Chapter Text
5 BBY
Owen had checked off and on for most of his life for news about Obi-Wan, even after he’d met ‘Ben’ and realized who he was.
He’d just checked more often after Ben had left with Luke, almost compulsively for any word that the older man had karked-up somewhere and they needed to go rescue their nephew.
Then he’d found a message from Obi-Wan circulating around the ‘net no matter how many times the Empire must have tried to take it down.
Owen had watched it once, twice, just staring at it in disbelief and incomprehension.
The third time, he realized something had changed drastically since he’d seen the older man, because this was Obi-Wan. There was a fire in his brother’s eyes again, and a challenge in his smile, and life in how he stood.
It did not mean Owen reacted positively.
“Beru!! BERU!!! Obi-Wan has done something spectacularly karking stupid! Challenging the Empire!! Ha! That fekking idiot!”
His wife had been carrying her blaster rifle with a truly fearsome hot smile that showed all of her teeth as she’d come to his side, “Does that mean we’re going to our nephew’s rescue?”
Owen kissed her cheek, because it was tempting to show his wife how much he liked it when she went all extra deadly on him, but they both knew that until they knew Luke was alive and not at the mercy of the Empire, they’d stop for nothing more than what was necessary. Then he grinned himself to match her smile, “Aren’t you glad we made those contingency plans when we realized that as soon as we let him, he was going to run off and join the rebellion?” – and checked a blaster his clothes did well to hide from prying eyes – “Because we’re already ready to go in a heartbeat.”
That was when they received a knock on their door.
Beru twisted on her heel, falling to one knee as she lifted her rifle, flicking off the safety as she aimed at the door.
Owen was ever so glad Beru had chosen him as her husband.
He kept his blaster in hand as he answered the door at an angle, leaving Beru enough room to shoot if it was needed, “Who is it?”
In front of him stood a single squad of ‘troopers.
The one in front removed his helmet to reveal a face that Owen remembered from clips of the Clone Wars, with a familiar gold paint around his neck and a scar by his eye, even if his hair had greyed at the temples.
“Owen Lars, do you know where my General is currently? Or where he is headed towards? It is of the utmost importance I get something to him before he does something fekking stupid.”