When the Other Comes

Beru Lars mentally replayed the message, fragmented as it was, again and again as she rocked the sleeping infant in her arms.

Mother dead. Father unable to care for him. Protect him. Be his family.

"Owen..." she began, trying to breach the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them. "Owen, you heard what he said.... they won't..."

"He's our responsibility now... Nothing will change that!" Owen cut her off a little more sharply then he intended, then he sighed. "He will not take the boy from us..."

"But he said the boy would go to him someday..." she began again. "The Jedi have a way of foretelling the future... They believe in destiny."

"He's going to be a farmer! Just like we promised." His eyes softened and he took them both in his arms briefly before turning back to the door. The lone figure standing outside seemed to pause for a moment, contemplating the sunset. "It's the best we can do..." he added quietly, almost as an after thought.

"And when he comes for Luke?"

"We'll send him away..." Owen replied. "A blaster rifle at close range is just as effective as one of those damned lightsabers. No one will take the boy from us. We're his family now."

Undaunted, Beru pressed on. "What do we tell him of his mother? His father?"

"His mother died in childbirth..." Owen told her succinctly. "His father was a navigator. A navigator on a space freighter... It's enough... It'll have to be."

His tone seemed to suggest that this would be the end of the discussion and Beru, who was the most pragmatic and understanding of women, nodded her assent. She made her way into the kitchen to prepare supper for the two... no, the three of them now, leaving her husband to his thoughts.

Outside, the lone figure turned and began to walk away, not looking back at the homestead.

"Good bye Luke," Anakin whispered softly. "Be happy my son..."