A/N: Hello my dears... Just one more chapter to go, after this one, I being this author who finishes her Advent Calendar for Easter :D... I have struggled with this one, because it happens during time in Obi-Wan's life I didn't feel strong enough to think about - and in the end, it still worked out. I hope you will like it, and will let you read without more words. See you below, Meysun.

Sparks of Hope (A Star-Wars Advent Calendar)

By Meysun

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24. Small Sips (Beru Whitesun Lars)

17 BBY

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Someone was singing softly right above their home.

She could not make out the words – but if there was one thing Beru knew, it was that singing was not something you did, on the Great Chott salt flat. Not without the strength and support of several farmers, and certainly not in the hottest hours of the day.

Singing meant signalling you were there and felt confident – and one had better be sure about it before raising one's voice.

She knew it wasn't Owen. First, because Owen was not really the singing type – her husband was quiet, hardworking, and never talked idly. Owen believed in silent, effective actions – and since this was what made you survive here on Tatooine, as Beru well knew, it was one of the reasons she loved him so dearly.

And Owen had left for Anchorhead early in the morning, leaving her alone with Luke – to purchase replacement parts for their eldest vaporator. Her husband never left them without making sure she had a charged rifle ready – and as so often, Beru felt grateful for Owen's fierce protectiveness.

She looked back at Luke, who was sitting on his rug, playing with the wooden cubes Owen had carved for him, muttering quiet words to himself, and then she climbed the stairs, lightly, rifled firmly poised at her shoulder.

"Sadness… in your eyes… I guess… you heard me cry…"

The voice was soft. Somewhat hypnotic, even, like a lullaby – and it came from the Bantha pens. It was a man's voice, and the intruder had opened the hatch, gliding inside – well, it seemed they finally had an explanation for their missing Bantha cow.

Beru straightened the rifle against her shoulder, making sure her feet were positioned against a rock so as to avoid most of the recoil.

"Get out of there and show your hands, scum."

The voice stopped abruptly, and Beru whistled a short tune, watching the Banthas part slowly, their hairy body's making room for…

"You."

She was still pointing her rifle at him, but he did not seem to be bothered, facing her quietly with those calm grey eyes she remembered. There was more white in his hair now, and his skin had become tanned like hers, but otherwise he looked almost the same. Light clothes, the same brown cloak that had cradled Luke, bringing life to their barren soil.

"Get out of here, before Owen finds you. He won't be as forgiving."

Ben tilted his head, hand finding one of the Bantha's nuzzle, and she realised his fingers were coated in dry blood.

"What is there to forgive?"

His voice was slightly hoarse – unlike his singing. Like a man unused to talking – and he looked the part, face gaunt and hair slightly too-long.

"Look. I know hunger, and thirst. I can understand you stealing one of our Banthas – after all, it is only fair…"

"No."

Something steely entered his eyes, and the elder man raised his chin, still facing her and her rifle.

"It is not fair. I am not… stealing Banthas. I am not righting a debt."

She nodded towards his hand, covered in copper stains.

"I brought her and her youngling back."

Beru frowned, counting the Banthas – and it was true. They were all there, including the missing cow, and a tiny Bantha calf used that precise moment to make itself known, peering behind his mother's legs.

"Oh."

That made her lower her rifle, finally. Because it brought her back to that day – that unique day of them being entrusted with Luke by that very same man, who had called himself a Jedi Master. Anakin's Master. Telling them a frightening tale of war, and massacre, and Jedi dying because of people he called Sith.

That day, he had asked for them to call him Ben. He had never set foot in their home, telling them all these terrible things outside, under the very same unforgiving suns, eyes empty and voice fading as his story ended.

Owen had been fierce, that day. Had clutched Luke tightly to his chest, not even letting her hold him, and had told Ben to leave and never come back, to keep his Jedi business away from their farm and their lives.

Owen had spat all his sadness and hurt at him – telling him how they had hoped for Anakin to visit, one day. How terrible it had been, to have Shmi captured and Cliegg maimed, only to feel hope once more when Anakin had finally arrived.

"He only talked to us to tell us how utterly unforgivable it had been, to leave Shmi to her fate. How weak we were. We, who had set out with thirty men to bring her back, and came back with four. I head what he said, to that Senator woman. I know what he did. He slaughtered the whole Tusken village – even the children. That's not weak. That's… sick. That's… thinking oneself above others – just like you Jedi do."

Her husband had been livid with rage, and pain. She had felt him shake, had seen tears spring to Owen's eyes – and her heart had bled for him. Because Cliegg had died only a few months ago – because Owen wanted children even more than she did, yet never said a word about it, and was fighting a hard battle against himself.

"You won't come near him. You won't raise him or teach him your ways. I won't let you."

The Jedi – Kenobi, Ben… He had just looked at them, face as pale as Owen's. And then, he had taken a step back. Then another. And he had bowed, very quietly, casting a last look at Luke – never speaking another word to them.

He had left on an eopie, heading towards the Jundland Wastes, and Owen had not moved until he had vanished, small silhouette melting with the red horizon. Then, and only then, her husband had let her embrace him, still cradling the child, had allowed her to stir his face towards her neck.

And she had felt hot tears against her skin, but not a single sound, as Owen had begun to cry, quietly, shaking with sobs as she held them.

He had not spoken about Ben, later. And she had kept her speculations to herself, as she had unpacked the small bag he had left them, finding baby formula packed neatly along with diapers, clean baby clothes and a soft, blue blanket that smelt of honey and flowers.

Luke had been fed and changed and did not even wake up for hours – Beru had known, then, that it must have been the Jedi's doing.

And, even on the Great Chott salt flat, you did point a rifle to a man who cared for children and younglings.

"I think she was looking for a safe place. Her little one was breeching."

Ben's raspy voice brought her back to the present, and Beru looked up, facing his bright grey eyes once more.

"She is still hurting a bit. I had to help her, you see… She is still struggling between resenting me and being grateful. Singing calms her down."

She just nodded, facing this man who had brought her so much purpose and joy, and who could not stay here.

"Do not worry. I am leaving."

He gently rubbed the Bantha cow's muzzle, and Beru watched the cow move slowly towards him, pressing her body against his in mute trust.

"You have become quite a friend to her."

Her voice had softened, and Ben stroked the Bantha one last time, before he left the pen, joining her in the searing heat. He smelt of fresh sweat, of dried blood and of Bantha fur, and she realised his hair was damp with perspiration he could not afford to lose.

"Nana?"

The voice rising behind them was tiny and high-pitched, and Luke soon climbed out of the stairs, toddling towards her with childish glee.

"Nana, down. Much sun. Come play. Oh."

Luke's oh was the perfect sound for astonishment as he spotted Ben, and the little boy let out a giggle as his eyes found Ben's hands.

"Di-tty. Di-tty hands. Wash, Nana?"

"You want to wash Ben's hands, Lukka? Shall we show him where the fresher is, then? And serve him some water, because it is hot?"

"There's no need, truly…"

"Wash."

Luke's voice was decided, and the little one toddled towards Ben, absolutely fearless, small hand fisting itself on the hem of his robe.

"Oh. Dolo. Dolo, Dolo, Dolo!"

"Yes, Lukka. Dolo is back. Ben brought her back."

Luke looked up at Ben and flashed him a radiant smile. And she watched the Jedi's eyes slowly fill with tears, but he never turned his head and just smiled back at the child, very gently.

"Up."

Luke extended his arms towards Ben, and Ben shook his head, softly.

"No, little one. Like you said, my hands are dirty."

"Up!"

Luke tugged at Ben's rope, and the Jedi looked at her, hesitance obvious in his eyes. She nodded, smiling slightly, and Ben curled his hands up in his sleeves, careful not to smear anything on Luke's thin tunic as he finally picked him up, allowing the little boy to nestle against his chest.

"I am not staying."

Ben's voice was anxious behind her, as Beru led him down, guiding him towards a chair.

"I cannot stay here."

Luke was playing with his damp strands of hair, still pressed against his chest, making soft, cooing sounds, and he was rubbing the child's back, forgetting about the dried blood on his hands, yet still muttering the same words, on and on.

"I cannot stay here. I cannot stay here."

She placed a glass of water before him, then she wetted a cloth and gently placed it on his neck.

"Shh. Small sips. You can leave when it is cooler."

She wetted another cloth and sat herself next to him, extending a hand towards him. And, after a few seconds, he mirrored the gesture, allowing her to take his fingers into hers. His skin was clammy, surprisingly cold, and she gently began to clean his palm, then his knuckles and fingers.

"Nana wash hands", Luke murmured, somewhat sleepily, and Ben let out a small sigh ending in a long, shuddering breath.

"Shh. Let me. You just take small sips."

He obeyed, as soon as his hand was cleaned, gently moving Luke to the crook of his other arm, raising the glass to his lips. And as she cleaned his other hand, she watched her little son fall asleep against his shoulder, and colour return slowly to his cheeks and face.

She checked the wet cloth on his neck, found it dry and wetted it again. He was not sweating anymore and when she took his hand in hers once more, his skin was warmer.

"Sun sickness."

Ben's voice was still rough, but he was shaking his head, quietly.

"I… It still hits me, sometimes. I am sorry."

"You come from a colder planet, don't you? Somewhere with water. You're like a Funnel flower. Perking up whenever there's moisture."

He smiled softly at this, fingers drawing small circles into Luke's back.

"Indeed. The sun does not agree with me. Especially when it has a twin. I need to go, Beru. I am not supposed to be here."

"Owen will understand. He sounds rougher than he is."

"It is not that… There are… people out there. Searching for me. Searching for Luke. Your husband was right, wanting me as far away as possible. I have already stayed longer than I should."

"Well, I am not letting you. You are a Jedi, aren't you? You can sense things going awry. Shmi told me you could. And that you can feel the Force. So… I think you should ask the Force what is better: getting even sicker because you are too stubborn to take a moment to cool down, or stay here and finish your song for Lukka… And that is the end of it."

He stayed silent for a while, and then he had a soft, very private laugh.

"You know, Beru… You sound an awful lot like someone I knew."

"Very well. As long as it makes you reasonable."

He laughed again, very softly. And he stayed seated for two hours, gently cradling Luke against him, until the heat receded, singing softly to her boy, helping her to chop tubers like an old friend.

They did not talk. Not really.

Not about Anakin, or Shmi. Not about the Jedi.

They talked about Tatooine, and plants, and Beru's small hydroponic garden she was strangely proud to show to Ben, watching his eyes lighten in genuine pleasure and love, as he caressed the small green Funnel blossoms.

He left before Luke woke up, stretching the child on his cot with utmost care, accepting the bag full of tubers and the bottle of water Beru packed for him.

"Thank you for Dolo", she told him.

"Thank you for… these two hours", he answered, very softly. "For… letting me hold him. For the water. And the Funnel blossoms. It means… it means more than the world to me. I won't come back, though."

"I know."

She walked up the stairs behind him and watched him draw his robe around his body.

"Goodbye, Ben. Take care."

"May the Force be with you, Beru."

He soon became a tiny dot in the desert, melting with the horizon once more. And she smiled, trying to imagine him coming home, unpacking his bag like she had, almost three years ago.

She hoped the Funnel seeds she had slid between the tubers would please him – and grow into beautiful flowers, bestowing some green he so clearly craved.

"May the Force be with you, Ben."

She watched the horizon, for a while more. And then she turned, walking down the stairs once more. She had tubers to roast, a little boy to feed and to tend to, and a tired husband who would soon come home. Her small world was there, busy and filled with love – and for this, Beru was forever grateful.

A/N: So, I genuinely hope you liked this one. It was important for me to write Beru not like a soft "Madonna" who accepts the child while the guys are sorting things out (I'm so sorry for this oversimplification, I hope you get the general idea). At the beginning, I was even wondering : do I make her want children? Is it a choice they do not have any, before Luke, or circumstances? Who actually wants a child more? And in the end... I decided that she was hoping for a child, but quietly accepted not having any, while Owen was the one struggling more. I also wanted to show Beru as someone more open than Owen towards the Jedi and their past - in my headcanon, one of the reasons Owen is so distrustful against Obi-Wan is because he was deeply hurt and shocked by Anakin's behaviour towards them and on Tatooine. I think Owen is a good man, and a very loving husband and father - and that in another world he and Obi-Wan would actually be good friends. Here however, it is Beru Obi-Wan is closest to. And yes, the Funnel flowers grew. You will see :). Much love to you all and have a wonderfu Easter holiday! Meysun.