:[obi/beru]:
[whitesun]:
[kenobi]:
[media]:
[fic]:
[about]:
[links]:
:[the choice]:
Author: Xehra xehra1@hotmail.com
Category: Angst. Slightly AU. Non-slash.
Rating: G
Pairing/Characters: Obi-Wan, Beru, Owen
Archive: Thousand Fountains and anyone else who wants it, just drop me a line so I can visit.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns the Star Wars galaxy and all the people and places in it. I make no money from this story.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: I have no idea how the issue of Owen and Beru being landed with the job of raising Luke will be dealt with in Episodes II and III (I'm avoiding spoilers). This is simply my take on it.
Summary: From Tatooine to Dantooine, Beru relives on her lost love.
Feedback: Pretty please! Always appreciated.
Notes: / = thoughts. Thanks to Jane for the beta.
~~~~~
The Choice
~~~~~
Beru squinted into the dying rays of the desert planet's two suns. A silhouette was visible making its way towards the homestead, a dark figure against a bright red backdrop. As it came closer, the woman was able to discern its shape; humanoid, tall and dressed in a full-length robe that included a pointed hood.
"Ben," she whispered to herself, half annoyed, half pleased.
Her heart jumped slightly in her chest despite herself. The hermit was obviously paying one of his infrequent social calls, but this one was badly timed. Owen was stuck in Anchorhead buying some parts for the vaporators and it was usually his brother that Kenobi came to speak to.
She stepped out of the crater that served as a courtyard for the Lars family home and waved in greeting. Waiting for her guest to arrive, Beru wondered briefly if her face was grubby from the repairs she'd been doing that day, her hands certainly were.
/No matter. He wouldn't notice anyway. And I wouldn't care if he did... /
She belatedly realized she'd been holding her breath. Out it went, along with long-suppressed feelings.
"Greetings, Beru."
Ben's voice was quiet, the tone even. Used to his cultured enunciation as she was, it still captured her attention every time she was in his presence. It was a leftover from a more refined era. As was he.
"Ben," she replied in acknowledgment, nodding. Her mental barriers went up, a reflex honed to perfection over many years. "Owen is away. I'm afraid he won't be back until tomorrow evening."
The old Jedi pulled back his hood, revealing grey hair fading to white. "Ah. Well then, it is of no matter. I had heard some news about the offworld market I thought he may be interested in. Harvest is coming, I know."
/Stars, he hasn't changed... but he never does. So caring, selfless... always thinking of others... /
At Beru's indication, they moved down into the sunken courtyard, escaping the lasting heat still rising from the surface sand.
Gathering her scattered thoughts, she sat at the low table Owen used to throw broken machine parts on. "Yes. It is a busy time for us. Luke is still only ten, and cannot help Owen much. We were thinking of hiring a hand this year."
Ben nodded sagely, lips pursed. Abruptly he changed the topic, looking at Beru seriously. "I also wanted to warn you about the sandpeople. A large band is on the move not far from here. They will take the next week or so to cross the Jungan Wastes. You must be careful, and warn the boy as well. He should not be out there alone racing that speeder of his."
"Luke? Racing again? If I've told that boy once, I've told him a thousand times... " Beru frowned, maternal cares replacing the more pressing worries of running the farm the last few days.
/... As well as the feelings stirred by seeing Ben... Why do I always have to drag up old memories?/
Ben smiled, but sadly, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "He will not listen. There's too much of his father in him."
Beru looked up sharply. Her eyes met his searchingly, but the old Jedi returned her gaze steadily. She blinked, then sighed.
"I fear you are right. Let us hope he has not inherited some of the more worrying of his sire's traits."
"Agreed. We must keep close watch. So far, he is just a normal boy. But then again, so was Anakin at that age. I remember he had the same blond hair, blue eyes and lust for speed as Luke does now... " Ben closed his eyes, seemingly lost in reminisces. After a moment he opened them again. "But that was a long time ago."
"Yes," agreed Beru, more to fill the silence than to answer. She had not known him then, when his Master and the 25 year-old Padawan had made an unscheduled landing on Tatooine.
But she knew the story well. As did everyone who fought against the darkness that followed.
"Well," said Ben, rising. "I must be off. I'm sure you have better things to do than sit around gossiping with an old man."
/Not old... never in my eyes... /
Beru rose also, a polite half-smile on her lips. "You are always welcome here Ben, you know that."
"But it is not necessarily safe for me to come often. *You*, of all people, know that Beru. You were always one who adhered to duty, who kept in mind the ultimate goal. That is why you were entrusted with our most precious secret."
Beru's stomach tightened as he turned to say his farewell, faded blue eyes meeting her own.
/Such mysterious depths... pools that I used to fancy I could drown in... /
She broke off his gaze and looked at her scuffed boots, a fit of modesty - or was it emotion? - temporarily closing her throat.
"Goodbye, for now, then." Ben moved toward her and gripped her shoulder in the traditional parting gesture of those who eked a living from the unforgiving desert.
Caught by surprise, Beru drew in a sharp breath. Her tightly sealed mental shields widened a moment, and a single thought escaped. One tinged with unspeakable regret.
/Why did I choose Owen? Why did I choose duty?/
As quickly as they opened, the walls of her mind slammed shut again with an almost audible finality. Frightened, the aged woman steeled herself and looked into the face of the man before her.
Ben's eyes were unreadable, and for a moment Beru was not sure if the Jedi had heard her single, pain-filled thought. But then there was a flicker in his expression, and she knew that the contact of their bodies had enabled him to read her mind as if it were a datapad.
Still he did not speak, but left her standing there. Soon he was again a silhouette against the last light of the suns.
Shaking with the realization of what she had done, *what she had revealed*, Beru sat down slowly. So now he knew the truth. Finally. After all these years...
As the darkness fell on the hot sands, she leant back into her chair and closed her eyes, lost in memories which she had vowed never to relive.
*****
She flew across time and space, back into the days of her youth and felt once again the fervour of her commitment to the fledgling Rebels' cause. Beru Whitesun was a young woman who knew her own mind and would fight for the freedom she believed in with a passion that sometimes frightened her superiors.
Beru Lars of Tatooine stood beside her younger self and marvelled at the energy and devotion that had fired the freedom fighter she once was.
Mousy brown hair escaped from the hastily arranged bun and the pale, thin lips were twisted into a sardonic smile. Her homely features were set in a poorly concealed mask of pain and self-recrimination.
Turning to see what had provoked such emotions, old-Beru realized they were in a hanger bay. After a few moments, she recognised it as part of one of the Rebel's numerous bases, on Dantooine. Pilots in their flight gear dashed across the plascrete and technicians stood under the hulls of the dilapidated Rebel fleet, fumbling with their hydrospanners to fix the old craft before the next planned mission.
One ship, however, was not old. It was a Nubian passenger vessel, hull gleaming dully as it squatted not far from where young-Beru stood partially concealed by a stack of ration crates.
At the foot of the ramp stood a small woman, dressed in the garb of a servant. A tall, commanding figure stood opposite, exchanging what was obviously a farewell. The man's beard and Jedi robes made him an instantly recognisable figurehead of the Rebellion.
There was only one thing Beru Whitesun loved more passionately than their cause. And that thing was General Kenobi.
Taking in the scene, old-Beru's heart twisted with remembered emotions. Pain, foremost. Fear. Anger. With him, with *her*. And with herself. Later, though, her white-hot rage would cool to a steely determination. But she couldn't reach across the years to tell her young self that.
The two figures at the base of the Nubian's ramp took a hesitant step closer to each other. Even from a distance, the tension and uncertainty between them was clear. Though she had not known it at the time, she was witnessing the last time the two most important people in Anakin Skywalker's life, his teacher and his wife, would ever see each other.
Though she could not see them clearly, young-Beru could imagine the long, meaningful looks the two were exchanging, trying to convey without words the feelings that could not be expressed. Despite their training in protocol and duty, Padme and Obi-Wan clasped hands in a last farewell gesture that lasted a few heartbeats longer than necessary.
Then the small woman went up the ramp and moments later the Nubian lifted slightly and glided from the hangar. Left alone, General Kenobi stood, back rigid, eyes full of unshed tears.
Both old-Beru and young-Beru turned away. The memories and the reality were too painful, too real. She had known that he was in love with Padme, but still she had allowed herself hope. Now, witnessing their emotionally-charged parting brought home some hard truths. He loved *her*. He loved the woman who had been Queen, Senator and wife of the most feared man in the galaxy. Obi-Wan would never love Beru Whitesun, the not-beautiful, not-graceful and not-powerful freedom fighter. He would never look upon her with those same admiring eyes.
He would never hold her hand just a few moments longer than he had to.
*****
Beru emerged from her memories to find twilight had descended and dinner not yet made. Pulling her aged body up from the chair, she made her way inside. A brief worry flashed into her brain about Luke, but she remembered he had been going to the Darklighter's place tonight.
She prepared herself a simple meal and sat down in the soft glow of the homestead's lamps to eat it. The stillness seemed to press on her, the quiet mocking her loneliness...
Putting down her fork, Beru found herself drawn back into the past, to the time after Padme was gone. The time after she admitted to herself that Obi-Wan loved someone else...
*****
The months after the Nubian flew so gracefully from the Rebel hangar were almost unbearable. Beru grew quieter, more introverted and more and more devoted to the Rebel cause. Throwing herself into her training, young-Beru tried to blot out the memory of the man that had stolen her heart, and the woman who had stolen his.
Then one day, the unexpected happened. Owen, Obi-Wan's younger brother, arrived on Dantooine. Rumours abounded. General Kenobi's hitherto unknown brother was their new secret weapon. Or a spy for the Empire. Or both.
Beru was on manoeuvers out in the field when a message reached her to see the General at once. She had recently been promoted to sergeant and was still adjusting to her new responsibilities. Annoyed but curious, she didn't bother to change from her muddy, sweaty camouflage and boots, but went straight up to the office on the top floor of their base.
Face still covered in greasepaint and tendrils of escaped hair plastered to her forehead and neck, she told herself that she wasn't nervous. She didn't care what she looked like, it didn't matter any more anyway. She was just another one of his loyal fighters.
The doors opened to reveal Kenobi standing by the window. On a chair in the centre of the room sat a man with enough features in common with Obi-Wan to be recognised as his brother.
"Beru," said Obi-Wan, turning from the window. "This is my brother Owen."
The simple introduction caught Beru by surprise as she had been expecting orders of some sort, maybe a curt congratulations on her squad's recent performance and then to be on her way. She recovered quickly and strode towards Owen, who had stood up to greet her.
"Beru," he said quietly, meeting her eyes. "I've heard so much about you."
His eyes were almost, but not exactly, the colour of Obi-Wan's, but had none of the depth or mystery. The man that looked at her hid nothing, was honest and from his firm handshake, confident in his ability to handle anything.
They sat, and in the meeting that followed Beru discovered he was also a blunt man, unimaginative and to the point. He seemed rough next to his brother's smooth Jedi manner and seemed to fill the room with his loud Rim-accented voice and abrupt body language.
It was strange the way they complemented each other. Obi-Wan, cultured, softly-spoken and canny; Owen, uncouth, coarse and direct.
It was in this meeting that the Rebellion's biggest secret was revealed to her. Padme's twins had been born. Struggling to understand the implications, Beru realized that the woman must have been pregnant when she left Dantooine. And Obi-Wan had known.
She thrust these thoughts aside and tried to ignore the sudden knot in her belly. They were obviously working his way around to asking her something big. Owen had gone quiet and was leaning back in his seat looking uncomfortable.
/But what could he be going to ask me? Stars know *my* opinion doesn't count for much... /
"Beru," said Obi-Wan, his tone, if possible, becoming more serious. "We need to hide these children. If Vader ever learns of them, if the Emperor got hold of them... "
He left the sentence hanging, letting her own imagination fill in the blanks.
"I can see your point, General, but with respect... what has all this got to do with me?"
Obi-Wan exchanged a look with Owen. Then the Jedi got up swiftly and excused himself. When the doors slid shut behind him, Owen cleared his throat nervously.
Beru waited impatiently for him to speak, letting her confusion show on her face.
/Honestly, men sometimes... /
Owen opened his mouth, shut it, then tried again. "Beru, the Rebel leaders have been meeting in secret for the last few days, trying to decide what is best for the twins. Eventually, they decided to split them up; it is less dangerous this way, and perhaps if one was found we would still have the hope of the other... " He paused, eyes seeking hers for some kind of approval.
Beru, growing impatient, prompted him. "Yes, I can see the logic in such a plan. But what has this got to do with you? Or me, for that matter?" She frowned. "Why are you here in the first place, Owen?"
Her directness seemed to disconcert him, and he fumbled for words. "Ah, well... that is... "
/For such a direct man, he really is having trouble spitting this out... /
"It has been decided that the girl child will stay with her mother, at least initially, with one of Padme's Senator friends. The boy, he is to be raised by surrogate parents, on a remote planet... " Owen wrested his gaze from the carpet, where it had rested. His voice became more firm. "I have been chosen for this task. It is a great honour, and I am still wondering at them choosing me... And I must have someone to help me care for the boy." He paused, allowing his next statement to realize its full dramatic implications. "They have chosen *you*, Beru."
Beru let a few seconds pass, letting this sink in. "Me? Care for Padme's child?" The knot in her guts tightened almost painfully. Determined not to let her complete shock show, she pursed her lips and fought to keep her face a mask of neutrality.
Owen smiled, a half-smile that turned into a nervous grimace. "Yes. I guess what I'm trying to say is... will you marry me, Beru Whitesun?"
This time she couldn't hide her shock. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her vision of Owen getting down on his knees before her and reaching for her mud-covered hand.
A million thoughts whirled in the maelstrom of her brain.
/Me? Wife of a man I have known not an hour? On a distant planet? Charged with raising and protecting the son of the one woman I despise above all others?/
Unlooked for, a decision formed itself in her mind, one which she grabbed onto like a drowning woman.
/Obi-Wan doesn't want you... who better to build a life with than his brother?/
She blinked again and found that Owen was still there, looking up at her earnestly from his ridiculous position on the carpet. Time slowed and every minute detail of the scene etched itself into her memory. Her broken and dirty fingernails, protruding from the clutching grasp of both of Owen's hands; the dust motes that danced in the slanted sunlight streaming in the windows; the muted shouts from the parade ground that reached the upper floors; her sore back from sitting in the uncomfortable chair.
But mostly she concentrated on the face of her future husband, the upturned features so open and earnest, the uncertainty and fear barely hidden in the eyes that were almost - but not quite - the same colour as Obi-Wan's...
"Yes," she heard herself saying. "I will marry you, Owen. And together, we will raise the boy."
*****
The clump of boots from outside broke her reverie and Beru jumped, her fork clattering to the floor.
Looking down, she realized her untouched dinner was now cold. But who was visiting at this hour?
Getting up, she glimpsed a shadow in the next room, but then the lights flickered on to reveal Owen.
"Got them parts. Decided to come back early to a home-cooked meal. Can't stand them cantina-counter specials."
Beru was surprised at the rush of relief that flooded her upon seeing her husband. Walking over to take his robe, she discovered a warmth of feeling that she had not known she felt towards the man whose bed she had shared for ten years.
"Well, I'm just glad you didn't have any trouble with sandpeople on the way home. Ben came over earlier to warn us about a group migrating through the Waste."
"Oh? Ben was here?" The surprise was evident in Owen's voice.
"Yes. He wanted to talk to you about the market." Beru was careful to keep her voice even and she disappeared into the kitchen.
"Oh," Owen grunted, lowering himself into a chair.
Hands busy preparing a meal, Beru looked through the archway at her husband. He hadn't changed much since their first meeting in his brother's office on Dantooine. His hair was a bit greyer, and his face had more lines, but he was still the gruff, direct man the Rebellion had entrusted their last hope to.
Beru looked in her heart and found that love had grown there. It did not have the white-hot intensity of her passion for Obi-Wan, but that did not matter as much any more somehow. Her love for Owen was a steady, warm glow that had woven its way into the life they had built together on the desert planet.
Her earlier slip-up had revealed to the Jedi her past feelings for him, but Beru found she did not care. She was suddenly glad she'd chosen duty. Glad she'd chosen Owen.
Together, they had been Uncle and Aunt to the hope of the galaxy.
Picking up Owen's plate, she smiled to herself. She had no regrets.
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