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This is how it feels to be Owen Lars, right now.

It is a beautiful Tatooine night, and the woman silhouetted against the backdrop of moonlit dunes and starry sky is entrancing. Clad in the simple clothes of a desert dweller, she nonetheless looks to be the loveliest creature that this arid planet has ever produced. At times like these, Owen does not find his fathers claim to love at first sight so easy to renounce.

He feels fortunate to be her son, or her son in all ways but for not having carried him herself. She is a loving woman, kind beyond measure, patient and enduring and never appears less than content with her life, a harsh and cruel existence though it may be. Shmi would not allow any less, for her duty is to her family, and to see them achieve their own small measure of happiness is her truest hope.

Sometimes, however, she will escape the confines of their small farm, leave Cliegg, Beru and himself to their good-natured bickering and leave the hovel. He ensures his father and his love are suitably mired in their playful dispute of the moment so as not to notice his absence when he slips, unseen after her.

He finds her at the edge of the land, where beyond roam Tuskens and the perils of thirst and the blazing heat of two suns makes their small moisture farm an oasis in a desolate land. She stares towards the moon, hair blowing freely in the wind. Shmi had explained to him once, while she never knew whether she looked toward Coruscant, she hoped that her son might be gazing at the moon there. It was not the same moon, but she felt closer to him for a brief time here.

Owen engages her in conversation, and she talks of Anakin. He has conflicted feelings about the slave turned Jedi apprentice that he has heard tell of since Shmi sat him down and explained that she would try and be as good a mother to him as she had tried to be with her firstborn. He is contemptuous of the ease at which he appeared to leave her. As a slave he had few comforts, and Owens own eyes tell him that the slaves he sees in Mos Espa cannot, for the most part claim to have a parent who would be content to remain a slave while they left to pursue their dreams.

And he is grateful, although guilty for being glad that she was not freed also. Anakin would have no end of caregivers in his new home, and Owen only needed one mother. They were a family again, and he did not know how they had come to be so lucky. Father, Shmi and Beru were all he wanted, or needed.

Last, he is angry, though is careful never to show it. He understands Shmi's need to remember her son, but Owen is here and Anakin is not. Anakin is going to be a hero to the whole galaxy, but he will not be here when his mother needs him. It will be him that teases and tries to make her smile, it will be him that hurries through his chores a little faster in order to help her prepare the evening meal. It will not be him that she sees first when she looks at him, that first fleeting glance before she sees Owen, and not Anakin.

He isn't here. And Owen just might resent being second best enough to hope he never comes back. He is a better son than Anakin ever was, or is.

This is how it feels to be Owen Lars, right now.