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Since the day he figured out he could, Luke was always talking. To anyone who would listen. When Ben would take him through town to restock their food cabinets, or simply passing through to get back home, Luke would give bright hellos to the passersby. (“Hello! My name is Luke Skywalker, what’s yours?”)
So, when Ben finally got back from work one evening, a few credits richer than he was the night before, to no greeting and a completely silent house – needless to say he was concerned.
“Luke?” He called out, removing his extra layers of sun and sand protection to hang by the front door. It was clear Luke was home from school, seeing as a little pair of shoes and a tattered rucksack were already hanging on their designated hooks. “Luke?” Ben repeated, swallowing down his concern, “Are you there?”
Ben’s heart was in his throat as he started down the hallway. Their home wasn’t big. Luke couldn’t be anywhere except sitting at the table doing his class work (Like he was supposed to be doing.) or in his room.
And if he wasn’t in either of those two places, then Luke was…
Ben’s heart picked up a pace. Like a jackhammer he could hear the blood pumping through his own veins. He moved quicker, and pushed open the door to Luke’s room urgently.
At first, terrifying glance, Ben didn’t see the boy anywhere. Not a single glimpse of his golden blond hair or bright blue eyes. Ben was sure he was going to puke from pure unadulterated fear when suddenly-!
There was a little foot poking out from under Luke’s bed. Donned in the very same pair of thin socks that Ben had helped him put on this morning.
Ben took a steadying moment to catch his own breath and slow his own heart. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Luke.” He said finally, struggling to keep calm amongst the urge to scream and drag the boy out by his feet for scaring him so badly, “Why didn’t you answer when I called?”
“Leave me alone.” came Luke’s reply, “Can’t you see I’m hiding?”
Crisis averted, Ben let out a huff of a laugh, quietly. “Yes, I most certainly can see that.”
When it became clear Luke wasn’t planning on replying again, Ben tried once more, “What are you hiding from, Luke?”
“You.” Luke admitted.
“Why?”
Luke's muffled answer was, “Because I’m really, really mad at you.”
Ben’s heart skipped a beat, “Whatever for?”
Luke mumbled something, but from the fact that he was still tucked into the infinitely small underside of his own bed, Ben couldn’t make it out.
“I can’t hear you like that, Luke.” Ben said, “Won’t you come out from under there?”
“No.”
Ben inwardly groaned, letting a harsh exhale out through his nose. He took a moment to send a prayer to the Force that his back won’t crack like an old man, before he got down onto the floor, getting level with Luke.
From this position, his cheek pressed against the concrete floor of their Tatooinian home, Ben could see Luke. They were mirroring one another, laying flat on the ground.
Both of them were overdue for a haircut, which meant their overgrown bangs flopped into their eyes and clouded their vision. When Ben reached out to brush the stray strands out of Luke’s eyes, the boy flinched back with a visible pout.
Luke never shied away from his touch - he would willingly hold Ben’s hand in public, and climb into his bed late at night. Unlike Anakin, who'd arrived into Obi-Wans care traumatized and touch-averse, Luke knew no other comfort than Ben's hand. Luke loved to be near him, and it was something Ben took pride in.
This, Luke being mad at him, Luke hiding, Luke avoiding his touch, it hurt. It hurt the way Anakin had hurt him those years ago, on the lava planet of Mustafar.
“Luke,” He said, voice soft with unshed emotion, “What’s going on, my boy? Why are you so mad at your Uncle Ben?”
Somehow, that seemed to be the dam that broke on Luke’s frustration. His face was a whirlwind of emotion as he spat out, “That! Why do I call you that?”
Within a moment of bewilderment, Ben was too shocked to move as Luke rolled out from under the bed and pushed Ben away from him. The little boy stalked across the room, balling his little fists tightly at his sides, “Stupid Uncle Ben! Why are you Uncle Ben?!”
Anger. Ben could feel it through the Force. Luke was angry – like his father.
Ben felt like his entire body went into high alert. He knew. He knew one day he’d have to have this conversation with Luke. He’d have to sit him down and tell him about his father, about his mother, about the cards life had dealt him. But he always assumed it would be later. Far, far later, when Ben’s nothing but a foolish old man. Now? Luke hasn’t even been alive long enough to be in the double digits – now?!
“Luke..” Ben said softly, mournfully, heartbrokenly.
“Why...” Luke sniffled, the rage and fight leaving his body just as soon as it had entered, like it had taken a huge chunk of his energy out of him. Luke crumpled to the ground, fighting tears, “Why aren’t you my Dad? Everyone at school has a Dad.”
“Luke,” Ben said. Because it felt like all he really could say. He wet his lips, heart aching with each beat, "Do you want to call me that?"
Ben had considered that before. That Luke would one day want to call him Father, the way the other boys at school referred to their caretaker. Little children were always so desperate to fit. Especially Human children that grew up on alien-dominated planets like Tatooine. He'd give himself the name Uncle Ben nearly six years ago now simply because he couldn't handle the title of father.
'You're the closest thing I have to a father,' Anakin had said once, bright blue-eyed and Obi-Wan's entire world.
He wasn't sure he could handle Luke calling him the same thing.
"I don't get it," Luke whined out, blonde hair whipping across his face, "It's not fair. Why? Why do I have an Uncle instead?"
He wrapped his arms around his knees, stuffing his face in the safe space he had created to sob quietly.
If it was possible to break an already broken heart, Luke had accomplished it. Ben knew if someone were to take an X-Ray of his chest, they would find nothing but microscopic shards impossible to put back in their original place. He summoned all his energy, shuffling across the floor until he was beside the small boy.
He wanted to hold him. He didn’t know if he should.
“Your father and I were brothers.” Ben settled on.
It seemed to do the trick, the mention of his father piquing his interest. Luke’s ears perked up and he slowly lifted his head away from teary knee caps and snot covered hands.
“Really?”
“Yes,” Ben said through the painful tightening in his chest, “That’s why I’m your uncle. If your father had a sister, she would’ve been your aunt.”
“Did he have a sister?”
For a moment, Ben had a fleeting image of orange skin and a smart mouth. His lips twitched up into a smile – but he knew better.
“No,” Ben spoke, “No sister. Just me.”
Just me. Wasn’t that an awful little lie? Something that Ben told himself for years and years during the Clone Wars. Little Anakin Skywalker had nobody to rely on but Obi-Wan Kenobi, because he was his master and that was his padawan.
But Anakin had many more meaningful relationships – a wife, even – that Obi-Wan chose to ignore.
It lived on a long list of regrets that kept the older man tossing and turning at night.
“What happened to him?” Luke whispered, little blue eyes so wide and full of wonder.
Ben blinked back his tears. He had to be stronger.
For Luke.
“He died, Luke. A very bad man took him from me, and I wasn’t strong enough to get him back.”
Luke’s voice was so small, when he finally responded, “Oh.”
“Come here,” Ben beckoned, opening his arms, “Won’t you let me hold you?”
Luke didn’t waste a second. Wordlessly, he clambered up off the floor and all but fell into Ben’s waiting arms, curling up even tinier than Ben thought was possible for the growing boy.
Ben pressed his face into baby soft angel blonde hair, breathing in what has become the comforting smell of a little boy. In a way, Luke smelled faintly like little Ani - sun kissed and scrappy – but undoubtedly more clean. Ben wouldn’t let Luke go dirty.
“Do you miss him?” Luke asked.
“Very, very much.” Ben admitted quickly, not even considering a different answer, “But I see him in you sometimes, and that makes me very happy.”
“What about my mom?”
Ben stroked Luke’s head softly, “She died when you were born.”
“Did she ever get to see me?”
“Oh yes,” Ben promised, “She is the one who named you Luke. Do you know what it means?”
Luke sniffled, shaking his head.
“It means light-giving.” Ben promised, closing his own eyes, “Because wherever you go,” He squeezed Luke a little closer, “You make everyone smile.”
Luke giggled, squirming around in Ben’s lap until he got comfy. The little boy sighed contently, and Ben let out a little comforting breath too.
They stayed like that for a while. Whether it was because Luke needed the hug just as badly as Ben did, or because somehow the boy knew Ben needed it more, he wasn’t sure. Either way, they sat on the floor until the ache in Ben’s back made him groan.
“I’m glad you’re my uncle.” Luke said, pulling back in Ben’s arms to make eye contact with him. In an instant, two little hands were cupping either side of Ben’s face, “I’m sorry I called you stupid. ”
"Yes, my boy, that is a rather rude word." Ben couldn't help but smirk, "One I most definitely didn't teach you."
Luke's sticky little fingers tapped against Ben's cheek as he giggled, "Biggs told me it."
"How did I know?" Ben deadpanned, a thin line of his mouth. Biggs had to be the worst of Luke's school friends. Nothing but trouble.
"Uncle Ben," Luke cut in, and Ben drifted from his thoughts to give the little boy his full attention, "Did you and my Dad have a Dad?"
The question nearly confused him for a moment, until it clicked what Luke was trying to say.
He nodded affirmatively, "Yes, I suppose. But he's gone now, Luke."
"Everyone's gone." Luke said, dropping his hands from Ben's face to play with the fabric of his shirt, "Everyone's gone but Uncle Ben."
Ben knew the tears that came this time were unstoppable, and so he tried to cry them quietly, loose tears sliding down his face without so much as a gasp. He nodded, feeling the heartbreak of losing the people he loved all over again.
"I'm sorry, you're alone, Uncle Ben."
Ben’s face flickered between a frown and a smile. Enough of that. Luke was staring up at him with those big, blue eyes. They were still glassy from his own meltdown. And He hadn't had dinner yet. Ben had important things to take care of. “That’s not true, Luke. I'm never alone. Not as long as I have my very sweet little boy to keep me company."
"That's me." Luke smiled, "I'm the sweet little boy."
"So smart," Ben praised, tucking all the hurt into the lockbox of his heart, "Come on then, help your poor Uncle up. He simply cannot sit on the floor anymore. It is deeply unbecoming. And uncomfortable.”
Luke laughed, scrambling off of Ben’s lap, and instead moving to yank at his arm strong enough to elicit a yelp.
“And this little boy is hungry!” Luke whined, “So get up!”
“Luke!” He cried out, “Gentle, gentle! Force, you’re going to tear my arm off one day!”