Owen was one of Shmi's sons. Never mind that Shmi raised him more than his birthmother, may her soul be at peace, never mind that his stepbrother hadn't been on planet for ten years. He was still just one of Shmi's sons.

She never used the word stepson with him and for that he was grateful. Most of the time he could pretend he was her only son, the only one she had fussed over, taken care of, sung songs to, told stories about. But then they would met someone and she would introduce him as one of her sons, or someone would come over and ask how her son was and she would talk about both of them. Not, Owen knew, that he could compare. Anakin raced pods, something no other human could do. Anakin survived slavery, and freed himself. Anakin was a mechanical prodigy who built a protocol droid for his mother. Anakin was going to come back to free all the slaves. Anakin knew things before they happened. Anakin was considered powerful by a Jedi Master. Anakin had a miracle birth. Anakin was flying among the stars and lived on Coruscant. Anakin was training to be a Jedi. Owen was the son of a moisture farmer on the outer rim who was going to inherit his father's farm. Throw a party why didn't he?

Owen knew that Shmi loved him, looked after him, praised him. But it always seemed to be Anakin, Anakin, Anakin. And now Anakin was standing in front of him. Owen looked at his stepbrother for the first time. Anakin had an aura of command that could not be denied and blue eyes with danger only half-hidden within. Anakin left to find Shmi, when Owen had obeyed his father and stayed at home. Anakin single-handedly did what 30-40 men couldn't and brought back Shmi. Anakin fixed everything while Owen murmured useless words. They both buried her. Anakin then departed on a rescue mission.

Owen stood before Shmi's grave and watched the stars, knowing one of Shmi's sons was out there, and came to a realization.

Anakin was a better son. And Owen had lost.

.

.

Anakin was one of Shmi's sons. Never mind she was the one who gave birth to him, never mind that he was the only one who she named. He was now only one of Shmi's sons.

He looked at Owen and was grateful he hadn't known about his stepbrother, he didn't need lectures from his master on jealously on top of everything else. He had thought that he was her only son, the only one she had fussed over, taken care of, sung songs to, told stories about. But now there was proof in front of him that showed the assumption false. He used his fear for his mother to burry his jealousy for his stepbrother, probably not the way to deal with emotions that his master would suggest, but it worked. As he flew the speeder over the dun sea Owen came back into his thoughts. Owen got to tell Shmi his accomplishments. Owen was born free, not a former slave. Owen spent time with his mother daily. Owen had a secure future. Owen brought home a girl for his mother to approve of. Owen had a father. Owen was liked and trusted by those in the community. Owen was whole without scars. Owen had no conflicted, dark thoughts. Anakin was living a dream that kept becoming a nightmare. Have a parade why didn't he?

Anakin knew that Shmi loved him, looked after him, must have spoken about him. But all that his mind could think of was the time she must have spent on Owen. Owen who had replaced him. He remembered the first sight of his stepbrother. Owen had a steady sense of home about him and warmth tempered only by harsh Tatooine. Owen had been there to assist the early search from afar when Anakin had obeyed his master and ignored his dreams. Anakin, for all his power, all his training, couldn't save her but had to bring home his mother's body to her family. Owen comforted everyone while Anakin raged uselessly in the garage. They both buried her. Owen then stood before her grave properly to mourn.

Anakin departed looking back to the sand covered ball and watched it disappear from sight, knowing one of Shmi's sons was there, and came to a realization.

Owen was a better son. And Anakin had lost.