Haunted Eyes

by Diane Kovalcin

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi delivers baby Luke Skywalker to the Lars's homestead.

Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to Lucasfilm, Ltd. No credits were made in the writing of this fic. No harm is intended nor am I trying to infringe on any copywritten material.

"Haunted eyes." Her awed murmur was lost, adrift in the heated afternoon air of Tatooine's desert wastes. "He has haunted eyes. I didn't think..."

Beru Lars did not complete that sentence. The desolate, grey-green windows of a battered soul stared back at her, their very depths swimming in pain and bottomless despair. Holding her gaze, mesmerizing - they were all she could see. Not the compact body of a warrior standing there so superb and still, not the greying hair intermingled with copper wire of youth, not the unhappy mouth even now giving way to age and ruination and death. She saw only his haunted eyes and the remorse that clung to every movement.

She watched him turn away then, his head bowed in shame and grief. General Obi-Wan Kenobi, hero of the battle of Tanaab, bringer of the Peace of Sullust and the last of the Jedi Knights, was defeated. And it appeared to be eating him alive.

Wanting to give him support and some comfort in this hour of sorrow, she stepped forward. She knew that he had nothing left - no friends, no home; there was nothing but a single small hope, even now sleeping quietly in his arms. But the durasteel hand of her stubborn husband held her tight.

"No, Beru," Owen Lars said with cold disdain. "Don't. He does not deserve our help. He brought this all on himself, him and his damned Order."

"Owen..." Horrified, her voice sharpened with reproach. She had no idea that her gentle husband could be so cruel. For a brief moment, her eyes flashed again toward the quiet Jedi. It was clear that he had heard Owen's rebuke and accepted it as truth; the devastating guilt seemed to sink into his skin like a shroud.

Ignoring her, Lars growled back. "No, let him come to us. We are the ones that will pay the price for his self-righteous delusions."

Frowning at the hostility so clear in his voice and unhappy that he was the one to cause such pain in another, Beru shook her head, "Owen, shame on you. Master Kenobi..."

He cut her off. His razored fury only seemed to swell as she tried to defend the Jedi. He spat out, "Master… Master of what I'd like to know. Shmi worshiped her little boy and look what he became when he went to the Jedi. That damned Temple turned that nice kid into a demon and..."

Abruptly, Owen turned away. She tried to reach for him but he pushed her aside. One hand raised and swiftly lowered in the baking air as though trying to bat away the memories of death and old loss, he walked a few steps and stopped. Looking towards the gravestones in the harsh desert sands with their sad shadows lengthening toward him in the coming sunset, he stood there and remembered the unhappy past. Folding his arms about him as if to ward off some chill, he seemed immovable.

Finally, twisting around, his narrowed eyes glaring at Kenobi, he said, "And he's to blame." Raising his voice, he called out, "Is that what you are, Jedi? A Master? A sorcerer capable of turning a child into a monster?"

Even as Obi-Wan bowed his head, the caustic denunciation still echoing in the air, Beru refused to back down. "Stop this, Owen. He is our guest. And he's brought us a precious gift."

It was apparent that Owen thought his wife had gone mad. "Gift! No, not a gift. He's here to drop his problem into our lap. Nothing more and nothing less. If it wasn't for the fact that he has my stepmother's grandchild in his clutches, he'd never be allowed near either one of us. Death seems to follow him wherever he goes. Can't you see that?" With a quick shake of her head, he muttered, "Well, I won't have it."

She was determined to break through his fury and fear. She could be just as stubborn as he when she wanted something this badly. And she wanted a baby, this little boy, very much. Her voice was flat, firm and resolute. "You promised that we would take the child. And we are going to keep that promise."

"But Beru..." Ignoring the angry mutter, she walked toward the Jedi, standing there so still and silent. The few steps seemed like a lifetime but she was determined. Reaching for the child, her arms aching to hold the innocent babe, Beru Lars murmured, "Please, Master Kenobi. We will keep our word." Looking into the stoic face of the last of the Jedi Knights, her soft eyes met his in understanding. "Please let me have the boy."

With a soft sigh, the Knight looked down at his young charge. So much pain, so much sacrifice for a simple child and yet he had grown to love the little one in the few months since his birth. Obi-Wan had been tempted, ever so slightly, to keep him for his own, to try again and redeem himself with the new bright hope lying so peacefully in his arms. But it was not to be. The Force demanded this course and he would see it through. Swallowing his doubts, he carefully placed the boy in the loving arms of his Aunt Beru.

"His name is Luke." Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment before continuing. He knew that Owen's furious storm of emotion was not over yet. "Luke Skywalker."

The Jedi was right. Owen's retort was angry, pointed and filled with explosive distrust. "Skywalker! Are you insane?" Shuddering with rage, he walked quickly toward the Jedi and stood there, large hands tightly clenched in a frenzied attempt to keep him from throttling the fool. "You blasted fraud. Beru, can't you see?" As she shook her head, he plowed on. "He's bait. Luke is going to be dangled in front of Vader like a piece of meat. It's all an elaborate trap and we're dead center in the middle of their little Sith war. He's bait and so are we."

Obi-Wan was resigned. He knew that Lars would see it that way; he would not understand Padme's yearning need for redemption. He quietly disagreed, "It's not like that at all. She wanted him to have his father's name."

With a sharp frown and narrowed eyes filled with mistrust, Owen glared at the Jedi. He spat back, "His father's dead and the Jedi killed him. You killed him, Kenobi - you and your Force. Anakin should have stayed here and not gotten involved." Raising his hand, he pointed his accusation at Obi-Wan. "Because of you, he's dead and there's only Vader now. A monster that you people created."

The Knight nodded his acceptance and responsibility in this. It was only the truth that Owen had spewed out; only what Obi-wan had repeated endlessly in the darkness since Anakin's turning. He encountered hatred and outrage from highborn and low in the days following the fall of the Order and the slaughter of innocents. And he had morphed it all into infinity regret as punishment for his foolish hubris. It was his fault, it would always be his fault and they knew it.

But guilt would not help the boy and he was more important than one misguided, incompetent Knight. Much as he had tried, he could not bring back the dead or turn the hands of time to a gentler age. He could merely endure and hope the sleeping child would help bring peace to the galaxy. If he survives....

He turned his attention back toward Owen. He had to persuade the farmer to take the young one. There was nowhere left to go. Last stop and last chance - he must succeed for Luke's sake, for all their sakes. "Master Lars, the child needs a home. And a name. His mother begged for this one thing. That her love and his be remembered in the boy. In Luke Skywalker."

Owen snorted at that, scowling his disbelief. "And if Vader comes back?"

The Jedi knew that the nexus of events to come would wheel around the next few minutes - it was a knife-edge of decision. Carefully, he replied, "He won't. I'm sure of it. He had vowed never to return here. He will keep that promise."

"Oaths won't help us if he does." Owen folded his arms, immovable. He knew that death would surely follow the footsteps of that armored fiend and no promise would keep Vader from destroying all that Owen loved if it suited his purpose.

But Beru would not be denied. A nebulous tomorrow was not as important as one small life, even now squirming in her arms. She looked down into the blue eyes of her future. "Owen, I want this baby." Looking up again at her husband, her warm face sunkissed in the late afternoon light, she pleaded, "Please, I can't have my own. Let me have this one thing. Please."

His voice gentled at her request. "Beru, you don't know what you are asking."

Smiling, she moved closer, tilting the bundle slightly to show her husband the joy of life in one small boy. "Yes, I do. I'm asking to help a child, Shmi's grandchild. She would want you to do this.

"This is a mistake." The reply was half-hearted. He knew that he would have to give in this once. She asked for so little, giving back all and more for his sake. Now, he could not deny her. And deep down, he wanted a child as much as she did.

"No, Owen, he's just an innocent. Don't let your hatred for the Jedi blind you to the love this baby can bring. Please...."

Owen Lars looked at the squirming bundle, so full of life and potential. And Beru's gentle smile was worth the risk. But he could not let the Jedi off so easily. "My missus wants him, against my better judgment."

He turned then, his jaw clenched in solid resolution. Staring unblinking at the Knight, making absolutely sure that the former Jedi understood just what the bargain would be, he said, "Don't think I'm doing it to help you, Kenobi. I'm doing this for Shmi and Beru and even the kid. You Jedi have mucked it up and we're going to pay for your mistakes. But this boy won't. We'll keep him safe but only if you stay away, far away from here."

Obi-Wan began to protest, "We had an agreement...."

But Lars interrupted, bluntly cut him off. "I'm altering the deal. Take it or leave it." He knew that the Jedi would have to agree. There was nowhere else to go.

"He will need.... training when he's old enough."

Barking with derision, Owen's voice grew colder and cuttingly sharp. "No, no training. He's going to be a farmer, not a Jedi that will go off on some damn foolish idealist crusade and get himself killed." He looked out toward the Tatooine sunset, the twin suns beginning to dip below the horizon. The fiery light washed his face in blood. "You destroyed one young life. You'll not destroy another." Turning back toward his wife, he spat out, "I won't have you filling his head with all this Force nonsense. No training, period. Now get out and don't come back."

Obi-Wan drew in a startled breath. This was not acceptable. The boy would need to be taught about the ways of the Jedi if he were to succeed in turning back the tide of oppression. "Master Lars, you can't mean this."

Now, Owen stepped forward, "Watch me, Jedi. You come back here, endangering this family, and I'll kill you myself." Throwing out one arm, pointing toward the sunset, he spat, "Now, get off my farm."

With that, Owen turned away. Grabbing Beru and the baby, ignoring her protests and the beginning wail of an unhappy child, he marched his family into the house and clanged the door shut. The harsh sound reverberated in the still air of coming night - deep and very final.

He was alone once more. Standing silently, a slight frown marring his face, the weary Knight stared at the sealed door with unseeing eyes. Shadowed in the coming night, all color leaching away into the creeping darkness, he watched as past and future began to merge into one moment, one place. Here, the tainted beginnings of Anakin's fall to Darkness warred with the shining beacon of a baby's tomorrows. Here, the patterns of the Force widened and curled into unknowable futures. Here, perhaps, the fate of the galaxy would rise or fall.

&#Obi-Wan Kenobi sighed faintly. But that would not be today or tomorrow or a hundred tomorrows. Nodding, turning and not looking back but always forward, he headed out toward the Jundland Wastes.

A new hope had come to Tatooine and the long wait had begun.

The End

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