Archive of Our Own

These gloves, she decided, were too damn big.

The midday sun was baking her and the sheet metal and the still sands below. It was humming all around her, causing her to lose focus. She chewed the inside of her cheek nervously, tightening a valve on the converter before leaning back. Her harness bit at her thighs as she swung herself to the other side and called down to her uncle.

"Try it now!"

Her uncle disappeared from sight, leaving her drifting in midair. After a few moments, the converter began to hum, and her uncle's distant, triumphant yell allowed her to relax. She slackened her harness and clambered back down to the ground.

The moment her soft soled boots touched the sand, her uncle swooped in from behind her and scooped her into a hug.

"That's my girl!" He tussled her hair, mindful of the braid knitted around the crown of her head, and he laughed heartily. "Who needs to hire a mechanic? I've got the best mechanic in all of Tatooine right here!"

Leia smiled weakly, and she patted her uncle's cheek. "We had a deal," she reminded him. "I fix the converter, I get the rest of the day off."

Uncle Owen's expression twisted. She peered up at him innocently, toeing the sand as she smiled at him.

Owen sighed, and he waved her off. "Go on," he relented. "Get out of here. But tell Biggs I'm watching him, you got it? I'm watching."

"Uncle Owen…" Leia sighed, and she shook her head. No, it wasn't worth it. Let him think what he wanted. It was clear he'd accept the idea that Leia and Biggs were fooling around together in the desert better than the truth.

She tugged off her gloves and tossed them into her tool box. "I'll do extra work tomorrow," Leia gasped, backpedaling toward their home, "I promise!"

Owen rolled his eyes. "Right," he said. "I'll need some extra parts. You think while you're off gallivanting with the Darklighter boy you can head over to Mos Espa?"

"Mos Espa?" Leia gripped her toolbox with both hands, staring at her uncle with wide, incredulous eyes. "What about Anchorhead? Or Mos Eisley, even?"

"Mos Espa's got the parts," Owen said simply. He offered her a small smile. "You can take the Skyhopper. As long as you don't crash it this time."

"Deal," Leia blurted, unable to curb her enthusiasm. She had not taken the Skyhopper out alone since it had been repaired the last time she took it out alone. So about five years.

She rushed into her room, dropping her toolbox and trading her gray work smock for the loose white tunic she usually wore. She cinched her girdle and smoothed out the fabric, checking her mirror and frowning at the state of her hair. She had kept it short since necessity had forced her to cut it all off four years ago, and it was easier to manage this way, but as it slowly acquired length he realized how much she missed her long hair.

After giving up on her hair, she tossed her bag over her shoulder and headed back out into the wall of heat radiating up from the sands. The air seemed to hum as she tucked herself into the seat of the Skyhopper, smiling contentedly at her reflection in the windshield. Today was a good day.

Before she could take off, Beru rushed out to her with a list of parts to buy, some money, and a canteen of chilled blue milk. It was the off season, so they couldn't afford to use their water frivolously. Leia held the canteen gingerly as Beru lectured her about how to act in Mos Espa. Face front, back straight, don't look anyone in the eye.

"It's a good thing Biggs will be with you," she sighed, raking her fingers through her hair nervously. "You shouldn't be alone."

"I don't need a man to escort me through Mos Espa, Aunt Beru," Leia spat.

Beru shot her a chilly look. "This is not about sexism, Leia, it is about you remaining alive and free. Your grandfather bought your grandmother from Mos Espa before he freed her, did you know that?"

Leia had not known that. She felt as though the blood in her veins had turned to ice. She sat quietly, her thumbs pressing hard against her canteen.

"So my dad was from Mos Espa?" Leia asked, shifting the tone of the conversation from somber to curious.

Beru blinked at her. She smiled faintly and she shook her head. "You're a little devil," she murmured, waggling her finger at Leia.

"You love me, though," she said brightly. She swooped down through the window of the Skyhopper and kissed Beru on the cheek. "Later!"

"Be back by dinner," Beru sighed, patting the side of the Skyhopper before stepping back.

"Sure," Leia said absently. "Yeah."

And with that, she was off. Her journey wasn't particularly far, especially with the Skyhopper, but as she flew she allowed herself to unwind a bit. Work was pretty much endless on the farm, and she was constantly exhausted, achy, and irritable. Not that she minded the work. The work was fine, and it kept her mind from wandering. That was for the best, she reasoned. It was the tirelessness of it all. The perfunctory tasks, the day in and day out of this. She was bored to death. Her heart ached for something more, something she couldn't put a name to.

Well, it was no surprise that it had come to this.

She parked the Skyhopper and made her slow, silent approach through the craggy valley until she came upon a particular that jutted peculiarly into the air like a plateau.

"You're early," said the hooded figure sitting there, legs crossed with his hands on his knees.

"I bribed my way to freedom," Leia said cheerfully, clambering onto the rock beside the man and mimicking his movements. "Though I have to run some errands, so that's annoying. How was your day, Ben?"

"You are looking at it, little one." Ben cracked an eye open to glance down at her. She beamed up at him, her fingers drumming against her knees. "Meditation. You are far too excited for my liking."

"You know," Leia said, "I always wondered why everyone calls you a crazy old hermit, because you seemed likable enough. Now I get it. You sound absolutely miserable."

"Misery implies that there is nothing I can do about my circumstance. There are certainly many things I can do. I simply don't."

Leia eyed him. That answer annoyed her more than she wanted him to know. "Do you want to leave Tatooine?" she asked.

"Not yet," he replied. As he always did when she asked.

As relieved as she was, she was also a bit disappointed. She had turned this scenario over in her head, where Ben told her goodbye for good, but she managed to smuggle herself onto his ship, and then they went on adventures together in space. As master and padawan.

Not that she was a padawan. Ben had explained it all to her, the Jedi, the Purge, how her father had really died, but he did not grant her that title. Not yet.

Leia was patient though. At least when it was important.

And this was important. She knew it in her heart, and in her gut. She felt it.

"Ben," she said after a rather long silence.

He sounded amused when he spoke again.

"You don't sound like you are meditating, Leia."

"Well, 'cause I'm not." She slumped forward, leaning her chin in her hand and her elbow on her knee. "Ben, I've been thinking… what's the harm in me becoming your padawan?"

Ben stiffened. He inhaled sharply, and he looked down at her. She stared into his eyes, the only thing she could see, and she refused to balk. His face had weathered gradually in the four years she had known him, and the last strands of his coppery hair had turned gray. She didn't know how old he was, but she knew he was younger than he looked.

"Leia," Ben said. His voice was soft, and its lilting core cadence made her name sound sweet and reverent. "It… it is not that I don't want you as an apprentice."

"Then what?" Leia knew how hard and cold her voice was, but she didn't care. "I come here every week. We meditate, you serve my ass to me with a stick, and then I go home and work and pretend like I don't know that I have a future beyond moisture farming. I want to learn more about the Force, Ben!"

"This is not a conversation for outdoors," Ben murmured. He stood, and she followed him like a shadow until they reached his hovel. Once they were inside, she stood expectantly with her arms crossed. Ben sighed heavily.

"Well?" Leia quirked a brow at him. "What's the problem? If I'm willing to learn, and you're willing to teach me, there is no reason why you can't teach me like you taught my father."

Ben sat down, his shoulders slumping as though he bore a great burden. He seemed to shrink as he pushed the hood of his threadbare brown cloak back, and folded his hands pensively over his lips.

"The last student I had…" Ben swallowed hard, and he tipped his head back. His eyes fluttered closed. "Leia, it is not you. Please understand, you are a wonderful child with limitless potential. You could be a great Jedi."

"Then let me," she gasped.

"No." Ben's eyes snapped open, and the cool blue spring of them were awash with calm resilience. "I will not teach you. Not yet."

"But you technically do teach me!" Leia shook her head, her hands flying out indignantly. "We've been sparring for years! You just don't consider me your student. Which is totally unfair!"

"Leia…"

"Ben!"

"Prove to me you can soothe that temper of yours," Ben told her sharply. "You are reckless, shameless, and volatile, Leia. These qualities do not make a Jedi."

"What?" No, this wasn't the first time someone had criticized her penchant for anger or her admitted spontaneity, but she had never heard it from Ben before. Ben! All he had done for the past four years was treat her fondly, and this felt so personal. Was her temper really that bad? Did it really matter? "Are you kidding? That's it? You think I'm too angry to be a Jedi?"

"Anger is a tool for the dark side, Leia," Ben said patiently. "It will prey on you. It does not take long for it to consume you."

"Well, it won't." Leia took a deep breath, and she closed her eyes. Her rage was humming in her chest, and she realized that perhaps it wasn't all that reasonable to be angry. That perhaps this was just proving his point. She had to be mature about this. She had to be calm. So she willed herself to relax, and she dropped down into the seat across from him. "I won't let it."

Ben smiled at her. It was a tight, sad little thing.

"It might be beyond your control, little one," he said.

She searched his face, her mouth falling open in disbelief. She was hurt that he doubted her, angry that the reason he wouldn't teach her was so trivial, and deeply uncertain because what if he was right? What if she really was too angry?

"I don't believe that," she said. "I can't believe that. Ben, I know myself, and I know I'd never hurt an innocent person. Come on."

"The dark side warps your perception of things, Leia, it…" Ben sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. "It is not you anymore. The thing you become when the dark side takes over. I don't want to doom you to that fate."

"I want to be a Jedi!" She leapt to her feet. "To hell with the dark side! I can learn, Ben!"

"I told you," Ben said, "when you are ready."

"But I'm already half there—!" she objected.

"Leia." Ben met her eyes sharply. She bit her tongue, blinking tears from her eyes stubbornly. It was hard to accept this amount of defeat. But Leia could take a hit, and no matter how low this blow had hit her, she would not topple. She would not fall.

She sat down, and she bowed her head low. "I'm sorry, Ben," she said dully. "I don't mean to be disrespectful. I just… you said it wasn't me, but obviously it is."

"No," Ben sighed, drawing his hand over his eyes and grimacing. "No, that isn't… damn. I suppose… the way I said it was rather harsh. It really isn't you, little one. You just… are a rather painful reminder. I think my mistake before… when my student fell… was that I expected him to suppress his anger and pain. Leia, I don't want you to fall into a habit where all you are is a pent up emotions that will explode and destroy you at any given moment."

Leia sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap. She tried to understand his reasoning, but she felt like he was keeping too many details from her. She felt lost. The air in Ben's little hovel always felt cleaner and clearer than the air outside, but right now it was stifling, and she couldn't quite figure out why. She felt so ashamed, and she had done nothing wrong. It was ridiculous, and she hated it.

"So… you want me to stop being so angry and rash… but at the same time, don't… not… be angry and rash…?" Leia groaned and dropped her face into her hands. "Ben! You're killing me!"

Ben chuckled, albeit humorlessly. "I am as conflicted as you are, young one."

"I'm not conflicted, I'm just annoyed."

"Yes, well, annoyance also does not make a Jedi."

Leia peeked over her hands. She scowled at Ben, who smirked down at her earnestly. "You're just teasing me now," she grumbled. "Useless. Useless old man. Uncle Owen was right about you."

This time Ben did laugh, and it sounded real enough that it warmed Leia's heart. He stood and patted Leia on the head absently. "Why don't I make us some tea," he said. "While I do that, you best meditate. You are really quite awful at it, possibly the worst of any student I've ever had."

"Well I'm not your student, so ha!" She jerked a finger in his face. "Bet you didn't think that through."

Ben sighed. "Meditate, Leia. You want to learn the ways of the Force, don't you?"

Leia rolled her eyes and she slumped. "Fine…" she muttered.

As always, she sat in silence with her thoughts all jumbled and muffled and rolling around in her head like twelve pod race holos playing at once with the frequency on the fritz. She could not clear out her mind, and she could not find the switch to turn the volume down. It was just her and her endless stream of mangled thoughts.

Leia was good at a lot of things. She was a good mechanic, a good engineer, a good speaker, a good singer, a good dancer, a good fighter. She was piss poor meditator, though, and it killed her to know she was disappointing Ben.

Ben had told her time and again to just feel the Force. Well, she felt it. But she could not focus solely on it, like it was something tangible she could hold onto. It slipped through her fingers, and left her reeling and confused. She was bad at this. She knew nothing but her ineptitude in the Force, and that it did not want her to see it. It did not want her.

There was such a sting in rejection. You'd think she'd be used to it by now.

She opened her eyes when Ben returned, setting her clay cup down before her on the table between their chairs. The steam curled up toward the ceiling, and she watched it gloomily.

"I take it the meditation didn't work," Ben said as he sat down.

Leia scowled and pulled her knees up to her chest. "How'd you guess?" she asked flatly. She didn't want him to know just how hopeless she was at this, but if mastering meditation was the key to getting him to recognize her as his padawan, then she had to figure this out. Fast.

"It did not come easy to your father, either," Ben admitted, twisting the short hairs of his beard thoughtfully. "He never quite grasped it fully, and was always putting it off. Even toward the end, he'd bend over backwards to get out of meditating."

She sighed deeply and rested her chin on her knees. "So what you're saying is my ineptitude is hereditary and I'm doomed?" Her eyelids fluttered as she rolled her eyes back into her skull. "Wonderful."

"You just have to learn how to let yourself go, Leia," Ben said gently. "Feel the Force flowing through you. And then let yourself be taken away by it."

"Easier said than done, Ben."

He smirked into his cup of tea. "I suppose so."

It was difficult to bite back a slew of curses, but she did it. Ben was watching her with that calm, knowing gaze of his that suggested he had seen this all before and could combat her moodiness at every turn. It was frankly unnerving.

"Can we talk about something else?" Leia begged, dropping her legs and leaning forward suddenly. Ben looked at her, blinking in surprise. "I feel like all we ever talk about is Jedi nonsense. There's more to life than that, you know."

Ben's brows had shot up at that. Perhaps it was news to him. I bet no one's ever told him that in his life, she thought smugly.

"You were the one who was so concerned about this "Jedi nonsense," as you put it, but if that is what you wish. What would you like to talk about, Leia?"

"You," she said.

"I'm afraid there is not much to me beyond the Jedi nonsense," Ben chuckled. He took a sip of tea, and then glanced down at his cup sadly. "Besides perhaps bitter irony and infinite sadness."

Leia stared at him. She nodded very slowly. "Deep," she remarked.

"The world knows no end to the amount of horrors it can throw at you, little one," Ben murmured. "If nothing else, you are the one shining beacon."

"Doubtful," she laughed, taking her own cup in her hands and sipping it tentatively. She didn't know what Ben did to make the tea taste good, but she was thankful. As always. "I think you're right. About… about me."

Ben's expression remained the same, but she saw his apprehension and guilt plainly. She had known him long enough to know when something was troubling him.

"I told you," he sighed, setting his cup down gingerly. "It's not you. I am being ruled by my fear, which is not the Jedi way. But still, the fear persists, and still, you are not my padawan. I cannot force you to change your nature no more than I can force this desert to bear fruit."

"I really love how we somehow still got back to the Jedi stuff," Leia muttered. "Ben, come on. Tell me something I don't know about you."

"I'm afraid I'm an open book." He smiled at her and shrugged. "Not a secret comes to mind."

Leia stared at him blankly. "Wow," she said. "I hate you."

"Come now. Hate will lead you on a path to the dark side."

"Are you joking about the dark side right now?" Leia gaped at him. Ben offered her a quick smile before he shrugged and took a great big gulp of tea. "Ooh, I hate you!"

But she was laughing. She was laughing and curling against the cushion of her chair, her heart abandoning the burden of anxiety that came with not being Ben's padawan. He meant well. He did. Truly.

Once she settled down she took a good gulp of her tea, and she wondered what Ben had seen to make him so paranoid. He never talked about the Clone Wars, and Leia thought better than to pry into that part of his past, but it ate at her. This gnawing curiosity would not go away. She could not rid herself of it.

"Can't you tell me anything?" Leia begged, looking up at Ben with wide, imploring eyes. "It doesn't have to be any kind of secret. I just want to know more about you."

"I have lived a very long life, Leia," Ben said amusedly. "You'll have to be more specific. What exactly is it that you want to know?"

"Why don't you have a wife or kids of your own?" she asked. This had been something she had privately wondered for years, though she'd always assumed Ben simply did not want to ruin his street credibility as a crazy hermit loner.

Ben blinked rapidly. His eyebrows arched rather high, and he snorted into his tea. "Really," he muttered. "Wife and children. That is what keeps you up at night?"

"I'm just curious," she muttered, shifting irritably at his tone. "Yeesh."

"Jedi are forbidden from marrying," Ben said simply. "Intimate relationships are considered unhealthy attachments. Or… I suppose "were" is the correct word."

Leia sat and silently gawked at him. He merely sipped his tea, looking as pensive as ever. The shadows on the floor were growing longer.

"But— wait, what?" Leia sat up straighter, and she set her tea down carefully. "Hold on. Back up. Marriage is forbidden?"

"Yes."

"For real?"

"Yes, Leia."

"Well," she said flatly, "damn. Wait, sex too?"

"Yes, Leia." Ben frowned, clearly not particularly thrilled with the direction this conversation had gone.

"Then how the hell was I born?" she scoffed, folding her arms across her chest and lifting her chin indignantly.

"Your father was not particularly good at following the rules." Ben crossed his arms as well, his thumb and forefinger plucking idly at his beard. "I don't expect it of you, either, if that is what this is about. I am old, Leia, and I have known a great deal of sorrow. Not just my own. Keeping you and your mother a secret hurt your father more than I can say."

"At least… he had you?" Leia offered a little guiltily. She saw that old, ghostly pain that flickered in Ben's tired eyes.

Ben sat silently. Her words had fallen heavily, like marbles crashing upon stone. They clattered and rolled awkwardly between them.

"I did love a woman once," Ben said suddenly, "if that sort of thing interests you."

"Um, yes," Leia gasped, leaning forward eagerly. "Come on, Ben! Nothing ever happens here. Your stories are the only thing that keep me sane. Why wouldn't I want to know about your illicit love affair?"

"It was not illicit, and it was not an affair," Ben huffed. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Leia."

"Dear, dear, Ben," Leia said smoothly, smiling at her would-be Master slyly, "when you are the product of such a thing as an illicit affair, you just can't help where your mind goes sometimes!"

"I loved a woman named Satine," Ben told her curtly. "She was beautiful, she was witty, and now she is dead."

Leia swallowed back any and all responses she could have possibly had to that. She swallowed hard, and she looked down at her hands.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Ben looked at her. She shrunk under his gaze, feeling guilty and responsible for all of his suffering, though she could not place why. Perhaps he was right after all. A padawan like her would probably just bring him more suffering, and she wasn't sure if she really could follow all those rules he spoke of. If she had to be honest, the whole idea of being a Jedi was really intimidating. She was scared that if she didn't learn now, if she was left to fester in this state of self-doubt and self-loathing, then she would lose interest. What if she wasn't meant to be a Jedi?

What then?

She stood abruptly and circled around the table between their chairs. Very carefully and very deliberately, she stepped up beside Ben and she cast her arms around his shoulders. He stiffened beneath her touch, as though he had forgotten what human contact was like in all his years hiding in a hole in the earth. Then he relaxed, and he quietly resigned himself to being held by a fifteen-year-old girl.

There was nothing she could say to make him feel better. There was nothing that could be done to soothe Ben's old wounds and old aches and old haunts. It would be easier, she knew, to shift the suns from the sky and plunge her home into eternal darkness. But she was close enough to him that she felt his sorrow, and she felt his defeat, and if all she could give him was a small embrace then damn it, that was what she would give.

Ben touched her head solemnly. For a minute or so, they stayed like this, and she thought that she might have felt his knotted emotions slacken, so that some bare trickles of peace could soothe his aching soul.

And then she released him.

"I have to go," she said quietly, smoothing back her hair and glancing around Ben's small hovel. "Uncle Owen's got me running errands in Mos Espa, and if I'm out too long he'll have my hide for sure."

"Mos Espa," Ben repeated. "Alone?"

Leia smiled at him broadly. "I'm a big girl, Ben," she said haughtily. All her confidence shone in her face and her eyes, and Ben squinted at her. He remained unconvinced.

"I'm going with you," he said, rising to his feet.

Leia closed her eyes so he would not see her rolling them again. "Ben," she said delicately, "I know my way around Mos Espa. Plus I'm resourceful, and I'm too slippery to get caught by slavers. Come on."

"Leia," Ben said, his small voice tickling the air, "give an old man some peace of mind, and allow me to accompany you. There is no harm in that, is there?"

She grimaced. Certainly he was right, there was no harm in having company, but she really hated being treated like a child. Especially by Ben. If he didn't think she could handle Mos Espa, would he ever see her as fit to become a Jedi?

But the thing was, Leia loved Ben. And as petty as she was, when he got like that— when his voice became so small and distant, when he looked at her but seemed to have been overcome by a bought of blindness, and suddenly saw right past her— it was hard to deny him anything.

She cursed her soft heart.

"Okay, Ben," she said. She offered him her hand, and she smiled. "Let's go. It'll be an adventure!"

Ben watched her like a man regaining sight, and his pale eyes seemed to glisten in the dim light. She felt his relief and joy like a stroke of wind on a blistering afternoon. That made relenting worth it.

He took her hand. As always, she noted how cold and callused it was. Hers were callused too, freckled and cracked from the sun and rough in places from ceaseless tinkering, but not to the extent of his. His large, dry fingers closed over her hand tightly, and it felt as sturdy as a shield. As though his hands alone could stop a blaster bolt.

It was reassuring. She smiled up at him warmly, and pushed all of her misgivings behind her. Today was a good day, and her insecurity would not turn it around.

She drove while Ben sat silently beside her. When she offered him the yoke of the Skyhopper, he laughed rather fondly and shook his head.

"I rather loathe flying," he admitted, folding his hands into his sleeves and glancing at the Skyhopper appraisingly. "Is this the same vessel you crashed?"

"Uh…" Leia winced. "Maybe?"

"Hm." Ben smirked as he settled into his seat. "Owen is a more forgiving man than I thought."

Leia snorted. She climbed up into the pilot's seat, and she handed him a spare helmet. "Not really," she said dryly. "It took him like, what? Six years to let me drive this thing again?"

"My impression of him was that he'd never allow you to so much glance at it again." Ben shrugged mildly. "Sometimes it is nice to be proven wrong."

They flew in a comfortable silence, zooming over Tatooine's barren landscape as the suns began their meager descent toward the horizon. She enjoyed glancing over at unfamiliar landscapes, such as cliff faces she had never seen and oddly shaped dunes that made her giggle and elbow Ben. He merely quirked an eyebrow at her.

"That is vulgar, little one," he remarked.

"That is nature, Old Ben," she replied with a coy smile.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He muttered, "So uncivilized." Leia swallowed her laughter and smiled at the beige earth and blinding white sky ahead of her.

"Do you want to know about my love life?" she asked him brightly. "You told me about yours. It's only fair."

"I do not want to know about the shenanigans you and that Darklighter boy get up to," Ben said firmly. "Do not tell me. I won't hear it."

"Why does everyone think Biggs and I are fucking?" Leia asked, slumping in her seat. "Ben, does Biggs Darklighter seem like he is interested in me? We've known each other all our lives, and the nicest thing he's said about my appearance is that my eyes look like wet sand."

"Well," Ben remarked wryly, "he is certainly the charmer, isn't he?"

"Anyway," Leia said, shrugging one shoulder and guiding the Skyhopper lower. "The joke is I have no love life. I did kiss Cam Veruna once, but it was awkward because his scars, you know?"

"Oh," Ben sighed, "you mean the scars you gave him? Enlighten me, Leia, what made you think that was a good idea?"

Her brow furrowed, and she shifted in her seat. "Well obviously I didn't think it was a good idea, Ben," she scoffed, "that's why I did it."

"You are an impossible child," he murmured.

She looked at him coolly. "I only told you because I didn't want there to be any secrets between us," she said. She paused, and she frowned at her hands. "At least on my end. I don't really… know how I feel about the idea of never being with someone. But I want to be a Jedi. Also, I think I might have awful taste in boys."

"I gathered," Ben said in a soft, rueful voice. She shot him a cold look, but could do nothing more. "But, Leia, I told you already. I don't want you to force yourself to not follow your desires. I… appreciate you telling me this. Especially so openly."

Leia glanced up at him in shock. "Really?" she asked in mild disbelief. "You don't mind me talking about kissing boys?"

"It is not my favorite topic of conversation," Ben said placidly, "but I'd rather you tell me than feel like you need to hide it. The fact that you feel like you can be open and plain with me means the world, Leia."

She blinked a few times before smiling a little, and slumping contentedly in her seat.

They landed in Mos Espa not long after, and Leia jumped out of the Skyhopper delightedly. She loved going into the city, with its wide range of colorful characters and great domed horizon. All the foreign languages that she could only glean a few words of translation from, all the different smells of freshly grilled foods making her stomach rumble, all the distant tunes humming from cantinas. She hated Tatooine in many respects, but the city was all the excitement she had ever known.

"It certainly hasn't changed," Ben said dully.

"Tatooine never changes." Leia started forward eagerly, her eyes swerving about. She would have to make this quick if they were going to make it back home before nightfall.

"Thank the stars for small mercies," Ben joked, though it seemed rather mirthless.

She wandered through the streets, peering at store fronts and dodging shifty looking passersby. Ben kept close, almost always bumping against her side when she drew back from someone warily. As confident as she had felt back at Ben's home, she was glad she had brought him with her. It was less stressful to have a companion.

"Oh," Leia exhaled, smoothing back some stray wisps of hair from her face. She peered up at a spare parts shop curiously, and she glanced back down at the list she'd been given. "This should be good."

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Ben asked.

"No." She looked up at him, and she offered him a small smile. "Unless you want to watch me haggle with some goon."

"I am rather good at haggling, if you want my expertise."

"I am quite capable of doing that myself," she said firmly. "It'll only take a minute."

Ben held up his hands in defeat. He looked a little amused, a small smile stretching on his lips as he watched her enter the shop. The air was dry and hot inside the cluttered building, shadows skittering as the light from the setting suns bent awkwardly, unable to fully reach the whole store.

Leia found herself looking around curiously. She picked up a holodisc from a small pile and turned it over in her palm. They never took still holos of themselves. She had never wondered why until now as she drew her thumb over the disc, feeling the dips and ridges and realizing she had never asked Ben if he had any holos from when he'd been young.

A mighty crash from deeper into the shop made her jump, and she looked around wildly. She raced toward the sound, clapping her hands against a counter and peering over it curiously. She gasped when she saw a skinny blue arm waving feebly beneath a pile of spare parts.

"Hey!" She leapt over the counter and pushed the parts aside, hastily grasping the rather wrinkly blue arm and dragging a disheveled looking Toydarian from the depths of the junk pile. "Are you alright?"

The Toydarian was panting, his breaths coming out strangled and shallow. Leia crouched beside him uncertainly, unable to judge if his shortness of breath was due to being crushed by a mountain of rubbish, or if he was simply just very old. His skin was rather sunken and discolored, and the few patches of hair on his flabby gizzard were gray.

"Damn faulty casings," the Toydarian muttered, taking to the air and kicking a busted shelf ruefully. Leia blinked up at him. His wings flickered weakly, and he hacked a violent, phlegmy cough. She decided he was just old.

"Um…" Leia stood up hesitantly, holding up one hand and waving a little. "Hello?"

The Toydarian looked down at her. "You want'a buy something, child?"

"That was sort of the plan," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Yes."

The Toydarian squinted at her suspiciously. "You got money?"

"You got the parts I need?" she countered.

The Toydarian looked down at her. And then he laughed heartily. "You got some spunk," he said, waggling one of his tiny fingers in her face. "I'll give you that."

"Yes," Leia sighed, "that is me. Spunk for dunes. Do you think you've got everything here?"

She handed him the flimsy with the list of parts Uncle Owen needed. As he read through it, she hopped up onto the counter and studied the shop around her. It was cluttered and dusty. The air was thick and had a vague metallic taste to it.

As the Toydarian glanced over the list, she peered at the shelf that had collapsed. She kicked her legs idly, and wondered if the Toydarian knew how easily fixable his problem was.

"Well," the Toydarian said, "you're in luck! I happen to stock all of these pieces, though it'll cost you."

"I have the money," Leia said, her eyes glued to the shelf. "You know the shelf won't stay up because the screws aren't big enough, right?"

The Toydarian stared at her blankly. She sighed, and she slipped off the counter and lifted the durasteel plank up onto her knee. She manually unscrewed the casings and tossed them onto the counter. She dug around the pile of junk on the floor and found a box full of screws at least several inches longer than the others, and replaced them nimbly. She then went about realigning the shelf, pulling a tool kit up so she could tighten the bolts properly.

"Yeah," she said, tapping a wrench against the shelf. "That oughtta do. Anyway, you have the parts?"

The Toydarian openly gaped at her. She held the wrench lazily in one hand, watching him expectantly. If she were a lesser woman, she would remark that she had not only saved his life, but also had fixed his shelf. She should at the very least get a discount. But she would wait until she had to negotiate a price to get petty.

"Where are my manners?" The Toydarian flew closer to her, and held out his tiny hand. "Call me Watto. I see you know your way around a tool shed."

She took his hand and shook it politely. "I do," she said. "You said you have all the parts I need, right? Has my uncle been here before?"

Watto chuckled and withdrew his hand. "Well, that depends," he said. "Who's your uncle?"

Leia sighed. She hadn't intended on giving out any personal information, but it couldn't hurt that much. Her uncle came out to Mos Espa all the time.

"Owen Lars?" she offered, slipping over the counter and shrugging. "He's a moisture farmer near the Jundland Wastes."

Watto was uncomfortably silent.

Leia stood for a moment in the tiny shop filled with odds and ends, and she felt so very suddenly tuned in to the dryness of the air and the specks of dust swirling in the dregs of sunlight near the entrance. She felt like a shadow in a dream, where she could scarcely be real and scarcely feel but feelings tumbled like a sandstorm at midnight anyway. She felt like she was here, but she was not here. That was strange.

"Lars," Watto said finally.

Leia turned to look at him curiously. The room felt bigger suddenly. Or maybe she just felt smaller.

"Yeah," she said. "You know him?"

Watto studied her closely. He did not fly any closer, but instead remained distant and wary. His rough voice was accompanied by a sharp cough. "Uncle? You said he's an uncle?"

"Um." Leia crossed her arms over her chest, and tilted her head impatiently. "Yeah?"

"You…" Watto seemed hesitant. He looked her up and down, and it took a lot for her to stand still. She held her head high and stared right back at him. "You are a relative of… Shmi?"

Leia heard her own small voice in her head. Grandma Shimi! And Beru's gentle correction.

"Shmi… Skywalker?" Leia watched Watto stiffen, and she frowned. "She was my grandmother. Why? How did you know her?"

"Leia."

She had not felt Ben, and so she jumped at the sound of his voice and whirled around to face him. He had crept up on her, shielded his presence so he could step into the shop and sneak up behind her.

"Ben," she breathed, relaxing a little as he rested a hand on her shoulder. "What are you doing? I thought you were waiting outside."

If he heard the accusatory note to her tone, he ignored it.

"You were taking too long for my liking."

Ben stepped up behind her, his other hand landing on her other shoulder, and his fingers curled tightly into her collar bone. He pulled her back so her head bumped against his chest. Ben always liked to play the overprotective father type, but he scarcely was in public with her enough that he actually got to flex that muscle. Now she felt how truly he fit into the role.

Watto peered up at Ben warily, and then he flew backwards. He seemed stunned by some vague recognition.

"The Jedi!" he cried, his thinning gizzard going white as he gazed between them. Leia stood frozen under the sharp disbelief of Watto's voice. She had scarcely heard anyone aside from Ben talk about the Jedi, let alone actually recognize one. Her blood had gone so cold in that moment, her head resting against Ben's chest and her fingers limp at her side.

She twisted violently beneath Ben's grasp and snatched the lightsaber tucked secretly beneath his robes. Before she could unclip it, he caught her hands and wrenched them from the saber, whirling her around and shaking her fiercely.

"Leia," he hissed, disappointment and horror glittering in his eyes.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, shame creeping up on her like the edging shadows of dusk. It did not stop her from meeting his wide, intense gaze with the stubborn pride of someone who knew what they had done was wrong, but felt no remorse.

Word could not get out that Ben was a Jedi. Leia knew little of the world, and was quick to admit it, but even she knew that.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him coldly. "Ask him politely to forget he saw you? That won't work."

"The first rule of diplomacy," Ben said, still gripping her hand tightly as he whirled her around to face Watto, "is to listen before you leap. Do not go looking for trouble, young one. It finds you well enough already."

Leia sighed. She glared at Watto, her distrust and disgust truly palpable. However, no matter her feelings on the matter, Ben was right. Killing the Toydarian without hearing him out was cold-blooded, and she didn't think she was beyond mercy. She just wanted to protect Ben.

"I won'ta tell," Watto swore, holding his puny little hands up defensively. "What good would that do me, huh?"

Ben blinked at him in a slow, unimpressed manner. "Catching a Jedi fifteen years after the Purges?" He offered a shrug, as though he too was considering turning himself in for the bounty. "A pretty penny, I'll grant you."

Watto frowned deeply. His eyes flickered to Leia, and he slumped.

"They will come for the girl, too?" He studied Ben, who did not say a word. Instead he pulled Leia a little closer, his arm hovering protectively near her head. She allowed it. "I don'ta know anything about any Jedi… but I got the parts you need. Stay right here."

Watto disappeared into a room behind the counter, and Leia stood and stared mutely at a wall. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"I didn't mean to make you angry," she murmured, resting her forehead lazily against his roughspun brown cloak. "It just didn't seem like much of a choice to me."

"You are too quick to violence, little one," Ben sighed, wrapping his arm gingerly around her shoulder. "However, I understand the sentiment. I appreciate what you were trying to do, but please. Next time, leave it to me."

"Yes, Ben," she said glumly. The sinking dread in her chest was even worse than when she was scolded by Aunt Beru.

Ben watched her with his wise, watery eyes. Leia had often spent their various afternoons of meditation instead studying his face, memorizing the creases beneath his eyes and around his mouth, counting the mounting age spots and discoloration of his cheeks. Since she had met him, his hair had gone from graying to gray to nearly white. He was younger than he looked, she knew, and he often joked that he was not made for this desert world. It had taken so much life out of him. Of course, she knew better. It wasn't just the arid atmosphere that had drained Ben Kenobi of life. It was whatever had happened before. The Clone Wars. The Jedi Purges. Her father.

Her father.

Leia looked into Ben's eyes, and she wondered if he saw her father when he looked into hers. Aunt Beru, when disclosing what little information she had about Anakin Skywalker, had admitted that Leia looked nothing like her father. She imagined he must have been fairer than her, and maybe more handsome. She knew she was rather plain looking, even by Tatooine's standards. If nothing else, she could be considered cute. But there was nothing striking about her appearance, and on Tatooine that was for the best.

"I'm sorry," Ben murmured, hugging her closer so her face disappeared into the coarse fibers of his threadbare cloak. "I did not mean to yell at you, or shake you as I did. It's only— you know, Leia, you are so bright and honest, but you are in too much of a hurry. Have you ever thought of the implications it might have, to kill someone?"

"Yes," she said solemnly into his chest. "Ben, I'm not a little girl anymore. I know that nothing in this world is pretty. If it would save you…" She pulled back, and she looked up into his pale eyes with all the finality of an embittered, jaded soldier. "I would kill a thousand men."

"No," he told her sharply. She found herself stepping back in alarm. "You cannot think like that. I am one man, Leia, and one man is not worth that much. A life for a life— that is different, perhaps, but it is only acceptable in dire circumstances. Perhaps if I was already dead than you would have the right to execute my killer. That in itself is justice. But once that justice is done, it is done, and there can be no more. One man, Leia. Even that is too much."

She blinked up at him. She covered her mouth with her hands, frowning pensively at the dusty floor of the spare parts shop.

"This is a conversation for later," Ben said. He folded his arms into the sleeves of his cloak, and he turned his face forward very deliberately. "Leave the money on the counter and wait outside. I will handle the rest."

"You're joking," Leia murmured. Except she knew Ben, and she knew this tone of voice, and of course he wasn't joking. It felt futile to resist. And she was so tired of bickering with Ben over such petty things. So she dug through her bag and retrieved the money Uncle Owen had provided. Once she tossed it onto Watto's counter, she shot Ben a pointed glance.

He did not look at her. So she brushed past him, eyes forward, and marched out of Watto's shop with her head high.

With the dusk imminent, she found herself hanging closely to the walls of the shop, kicking sand irritably. She folded her arms across her chest and let her eyes rove the street. As with all major cities on Tatooine, Mos Espa was an accumulation of smugglers, wayfarers, and filth. She saw a dozen different species roaming around between buildings on her side of the street alone, and more than once she forced herself to look away from the wandering eyes of some shady looking individuals.

Leia pushed off the wall in shock when a familiar face drifted through the small crowd that seemed to linger at the sides of the beaten streets. She looked different now, her purple face waned into a faintly lavender hue and slimmed down to the bone. Her features were still dainty, though her skull seemed to protrude precariously against her skin, and seemed much larger than the rest of her body. She wore sun-beaten brown tunic that dipped low enough that the collar that was fastened around her neck could glint dully in the setting suns.

"Miss Rona!" Leia jogged across the road, her boots clapping steadily against the tough sand. The slender Twi'lek whirled around, her lekku swinging as her yellow eyes flashed with recognition.

"Leia," she said, her Rylothi accent clinging to her tongue. She sounded simultaneously alarmed and delighted, her dry lips stretching into a thin smile. "Oh… darling, you have grown!"

"Not much, I'm afraid," Leia said dryly. She leaned forward as Miss Rona took her face in her hands and turned it from side to side. Her old teacher had done this often whenever children came in looking under the weather. She was good at sniffing out your troubles. "Aunt Beru says I still have time to grow, but it's sorta unlikely, you know? I think I may as well be a Jawa."

"A very pretty Jawa," Rona teased, smoothing Leia's rather fluffy brown bob down behind her ears. "You look well, Leia. Have you been well?"

"Very well," Leia said. Her eyes fell on the bronze collar around her neck. "And… you are…?"

Rona looked down. Her fingers clenched and unclenched a soft banthahide bag, and she sighed heavily. "Little Leia," she said fondly, taking a short step back. "I know I cannot lie to you— you are a clever one, I know, and I'm not fool enough to try and pull one over on you. Things are as they are when you are a slave. I accepted that long ago."

Leia chewed the inside of her cheek. All the children who Miss Rona had taught in that makeshift shack had known she was a slave. Her role as school teacher had been given to her by her master, who had had enough children that he could not homeschool them all, and set his slave to work in teaching them. Eventually the school had grown, and the Lessons were enough to keep farm children busy for the day while their families worked.

And then one day she'd went away. She'd been sold. No one knew who to.

Leia had cried into Aunt Beru's shoulder and had not left the farm for a week.

But it was how things were on Tatooine. Slaves changed hands all the time. It was just… how things were…

And Leia hated it.

"Is there anything I can do?" Leia asked desperately.

Rona looked down at her sadly, her yellow eyes dimming as the shadow of dusk drew closer and closer. Leia knew the implications of slavery, knew it better than most as the child of a freedman, but Rona was living that horror. And Leia could not help her. There was nothing she could do, and that caught her in a web of terror and uncertainty, a feeling that she did not like and did not welcome.

"No, darling," Rona said softly, "there is nothing that can be done. Now run along. It will be dark soon."

Leia knew it would be dark soon, and she wanted to take Rona's hand and pull her away into the cover of night. Maybe she could save her from this somehow. Smuggle her off world somehow. Take her home to Ryloth somehow. But of course that was a dream, and of course Leia stood frozen as Rona was snatched roughly by the arm.

"What are you doing?" an older human man with a weathered, scar-ridden face snapped at her. "Have you gotten those muja fruit yet?"

Rona paled considerably, her fingers once more clenching and unclenching at the strap of her back. The man tugged at it roughly, feeling the empty sack and shoving Rona into the wall of a domed building. Rona it the wall hard, her shoulder crashing into the faintly speckled stone. She hobbled over, clearly weak at the knees, and Leia rushed to help her.

The man grabbed Leia's shoulder and wrenched her back. Her feet dragged against the sand, her arms flying out to pry the man's hand from her.

"Hey!" she cried, shooting the man a withering glare. "Let me go, you Hutt faced mongrel!"

"Leia!" Rona gasped, her hands folding shakily over her mouth as she knelt to catch her breath. Her eyes were big and terrified.

The man looked between Leia and Rona dully. "Ah," he said, his voice rising in a chilly sort of understanding. "You know this girl? How cute."

"She's done no harm," Rona breathed into her palms. "She's done nothing, Master Jeth, nothing at all. She's just a girl."

"A girl alone on the streets of Mos Espa." Jeth tutted. Leia bit her tongue so she did not reveal that she was not, in fact, alone. Once Ben came out and saw her in the grasp of some random man, there would be hell to pay. She'd rather avoid him getting all Jedi Knight on anyone if she could help it. "Not a place to be, love. Why don't I take you somewhere nice?"

"Please!" Rona cried as Jeth looked Leia up and down, like she was a slab of meat that was ripe for cooking.

Leia wrenched her arm free, and she jutted herself between Jeth and Rona. "Tell you what," she said in a voice as casual as she could manage without her rage bleeding through. "Why don't we have a little wager?"

Jeth's eyes glittered at that. Leia might have scoffed if she wasn't so focused on making that smirk disappear from his ugly mug. Yeah, she thought smugly, pegged him right. Total gambler. It gave her satisfaction to know she'd read him so easily.

"Huh." Jeth hooked his thumbs through his belt and looked down his nose at her. "Got somethin' to gamble, little lady?"

Leia knew it was a terrible idea, but all she really had was herself and the Skyhopper. And in her moment of pure, childish terror of possibly losing the Skyhopper a second time and facing Uncle Owen's wrath, she made her decision.

"I know you want me," she said dully, folding her arms across her chest. "So let's put that on the table."

"No!" Rona's cry was half a snarl and half a cry. She stumbled to her feet, her yellow eyes blazing brighter than the two suns that capped the bright white domes of Mos Espa. She began to murmur rapidly in Twi'leki, and the way she spat the words it seemed she was swearing profusely. "Go home, darling! This is no place for you!"

"Hey, hey, Rona," Jeth said, waving Rona off. "Shut up. We're gonna hear her out."

Rona bit her white, chapped lower lip, and she shook her head furiously. Jeth shot her a warning look, and Rona visibly recoiled. That made up Leia's mind.

She would win this.

"And what is it," Jeth said, smiling down at Leia smarmily, "you want, little lady?"

Leia took a deep breath. Finally it had come to that.

"Rona's freedom," she said. "Obviously. So let's go. I bet I can beat you in a race."

Jeth studied her. His smile faltered a bit, and he seemed to consider his options carefully. Perhaps he sensed her confidence, because he shook his head.

"I'm not much of a racer," he said. "So that ain't much of a fair fight, is it? Why don't we do something else. You know sabacc?"

Leia had played her fair share of sabacc, and she was known in her little circle of ne'er do wells for her particular proclivity for the game. However, she had not played quite enough games to feel comfortable in betting her whole life as well as Rona's on it.

"Tempting," she said dully, "but a little too risky."

"Then what the hell do you suggest, princess?" Jeth sneered. Leia could tell he was getting impatient. She also sensed she was running out of time. Ben would know she was in danger soon, or at the very least finish up whatever business he had with Watto.

She pondered over it while Rona stared at her in mute horror.

Trust in the force, she thought to herself. It was a voice not unlike Ben's.

"How about a fight?" she suggested cheerfully.

After Leia had gone, Obi-Wan bowed his head and sighed heavily. That girl… honestly, it was difficult sometimes to imagine what she might have been like if Anakin had survived to raise her.

That thought made his heart sink, as Anakin Skywalker was very much alive. Just warped beyond all definition of his former self. Obi-Wan felt suddenly quite ill, and he stepped up to the counter and leaned against it heavily. Oh, he was too old for this. Raising Anakin at this age had been trouble enough, but his daughter gave him a run for his money. Well, almost. Leia hadn't accidentally let an endangered carnivorous species out of its properly locked cage on the way to an intergalactic zoo simply because it had looked lonesome. And Leia hadn't disrupted a smuggling ring by chance and accidentally started a gang war. And Leia hadn't nearly thrown a sitting monarch over the rail of his own balcony for various crimes and indecencies.

But Obi-Wan was convinced that all of that was merely circumstantial, as Leia lived on Tatooine and simply hadn't the chance.

And she was so, so like Anakin. She had inherited all of his impatience and all of his rage and all of his insecurities. It was difficult enough raising him, not knowing the horror he could become, but to see his more unsavory traits rise up steadily in his daughter? It was almost too much.

But she was like Anakin in all the best ways too.

All of her witticisms and empathy and eagerness. All of her hope and courage and thirst for adventure. She had so much of him in her, and every day Obi-Wan found himself mulling over the fact that Anakin would have loved her so much. Sometimes, when he got caught up in his meditations and did not dig deep enough to reach Qui-Gon, he imagined what could have been. Anakin with a twin on either shoulder, tall and beaming as he greeted Obi-Wan. In this dream of a dream, the Order was still around, but Anakin was blessedly relieved of his duties as a Jedi and given leave to raise his children with Padmé. And she was there too, warm and bright as she rose from an orderly desk and greeted Obi-Wan tenderly, like a brother, with her slender arms around his neck to pull his head down so she could kiss his forehead gently. And as he shuffled into their lovely little home, one twin was handed off to him— usually Leia, but his fantasies sometimes allowed him to cradle young Luke at his hip and smooth some unruly hair, sometimes blonde and sometimes brown, from his round face. And then Rex would march in behind him, always the soldier, tall and sure. He'd salute Anakin without really knowing it, and then he would make a remark about the children. One child or the other, about how smart or strong they would be. Not that it'd matter, of course, he'd say. There were no more wars to fight. And then Ahsoka would come in, and the twins would squeal in delight and they all would laugh as they bickered about who Ahsoka would play with while she tried to assure them that there was enough of her for both of them. Eventually the twins would tire out, and Leia would win by default of being so damn stubborn, and Ahsoka would hold her on her lap while they all lounged together on the terrace. Luke would be curled up in Obi-Wan's lap, and he'd smile down at the boy whom he did not know, and perhaps would never know.

"I'm thinking of putting in a request for a padawan," Ahsoka would say. She would be a little older than Obi-Wan's memories now, and he imagined her with taller montrals and longer lekku. As she neared her twenties, in Obi-Wan's mind, she had begun to adopt a more traditional sense of Jedi clothing and donned a gray robe and thrown a split black tabard over her slim fitting red dress.

"You think you're ready for that responsibility, Snips?" Anakin would ask with half a brow raised. "Besides, I'd think you'd want Luke as your padawan."

In this fantasy, Yoda had given special permission for the twins to be raised outside the temple so long as they followed traditional initiate training. He liked to imagine he'd already put in a request for Leia for whenever she was old enough, so she would never feel unwanted. He never thought too hard about Luke, but imagined that Ahsoka would want him. He felt, in his heart, that it would be a good match.

"It's not that I don't," Ahsoka would say quickly, "but it's just— well, Luke's still so young. I can have more than one padawan, can't I?"

"How ambitious," Anakin would chuckle. "Hard to imagine ever wanting a padawan at twenty."

"Excuse me?" Ahsoka would scoff. "Was getting me for a padawan not the best experience of your life, Master?"

"Maybe," Anakin would admit. And then he'd steal Leia from her lap and laugh heartily. "Or maybe second best would be more accurate."

It was a pretty dream.

The prettiest dream he had, really.

But then he would see Qui-Gon there, lurking in the corner, watching him with sad eyes.

"Obi-Wan," he said, his gravelly tone smoothing over all laughter. "Playing pretend will not make the pain go away. It will not lessen the burden you bear. These fickle fantasies will kill you faster than they will heal you, you must know that."

And Obi-Wan would sit, time after time, with little Luke in his lap. Most recently, he had looked down at little Luke, and found that he had no face. Because Obi-Wan could no longer imagine what the boy might look like. And so he disappeared altogether, and the slew of distraught emotion that had come over him had nearly been too much to bear.

"Is this a trial?" he'd murmured, lowering his face into his hands. "Master… please. How much more must I suffer before this can end?"

"There are no endings, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon had said. The fantasy had melted, and now there was only black. "There is merely the Force."

And Obi-Wan had to be content with that.

When Watto flew out again, he had a crate of the items Leia had requested. He looked around uncertainly for her before his eyes settled on Obi-Wan.

"She's outside," Obi-Wan said. He pushed off the counter and considered Watto thoughtfully. "So you are Watto."

Obi-Wan had never considered paying a visit to Anakin's old master. He had never thought it wise. Part of him blamed Watto for Anakin's emotional imbalance. Part of him, an angry part of him that had been buried deep when he had been but a child, wanted to attack Watto for who he was. For the scars he had left on a boy who Obi-Wan had loved like a brother, or a son. Lately it felt more like the latter. He had always thought of Anakin as his brother, because he had felt too young to be a father, but now that he was old enough that Leia could be his granddaughter, it put things into perspective.

Watto sighed heavily, and he set the crate onto the counter.

"Ani told you about me, huh?" He rubbed his jowls thoughtfully. "Yeah, he always was a talkative kid. Don'ta suppose he survived?"

"Anakin is gone," Obi-Wan said gravely.

Watto shook his head. "Shame," he murmured. Obi-Wan was annoyed to observe that the Toydarian truly meant it.

It wasn't fair that he seemed to have cared about Anakin. It wasn't fair that Obi-Wan had to remain unbiased in this situation, when he was itching so badly to scream until his throat was hoarse, because Anakin… Anakin had never quite lost that slave mentality. And perhaps that was the Order's fault, for implementing so many rules, or Obi-Wan's fault for enforcing the title "master," but the point was that by the time Palpatine had broken him, there was not much resistance on Anakin's part because no matter how much Anakin wanted to be independent, his resistance was weak.

Obi-Wan did not pretend he was guiltless in this process. He was probably integral in Anakin's turning, and that terrified him.

Because if he had failed Anakin so badly, then what did that mean for Leia when he trained her?

"Yes," Obi-Wan said absently. "It truly is."

Watto shot a glance toward the open doorway. "So," he said hesitantly. "That was… Ani's child?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "I did not want Leia to hear this conversation," he admitted, "because her feelings on slavery are, understandably, quite intense. I don't think she'd react well if she knew you once owned her father."

Watto grimaced. "That might'a be for the best," he agreed. Then he squinted up at Obi-Wan. "Hmm."

"Yes?"

"You aren'ta that Qui-Gon Jinn fellow," he observed. "But I know you are a Jedi. And Ani's child, she is too?"

"Leia is just a girl," Obi-Wan said gravely. "And I am just an old man. That is all you need to know."

Watto did not seem happy with this lack of information but he accepted it nonetheless. He pushed the crate toward Obi-Wan. "Here," he said. "That's all she requested, plus some holodiscs. Saw her looking at 'em before, figured I'd supply them on the house."

"That is thoughtful of you," Obi-Wan said quietly, turning his eyes toward the crate. It was clear now that Watto had thought long and hard about Anakin, and probably felt very guilty about everything that had happened. It did not matter much now, of course. Anakin had still been a slave, and Shmi had died horribly. And Obi-Wan could not help but feel that that was his fault too.

"The mother," Watto said. "She still around?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Ah." Watto sighed. "So it's Lars that takes care of her. Shoulda figured. I guess it's just funny to me that little Ani found anyone, really."

"You know," Obi-Wan said, looking down at the crate full of spare parts, "it's strange. When Master Qui-Gon came here all those years ago, he brought a young girl."

"I remember," Watto said. "That's what'a I thought, when you appeared with her. I remembered him, and the girl he brought." Watto paused, his brow furrowing and his eyes blinking rapidly. "Wait… you don'ta mean to tell me…"

"That girl became his wife," Obi-Wan said calmly. "Yes. It's funny how things work out."

"She looks like her," Watto said absently.

"She does."

Watto hovered in silence, looking ruefully at the floor. Perhaps he regretted all those years with Anakin, being a master and never freeing him amicably. Watto was old now, and if Obi-Wan's senses were correct, then he was old and he was dying. That ought to do something to a person.

"Anakin was happy," Obi-Wan said quietly. "For a time, at least. I don't suppose any of us were happy, in the end, but there was a point in his life when he was happy. For a very long time I could not understand why my master had been so fixated on him, why he had been so keen on letting the whole world burn so he could have Anakin Skywalker as an apprentice. But then I got to know him, and I understood. Anakin was the most incredible person I ever met. I am lucky to have known him."

I am lucky, he thought solemnly, and I am cursed.

Watto nodded. He began to speak again, but before he could fully ask what he'd meant to, Obi-Wan felt an overwhelming stab of fear as his connection with Leia spiked. She was in danger. He knew this feeling well enough know, having felt it at the very least weekly for the last ten years or so. He snatched the crate, and nodded curtly to Watto.

"Thank you for the parts," he said politely. And then he left.

Obi-Wan stepped outside, and found that a crowd had gathered at the center of the street. It had stopped traffic, and the distant sounds of a scuffle were the only noise that graced the still evening air. Obi-Wan managed to shoulder his way through to the front, and he couldn't quite find it in him to be shocked that he found Leia dodging the deliberate, mighty blows of a grown man.

She was panting, one eye already swollen shut and a thick stream of blood pooling around one nostril of her nose. She bounced from foot to foot, ducking wildly as the man took quick and heavy swings at her head. He was favoring his right side, his breaths coming out in heavy puffs and his gait wobbly as he hunched and lunged.

Obi-Wan suspected that the fight had progressed thusly: the man had gained the upper hand quickly by battering Leia in the face twice or thrice. Leia had been knocked over, but had gotten up quick enough to surprise him and catch him in the stomach or ribs, causing him some lingering pain and making it rather difficult to breathe.

He dropped his crate and started forward, but was dragged back by a number of different hands and spat at in half a dozen different languages. This was a wager. He could not interfere.

Leia! He thought, swallowing a desperate cry that would no doubt give away how truly frantic he was at the sight of this child getting knocked about by some random man.

Her head snapped in his direction abruptly, confusion and shock filtering over her battered face. They stared at each other mutely, her mouth agape, and then she whirled aside, narrowly missing a blow to the side of her head which would have certainly knocked her unconscious.

Obi-Wan felt vaguely nauseated when he realized why she had looked at him so sharply.

She had heard him.

His thoughts. She had heard him shouting for her.

If he had thought that perhaps he could let Leia Skywalker live out her life peacefully on Tatooine, the Force spoke otherwise.

Leia was to be his padawan. Whether he liked it or not.

So he might as well embrace their fragile, infant training bond and help her win this fight.

Leia, he thought, use the Force.

Leia bounced back a few steps, blowing a stray streak of brown hair from her eyes. Her shoulders hunched heavily. She did not seem to know how to reply, so her eyes simply flashed to Obi-Wan's bemusedly. She dove aside, creeping close to the man's weaker side.

"You don't sit still, do you, runt?" the man hissed, his fist bearing down on empty air yet again. Leia slipped beneath his arm and punched him in the chest. He was knocked back a step, but it was nothing quite like the blow Obi-Wan had hoped she'd make.

Reach into the Force, he told her. Wrap it around yourself. I know you feel it, so reach for it, and grasp for it. Next time you punch, reinforce the blow with the Force.

He saw Leia's chest rise and fall heavily, and she shook her head uncertainly. She held her fists close to her chin, her eyes glinting in the last few rays of golden sunlight. She ducked beneath the man's fist once more, and this time circled around him and delivered a swift kick to the midsection of his back. He gasped as he stumbled forward, and Leia jumped onto his back.

As she gripped his neck, her arms crushing his jugular, he swung violently at her head. Obi-Wan was about to reach out to her mentally again, until he saw that she had her eyes closed. He stood in shock, watching her tighten her grip and ignore the heavy blows upon her shoulders and ears. He felt it. She had managed to dip into the Force, little by little until it seemed to cocoon her.

And then her eyes snapped open, and she kicked off his back and landed heavily upon the ground. Her fingers dragged through the sand, and she watched the man double over in a fit of coughs. She plucked herself up with great dignity despite the stream of blood upon her mouth and chin and the ugly purpling around her one eye. The braid upon her head had loosened and shifted, letting hair spill onto her forehead, and the shorter strands that she kept neatly behind her ears were sticking up wildly, caked with dust and twisted into odd positions.

Leia walked around to face the man. She raised her fist and smashed it upon his jaw.

She did not use the Force, but the man went toppling to the ground.

"Stay down," Leia said coldly. When he shuddered and began to rise, Leia's expression twisted furiously, and she kicked him in the face. That knocked him onto his back, and left him immobile.

For a moment Leia swayed. Her angry expression melted very fast, much to Obi-Wan's relief, and she looked a little lost and unsure. She looked down at the man, her brow furrowed, and she raised a shaky hand to smooth her hair back from her face. The crowd she had amassed was cheering wildly, laughing and grumbling, credits and gold pieces trading hands faster than Obi-Wan's old eyes could keep track.

When he stepped into the ring, the spectators went silent. They all watched him warily, as though they expected him to roll up his sleeves and fight her next.

Leia's eyes flickered up to his, and she swallowed hard. She rubbed her fist gingerly, and Obi-Wan caught a breath of her pain from their fledgling bond. She must have busted her fist.

"Ben," she said. Her voice was thin and dull, like she was trying to contain her fear and pain in the pure monotone she had carefully cultivated over the years. It did not work. Her voice was full of the things she tried to swallow back, and it shuddered within him, as he felt her anxiety and uncertainty. It was so fresh, this bond of theirs, but it was not so new as he had initially thought. He realized that it had been there for a long time, but had remained dormant until this moment.

It felt a bit like peeling back a scab and feeling shocked at the sight of the raw skin beneath it, as though you had forgotten that is what had to be there.

"Don't be scared, little one," Obi-Wan said, holding up his hands in that universal sign of surrender. "Are you alright?"

She nodded quickly. She nodded a little longer than she had to. Then she sniffled, and she said, "Do you have the parts we needed?"

"Yes." He kicked the crate in front of him, and Leia did not even spare it a glance.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go."

She spun on her heel and marched forward. The ring seemed to part for her, and she paused in the middle of it.

"Hey." She shot a glance behind her, past Obi-Wan, and gestured to follow her. "Miss Rona."

Obi-Wan followed Leia's gaze and saw the wan face of a pale purple Twi'lek woman. She was holding both her hands to her chest, her yellow eyes widened so much they seemed to swallow up half her face. Obi-Wan's eyes lingered on the collar at her neck, and he gathered very quickly what this had been about. A wave of relief washed over him, and some unchecked pride as well.

He allowed Rona to step ahead of him, nodding to her assuringly as she moved through the crowd. She looked dazed, her mouth open and moving without forming words. Shadows were stirring as dusk fell flatly upon them, smothering Tatooine in a blanket of cool darkness. The suns were tucked carefully behind the horizon, and the sky was both blood red and bruise blue.

Leia wrenched open the door to the Skyhopper, climbing into it deftly and settling in her seat. Obi-Wan tucked the crate into the back, and then stepped down so he could offer a hand to Rona. She eyed him warily, but took it nonetheless.

"Leia," Obi-Wan said after settling into his seat. She was already flipping toggle switches, turning on lights and preparing to take off. "Would you like me to fly?"

"I am perfectly capable of getting us home, Ben," Leia told him curtly. Her words were muffled by the blood in her mouth. Her swollen eye was almost completely sealed shut, and what could be seen of the inside of it was an unsettlingly bright red.

"You are more than capable," Obi-Wan replied, "but are you fit?"

"As a fiddle," she said through gritted teeth.

"Well," Obi-Wan murmured. "Put your helmet on at least."

She snatched her helmet from him and slipped it onto her head one handed. Rona sat between them mutely, her hands clenched in her lap. Obi-Wan peered down at her curiously, and when she stiffened under his gaze, he quickly turned his face forward.

Their return trip was more or less bathed in silence.

When they landed on the Lars homestead, Obi-Wan bit back a slew of swears that would undoubted cause Leia to look at him in bright, exuberant wonder. There would be a fight, of course. There was always an imminent fight at the very chance that Old Ben Kenobi and Owen Lars might have the misfortune to cross paths.

Leia exhaled shakily after she powered down the Skyhopper. Her right hand was balled in a fist, and it was clearly swollen even in the dim light cast the farm.

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely, hunching over the dashboard and taking a deep breath. "I know, okay? I let my anger get the better of me."

Ah, Obi-Wan thought fondly. Is that how much my approval means to her?

"Actually," he said absently, "this time I see nothing wrong. Though your methods were a bit heavy-handed and extreme."

Leia looked up at him sharply. She seemed too shocked to be able to deliver a quip in return.

Obi-Wan turned his attention to Rona. "Once we get that chip out of you," he said, tapping his neck for emphasis, "I will arrange for your passage to Ryloth. Unless you'd like to go elsewhere."

Rona's eyes flashed toward his face, wide and wild in the dark. Her mouth parted, and she remained silent for a few moments before she nodded fiercely.

"Ryloth," she said faintly. Her accent was heavy here, and her voice barely above a whisper. Obi-Wan smiled, and he nodded.

"Very well," he said. "To Ryloth, then. My name is Ben Kenobi."

"Kenobi," she repeated. Obi-Wan kept his smile firmly in place, despite the trickle of panic that ran through him. Right. This woman was probably old enough that she remembered the Separatist's siege on Ryloth during the Clone Wars. Obi-Wan had slipped up here without even realizing it.

But if she knew the name beyond some faint recognition, she did not comment on it. "I am Rona Rha," she said, holding out her hand politely. Obi-Wan shook it, and replied in a customary Twi'leki greeting reserved for post-introductions. Rona's eyes brightened significantly.

"You know Ryl?" she gasped, her native tongue lilting delightedly from her lips.

"I'm well acquainted with it," Obi-Wan replied in Twi'leki, not missing the surprised look on Leia's face as she pushed up the blast shield on her helmet to gape at him. "Besides Huttese and Basic, it is the most spoken language in the galaxy. It is a necessary skill."

Rona laughed. "Well," she said in Basic, "you are a clever man, then. Are you another uncle of Leia's?"

Obi-Wan found it difficult to respond immediately, so Leia took it upon herself to speak first.

"Yes," she said, as surely and calmly as though it were true. "This is my Uncle Ben. Ben, Miss Rona taught me for a while, when Lessons were still taught down the valley."

"I see," Obi-Wan said quietly.

A distant shout caused all three of them to look up sharply. A silhouette had appeared in the doorway of the domed home of the Lars family. Leia's anxiety heightened in a crescendo, and Obi-Wan reached into the force to try and soothe her worry. It did not seem to work as well as he'd hoped.

"Leia?" It was Owen's voice, bellowing cautiously in the dark. Then, more certainly, he cried, "Leia! Beru, she's back!"

Leia swallowed hard, and she pulled her helmet back and set it on her seat. After getting a hold of the crate of parts, she slipped out of the Skyhopper and made her way to Owen with her head bowed.

Obi-Wan watched Owen begin to berate her for not arriving before nightfall, and then the slow realization crossed his face as he tilted his head to get a look at Leia's face. Obi-Wan swung himself out of the Skyhopper the moment Owen tore the crate from her hands and tossed it aside, gripping her face with both hands.

Just then, Beru came skidding to a stop beside her husband, her eyes wide and horrified.

"Leia!" she cried, her hands reaching but not quite touching Leia's bruised, bloody face.

"What happened?" Owen demanded, crouching a bit so he could get a better look at his niece. She shifted her head, attempting to pry it from his hands. "Leia, look at me. Please tell me what happened."

"It's fine," she said heavily. "It's good, everything is fine. Lemme go."

"No, it is not fine, what are you—?" Owen looked up upon the sound of Obi-Wan's approach, and his eyes flashed with pure rage. "Kenobi."

Leia stumbled as she was shoved aside, falling into Beru's arms and shouting wordlessly in alarm. Beru hugged her close fearfully while Owen marched up to Obi-Wan, his teeth bared.

"Uncle Owen!" Leia shrieked, wrenching herself free from Beru's arms and dashing forward. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and held up his hands while Owen snatched him by the front of his robes and shook him violently.

"You just don't know when to quit—!" His voice and lip were trembling, and so was his fist when he raised it high to bear it down upon Obi-Wan's face.

"Stop!" Leia dragged Owen's arm back by the sleeve. She had shocked him enough that she managed to yank him back a step, and she squeezed herself between them. Obi-Wan looked down at her in shock as she threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

"Leia," Owen gasped, half exasperated and half astonished. "Get away from him!"

"No!" Leia squeezed Obi-Wan tighter, and it took all of his restraint not to return her embrace and pat her head affectionately.

Owen tried to pull Leia away, but she kept her arms locked around Obi-Wan firmly, and he could do nothing but stand in quiet dismay.

"This is ridiculous," Owen grumbled, pushing his sweaty hair from his forehead. "Leia, you're grounded!"

"Fine."

"For the season."

"I don't care!"

"Leia!"

"Owen," Obi-Wan sighed, "if I may—"

"You!" Owen jerked a finger in Obi-Wan's face. "You shut up. You don't get a say, because every time you get close to my niece, she's suddenly beaten to hell and back!"

"Owen," Beru said sharply. She was standing near the entrance of their home, hugging her elbows and frowning deeply. "That's enough. We have a guest."

Owen glanced back at her incredulously, and then he slumped as he noted Rona Rha's presence. She had inched timidly closer to Obi-Wan's side, her eyes flashing fearfully toward Owen. His expression softened considerably, and he sighed.

"We'll continue this conversation inside," he told Obi-Wan stiffly.

"I suppose it's been delayed long enough," Obi-Wan mused. Owen shot him a sharp, irritated glance, but otherwise shrugged off the comment. He led Rona and Beru inside.

It was only then that Leia raised her head. Her face was ruddy and wet, and Obi-Wan was taken aback. Leia, as a rule, did not cry. She stewed in her softer emotions and buried them down deep inside her. He had never expected her to cry in front of him, at least not over something like this.

"It's not so bad, little one," Obi-Wan murmured, balling his sleeve over his fist and rubbing the tears from her cheeks gingerly.

"It's not fair," she spat. She still clung to him, as though she were much younger, and her brow furrowed angrily. "Why does he treat you like this? Like you meant nothing to my father?"

That sent a pang of old sorrow shuddering through his heart. He smoothed her hair back soothingly, and he offered a smile that he hoped was encouraging, but knew was rather sad.

"You know," he murmured.

That only made her angrier.

"My father would have died regardless of your involvement in his life," Leia said in a cold, level tone. That struck Obi-Wan rather hard, and he took a step back to peer down at her uncertainly. "He was a doomed man. All the Jedi were. Uncle Owen blames you for living, and that is inexcusable."

Obi-Wan stood silently, holding Leia's head and considering all the years he had spent on Tatooine, and how Owen's behavior had grown progressively more hostile. The truth was, he had known this. Owen hated Obi-Wan because Obi-Wan had survived the Purges, and Anakin had not. Obi-Wan had lived to take care of Leia, and Anakin had not. And instead of taking care of Leia, he had left her to Owen and disappeared into the Wastes. Owen had raised her. Owen and Beru had wiped the snot from her nose and reared her infantile tantrums out of existence, and Obi-Wan popped in only when it was convenient for him. Of course Owen hated him. Of course Obi-Wan had no claim to Leia or her future. Because Obi-Wan had lived, and Anakin hadn't.

The truth was, he did not blame Owen. Not even a little bit.

Leia pulled back, her expression schooled and calm without a hint of the tears that had graced it but a minute earlier.

"Perhaps," she said, "he is not the only one who believes that."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "Leia…" he murmured.

"Look at me." When he opened his eyes, she had stepped back and offered out her hands to the sand. "I am here. I am not my father, and I am here, and I am willing to learn. Whatever happened to him, whatever you're not telling me because it hurts to much, I don't really care. Because I will never blame you for living. If it's forgiveness or absolution you're looking for, Ben, then you need to stop looking to the Force, and start looking right in front of you. The caves and the sands won't bring my father back. They'll only keep you in the Wastes, where you will waste away in solitude because you're scared of losing somebody like you lost everybody else."

Obi-Wan, the silver tongued master of debate, found himself at a loss for words. She had so quickly and efficiently dismantled all his barriers and gotten to the heart of his issues, and he genuinely was shocked by her intuition. Or perhaps it was her strength in the Force that had given her this insight into his feelings? Regardless, he hadn't had someone give him such a raw assessment of his insecurities since Satine had called him a collection of half-truths and hyperbole.

Leia folded her arms across her chest, and said impatiently, "Am I wrong?"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "Let's go inside, Leia," he suggested.

She scoffed, and she whirled away from him. "I will consider that a confirmation," she said.

Obi-Wan had not been inside the Lars home. When he had delivered Leia, he had merely deposited her into Beru's arms and tucked his face into his hood. There was no place for him here. That might have hurt him once, but now he simply felt uncomfortable. He was the outsider here.

Owen caught Leia by the shoulder and yanked her chin up so her face was turned toward the light. "You foolish girl," he muttered. "There are only so many times you can set a broken nose before it just doesn't straighten!"

"It's not broken," Leia snapped, yanking her chin back and scowling. "It's just— you know, bloody! It'll be fine."

"Fine." Owen snatched a rag from the kitchen counter and stuffed it under Leia's nose. "You best have another tunic, Leia. Or work miracles to get the blood out of that one."

"Quit patronizing me," Leia muttered, waving him off and plopping into a chair. Beru came over with what appeared to be a frozen cut of meat. She knelt down beside Leia and very gently applied it to her swollen eye.

"Patronize you," Owen repeated. "You get into fights like you're a wild animal! I don't know where you come from!"

Obi-Wan could point out exactly where she came from, and note that all things considering she had turned out alright, but decided against that.

"Why don't you sit down, dear?" Beru suggested to Rona, who was standing awkwardly in the threshold. She sat down uncertainly, and shot a worried look at Leia. "What's your name?"

"Rona Rha," Rona said quietly.

Recognition flashed in Beru's eyes, and she looked down at Leia accusingly.

"What?" Leia asked flatly. She pulled the rag from her lips, and she spoke slow and clear. "I didn't steal her, Aunt Beru, I'm not stupid. I won her freedom in a bet."

"Where on earth was that Darklighter boy during all of this?" Owen demanded.

"I don't know, I'm not his keeper." Leia scowled. The damp rag had caused some of the dry blood to get runny, and her lips were stained red as a result.

"Beru," Obi-Wan said quietly, leaning as close as he dared to the woman. He had no qualms with her, and they had grown to harbor a sort of mutual respect for one another over the years. "Do you happen to have a first aid kit? Perhaps a nice thin knife that resembles a scalpel?"

"I got it," Leia said, hopping to her feet and disappearing behind a pillar. The four adults remained quiet, glancing at each other carefully.

"Why were you with her?" Owen hissed at Obi-Wan. His eyes were narrowed and his shoulders were taut.

"Owen…" Beru sighed, walking to a compartment beneath the sink and pulling out a small, thin knife.

"You can't tell me you're not wondering it too!" Owen glared, his rage barely contained and simmering on the surface of his contorted face. "The way Leia latched on to him—! You saw it, Beru, that's not how strangers act!"

"I'm very sorry about this," Beru told Rona earnestly. Rona merely smiled, and she offered a small shrug.

"I don't mind," she said softly. "I am simply grateful. Your niece is… an extraordinary human being. I have never known someone so selfless in my whole life."

"Selfless," Owen murmured. His shoulders slumped, and his expression softened in a sort of pride. "Yeah… maybe."

Leia returned just as Obi-Wan was holding the knife over a lighter. She tossed the kit onto the counter and tilted her head. The cut of meat was starting to thaw out, so she set it aside, favoring her uninjured hand. She leaned against the counter and watched as Obi-Wan sat down beside Rona.

"I am afraid to ask," she admitted, "but have you ever done this sort of procedure before?"

"No," Obi-Wan admitted. He shrugged off his cloak, ignoring the stares he was getting from the entire Lars family, Leia included. "I did observe it once, though. I assure you, my hand is steady, and you will be fine."

"You saw this done before?" Leia piped up. Obi-Wan spared her a glance. She'd wiped up the last of the blood from her nose, and was pressing the steak to her eye again.

"Yes." Obi-Wan turned his gaze away sharply. Beru had laid out Leia's bloodstained rag before him, glancing worriedly at Obi-Wan and then at Owen. "I was with your father when he got his chip out. He was rather scared, not ever having had surgery before." He tilted Rona's head to the side carefully, and felt along her neck until he felt the particularly irregular protrusion. It blinked red beneath a thin film of skin when he put pressure on it. "Of course, he was a stubborn boy. Always wanting to seem older and more sophisticated than he was. I could only really glean his discomfort with the idea of surgery, but he seemed happy when I offered to go in with him." He handled the knife quickly and carefully, tearing a tattered piece of fabric from the hem of his cloak and rolling it up. Rona did not need telling to bite down on the fabric, her yellow eyes set forward determinedly. "So I held his hand while the healers got rid of it."

He made the incision, deftly carving a thin line in Rona's faint purple neck. She did not make a sound, though the fabric squelched between her teeth and her shoulders tensed up considerably. Beru handed him a pair of tweezers, and Obi-Wan pried the chip from her neck and tossed it onto the rag. Her neck had begun to bleed, and Obi-Wan knew he would have to stitch it up before he applied bacta. He tugged the kit closer and tossed it open, finding the filament and needle at his disposal. He briskly wiped her neck, and then begun to stitch it up with as much precision as his old hands could manage. The stitches were tight and well aligned. That pleased him.

Leia whistled. She leaned forward to inspect Obi-Wan's handiwork, and a clean smile split across her battered face. "Impressive," she said, patting his shoulder.

Obi-Wan clenched and unclenched his hands, the blood coagulating at his joints and causing his fingers to stick together. "It used to be much cleaner," he admitted. "I was rather good at stitches. But this will do fine."

"Thank you," Rona whispered, having spit out the bit. Her eyes flickered to Obi-Wan's face, and he saw tears glistening there. "Truly… you have all done so much for me…"

"It's nothing, Miss Rona," Leia said sweetly. "Please don't worry about it."

Rona shook her head mutely, as though she could not quite believe that this was truly happening. Beru took over, chiming in eagerly that she had extra clothes and a bath if Rona was willing. Rona nodded eagerly, and Beru smiled as she helped her to her feet and led her forward.

"I'll make up a bed for you," Beru said. She shot a sharp glance over her shoulder. "Play nice, you three."

"Aw, Aunt Beru." Leia looked visibly affronted, pulling the steak away and frowning deeply. The bruise that was forming around her eye was looking rather ugly.

"I mean it."

As she left, Obi-Wan felt the true weight of his presence here. Owen was glaring at him, though that was not unusual. Leia had taken to cleaning up the table hastily, cleaning off the bloody knife without so much as a grimace.

"Are you hungry?" she asked as she finished tidying up. Now Obi-Wan observed her carefully as she put a pot on the stovetop to boil. Tea, he realized, smiling fondly at his hands. She's making tea for me. "I guess we missed dinner, but I'm not so bad a cook."

"Leia…" Owen warned.

"What?" she asked innocently. "I'm not."

Owen sat down heavily across from Obi-Wan, and he looked him sternly in the eye.

"What were you doing together?" he asked darkly. "Tell me, Kenobi. What have you been doing?"

Leia sighed exasperatedly, and she muttered something unintelligible beneath her breath. Obi-Wan supposed there was no hiding it any longer.

"Leia will sometimes visit me," Obi-Wan said. "If she has time, that is."

Owen's eyes sparked with rage. "What have you been telling her?" he snapped. He raised his eyes to Leia. "What has he been filling your head with?"

"Are you kidding me?" Leia hissed. She tossed the meat aside, and she cut between them, clapping her hands onto the table in spite of her injury and giving Owen a long, fierce stare. "You know what gets me, Uncle Owen? You were never gonna tell me that Ben knew my father. You were just gonna let me live my whole damn life without knowing the truth. That's messed up, and you know it."

"You told her," Owen breathed. "You told her, you crazy old—!"

"I have the right to know!" Leia shook her head furiously. "How dare you. I spend my whole life trying to understand why I feel so different and confused, and the answer was right there in the Jundland Wastes, and you just thought, hey! Let's let her think she's a little crazy, better that than be a Jedi!"

"Don't!" Owen jerked a finger in her face and waved it wildly. "Don't you dare, Leia. You are not the same as he is, and you should count yourself lucky at that! Why can't you be content with what you have?"

"Why can't you see that I'm not made for this?" she retorted. Her shoulders were taut and her lip was curled back in fury and disgust. Obi-Wan would have put a calming hand on her shoulder to calm her down, but he didn't think it wise in front of Owen. "I can't just pretend like I want to be a farmer when I know I'm made for something else! I'm so fed up with you trying to force me to be someone I'm not!"

"Leia, I raised you!" Owen's voice was rising and wavering, his face half crumpled and half contorted. "I know who you are better than anyone."

"But you can't accept that what I want is different from your plan?" She huffed, and pushed off the table violently. "Thanks a lot."

"You don't know what you want!" Owen cried. "You are a child, Leia! What happened to all that talk of becoming a pilot? Joining the Imperial Flight Academy? And now you want to kill yourself. Well, bravo, Leia, you've convinced me!"

"Oh, get over yourself," Leia sneered. "Obviously goals change as you get older, especially once you realize your father was a Jedi. Thanks for that information, by the way, I really appreciate it."

The water had begun to boil, and Leia glanced at it suddenly. Her furious expression melted away, and she ran to move the pot.

"Why can't you see," Owen murmured, "that I'm trying to protect you?"

"Because you generally do a piss poor job," she said curtly as she prepared their tea, "and I'm old enough now that I can make the choice for myself."

"You don't know what that choice even means!"

"What?" Leia looked suddenly both very small and very unsettled. "Is that a kriffing joke? How could I not?"

"What do you mean, how could you not?"

"A Jedi," Leia breathed, her brow furrowing low over her eyes. The rage and dismay settled there, and the word lingered in the air like a prayer. "My father was a Jedi. You think I don't understand how dangerous that is? How scary? Uncle Owen, I have lived my whole life here with you, and I've known nothing else, but I can feel the darkness on the rise, and no love you might have for me can stop it!"

Obi-Wan's eyes swiveled toward her in alarm. Darkness? What darkness had she felt, and why hadn't she told him?

"That's enough!" Owen lurched to his feet, his chair screeching. "No more! I won't hear any more of this! Go to your room, Leia."

"So you can grill Ben on how he has no right to be in my life, even though he was more of a brother to my father than you ever were?" Leia asked icily.

The room, it seemed, was touched by the ice in her tone, and could not thaw. They all stood in astonished silence, and Owen flinched visibly as though her words were stones upon his brow. He shook his head mutely.

But Leia had no remorse.

"You will treat Ben with the respect he deserves," Leia said, "or I am done with you."

"Leia!" Obi-Wan gasped, stunned and disturbed by her behavior. Part of him was so very grateful, that greedy part of him, that human part, that had almost forgotten the sweet drug of affection that bred the most unpleasant attachments. Another part of him, the more rational part, was repulsed at the notion that Leia could throw her Uncle's authority back into his face so flippantly.

"Done with me," Owen repeated, his voice a harsh murmur. "And where will you go, eh? With him?" Owen jerked his chin in Obi-Wan's direction. "In his little hovel in the Jundland Wastes?"

A muscle in Leia's jaw jumped. She did not look to Obi-Wan, though he sensed that she wanted to. Desperately. She sought his reassurance, his guidance, but in this he felt he had no say. He was not her guardian. He could not make this decision for her.

"I suppose," she said. Her voice was smaller now, and uncertain.

"Eat the dust beneath your feet, Leia," Owen said heavily. "I will not condone this."

Leia's lip twitched, and her small hands clenched at her side. She raised her chin high, and she said, "Fine."

She turned on her heel and started for the door.

Obi-Wan, who knew the Skywalker temperament better than most, cried out into her mind sharply, Wait just a moment, Leia!

"Why should I?" she snapped. Owen frowned at her back, puzzled by her words.

Obi-Wan rose to his feet, and he bowed his head toward Owen. "I never meant for things to go quite this far," he murmured. "I apologize, Owen. I have disrupted your family long enough. I beg you forgive Leia for her outburst."

"Forgive—?"

Leia bit back whatever awful thing she was undoubtedly going to say, and instead shrunk into herself, her non-swollen eye squeezed shut. The panic and regret that stewed within her was enough to make even Obi-Wan feel sick. It seemed she believed he was rejecting her. A tinge of sadness bloomed over his tongue, their training bond shivering as the tides threatened to roll in and wash away all the hard work that had gone into forging it.

"She thinks she doesn't need me," Owen said stiffly. "Well, fine. If she loves you so much—"

"I would rather not get into a pissing match over who Leia loves better, Owen," Obi-Wan said coolly. "Be sensible. I think we're a bit too old for such nonsense."

Owen had the sense about him to flush faintly pink, and he folded. "Why didn't you just raise her yourself?" his whispered.

Leia stood quietly, her mouth falling open. Obi-Wan stood resilient under Owen's scrutiny. It was a fair question, but he really had not wanted to have this conversation in front of Leia. It was the last thing that could possibly arise in his heart to make her feel unwanted, but he knew he had done it anyway.

What a fool he was. A fool among fools.

"It was more complicated than that, Owen," Obi-Wan said gently.

"Bantha shit," Owen hissed. "You clearly wanted her, but you gave her to us. Why? Why abandon her and assume you can just crawl back into our good graces later?"

Obi-Wan had stood by and let Owen's anger and revulsion wash over him for years. He had taken every word like a blow to the gut, and he had let it all fester within him.

Oh, how he deserved this.

"Because Anakin died," Obi-Wan murmured, "Anakin died, and I watched him wither away to nothing, and when I held Leia in my arms I could see Anakin in her. And I could not bear to fail her like I failed him. I was so absorbed in my grief, that I did not think about the future. I did not think of the will of the Force. I merely thought about myself, and my feelings, and I was so frightened of my own inadequacy that I distanced myself. That was, of course, my mistake."

Owen eyed Obi-Wan without an ounce of his disdain lessening. "There you have it, Leia," he said. "Your father died horribly, and even Ben fears you'll suffer the same way. Don't you see how crazy this is?"

Leia had a look about her, the kind Obi-Wan had learned to recognize as barely contained rage due to stubborn pride. She didn't want to be angry all the time, but she was so fierce and quick to act on her temper, and that was a whole slew of problems that Obi-Wan had not quite solved yet.

So Leia cocked her head, her one eye cold and daunting while her other was half-swollen shut and glaring just the same. She drew her arms across her chest, and her lips quirked into a bitter smile.

"I know all of your fears and your doubts," she said, and the way she spoke, the tenderness of her voice and the distance of her gaze, it made these words sound wise instead of haughty. "I know that what I want is crazy, and I know I might die before I see it through. But regardless, that is my choice to make. It is my life, and if I want to throw it into peril until the moment I die, then so be it! Then I will die, and I will die without regrets."

They were all silent, allowing for Leia's words to truly settle between the three of them. Leia was ready to pick up and leave, Obi-Wan knew. Leia was impulsive and callous enough that she would gladly flee Tatooine overnight without telling her aunt and uncle. That was why Obi-Wan felt that however they went forward now, it would be best to be mindful of Owen and Beru's feelings. They had raised her after all.

"What I suggest," Obi-Wan said, moving toward Leia and gingerly placing a hand on her shoulder, "is a compromise."

Leia's nose scrunched up, but she said nothing. She eyed Owen with a hint of distrust, as though she did not believe him capable of compromise. Perhaps she was right.

Owen shook his head. He lowered himself very slowly into a chair, his body sluggish and his face grim. He lowered his forehead into his folded hands, and he sighed.

"I suppose my options are scarce," he muttered, "if I want Leia to stay here."

"You bet," Leia hissed. Obi-Wan squeezed her shoulder sharply. She slumped a bit.

"What I suggest is that Leia continue her work here on the farm," Obi-Wan said. She grimaced, but said nothing to dispute it.

Owen eyed them both suspiciously. "I've got a feeling I'm not gonna like the reason why," he said dryly.

"Well," Obi-Wan sighed, "it would draw some unwanted attention if Leia simply just stopped working for you. People grow curious when something seems unusual, and I think we can both agree that is not an option."

"Fair enough," Owen muttered.

"Of course," Obi-Wan said, careful not to look down at Leia's face as he spoke, "there is a physical element to Leia's training that may be rather grueling. I don't want to push my apprentice too far, which is why I suggest we hash out a turntable for her own health and safety."

Leia's head snapped up at the word "apprentice." She looked up at Obi-Wan with a gaping mouth, hope glimmering in her eyes. It almost assuaged all his fears and doubts about her training.

Almost.

Owen, however, looked genuinely sickened.

"You're going to kill her, Kenobi," he said. It was not the voice of an angry man, or even a protective one. It was the voice of someone who knew he'd been defeated, and resigned himself to what he believed to be pure fact. And Obi-Wan couldn't even blame him.

"If left alone, I believe she will do a perfectly adequate job of doing that on her own," Obi-Wan said frankly. Leia huffed, but she did not refute him. Perhaps she sensed that it was true. "Leia is strong with the Force. Leaving her untrained will not benefit her or anyone."

Owen lowered his head. He took a deep breath, and his shoulders slumped heavily.

"Leia," he said softly. "Please come here."

Obi-Wan could hear the tender resignation of his voice, and so he released her shoulder. She seemed hesitant, her eyes flashing worriedly to Obi-Wan's face. He felt guilty for that. In a way, Obi-Wan had stolen Leia from Owen. Just as he'd always feared he would.

As Leia stopped sullenly before Owen's chair, she seemed wary of his motives. When he stood, she took a step back. There was so much anxiety and discomfort roiling inside her, and Obi-Wan had never noticed how prominent they were until now. Her default emotions were a sort of simmering anger that thrived off her fear and uncertainty. She seemed to always be compensating for what she felt she lacked. They would have to work on that.

Leia stiffened as Owen brought his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. His hand got lost between the untidy sweep of short, cropped hair that fell at the base of her neck, and he squeezed her shoulders gently.

"If saying yes is the only way I don't lose you," he murmured, "then damn everything I said before. You are more important than that."

Leia pulled back, and when she spoke her voice was small and hopeful. "So… I can train with Ben?"

Owen met Obi-Wan's eyes. They regarded each other tiredly for a few moments, before Owen bowed his head and ruffled Leia's hair affectionately.

"I suppose…" He winced, and he jerked a finger one last time at Obi-Wan's face. "She better be safe, you old loon. You hear me? I don't want her coming back here with even more scars."

"I assure you," Obi-Wan said softly, "Leia's safety has always been my first priority."

Beru decided at this moment to step in through the doorway, and she paused to observe Leia and Owen, still half embracing. Her eyes narrowed.

"What happened?" she sighed.

"Nothing much," Leia said, withdrawing her arms and smiling at her aunt innocently. "Uncle Owen just gave me permission to be a Jedi."

Beru's face dropped. Her twinkling blue eyes seemed to dim in horror, and she looked between Obi-Wan and Owen frantically.

"What?" she said weakly. "That's…"

"We'll discuss it later, Beru," Owen said, sighing heavily and patting Leia on the head. "What matters right now is that Leia is safe, and she is home."

Beru swallowed hard, but she nodded fiercely. "Yes," she said. "Yes, you're right. Leia, it's gotten rather late. Go wash up."

Leia blinked up at Beru vacantly, and she glanced at Obi-Wan worriedly.

"Don't worry, little one," Obi-Wan told her. "You know where to find me."

Her voice suddenly floated onto the surface of his mind, unable to pry more deeply, but settling fine in the ridges of the walls he had built.

Why did you change your mind?

Unlike her speaking voice, her mind's voice was gentle and unsure. She didn't seem secure in her own thoughts.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. This would be a conversation for another time. Perhaps a conversation that would haunt all future conversations, because of his own insecurities.

It was never your fault, Leia, he replied. My own fear prevented me from seeing how truly gifted you are. If it is the Force's will for me to train you, then who am I to deny it?

Leia's lip twisted, not in a smile but in a disbelieving grimace.

"Okay, Ben," she said, turning away slowly and edging out of the room. "If you say so."

Obi-Wan was left with Owen and Beru, and that tell-tale guilt turned uncomfortably in his gut. He bowed his head, but he could not hide his face from them. Perhaps he shouldn't even wish to, as their weary gazes spoke the truth. He was a selfish man, and a fool among fools.

"If you'd like," Beru said faintly, her voice betraying her hesitation and dismay, "I can set up a cot for you, Ben."

"That's quite alright," Obi-Wan told her, smiling very gently. "I think I've imposed quite enough as it is."

"You've got that right," Owen muttered. He did not look at Obi-Wan, and instead turned around, placing a heavy hand on Beru's shoulder. He said nothing more, and his hand lingered there as Beru searched Obi-Wan's face imploringly.

"You told her, then," Beru said, lowering her chin and smiling sadly in the soft, understanding way that only a mother could. "About her father."

Obi-Wan buried his hands in the sleeves of his robe, and he nodded as sagely as he could. "As much as I'm willing to disclose," he admitted. "So more than perhaps I should have."

Beru's smile widened. She shook her head, and she took a step forward. Owen's hand fell away.

"No," she said, "you were right to do it. It's part of her, that heritage, that— that strength. That sort of thing can be so isolating, and Leia has always been a lonely child, even when she's drawing all the attention that she does. Knowing that there is a reason… I think you've given her a great gift, Ben."

Owen stood by silently, gazing at his wife in alarm and awe. It was likely he had never thought about how Leia's strength in the Force affected her, and that was no fault of his. He had no idea how to raise a Force sensitive child. Not that he'd ever been willing to listen.

"Thank you, Beru," Obi-Wan said. He bowed his head low as he slipped his hood over his head and turned away. "Truly."

Neither Owen nor Beru stopped him as he ducked through the threshold of their home and stepped back out into the arid wasteland of Tatooine.