Where Am I Going To?

Part One

Chapter Seven

Luke did very little as he waited for his ribs to heal. He asked no questions. He demanded no answers. However, he'd been having trouble sleeping, and the strain was beginning to show in his face.

"In the bulb, there is a flower;

In the seed, an apple tree;

In cocoons, a hidden promise:

Butterflies will soon be free!

In the cold and snow of winter

There's a Spring that waits to be,

Unrevealed until its season,

Something Fate alone can see."

He caught more of the whispered melody each night, the soft, humming tune, and he awoke with tear trails on his cheeks and the word "mother," dying on his lips. He tried to hold on to the fleeting song so desperately, but the tighter he held, the more slippery it became. His desperation grew, and so did his stubborn resolve.

"You're going to tell me about my mother."

Obi Wan could see quite clearly that it was not a request. The boy had sat him down and stared him right in the eye and demanded it.

"Of course," he'd replied with a shrug. Padawan Skywalker was so used to being brushed off that the simple agreement astounded him. Kenobi smiled at him, slightly amused, before asking "What do you want to know?"

Clearly, the young Jedi had only planed on his strategy for attack, not for what would happen if he won. "Uhh…" he fumbled for a few minutes before finding some remote question to ask. "What was her name?"

"Padmè Amidala Skywalker."

Luke sank slightly in his chair, processing and reveling in the new secret treasure. The old man tapped his fingers against his leg as he waited for the young boy to figure out his next question.

"Where was she from?"

"Naboo."

"How old was I when she died?"

"Two. You left her when you were a few months shy of your first birthday."

"Did she love my father?"

"Yes."

"Did my father love her?"

"Yes."

That was astounding, and Luke could not repress a small smile. He wanted nothing more than something stable, and normal, and he could envision it with a certain sense of accuracy now. "Did she love me?"

"She adored you."

"Then why did she send me away to live with my father?"

The Jedi shifted uncomfortably, was not willing to admit to his own part in that failed plot. "She didn't have a choice."

"Why did my father want me?"

"He knew you would grow up to be powerful."

"So that's it?" The old Jedi did not seem to understand the question. "It wasn't because he cared about me?"

"Ah," echoed Obi Wan slowly, nodding his head. "You'll have to ask him that."

Luke glowered darkly, staring intently at the floor. "I'm not going to ask him anything. I don't want anything to do with him."

Kenobi sighed. "No, I'd imagine not." Silence. "It seems you're in a bit of a difficult situation. But, please, Luke, remember, you've got to let the hurting go. If you don't let the pain go you'll never heal."

"But healing is so difficult," he murmured. "I don't want to let go, it's so hard."

"Yes, most things that are worth while are difficult. But penning the hurting in will only make everything worse. You've got to let it go."

Finally, the young boy met the old Jedi's watching eyes. "I will, someday. But I can't yet. I just can't do that yet." He rubbed his hands, trying to focus on the good; he got to learn about his mother. Stay on that path. "How did she and my father meet."

"I think that is another question that would be answered with better justice by your father. My memory is old."

"You remember," insisted Luke passionately, desperately.

"Yes, but I still won't tell you."

Luke gave in and gave up. He never pushed the limits with the old man. That went against some strange and buried loyalty that he'd built up as a glowing shrine to Kenobi. In making a mad dash away from his father, he'd stumbled onto another one, only completely different.

"Do you have anymore questions?" Luke shook his head. "Good. I think you're in good enough condition that we can move on, now." He motioned the small, blue, tripod droid – R2D2, Luke believe was the thing's name – and said, "Our little friend has something here that I think you'd be interested in."

The hologram flashed blue and grainy in the air, and Luke felt his breath catch in his throat. He couldn't have repeated the information if his life depended on it, for his mind was totally occupied with different thoughts altogether.

Leia…..

He felt terribly guilty for not giving the love of his life a second thought since his transition into the Jedi. He could hardly be blamed, as his soul had been hurting, and his mind had been occupied. But now a flood of guilty questions overflowed into his mind. Was she alright? Did she miss him? Were they letting her go? Had she told them where the rebels were? Was she even still alive?

When the message stopped, Luke looked quickly up at his slightly surprised mentor. "How soon can we leave for Alderaan?"

Luke couldn't help but sink in a slightly guilty manner in the speeder as they entered Mos Eisley Space Port. As the Storm Troopers stopped them, Luke felt a growing, sickening pit form in his stomach, and it felt all too familiar.

They don't know you, they won't recognize you, he repeated in his head over and over, but it gave very little reassurance.

"How long have you had these droids?" the commander asked. Force, were they still looking for Artoo and Threepio? Of course, they have to. They don't have any other leads.

"About three or four seasons," Luke muttered, trying to seem like he knew what he was talking about.

"They're up for sale, if you want them," added Obi Wan with a nice touch of faked honesty.

"Let me see some identification."

"You don't need to see his identification."

When Luke realized what Kenobi was doing, he subtly added his own weight of power. Not that it was needed. Storm Troopers were easy to confuse. He'd been doing it since he was four.

"We don't need to see his identification," the Storm Trooper echoed mindlessly.

"These aren't the droids you're looking for," Luke added with real confidence. The Master and the Apprentice shared an understanding look, and a proud smile, and Luke felt his heart swell with glowing joy.

"These aren't the droids we're looking for."

"He can go about his business."

"You can go about your business."

"Move along," the old Jedi finally finished, and Luke felt the last of his nervousness disappear.

"Move along, move along."

If Luke was impressed by his mentor's calm handling of the situation, he was far less impressed with his choice on where they would find a pilot.

"Do you really think we're going to find a pilot here that will take us to Alderaan?" he asked quite skeptically.

"Well, most of the best freighter pilots can be found here. Only watch your step. This place can be a little rough." Luke shook his head, far less confident than Kenobi.

"I can take it."

The old man grinned at him, his eyes sparkling. "Can you avoid breaking another rib while you're at it?"

Luke snorted playfully. "I can take life's knocks, Master Obi Wan. I'm more capable than you think."

"No, Luke, you're mistaken. I've never underestimated you. I always knew you could take what was dished at you."

And Luke knew he was telling the truth.

To Be Continued…

The part of the poem I use as Padme's lullaby to Luke is "Hymn of Promise," by Natalie Sleeth. I use it without permission, and substituted the word "God," for "Fate," for the obvious reasons.

xInuyashaxangelx: Thanks as always.

Schnickledooger: Thanks. Your scene was very……interesting (o.O?). I put the two guards in there as sort of inspiration from Macbeth. Some very dark stuff's been happening, and the audience just mentally needs a little relief from it. So, it's sort of my tribute to all the drunken porters of Shakespeare. I know I haven't been updating a lot. I've wanted to write on this, but I'm lazy. And I'm busy. And I'm sick. Plus, my dog just had puppies, so, goodbye free time. So, here's the next chapter for you, my ever devoted and obsessive fan hands an e-cookie

LeiaUndomiel: Thanks, I really appreciate the support.