Tatooine Morning
By Sinead Reilly

GENERAL INFORMATION/DISCLAIMER:

The following story is a work of fanfiction. I make no claim to the characters, storylines or situations of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd. or any of their licensees or affiliates who hold rights to any intellectual property herein alluded to, used, expanded upon or in any way affected by this story. My story is written solely for the personal, uncompensated enjoyment of myself and other SW fans in accordance with the "Fair Use" provision of Title 17 of the U.S. Code.

This story may be freely distributed provided each of the following conditions are met:
(1) the above disclaimer accompanies all copies;
(2) the story is distributed in its entirety and
(3) no consideration is requested or received.

Sinead Reilly, March 1998.

For lonely people everywhere.

For Tatooine farm boy Luke Skywalker, every day was like the other until his Uncle Owen purchased two used droids from the jawa desert scavengers. Now young Luke races across the desert plains, frantic to retrieve the runaway astromech droid that represents the last of his family's savings. His mind on last night's argument with his uncle, he could never suspect the conversation that takes place back home over
breakfast.

"Have you seen Luke this morning?"

Owen Lars shuffled into the cramped kitchen, still blinking from the intensity of Tatooine's twin suns. Already the night respite from the heat had burned away. A new day blazed forth over the desert's shifting dunes.

"He said he had some things to do this morning before he got started so he left early." His wife replied without looking up. She busied herself among her utensils and gadgets as she fixed breakfast.

Owen considered this unexpected information. It wasn't like Luke to get an early start. Or miss breakfast.

"Did he take those two new droids with him?"
"I think so." Beru Lars suppressed a smile at her grumpy husband.

Like every farmer, Owen was up with the dawn. But that didn't mean he liked it.

"Well," Owen grumbled, reaching for a steaming plate. "He'd better have those ridge units repaired by midday or they'll be hell to pay."

Satisfied with this pronouncement, he stood by the countertop and began efficiently downing his food. Beru ceased her stirring and put
down her spoon. She regarded her husband steadily, frowning at his hasty breakfast.

"Sit down, Owen."

He made no reply, concentrating on his food. Well acquainted with her husband's selective hearing, Beru repeated herself. "Sit down, Owen."
"No time." he managed between mouthfuls, barely glancing her direction. "We've got the whole south ridge to finish by sundown."

Undeterred, she placed one hand on his arm and reached with the other to take his plate. Beru gave him the look that meant she had something on her mind. "Owen, please."

His eyes following the plate that she had snatched from him, he gave in.

"Oh...alright."

He padded stiffly over to the dining table, pausing to stretch and wipe the remnants of sleep from his eyes. As he sank into the head chair,
Beru dutifully replaced the plate before him. But she had his attention now and the food was momentarily forgotten. He looked at her. Really looked at her as she settled into the chair opposite him and folded softly rounded arms over one another.

Beru Lars had the kindest eyes in the universe. They nestled comfortably in deep creases, the telltale premature aging of a relentless
desert sun. This morning they were serious. Serious and a little wistful.

"We need to talk about Luke." she began, steeling herself for his anticipated reaction.

True to form, Owen frowned and looked away. "What's the boy done this time?" he demanded with a loud sigh. He tapped his fork impatiently on the table, thinking of the wrecked skyhopper that rested in the garage. That was last week's bad news. What would it be this week?

"Nothing." she hastened to add. "He's not in any trouble."
"Not yet." Owen remarked, with a twist of his jaw. Young Luke was growing increasingly restless at a time when he ought to be accepting a man's responsibilities. Last night's outburst at the dinner table told him that his nephew still had his head in the stars. It was the same
tired and rehearsed exchange. Luke asked about the Academy and he said no. Then Luke protested but eventually gave in. Already slightly irked at being delayed, Owen had no desire to repeat the scene with his wife.

"We've been over this before." He complained, knowing full well that Beru wouldn't give up until she had her say.
"One day he's not going to back down, Owen." she warned. "He'll walk right out that door and out of our lives."
"No, he won't." He shook his head. "No, he won't. Luke's a good boy."
"But he's not a boy any more." She interrupted. "He's twenty already."
"I know how old he is." Owen grumbled, looking away in frustration.

Why was she taking Luke's side?

"You know that he can never join the Academy. I don't want to see him hurt, Beru."

Despite his gruff exterior, Owen Lars was no brute. Taciturn by nature because he had difficulty explaining things, he tended to speak in
conclusions. But judging by his wife's determined expression, he would have to spell this out for her.

"Look, he'd show up on Coruscant and get processed into its system. Someone somewhere would notice his name. Or maybe one day he'd walk down the street and run smack into--" Frustrated, Owen Lars threw down his spoon and raised his voice. "For goodness sake Beru, he's the spitting image of his father!"

She opened her mouth to speak, but Owen Lars wasn't finished.

"It might be even simpler than that, you know. The Jedi," he spat out that detested word, "always could sense these things. They knew you
were coming before you even arrived."

Accustomed to these shortlived rages, Beru waited out the storm of her husband's words. She wasn't cowed by his sour expression and loud voice. She saw the fear reflected in his eyes and understood that his anger was motivated by love. Owen loved his nephew like a
son. If only he would show it a little more.

"Everything you say is true." She agreed patiently, knowing from experience that you could never win an argument by contradicting Owen Lars, you had to persuade him.

"I just wish you'd tell Luke this. If you gave him a reason, then he would understand. He's not fooled by complaints about the harvest any more than I am. If you'd just explain...."

Owen's eyes widened for an instant before they dropped to his plate. He pretended to consider this request as he resumed eating. After a few bites, he shook his head and dismissed the idea.

"Now's not the right time."
"There will never be a right time." Beru protested softly. "If you don't tell him, someone else will."

Owen scowled as he misunderstood.

"Ben," he called his estranged half-brother by his given name, "Ben has never told the truth in his entire life. He won't start with this, that's for
sure."
"I wasn't talking about Obi-Wan."

Owen turned back to his plate, pushing his food around. He had lost his appetite.

"I said I wasn't talking about Obi-Wan." she repeated, knowing that he had heard her the first time.

Her husband's eyes narrowed with comprehension and Owen did what he did best--he said no. "No! I forbid it, Beru!" He slapped the table to punctuate his words, causing the dishes to leap and rattle.

"Absolutely not!"
"He has a right to know." Beru held her ground.

Owen stabbed the air with his fork to make his point. "Not now. Someday. When he's ready."
"He'll never be ready to hear the story. Never!" her words were hushed, as though she feared she might be overheard.

Beru leaned forward and gave her husband a meaningful look.

"That's why he has to know."

Anxious to end this conversation, Owen pushed back from the table as if to rise. But he thought better of it and leaned on one elbow, smoothing his lined forehead with a callused workman's hand. An uncomfortable silence passed between them before he raised tired eyes to hers and spoke.

"What do you think would happen if I told him? Do you think he'd be content to work the farm? No...it would give him even more reason to leave."

Showing an insight that would have surprised most, including his nephew, Owen Lars appeared suddenly beleagured. He squinted and rubbed at his eyes.

"Luke's a dreamer. Beru, the foolish boy would probably go searching for his father."

She nodded but still did not give in.

"It's dangerous for him not to know."
"It's even more dangerous if he does know." Owen assured her. They had settled this issue long ago. Why was she bringing this up now?

Beru bit her lip and spread her palms on the tabletop. She studied its scratched surface for a moment before speaking.

"Owen... I just want it to be us who tell him. I don't want him to find out from...." her voice trailed off and she chose her words carefully. "There are people who know, Owen. We knew he wouldn't stay a little boy forever. We've always known that he would have to find out someday."

She hesitated. She didn't want to broach this topic, but there was no avoiding it now. Taking a deep breath, Beru pressed onward. "Obi-Wan will be back...."
"If that bastard so much as sets a foot in this direction, I'll murder him!" Inflamed, Owen pounded the table again, his expression hard. "I mean it, Beru! This is all his fault! I won't let Luke be sacrificed to ease his conscience. When we took the boy in, we made it clear to Ben that he would have to stay out of our lives. Well I intend to hold him to that bargain!"

He watched his wife's eyes fill with tears and flinched. Don't cry! He could never stand to see her cry. His temper was doused instantly.

"Beru," he lowered his voice, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his own. "You know how manipulative he can be. Luke would be completely taken in by him. I promised myself long ago...I promised that I wouldn't let him be used as an instrument of Kenobi's
revenge."

Beru nodded, her eyes distant and her expression troubled. What was she thinking of? He wondered for a moment if she ever regretted her life with him.

"You're right." she conceded with a ghost of a smile. "It's just...." "It's hard." he finished for her.
"I know it's hard." He wanted to give her so much, but the burly farmer knew that it was she who gave the most. This little wren of a woman was his strength. How he wished things could be different for them.

"It's the best decision." he comforted awkwardly, frowning at the dewback cry that sounded nearby.

"Someday, when the time is right--" There it was again. Dewbacks never wandered this far into the wastelands. He gave his wife a quizzical look. Beru half rose and craned her neck to peer out the window. Then stood for a better look.

"Owen." she breathed. Beru turned a stricken face to her husband. This time her voice cracked.
"Owen!"

Moving to her side, he followed her gaze off to the west, near the garage workstation, where two dewbacks saddled for riders lowed and stamped impatiently. But the huge desert creatures were quickly forgotten. Owen peered out at the contingent of Imperial stormtroopers which lined the perimeter of the rock depression that delineated the Lars' homestead. There were perhaps twenty. They stood with weapons unshouldered, poised for action and awaiting orders. The breath caught in his throat and Owen Lars stood frozen for an instant before he recovered.

"I'll get my rifle. You stay here."
"No, w-wait, Owen." She tugged at the sleeve of his patched work duster.
"It might be some kind of routine patrol--or a just a mistake."

There hadn't been stormtroopers outside of Mos Eisly in over a decade. And no desert patrol would be this heavily armed. This was no mistake. Owen stared down at his frightened wife for an endless moment. Then he found her clammy hand and gave it a reassuring
squeeze.

"You're probably right. But let's be cautious, just in case."

FINIS