Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
“Pregnant, she must still appear. Hidden, safe, the children must be kept.”
“We must take them somewhere the Sith will not sense their presence.”
“My wife and I will take the babies. We've always talked of adopting. They will be loved with us.”
When it came to disappearing entirely, Tatooine was as good a place as any. Ben Kenobi harbored no particular fondness for the planet, but it offered the sort of anonymity that was difficult to come by closer to the Core, and being in Hutt Space guaranteed some separation from Imperial officials.
Tatooine was also where it had all gone wrong and, as such, was the only place Ben could hope to find answers regarding how to prevent such a tragedy from occurring again.
He was running out of time, though he had felt that way for nearly two decades. Two decades spent under the torturous heat of twin suns, searching for a why or a how. Two decades making polite conversation with his nearest neighbors in hopes that he would discover something that made what he knew make sense, that he might hear a story or a description preceded by Shmi said he always… that would cause everything to fit together.
Two decades paying penance for every move he had made that culminated in Anakin’s fall to the Dark Side.
It shouldn’t have taken two decades. He was supposed to have moved on, was supposed to have started training the children on some other backwater planet where they were unlikely to be discovered. In fact, Bail Organa had contacted him nearly ten years prior to inform him that, after months of careful observation, he and his wife, Breha, had determined that their daughter, Leia, was exceptionally good at keeping secrets — “Not just good for a ten-year-old; good by any metric.” Leia’s twin, Luke, was…improving in that area, and should be adequately trained by the time the school term ended. They were preparing the children for a change in scenery for their instruction. What month did he think was best to begin?
That month certainly hadn’t been a good one, nor was the next. Ben still hadn’t determined what exact course of events had caused Anakin’s fall. He didn’t know if there was something genetically malevolent about the Skywalker line or if Anakin’s surroundings had played a significant part in his embracing of the Dark Side. If he didn’t know what caused it, how could he possibly prevent it from happening to another Padawan? How could he prevent Luke and Leia from turning?
Really, the entire year had ended up being bad timing, as had the next and the next. When Bail contacted him mere days after the twins’ fifteenth birthday, Ben had been fairly certain he would be ready the next time his old friend commed.
But he didn’t comm.
Ben didn’t pay much mind to the silence. He assumed Bail or Breha would get in touch again if they truly thought the children ready, and by then, Ben would be ready, too.
The next time he saw Bail’s face wasn’t through direct contact, but via a galactic news report being shown in a local cantina. The viceroy was announcing the date of his retirement from the Galactic Senate. He confirmed that, after an apparent landslide victory in an election on Alderaan, the pale young woman with big, brown eyes standing next to him would take his place.
Ben could hardly look at her for more than a few seconds before focusing his attention back on Bail. She looked like her mother.
He wondered how Bail could manage having the living, breathing reminder of the loss of Padme stare across the breakfast table at him every day. He could barely stand the mere memory of her ultimate fate. He still had dreams about her sixteen years after she’d breathed her final breaths, dreams in which she lived, dreams in which she died in a variety of ways, dreams in which she stayed with Anakin as he had wanted her to.
Leia spoke calmly and clearly, with fire simmering just under the surface of every word that reminded him simultaneously of all of her parents, both biological and adopted. Breha and Bail had clearly trained her to communicate well, though she possessed her own sort of easy charm and wry wit that Ben had no doubt had endeared her to the public.
He wondered about the boy, wondered what Luke was up to while his sister shackled herself to the impossible ideal of equitable politics. Bail had mentioned something about him learning to fly larger ships the last time they had spoken, and Ben had briefly wondered if the children were involved in the insurgent activity that he knew Bail continued to engage in.
Surely not. Bail and Breha were devoted to their causes, but they had always been protective of their children. They wouldn’t allow such young people to involve themselves in something as dangerous as the rebellion.
In the more than three years that had passed since Bail’s retirement announcement, Ben had hardly had to wonder what the twins were doing at any given moment. Leia was the darling of the Senate as far as the general populace was concerned, and it was no wonder: she spoke up for the poor and needy, raised the issue of abolishing slavery of all sentient species galaxy-wide as often as she was allowed, and routinely seemed to represent the interests not just of Alderaanians, but of any being who had struggled under the crushing hand of the Empire. They would never say so publicly, but Ben couldn’t imagine a galaxy in which at least two-thirds of her fellow senators didn’t despise her.
Luke’s presence was less obvious, but Ben gathered that the boy was acting as extra security when his sister traveled on her many diplomatic missions. Her transport was sometimes shown taking off or landing on one planet or another, and it was always flanked by a minimum of two X-wing starfighters. Luke appeared to be flying one of them every time Ben saw a report of Leia traveling.
They seemed to be doing well despite their lack of training. As a senator, Leia had no doubt met both Palpatine and Vader, and yet it seemed as if they were none the wiser. She was shielding her Force-sensitivity somehow, and since Luke appeared to be with her most of the time, Ben had to assume he was as well. They were better off without being trained by him, without ever knowing of their familial baggage.
He assumed he wouldn’t hear from the Organas again.
As spring slipped into summer on Tatooine, many locals shifted their habits to align with the evening hours. The days were barely tolerable during less-extreme seasons, but they were unbearable during the summer. Ben took to sleeping during daylight hours, the same way his neighbors did.
He was surprised to be woken by frantic knocking on his door a mere hour before midday. Ben squinted at his chrono a moment longer than usual to make sure he was reading the time correctly. He tried to ignore the knocking, but it only increased in volume and speed.
Something must be wrong, he thought as he hauled his aging body out of bed. Why anyone would come to him for help was beyond him, but he could at least see what they needed.
He swung the door to his small dwelling open and was immediately blinded by the midday suns. His vision took seconds to adjust as he squinted at the person standing outside his home.
Blue eyes set beneath a mop of sandy hair met his. The young man was sunburned and covered in sand. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
“Uncle Ben?”
Chapter 2: Chapter One
Chapter Text
Luke wouldn’t have chosen an X-wing if he’d had it to do over.
Or, well, he probably would have. But in that moment, as he plummeted to what would no doubt be his death, he thought that his mother might have had a point: X-wings were easily confused with Alliance ships in battle, and even though most of the galaxy knew Prince Luke Organa often flew one when escorting his twin sister’s transport, that didn’t mean a TIE fighter pilot would be able to tell him apart from a member of an Alliance ambush in the heat of the moment.
R2-D2’s screeches and whistles kept Luke focused as they rapidly approached the surface of Tatooine. Despite it all seeming quite hopeless, he still needed to try to get himself out of this mess. The fate of the galaxy might very well depend on his ability to do so.
He attempted to jerk the nose of the ship upward, shouting instructions to the frantic Artoo as he did so. As they streaked toward bright desert sands, Luke had to come to terms with the fact that his beloved ship was doomed. We don’t have to be, though. He activated the ejection mechanism, first for Artoo, then for his own seat, propelling them both away from the X-wing.
Luke didn’t quite remember landing, but he was fairly sure that, if he had lost consciousness, it wasn’t for too long. Both suns were still high in the sky, at least, so it couldn’t have taken that much time for him to come to. He released his crash webbing, wincing as pain shot through every muscle in his body. When he removed his flight helmet, the light from the twin suns flooded his vision, forcing him to squint, and causing the dull pain that enveloped his head to sharpen.
He scanned the rolling sand dunes, searching for Artoo. The little droid was important to Luke personally, but beyond that, he was fairly certain based on Leia’s last message that she had transmitted something that their father needed to see as quickly as possible. Luke didn’t know exactly what — he had been kept in the dark about a large number of seemingly on-the-fly decisions that had apparently been made on the Tantive IV — but if Leia said it was important, he knew it was important.
Luke heard a faint chirp followed by a whistle and walked in the direction of the sounds, calling for the droid. When he finally saw Artoo — covered in sand but seemingly functional — he felt a wave of relief crash over him.
“Artoo!” He ran to the droid and patted his dome before kneeling to check him over for damage. “Are you all right? Anything that needs to be fixed?”
Artoo whistled an affirmative message — he was all right, nothing seemed to be out-of-place — and Luke leaned against him. He looked again at the endless, rolling sand dunes that surrounded them, and felt a new sense of dread and horror. It was midday on Tatooine and the only provisions he had were the four rations bars and two small canteens of water that were stored in his seat for exactly this sort of situation. If they didn’t find shelter quickly, Luke would certainly burn and blister; he might also dehydrate and die.
“Artoo, locate the direction with the highest density of lifeforms, would you? We need to get out of this heat.”
Artoo beeped in agreement, and after a quick stop at Luke’s discarded seat for the emergency provisions, they headed in the direction that he indicated would be best.
Alderaan didn’t really have deserts. Luke had obviously seen his fair share of sand during visits to the seaside — his childhood summers had been spent building sandcastles with Leia and burying their father up to his chin in sand — but Alderaanian beach sand was a far cry from Tatooine desert sand. For one thing, they always had the option to run into the water when the sun became too warm to bear. But, also, the beaches of Alderaan were made up of very fine, almost soft sand; the sand he and Artoo had to trudge through was coarse and unpleasant.
As they moved through the desert, Luke got a taste of just how sore his muscles were going to be in the coming days. If he could get home quick, he was sure his mother would insist on a few hours in a bacta tank, and Luke didn’t think he’d fight her on it. He didn’t really fight his parents on much, anyway; that was more Leia’s thing.
Leia. Now that he wasn’t fending off TIE fighters or fighting for his own life, he had the mental space to worry about his sister. Her transport was supposed to land on Tatooine — another diplomatic mission covering for Alliance work. They were supposed to find their Uncle Ben, a man who was neither actually their uncle or actually named “Ben”, but who their parents had always spoken of reverently. He was supposed to have come to live with the Organas at one point — or maybe they were all going to stay somewhere other than Alderaan together; Luke couldn’t remember what his mother had said. Either way, it had never happened, and now, Father had asked Leia to retrieve the man to help the Alliance.
Only…something had happened over Scarif, something bad. Luke still wasn’t clear what, exactly, had occurred, but Leia had sent a scrambled feeling his way, the same sort of blip of terrified confusion he remembered receiving from her when they were younger and she had broken her arm falling from a tree. She had assured him over the comms that they were still going to Tatooine, but the scared confusion lingered. When the TIE fighters had appeared, Leia had chanced another message over comm, this time brief instructions to take Artoo to Ben.
That had been the last message Luke had received from his sister before his own ship was hit. He didn’t know what had occurred on the transport or why she had risked transmitting anything to an astromech droid with Imperial fighters nearby, but Leia was smart; she wouldn’t risk revealing her work with the Alliance unless it was absolutely necessary.
She’s a diplomat on a mercy mission. She has immunity. Even if she gets boarded, they have to let her go, Luke reminded himself. Besides, Leia held her own against senators three times her age all day long; she could certainly talk her way out of another run-in with the Empire.
Still, he couldn’t quite shake his concern. Transmitting whatever she had to Artoo was risky, especially with Imperial ships so nearby…
Luke shook his head and focused on moving forward. Leia could take care of herself. What he had to do was take care of whatever information she had deemed so-very important, which meant finding Uncle Ben, and he wasn’t even sure if he was on the right side of the planet.
An hour passed without seeing a hint of a lifeform. Luke’s skin was starting to feel hot, and sweat burned his eyes. He had already drained a canteen, and was attempting to ration the second one, but he kept feeling nauseous and dizzy. He wasn’t sure if the cause was the heat or a head injury, but dehydration wasn’t helping regardless. Running out of water was a death sentence, though, so he sipped as little as he could while still remaining upright under the blistering midday suns.
The hut that seemed to appear out of nowhere shimmered in the bright light, and Luke wondered briefly if it was some sort of mirage. Had it not been for Artoo’s excited whistling and beeping, he might have continued to doubt his own senses. But the hut was real, and it seemed to solidify as he drew near to it.
Luke took in his surroundings before knocking on the door of the hut. It was the only structure in his line of sight. The nearest neighbors were either hidden behind sand dunes or far enough away to be invisible from where it sat. With the second canteen half consumed, he couldn’t risk trying for a farther location. I hope whoever lives here is friendly.
Luke’s parents had taught him to respect the general idea of the Force. They had strict rules about when and where it could be discussed, but both seemed to be convinced that the Force not only existed, but that it also played a part in their day-to-day lives. He hadn’t disagreed, really, though he couldn’t say he had given it much thought, either. He certainly didn’t feel as if he was being led or guided through life in any meaningful way.
That all changed when his frantic knocking brought to the door of the hut a tired, haggard, older man in a tunic and cloak. Luke hadn’t received a holomessage from the man in several years, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had landed on the exact doorstep of the person he most needed.
Uncle Ben.
Leia Organa wasn’t unfamiliar with being stunned. The moment she and Luke had been allowed to use blasters they had — to their parents’ abject horror — immediately stunned one another. She had been accidentally stunned a couple of other times since, but the nausea and confusion she felt once she came to never seemed to improve.
She surfaced in a small, port-less cabin — a cell, she was certain. As she blinked her vision clear, memories of the final moments before everything went dark trickled through her mind. They had been boarded as her transport approached Tatooine — illegally boarded, she would be sure to remind every being she came into contact with. Leia had managed to transmit the battle station plans to Artoo, but she wasn’t sure if Luke had received her comm. Imperial ships had shot at escape pods as they left the Tantive IV; she imagined they had at least tried to kill her brother as well.
Leia closed her eyes and attempted to reach out to Luke using the odd sort of connection she had with her twin. She felt nothing, but that wasn’t necessarily bad; her ability to sense his presence had always been proximity-based. If she couldn’t feel him, it meant he hadn’t been captured.
It could also mean that he was dead, but she couldn’t dwell on that possibility right then.
She took in as much as she could about her surroundings and committed the details to memory. She was in a well-lit cell, and had been dumped on the deckplates rather than laid out on the bare platform that she assumed was meant to act as a bunk. Deckplates meant she was on a ship, not in a planetside holding cell. The bulkhead surrounding her was made of smooth durasteel, and the door was designed to nearly blend in with the bulkhead panels. A tiny, glimmering speck near the upper corner of the room gave away the recording device that was no doubt sending live images of her to some security officer somewhere.
Heavy footsteps from outside the cell seemed to approach and Leia scrambled to sit on the bunk. She crossed her ankles primly and folded her hands in her lap in an attempt to exhibit just how in control she felt to whoever came through the door. She repeated her demands in her head to settle on the most impactful statements as the footsteps drew nearer.
The door to the cell whooshed open and Leia glared at the two stormtroopers that entered. “It’s about time—”
The filtered voice of the soldier interrupted her. “On your feet.”
She blinked. “I have diplomatic immunity. The Emperor isn’t going to be pleased to hear that you’ve illegally detained one of his Senators while on a mercy mission—”
The other stormtrooper pointed a blaster in her direction. “We know who you are, Princess. On your feet. You’re being transferred.”
Shocked — and not wanting to risk being stunned again — Leia stood, allowing the first stormtrooper to clasp binders around her wrists. “There will be hell to pay in the Senate when they find out—”
“Come with us.”
Seething, Leia followed the two troopers through the cell doorway, only to be flanked by two more. They led her down a series of corridors, twisting and turning until Leia found herself being marched straight toward an impossibly tall man dressed in black armor from head to toe. She managed to catch herself before rolling her eyes, and instead focused all of her irritation on the Emperor’s lackey.
Indignation flared in Leia’s chest. “Lord Vader, I should have known. Only you could be so bold. The Imperial Senate will not sit for this, when they hear you've attacked a diplomatic—”
The unchanging mask of Vader settled on Leia’s face. “Don't play games with me, Your Highness. You weren't on any mercy mission this time. You passed directly through a restricted system. Several transmissions were beamed to this ship by Rebel spies. I want to know what happened to the plans they sent you.”
Leia scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a member of the Imperial Senate on a diplomatic mission—”
“You’re part of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor!” he barked, the sound of his mechanical breathing filling in every bit of silence between words. “Take her away!”
Before Leia could manage to say another word, she was shoved along by her entourage of stormtroopers. She made made a mental note of the number emblazoned on the doorway of the lift they boarded as well as the floor she was taken to. Five right turns and two left turns later, and she was shoved into a room much like the one she had just left.
Sub-level five, Detention Block AA-23, Cell 2187. She repeated the information over and over again until she was sure she would remember it, and hoped that it would indeed prove useful very soon.