingly and familiar, comforting, somehow.

If he thought about it, he could trace its appearance back to an exact moment... And that was when he cried out in panicked desperation (he was slightly embarrassed about that now) for his father. Did it mean anything? Could it mean anything? But the thing was silent, sometimes it seemed to not even be there, just a shadow of a flicker in the back of his mind if he thought really hard about it, and sometimes it seemed as bright (if darkness could be bright) and clear as the suns themselves. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to explain itself. Not yet, at any rate.

Metal sparkled in the moonlight as the slightly rounded, rectangular object was turned around, around and around, sent spinning on its own axis by still nimble, if not maybe as nimble as before, fingers. He could have found out what had made Luke's Force presence flare so brightly in panic earlier. It wouldn't have been hard, since the boy had been very excited about something, the thoughts just below the surface and easy to touch. But Luke had been alright, not a scratch on him, and Ben hadn't wanted to intrude. Now he wondered if he shouldn't have done so anyway, because who knew what it could lead to, whatever it was? But he hadn't been able to do it.

"Who knows... maybe it was for the best? What would you have done, Anakin? Or maybe you would have been right beside him, sharing his secret?" It hurt to think, and talk about it. Since mentions of Anakin, even only in his own mind, always lead to remembrance of his friend's betrayal...

And of his own betrayal of said friend. If he had killed Anakin when he'd had the chance, nothing of this, or at least not exactly, would have happened. His friend, brother, would have been left out of this, wouldn't have become even more ensnared by the darkness. But he hadn't been able to do it, and just left. His own, ultimate betrayal to crown the small, little failings over the years. The lightsaber did another circle. And now, sooner or later, Luke would be dragged into it, would possibly have to commit one of the gravest of crimes. To kill his own father.

"No. His father, Anakin Skywalker, is already dead." All because of the failings of an older generation. But isn't that always how it goes? The older generation missteps, and the younger has to right it again. Another flashing circle as the lightsaber turned. Ben wondered what Owen would say if he wanted to tell Luke some of his history, and give him his father's lightsaber...

"I hope you are aware you still owe me money." The crackling from the holo-projector didn't lessen the soft voice's threatening tone at all. The old projector didn't make justice to the beautiful Twi'lek woman who lazily filed her claws, glancing over at the Rodian on the other "end". Sand skittered and whispered under the Rodian's boots as he shifted his weight. It didn't matter what precautions you took, on Tatooine, sand always found its way in everywhere.

"I'm aware of that, Milady. And I will have your money after the next race. I've found a... stand-in racer to pilot a podracer for me. He'll win and the money will be yours."

The Twi'lek woman sneered at the nervous Rodian, apparently not very impressed.

"I will hold you to that. And if you don't have the money after the race, I'm collecting them out of your hide." She didn't bother with any sort of farewell, just broke the connection. The Rodian stood still several moments, appearing relieved that he was still alive, even if the woman couldn't have killed him through the channel. He'd survived this long, and he wasn't about to end up as a slave to her just because he had some trouble with getting the money he owed her. He had a plan now, after all, and his "replacement" had more potential skill than some of the veteran racers had acquired over years of racing.

He'd survive.

Whether his replacement pilot did, on the other hand, he couldn't care less.