Chapter 15

He dried himself on a towel, still smiling. Feeling this kind of sand beneath him was an experience he hardly thought he would ever get to live through. Tatooine was a planet was coarse sand that got everywhere. Not here, he decided. Everything here was soft and smooth.

He started to head up the stairs, greeted by his aunt, who he had just recently met. She was kind, he thought, and she had soft features that resembled Padmé, his mother, but not entirely. In the few holograms and readings he had done on Senator Amidala, he knew she was a beautiful woman. In the photos, she was young, and looked young, even when she had gotten into her late twenties. Sola, on the other hand, was at least eight years Padmé's standard, for she was much older than Padmé would have been.

"Luke," she said, flustered upon seeing him run up the stairs. She looked him up and down, and a small puddle of water from his wet body began to collect in a puddle underneath him, "Where are you—going?"

"Just to talk to my father," he said with a smile. He sensed something, something that Sola wasn't telling her, "Is there something wrong with that?"

She sighed. Sola lifted her hands and placed them close to Luke's chest, stopping him from going somewhere. "Luke—uh—your father's not here," she said.

Luke stayed silent. His eyes grew scared, wondering if he had—

"He didn't leave you, Luke, don't think that," she said, as if she could read his mind. "He had to leave, unexpectedly."

"Why?"

She sighed again, this time lowering her hands to the side of her body. "What your father did for the empire was great, Luke," she started, "He told me he had things to 'attend to'."

"Were those his exact words?"

Sola nodded. "Yes," she spoke slowly, "He told me that he wasn't leaving you, though. I don't think he would do that, either."

Luke knew, deep down, that Anakin Skywalker wouldn't leave him. He wouldn't leave him here, with family. Not again, Luke knew; Anakin was already upset about Ben Kenobi's choice to send him to Tatooine. He'd be back.

Sola suddenly changed the subject. She knew what they were talking about would send Luke into a mood; he was so much like his father. "You know your parents were married here," she said, telling Luke her newfound information, "Right on that balcony."

He nodded. "Yes, my father told me quite some time ago," he told her, looking off into the horizon. He wrapped the towel around him even more, shivering a bit. "Did you know?"

She shook her head, slightly laughing. "Not of Padmé's marriage, no. But I was the first she came to when she thought she was pregnant."

Luke felt uncomfortable with the subject suddenly, again. It seemed like him and Sola couldn't speak without getting uncomfortable. He shivered again, noticing that the towel wasn't quite big enough to make him warm.

"Here, Luke," Sola leaned over to the balcony and took a hanging towel from it. She placed it around Luke's shoulders, adding more weight on his body. The dry towel made him warmer, and he smiled upon the affection his aunt was giving him. "There's a fireplace inside." She pointed to the French doors that opened to the balcony.

He smiled again, nodding. He padded into the home, the first time he had gotten to go inside. There, the soft crackling of the fire was all that could be heard, and the dim glow from it was all that was light. On the walls were many holograms of many people, presumably family members. He noticed on small one of Anakin, with Padmé, but no obvious forms of affection. Just smiling—standing next to each other, like civilized friends.

His eyes scanned the man holograms; he found a few of a young Ryoo and a very happy Pooja. Nothing else caught him eye. Taking a seat on the couch, his eyes sank into the carpet, staring off into the netherworld of space.

He wondered where his father was. He had just started to call his father 'Dad', which, honestly was a big step. He hadn't ever considered Vader as a 'father' much more a 'dad' than a man whole ruled the galaxy under a firm iron fist. At a point, he hated Darth Vader. He hated the idea of an 'empire'. He hated the fact that he didn't live in the mutual times of the republic. The irony of the entire situation, though, was that Vader was actually the one to bring down the empire—all together.

Oddly, an image of Princess Organa from Alderaan appeared in his head. He didn't know why, suddenly—he supposed it was because there was something about her, something about the way she walked, the way she talked, and maybe even the way she looked that gave Luke a sense of familiarity.

A crush?

He smiled upon the idea of meeting the princess once more. Would he flub his words, like he did when he met her? Last time he basically ran into the poor girl, for force's sake. She acted cool, she was sly and witty, and Luke was hardly. His smile soon turned to a frown.

Sometime later, Luke wasn't sure, Sola called him into the kitchen. Luke's hair was suddenly dry, for he had probably been sitting near the fire for quite some time, but he hadn't bothered to glance at the chrono.

The woman smiled, seeing Luke stroll into the kitchen area. He was greeted with newfound aromas that he couldn't place, for he had never smelt such things. He smiled again, excited to finally eat. He hadn't realized he was hungry until he felt his stomach growl.

"Smell's great," he stated, grinning.

She seemed pleased. She handed Luke a plate of grilled vegetables, "Set them on the table for me, Luke," she commanded. He obeyed, watching Sola be 'crafty in the kitchen', as Aunt Beru would have said.

Reminding himself of Aunt Beru, he wondered what she was doing now. Where she was—ah, never mind—she was on Tatooine, in the same farmland she had been on for umpteen years. Thing don't change on that planet, Luke thought.

Aunt Beru was, basically, Luke's mother. He couldn't let go of her, and he didn't know how to say goodbye. To begin with, Luke was never hers to parent, so he held a strange amount of respect for the woman. She—they, meaning Uncle Owen—took him into their home when he was a baby, having no idea what they were in for. He was hidden, he knew at some point of his life, away from somebody. Away from something that he knew he was destined for…

Growing up in the Homestead was something other than unbelievable. Luke learned how to harvest moisture, harvest water, nonetheless, something that was unheard of in most other planets. At some points, during the early years, he was so excited to finally start to work—until he realized he wasn't into farming. Until he realized how much he enjoyed watching the few ships fly over, above, and how he used to daydream about piloting his own starship.

Being 'farm boy' or 'Wormie' was something he couldn't live with, throughout his late schooling. Luke had always been a bright child, from the beginning, for Beru had taught Luke many things. Deciding on whether Luke should go to school was a hard choice—he remembers their conversation perfectly.

Beru had always said that Luke was an early learner, even from his days as a baby. He had learned to crawl quickly, walk quickly, and talk early—he had learned to grab things and throw them, and even make things mysteriously levitate through the air. Calling 'duck!' to the visitors and guests that passed through the Homestead when the child was playing with he toy speeders was something that Beru didn't take pride into, and neither Owen.

He wasn't a farmer.

He was Luke Skywalker, Luke Anakin Skywalker, son of Knight Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear. He realized that now—why aerodynamic objects had such an appeal to him, because they had a certain appeal to Anakin.

"What would you like to drink?"

Causing Luke to blink away from his past, he returned to the present, "Bantha blue milk?" He said; it was hardly a question.

"What?"

Luke's eyes widened. "Is that only a beverage on Tatooine?" He was suddenly upset that he chose not to drink his blue milk on Tatooine when he was a child, instead choosing some other drink that was more 'suitable' for a pre-teenage. He wanted a reminder of home, per say—

Sola nodded, much to Luke's dismay.

Later that night, everyone was seated at the dinner table, except for a missing Anakin. Luke couldn't help but feel empty without his father. Even though he had known him for such a short time, his attachment to his own flesh and blood was increasing every time Luke saw his identical blue eyes. He missed his father—he couldn't hide it.

"Luke," Ryoo groaned, "You've hardly touched your food."

It was true; he had been so hungry before, suddenly he couldn't find any of the amazing smell appealing. He frowned, staring down into his full plate. "Sorry," he muttered.

In the corner of his eye he noticed Ryoo and Sola exchange glances. Sola began to speak, causing Luke to lift his head and look into her eyes, "Would you like me to wrap it up for you to save for later?" She asked.

Luke smiled upon the kind gesture, and decided to go for it. "Thank you," he agreed, nodding. "I'll eat it when I'm ready." When my father comes—

"Luke, well we're going to turn in," Sola rubbed Luke's arm, seemingly to comfort him. He didn't need comforting. "You're room is the third on the left, just upstairs."

Ryoo flashed Sola a harsh look, clearly it read 'what the hell are you thinking?'. Luke couldn't help but notice it.

He nodded, getting up from his chair. Pooja leaned over as the small family was departing upstairs, and whispered something in his ear. It was brief, quiet, but he could interpret it—"Meet me outside in the garden, later tonight."

Luke gave an unnoticeable nod. Pooja surprisingly pick it up, and winked. His cousin's small signal of care for Luke was something to be treasured, he knew, and he was so excited to finally have someone—to finally have… a friend?

Luke sat on the cold, stone bench next to Pooja and wrapped a warm robe around him. The wind started to pick up outside, making a blustering noise against the many flowers and bushes around him. The garden was eerie at this hour.

"Luke," Pooja started, "I knew about—well—about your parents."

"What about them?" Luke barked. He couldn't help himself.

She motioned for Luke to lower his voice. "I knew about—about my aunt, Padmé, and your father, Anakin. I knew they were together."

"But—no one knew."

Pooja placed her hand onto of his. It was cold. "Lie," she said with a smirk, "My mother took your mother to the doctor when she thought she was—well, when she thought she might be pregnant… with you," it was kind of an awkward sentence, and Luke felt the negativity. "But I knew before that."

Luke watched with wondering eyes, only hearing the wind blow and the trees rustle. The coldness pierced him, and he yearned to go back inside, but neglected to.

"I caught your—parents—kissing," she said. "When I was six."

Luke only imagined a six year old Pooja giggling upon seeing a man and a woman together publicly, kissing. He saw her surprised but pleased expression on her face so many years ago, knowing that Pooja must have been a happy child.

Pooja smiled. "I went back to the kitchen to get—a cookie, I think," she frowned upon her getting another cookie. She sighed, obviously thinking how she ate so many of those up until she was ten—"I was jealous. But happy. I mean, I knew something others didn't!"

Luke laughed, and he felt like he was six again, too. He couldn't image Anakin kissing his mother, for he had never met Padmé before, but knew she was indeed a wonderful woman. Still, imagining Anakin being romantic sickened him, like it would for any growing teenager.

"So that's why we came out here?" He was hoping for me.

She smiled. "That," she grabbed his wrist, yanking him up, "And I wanted to show you around the gardens."

A/N: Wow, I haven't done one of these in a while. This chapter was kind of a filler chapter, and I apologize. We'll return to Princess Leia after this chapter, and I'm sorry for leaving you hanging with that cliffie and not return to Leia/Anakin. Thanks for the amazing feedback, too--!