Title: Son of Unveiled Secrets

Author: Jade Pilot

Characters: Obi-Wan, Luke and others.

Genre: Drama AU

Timeframe: Post ROTS

"What was silent in the father speaks in the son, and often I found in the son the unveiled secret of the father."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

Chapter #1

"He has your eyes."

Obi-Wan Kenobi's head jerked up in surprise at the words from the dark-haired woman sitting across from him. Shifting her nursing baby, she tore off a section of Haroun bread and handed it to the small boy sitting next to her.

Obi-Wan blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

The woman smiled, as if recognizing how tired he felt and sympathizing. "Your son…he has his father's eyes."

Obi-Wan looked down into the peaceful face of his charge and was surprised to find him awake and staring out from his carryall. The infant shifted his gaze and locked eyes with him. He has his father's eyes indeed, he thought. Grief pierced his heart once again as he recalled the events leading up to this moment and the arduous task ahead of them.

The plain clothed woman cocked her head. "Of course yours are a darker blue…but you mark my words, they'll change up a time or two before they settle. I'm guessing about a week old?"

Obi-Wan found himself nodding as he reached out with the Force at this plain clothed fellow traveler. She only reflected a mild manner and willingness to pass the time through conversation. "Yes…nine days to be exact. How did you know he was a boy?"

She smiled and tilted her now sated bundle toward him, showing the tiny pink bow attached to the baby's light brown hair. "A guess, really…he is tiny, but appears to be healthy. Is his mother traveling with you?"

"No," he began, swallowing quickly. "She died…in childbirth." Obi-Wan looked away wondering why he had dropped his guard so completely with this woman.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, placing her infant over her shoulder and gently patting her on the back. "Your son will need you all the more then."

"Yes…he will." Obi-Wan vowed he would be there for the child. Between the Lars and himself, Luke would be well taken care of. He looked around the large room, not remembering the last time he had taken a public intergalactic freighter as his mode of transportation. The image of Anakin and Padme dressed in outland peasant clothing boarding such a vehicle all those years ago flashed before him, causing yet another pang of grief.

The little boy chewing the last of his bread jumped off the seat next to his mother and began to wander closer to him. He stared up at Obi-Wan, his eyes bright. "Did you paint your hair?"

"What?" Obi-Wan responded.

"Your hair…did you paint it?"

"Ben, be mindful of your manners," the little boy's mother called, extending another piece of bread towards him.

Obi-Wan smiled, finally understanding. "I'm afraid this is the color I was born with, young one."

Ben scrambled back towards his mother, taking the bread offered him and biting a mouthful, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's face.

"Sorry," the mother said with a smile.

"It's quite all right, he has a naturally healthy curiosity. I imagine it will serve him well."

Her lips twisted into a grimace. "If it doesn't get him into trouble."

"I doubt there is much chance of him escaping an adventure or two."

She nodded, running her hands through Ben's untidy hair. "Strange, I had a hankering that this was your first child. I can see now that you've already raised one."

He nodded, looking away—hoping to end the conversation. Various smells assaulted his senses, making him more aware than ever of the difference in these people's way of life. He looked over to see farmers checking on their livestock while mothers began preparing cold cotillions for their families. It had been his idea to travel this way. He hoped it would disguise any clues to his real identity as he and Luke journeyed to Tatooine. Obi-Wan did not realize how out of place he would feel. He noticed the calloused hands and dirty nails of the men around him and curled his own well cared for ones under the swaddling clothes of his charge.

He looked down into the face of the now sleeping infant and sighed. "Don't you worry, young man, you will be well taken care of. I promise you." Obi-Wan couldn't help but run his finger against the soft cheek slumbering so peacefully and marvel at the feelings that sensation produced. Careful…it wouldn't do to form an attachment at this stage now, would it?

Obi-Wan felt a sudden lurch as the large vessel shuddered.

"We'll be landing soon," said the woman across from him. "Will you be disembarking or going on to Ryloth?"

He startled, drawing his hand from Luke's face and met his fellow traveler's eyes. "We'll be getting off here."

The woman nodded. "Best gather your things, then." She wrapped her young infant in the faded blanket and placed her into a small woven basket. "Public Transportation waits for no one."

"Of course," said Obi-Wan, lifting the strap to the carryall and draping it over his shoulder, as he picked up his travel case. Luke cuddled up against his chest and seemed to drift off to sleep. The transport lurched once more and eased to a stop. "And thank you."

"Straight paths."

He paused, turning back to the young mother. "May the Force, uh...and straight paths to you, too." He quickly stepped to the door, concerned about the quizzical look on her face as he faltered with what must be a typical traveler's fair-well. The hatch opened with a hiss, blasting Obi-Wan with the dry heat of Anchorhead. Stepping quickly, he moved down the gangplank and hurried to the first building he came to, already beginning to sweat. He forgot how extreme the conditions were here and felt a pang of guilt about bringing the baby to such a place.

Entering quickly, he paused at the entrance, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. Wrapping his cloak around him, he hid Luke from view and noticed the unobtrusive sign: Anchorhead Cantina. "Good, I could stand something other than ration bars for a change." He noticed the relaxed atmosphere and hurried over to a small table in the back, his back to the wall. He placed his case beside him on the floor as the waitress bumped up to the table.

"Know what you want?"

Obi-Wan smoothed back his hair and cleared his throat. "What would you recommend?"

"Eating some place else." She laughed and then seemed to take pity on him. "You're not from around here, are you handsome?"

Obi-Wan felt his face flush as he pursed his lips. "You might say that."

"Ah-huh…and you're not about to tell me where you're from either." She pulled a stylus from behind her ear and jotted down something on a flimsie-pad. "How about a nerf steak and a wroorian ale?"

"Sounds like ambrosia."

"Wait till you taste it." She huffed, shaking her head. "And you can call me Moina."

"You may call me…Ben," he answered.

She winked, leaving him to watch her sashay away from the table to some imagined rhythm.

This was certainly going to take some time getting used to. He tipped open his cloak, taking in the sleeping countenance of his charge and then leaned back against the chair. Nine days. Had it really only been nine days since the universe had so radically changed? He swallowed against the lump in his throat, blinking back the emotion that threatened to spill from him. Lost in thought, he jumped as the waitress neared the table.

"Stang—you've got a baby," said the waitress, staring at him with knit brows.

He closed the cloak quickly. "Yes…yes I do."

She deposited the large platter of sizzling meat in front of him, followed by a chilled bottle of ale. "And here I thought this was the beginning of a beautiful relationship." She braced her fists on her flared hips and snorted. "You're mighty good-looking, but that's not the kind of action I was looking for."

Obi-Wan pondered Moina's words as he picked up his utensils and began to devour the food in front of him. As bad as it was, it was the best thing he'd had in over a week. He drained the bottle in three gulps and was surprised to see Moina already back with another bottle in hand.

"Whoa, cowboy. That kind of drinking takes training and somehow you don't look the type."

"Thirsty, I suppose," Obi-Wan managed, reaching for the new bottle. "I'd forgotten how dry this planet is."

"So you've been here before?"

He froze in mid-bite. Blast! The last thing he needed was to call attention to himself. "It was a very long time ago."

Moina tore the flimsie from her pad and laid it face down on the table. "Must have been. You don't talk like anyone from around here, that's for sure. Take your time, if you need anything else, I'll be nearby."

Obi-Wan watched her leave and then took another bite of meat, hardly tasting the nerf against his tongue. He needed to finish up here and get to a comm unit before the suns went down. He leaned over and opened his travel case, pulling out his datapad. Scrolling down a bit he paused when he got to name he was searching for.

The weight of all that lay before him seemed to swell around him, choking him for a moment. Breathe… He turned the bill over and then tossed the appropriate amount of credits on top of the flimsie, then gathered his case.

"Got a place to stay tonight, handsome?"

Obi-Wan turned, acknowledging the waitress but with his hand on the doorknob. "Yes, at least, I believe so. Would you know where the nearest public comm. unit is located?"

"Try the Weary Traveler next door."

He nodded and quickly ducked out the doorway, squinting into the afternoon suns. The smaller restaurant was only a few strides away, but the gusting winds made it difficult to keep his cloak closed around the infant and manage his travel case at the same time. As if noticing his protector's stress, Luke began to whimper against the flapping closure of his outer wear.

"There, there little one…hold on." Obi-Wan pulled the door open and ducked into the well lit room. He immediately saw the comm unit area and hurried over to the one nearest to him. "Let's see what all the ruckus is about now, shall we." He opened his cloak to see a wide awake infant with the most pitiful look on his face. "It can't be all that bad now, can it?"

He pulled the last disposable bottle from his case and popped the top of infant formula. He congratulated himself and how rather good he was getting at the whole bottle-formula exercise. Screwing the top on good, he removed the cap and plunged the business in to Luke's already open mouth. Obi-Wan smiled as he sensed Luke's immediate pleasure. "Just like your father, always happy in the process of negotiating a meal."

He felt another pang and shifted the bottle to his other hand, powering up the communicator. After punching in the appropriate numbers, he waited for the answering signal.

A tinny recording answered, "We're sorry, that number is no longer in service."

"Odd," he reflected out loud. He had just spoken with Beru Lars a week ago. He cancelled the call and looked up information on the key pad near the unit.

"Information," a female voice answered, "how may I direct your call?"

"Yes, I'm trying to place a call to Owen and Beru Lars, please." He waited, the silence on the other end of the phone growing heavy.

"Sir, are you a relative of the Lars?"

"No, but I have an…appointment with them and have been unable to contact them via comm. unit."

"One moment, please."

Obi-Wan fidgeted, noticing the bottle halfway empty. He would need to stop soon and move Luke to his shoulder. There's no way he wanted a repeat of what happened in the fresher of the public transport five days ago.

"Darklighter," a voice barked.

Obi-Wan scowled. "Excuse me, but did you say dark lighter?"

"Who is this?" the voice demanded.

"I'm sorry, the information operator seems to have made a mistake. I was looking for the Lars residence."

Again a silence over the comm followed by a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid that's going to be a bit difficult to manage."

"I don't understand, I just spoke with Beru Lars eight days ago."

"Mister, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you but—"

Obi-Wan felt the back of his neck begin to tingle. "But…what?"

"Owen and Beru Lars are dead."

to be continued…