I tried to reassure Owen and Beru in the speeder ride to Jabba's, but Owen kept his face turned deliberately away and Beru was struggling to settle poor Luke. He was sobbing, burying his wet face into the shoulder of Beru's homespun robe while she tried to soothe him with her sweet words and the soft stroking of his hair. I would have offered to settle him with the Force, but I doubt Owen would have allowed it and my position was already precarious enough. Rancor-hide and the Gamorrean believed me to be Obi-Wan Kenobi, renegade Jedi, but they could not confirm it. Using my powers to calm Luke would leave no doubt in their minds.

"It will be alright," I said to Beru softly as she hugged Luke close to her, rocking back and forth slightly in the seat to see if that would calm him. "Trust me, I've been in worse situations than this."

She turned to me with a fierceness in her eyes. "No matter what happens, you have to protect Luke," she told me firmly, low enough so that two goons in the front of the speeder couldn't hear. "If you have to use your…powers to take Luke away and leave us to them, promise me you'll do it."

"It won't come to that," I assured her, although I sounded more confident than I felt.

Beru pulled Luke tighter against her and kissed the top of his head. "He's so special," she whispered, her words barely audible over the roar of the speeder engine. "Not in the way you think he is, though. If the worst happens…just say you'll love him."

My chest suddenly felt very tight as I looked down at the young boy, finally calm, his head pillowed on Beru's breast and gazing at me with wet eyes so strikingly blue it seemed almost unnatural.

"I already do," I told her hoarsely, and turned away with shame.

When we reached Jabba's Palace our captors led us down into the throneroom where Jabba was giving audience. The chamber was filled with his court – the stage with the musicians and singers, the floor with the dancers plying their trade and the smugglers, pirates and various other unsavory characters milling around in discussion; trading tips and smoking death sticks. Jabba of course was the focal point of the room, puffing on his hookah with a slave girl chained to the base of his wide throne. By his side was his majordomo, a pale-skinned Twi'lek whose name I recalled to be Bib Fortuna.

Rancor-hide gestured to Fortuna, and the Twi'lek made his way through the crowd towards us. I'd pulled up my hood upon entering so no one else would recognize me, but the presence of a human child in Jabba's Palace was earning odd looks and interest from the crowd. I reached out through the Force and could not feel any ill-intent, although there was a strong sense of danger. Rather than becoming upset again, Luke looked alert and interested in his surroundings, even squirming in Beru's arms to try and break free. It was only when Owen's firm hand grasped his small shoulder and told him to hush that the boy stilled, although he still cast longing glances around at the crowd. The lifeforce in the room was palpable, more than he'd ever experienced, and it seemed to energise and excite him.

After a few minutes of hushed conversation, Fortuna returned to Jabba's side to repeat the information. The Hutt seemed pleased, his large bulbous eyes locking on us and his wide mouth stretching into a smile that sent a shiver up my spine.

Jabba waved his arm and addressed the room, and through my limited Huttese and the gesture I guessed he was instructing his Court to leave. I breathed a sigh of relief, for if I was to be unmasked it would be only to a select few. Evidently Jabba didn't trust the bounty hunters, pirates, smugglers and other criminals in his employ any more than I did - once they had the information on who I was they could easily turn around and sell it to a rival Hutt. Or worse, the Empire.

To my surprise, Rancor-hide and the Gammorean also left, until all that remained were Jabba, Bib Fortuna, and the Zeltron slave girl lounging at Jabba's feet. A black-plated protocol droid appeared from the other room to translate Jabba's Huttese, for which I was grateful. To prevent myself from needing to repeat this each time, Qui-Gon, you can assume that the below conversation took place via that interpreter.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Jabba said. "We meet again."

Seeing that it was foolish to deny it when Jabba had clearly recognized me, I pulled my hood down and gave him my best appeasing smile. "I go by Ben Kenobi now," I told him.

"Your circumstances have changed," Jabba pointed out, his massive tongue escaping his mouth to moisten his slug lips and I tried to not be repulsed. "And yet you have come again to ask for my assistance."

"We were forced to come here," Owen spat out somewhat petulantly, his distaste for the Hutt clear.

"And who are you?"

"Owen Lars," he said. "My wife Beru, and our son Luke."

Bib Fortuna leaned over to whisper to Jabba, and by enhancing my senses I heard the domo explain to Jabba that Luke was not Owen and Beru's son but their nephew, and that his last name was Skywalker. By Jabba's reaction, I saw he had figured out exactly who Luke was.

"I remember Skywalker," Jabba nodded very slowly.

"He saved your son, Rotta," I reminded Jabba, seeing an opening to perhaps play on the Hutt's sympathies.

"And in return I gave the Republic access to Hutt trading routes. That deal was done, and do not expect further lenience because of it."

Trying another tack, I bowed my head in deference. "We would only ask for your compassion, mighty Jabba."

Jabba's gaze was intent upon Luke, and to his credit the boy stared the Hutt right in the face and showed no outward fear.

"So The Hero with No Fear had a son."

"Even if he did," I countered, knowing that denial was pointless at this stage. "What use to you is an orphan boy?"

"The offspring of Anakin Skywalker?" Jabba asked. "He could be very dangerous to the Empire. Why else would they be hunting the Jedi down if they did not fear them? The Emperor may pay handsomely for the son of a Jedi Knight. "

Thankfully Jabba didn't know just how much Luke would mean to the Emperor – or to Darth Vader. "He will pay more for me," I told him, stepping forward to block Luke from his view. "If I surrender will you leave the boy alone?"

Jabba was silent for some time, and then chuckled to himself. "You are not in a position to negotiate, Kenobi," he boasted. "What use is surrender, you are already my captive."

"Perhaps," I inclined my head towards him. "And yet I am for now a willing prisoner, and I could go along quietly, or I could…cause a fuss." I drew aside my outer robe to reveal the lightsaber hanging from my belt. Jabba seemed amused by this, and so I pressed the advantage.

"I know you've worked out some kind of truce with the Empire, but what will happen if you turn me over, do you think Palpatine will just leave it at that?" I shook my head and smiled. "If he knew one Jedi was hiding here, perhaps he will think there were more…perhaps he would decide that it is more convenient to conquer the Hutts rather than make deals with them. The Empire is not as keen on negotiation as the Republic was."

Jabba looked to Fortuna, who again whispered advice in his ear. I glanced at Owen and Beru, the former scowling at me and the latter looking very worried as she held Luke on one hip and stroked his hair protectively.

"Perhaps I should take the boy myself?" Jabba suggested. "I've never had a Jedi in my employ."

"No!" Beru's outburst was fierce, her lower lip trembling with rage. "You will not take him."

"Quiet, woman!" Fortuna roared, approaching her in four strides and lifting the back of his hand up as if to strike her. Owen got there first, grasping Fortuna's hand tightly and then punching him in the face.

"Owen," I called warningly as Luke began to cry again. But Jabba only laughed at the pathetic form of his majordomo on the floor, felled by Owen's powerful fist. Owen grunted and kicked at Fortuna for good measure, then stepped back to grasp Beru protectively by the shoulders. I sighed and turned back to Jabba, opening out my palms in a gesture of conciliation.

"That would be of little advantage to you." I imbued every word with truth and purpose so that deceit could not be detected from my voice or face. "The boy is not Force sensitive."

To their credit, neither Owen nor Beru reacted, as if sensing the purpose of my ploy. Fortuna had crawled back up to Jabba's throne in shame, and the slave girl seemed quite amused by his injuries. Jabba, however, looked skeptical.

"They say that Skywalker had the highest midichlorian count of all the Jedi," he countered, and I cursed Anakin's hero reputation. Although the farming community had heard little of the Jedi, it seemed Jabba was well versed in the intricacies of the Clone Wars – it was likely more profitable that way. "Wouldn't his offspring not have the same potential?" he pressed.

I gave a shrug, clearing my mind of everything but convincing Jabba I was telling the truth. "Since Jedi rarely have children it has not been studied. I tested the boy myself, and his midichlorian count is low - far too weak to be a Jedi."

"Then why do you bother with him?" Jabba asked, and I forced myself not to react with anger. Owen did not do so well, growling dangerously and placing one arm around Luke to draw the boy and Beru closer.

"Anakin was my friend," I said truthfully. "It was his dying wish that I look after his son."

Jabba studied me for a long time, searching for weakness which I refused to give him. Eventually he nodded to Fortuna, who left the room and returned a few minutes later followed by Rancor-hide and the Gammorean who between them were carrying a carved wooden box with a combination lock.

Beru's gasp and wild look at me gave her away, and I grimaced and tried to gesture that she should stay silent. Jabba however had noticed, and started to chuckle.

"You are very persuasive, Kenobi," he said as the goons set down the box on the floor in front of his throne. "But we will see what you are hiding."

Beru held Luke to her and closed her eyes - she'd recognised the box from my hut, and knew the damning evidence it contained. Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber, my journal and worst of all - the results of Luke's midichlorian test.