Owen Lars leaned back in his chair, watching the Jedi across his dining table through narrowed eyes. Beru joined them, handing out glasses of Bantha milk. "She's doing her chores," Owen said shortly.

Kenobi lifted his glass in a silent toast. "I'll wait."

Owen set his jaw. He was always on edge when Kenobi visited. Though the Empire had little presence on Tatooine, especially outside of major centres like Mos Eisley, the longer the Jedi was at the homestead, the greater the danger—to all of them.

Kenobi set his glass down and leaned forward, clasping his hands before him on the tabletop. "I did want to speak to you about something."

Owen's fingers tightened on his glass. "Oh?" he asked sharply.

"Lucia is already well past the age when she would have been brought to the Temple as an initiate," Kenobi began.

"There is no Temple anymore," Owen interjected.

"Yes." Kenobi's eyes met his, a weight of knowledge and power behind his gaze. "And yet, the Force is strong with her. I could teach her—"

"No!" Owen surged up out of his chair and brought his fist down on the table with a crack.

The Jedi's eyes widened, but he didn't flinch or give any other reaction. "She has inherited her mother's ability—"

"No!" Owen said again. Beru's hand on his arm gently pulled him back down into his seat. Kenobi had given Lucia to Owen and Beru—to her family—and Owen would be damned before he would give her up. "You are not going to take her away and turn her into a monster like you did with her mother."

Now Kenobi flinched, his fingers convulsively tightening on each other. "I have learned much since then. I will not make the same mistakes."

"No, you won't." Owen leaned forward, his hands flat on the tabletop. "Maybe you've been living across the Dune Sea for too long, but it's still illegal to be a Jedi; there's still a bounty on your heads."

Kenobi nodded, his eyes haunted. "I remember."

Owen clenched his jaw. "Then why would you want that for her?"

"I don't," Kenobi said quietly. "But I could help her learn to control her abilities, teach her how protect herself."

Owen snorted. "She won't have to protect herself if she doesn't use her 'abilities'."

Kenobi shook his head and sighed. "She deserves to know about her parents, at the least."

Owen stood up again. "No," he said flatly.

Kenobi tilted his head to look up at him. "She deserves to know."

Owen's hands curled into fists. "She deserves to know what? That her mother is a murdering psychopath?"

Kenobi flinched again, closing his eyes for a second. "She deserves to know that her mother was a Jedi, a hero."

If she knew that, she would be determined to be a Jedi herself. Owen leaned forward, setting his fists on the table. "I won't have you filling her head with Jedi nonsense. She knows everything she needs to know already." He straightened up, his fists at his sides. The best way to protect her was to keep her away from this old fool. "I don't think you should visit anymore."

Kenobi looked like he'd been struck. "I—"

Owen cut him off, flinging his hand out to indicate the exit. "Go."

Kenobi stared at him for a long moment, then slowly got to his feet. He said nothing, his movements slow and almost pained. Owen felt a twinge of sympathy—the man had lost so much—but he ignored it. This was best for Lucia. She would not have dreams of being a Jedi if Obi Wan Kenobi was not around to fuel those dreams.

Owen followed the Jedi out into the courtyard. As they passed the central vaporator, Lucia burst in from the desert and flung herself into Kenobi's arms. "Ben!" she cried, hugging him fiercely.

Owen swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. Lucia wouldn't understand. But she was still so young—in time, she would forget Ben and his visits. "Lucia," he said firmly. "Your aunt needs your help inside."

She reluctantly pulled away from Kenobi, pouting. "Are you staying for dinner?" she asked him hopefully.

Kenobi met Owen's eyes over her head. "No, Lucia," he replied. "I can't stay."

She spun around to face her uncle. "Uncle Owen?" she pleaded.

She was so young, yet already she could read the emotions in those around her; she had picked up that it was Owen who had made this decision. He shook his head, terrified at the implications. "I'm sorry, Lucia. Ben is leaving."

Her eyes filled with tears. "No!" She turned back to the Jedi and threw herself at him again, holding on like she would never let go.

Kenobi gently set his hands on Lucia's shoulders, bending his head toward her. "Lucia," he said softly, "would you do something for me?"

She nodded, stepping back to look up into his face.

He went to one knee so they were face-to-face. "I need you to do what your uncle and aunt ask you to do. Can you do that?"

She sniffled and grudgingly nodded.

He smiled. "Now go help your aunt with dinner."

Owen watched her run inside, then turned to face Kenobi. "You understand I'm doing this to keep her safe. It's not my intention to hurt anyone."

The Jedi nodded. "I do understand. I hope you're right."

Owen watched Kenobi walk away into the desert, head and shoulders bent as if under a heavy weight. He had stood in this exact spot ten years ago and watched his stepsister come back from the Tuskens camp with her mother's body. In that moment, he and Anneke had been joined in a shared grief, and he had thought that he understood her. But then, three years later, Kenobi had brought Lucia and the story of Anneke's fall to what the Jedi called 'the dark side,' and Owen realized that he had never known her.

Lucia didn't need any of that. She was safe here with her family.