Chapter Text
The first thing Obi-Wan notices when he returns to his cave — aside from his throbbing feet or the ache in his lower back — was that the meager dwelling was clean . And uncharacteristically so.
Tatooine was a desert planet, sand was an inevitable part of everyday life. Obi-Wan did his best to sweep out what blew in , but no matter how hard he tried, there would always be a remaining swath or two piled in some corner. However, right now, there was hardly any sign of even a single grain, which elated as well as alarmed him.
Suddenly alert that he may have company, Obi-Wan moved further into the cavern with caution. He didn't have far to lurk as the shallow cave had a single bend where he'd placed his goods and sleeping mat, given that it was the best spot to shelter from the weekly storms. It happened to be there where he discovered his “guest.”
“Mrs. Lars?” Obi-Wan blinked. Perplexed. The woman was sitting on her knees beside his bedding — which was thicker and more mended than it was usually kept — and in her hands was straw she was currently weaving. She'd already made a pair of baskets now, this would be her third, but when Obi-Wan made himself known, the young woman's eyes lit up and she smiled at him.
“You're back. Good, good.” Then she was standing and tugging along a sack that hadn't been among Obi-Wan's possessions before. “I was on my way into town and wanted to stop by and give you these.”
Obi-Wan kept his face neutral, even when he noticed the load of stuffed jars in the bag.
“They're pickled carcams. A neighbor had a bountiful harvest and, well, it really was too much for me and Owen, so I thought you might like some.”
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “Some?” There looked to be enough stashed in the sack to last a good month or two.
Beru flushed slightly and nodded. “They keep well enough, especially after pressurized. I know you don't live in a place with much storage so I did what I could.”
It was odd; talking about canned vegetables. But so was this visit. “Yes, well, thank you, Beru. I appreciate it.”
Beru's lips twitched into a smile as she transferred the sack over to its new owner. “I have more if you ever run out.”
“I shan't think that to be a problem. I can make them last.” Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment after, focusing on the new weight in his arms before deciding to try talking again. “Does your husband know you're here?”
Beru's face told the old Jedi everything. Those eyes of hers fluttered, falling down to the way her fingers fiddled with each other. “He doesn't mind me much during my runs.”
Obi-Wan understood. He didn't have to prod further to know that this visit was Beru's idea and that her intentions weren't well disclosed with her partner, of whom wasn't at all too fond of Obi-Wan. For fair enough reasons.
With a sigh, Obi-Wan began moving the bag of jars over toward the rock wall, intending to lean it beside the other minimal stores of goods that he had collected there. “As privileged as I am to host your company, I won't keep you any longer from your errands.”
“Here, let me get that.” Before Obi-Wan knew it, Beru had taken the sack out of his hold and lugged the heavy thing herself. That was when he finally found it in himself to frown.
“Beru, why did you really stop by?”
The woman had just situated the pack of jars when she looked over toward Obi-Wan who really hadn't moved too much closer to her. The wariness of this situation wasn’t going away easily. “I wanted to give you the jars.”
“Yes, a drop-off on your way into town. But, my dear, let's be honest with each other in knowing I am very out of the way from your farmstead route.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms. He could see strange expressions on Beru's face. Thoughts and feelings hidden. He may have been able to discern her intentions better if he dug around in the Force, but he'd long since cut himself off out of concern. He didn't want to chance drawing the current powers that be to the planet. To Luke. To . . .
“It's no trouble,” Beru insisted, and even if she sounded honest, there was still more .
Obi-Wan's brows rose. He fanned his arms out and let his gaze wander around his pauper’s bedroom. “No? Then why trouble yourself with tidying up this place? You mended my blankets, weaved storage baskets for me, and even went through the daunting task of sweeping out the sand. Beru, why are you here?”
Those eyes of hers were kind. They always have been. Even when her husband's glazed over in disdain after Obi-Wan revealed the events of what befell their nephew's father for the sake of closure. It was a kindness one such as himself didn't deserve.
“After all you've done, all you've been through. I wanted to help.” Beru gave a sure nod. “I love Luke and, despite what Owen says, I know you do too. All of this is the least I can do for you.”
“You needn't do anything,” Obi-Wan assured. His shoulders fell. Trepidation beginning to bleed away. “Just knowing that he is safe and well with you both is enough.”
“But it's not!” Beru insisted. “You're miserable here. This planet is unkind and harsh, and I know you struggle to get by.”
Obi-Wan's lips twitched from the truth in her words. Tatooine's climate was rough, more so even with the population. Surviving for any amount of time was a feat in itself. And he wasn't going to lie and say he's faired well. More days than not has been a tiresome fight, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. It's as if this place and all its wretched devices were retribution for Obi-Wan's past mistakes.
“I’m . . . surviving,” Obi-Wan explains, puffing out a breath while his hands come to rest inside his sleeves, the loose fabric billowing out slightly along the curve of his abdomen. Beru was looking at him, she was particularly looking there .
“Why didn't you tell us you were pregnant?” She finally asked, as Obi-Wan suspected she inevitably would. “I didn't know you were dualsex.”
Letting out another breath, Obi-Wan did his best to shift his weight, hoping for some reprieve for his back. Nothing much helped during these waning months. “There wasn't any necessary need for you or your husband to know. My condition is not your burden.”
“But it's yours.”
Beru had come up within the batting of an eye and gently laid one of her small hands along Obi-Wan's sleeved arm. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but that didn’t stop the Jedi from flinching. A kind touch on a desert planet was few and far in between.
In his current delicate state, Obi-Wan’s learned to bow his head and keep to himself. Any rare show of generosity he’s encountered has thus far been staved off for the sake of keeping himself under radar. Distant.
Obi-Wan did not go out of his way to build relationships with the individuals he worked with, traded with, and bought goods from. This certainly gave those he ran across the impression that he was cold, mad even, but it at least walled him away from trouble. Because he’s learned trouble wasn’t hard to find on Tatooine.
Despite such a withdrawn persona, Obi-Wan allowed Mrs. Lars to touch him. They may not be the closest of friends, but she and her husband were some of the very few which Obi-Wan could consider well-met acquaintances. And he could clearly see how worried she looked, as well as so very conflicted.
“This planet; it isn't kind to mothers.” Beru was looking up at him with large eyes full of bright compassion. “That's why . . . it's why I . . .” She looked back over to all the work she'd done. “I want to help, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes to chase a moment of stillness. Even after cutting himself off, he’s done his best to focus, to meditate away everything that crept in to disturb him these dark days, unfortunately, there was just so much. Now entering into his second trimester, his anxiety and stress were on a near uncontrollable rise, and so hearing someone tell him they wanted to help, that they were genuinely concerned for his wellbeing, it had Obi-Wan’s heart fluttering if only for a moment before he forced himself to calm down. Because he couldn’t be allowed to hope for anything. Not anymore.
With a steadying breath, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He would have preferred to see empty space, believing that Beru would simply vanish like the phantoms in his dreams always did. But there she stood, ever so patient with him. That just wouldn’t do at all.
“Please, you needn't worry yourself for my sake.” Obi-Wan would rather her attention focus solely on Luke. Force knows he was a handful enough at this age.
“And what about the baby’s sake?” Beru pushed and pushed. It aggravated Obi-Wan when he knew it shouldn’t. “There are nutrients and even supplements needed for proper development. At this stage, the mother's health is immensely important. The carcams are a good source of L-3 vitamins, but you’ll need more the further you gestate. And there's other things you should mind too.” She looked back over toward the few possessions Obi-Wan owned. “Like being more careful of what you carry, as well as the amount of rest you get. If you're stressed, then so is your baby. There's so much that can go wrong. I just want you both safe.”
Obi-Wan didn't quite catch hold of the chortle that tumbled out of his throat. “I apologize, Beru, but as good-intentioned as you and your implementations are, I simply don't have the liberties to be that mindful.” With a sigh, and a quiet groan, Obi-Wan arched his back. One hand rubbed the lower vertebrae, bemoaning the strain. And so he walked over to his meditating mat and sat down, wishing for the comfort of more cushion, instead settling with leaning back against the cool stone wall to try to ease his overworked muscles.
It had been a long day. There wasn't much work on the planet that wasn't shrouded in the more shady parts of controversial industries, and what jobs that were available without said ties were rare comebys. As of now Obi-Wan's had a total of six occupations, each ending with the release of seasonal contracts. It was hard and long work, at the minimum of 16 hour days, regardless of race, gender, or condition.
During the first couple of months, Obi-Wan's work plight hadn't been as taxing. Grueling as always, but never to the point of absolute exhaustion. As a Master Jedi and, unfortunately, a seasoned veteran, Obi-Wan knew how to pace himself. It was why he tended to get rehired by companies who remembered his hardiness where many other coworkers failed.
It certainly wasn't the life of luxury he had grown up with back on Coruscant, but it was life. That much couldn't be said for many of his peers. So many of them.
But when the child within his womb grew, so did Obi-Wan's inability to resist the damning press of fatigue. He was taking more breaks than he ever had if just to find a minute or two to sit . Rest wasn't a commodity willingly provided under the binary suns of Tatooine, and Obi-Wan needed a reliable income to keep debtors off his back, and so he continued against better judgment to push himself closer and closer to sure breaking points if just to keep stability, because he knew how one miscalculated payment for anything could send an individual spiraling into slavery and, given Obi-Wan's heritage, he knew all too well how many were waiting for him to slip up. Stewjoni captives would fetch a pretty price; as he'd been told time and time again when he was tellingly caught on the few occasions running a hand over his protruding abdomen.
Changing jobs wasn't the easiest in such a dry environment and economy, but Obi-Wan has done what he could to remain discreet, be that of his name and breed. He had a duty to uphold. And he'd sworn to many gone and the few still alive that he wouldn't falter regardless of his condition. He couldn't when so much depended on him.
For a moment, Beru was quiet in thought. Her eyes glinted with possibilities. Some that Obi-Wan wished were never relayed out in the open. “You could . . . what if I convinced Owen . . .?”
Obi-Wan finally fixed Mrs. Lars with a negating stare. “I won't make your farm my home. It's much too dangerous for Luke.”
Beru huffed within a frustrated breath. “And what of your offspring? Don't you care for them?”
Obi-Wan blinked, trying to meet Beru's hard glare, but his eyes fell. They now wandered over the swell nestled in his lap. A moment later he felt the child squirm as if to remind their mother that they existed too and were very much a part of the conversation being had.
He resisted laying his hand there, trying to stop the habit that's been getting him eyed by the wrong people. Beru didn't seem too pleased with his resistance, and so her next question was expected.
“Do you intend to terminate?”
Obi-Wan shook his head. His eyes closing to the possibility. “No! No, no, there's been enough death. I could never . . .”
“And I'd never ask you to.” There Beru was, stepping closer, leaning down until her knees nearly touched Obi-Wan's. She was bolder now, taking up his hands in hers. “I just want to ensure you both make it out of these troubling times unscathed.”
Obi-Wan blinked because his eyes stung. It was a dry atmosphere. His eyes couldn't possibly be wet. “It's a little too late for that.” His smile was short-lived, a mockery for the life that's befallen him now. But Beru never let go of his hands, instead she squeezed his fingers tighter.
“It was to my understanding that jedi were very closed-off. That they never . . .” Beru's voice was lighter, almost cautionary in picking the words she spoke. “The father . . .?”
“Gone.” Obi-Wan made sure to get that out as quickly as possible. Because he did not want to have to dredge up the past when it was all for nothing. Like all the feelings once felt, once shared. “And you're right about us; solitude’s a habit we strive for, but . . . I'm afraid I've not been much of a good example myself.” In his shame, Obi-Wan's eyes never rose to meet Beru's, instead they stayed down, watching the way their hands clasped, or how his swell rose out and in with the motion of his breathing. “A moment of weakness on my part. But I promise you that when Luke comes of age I'll ensure that he will not share in my mistakes.”
Beru squeezed his hands again. “Let me and Owen worry about Luke. I want you to focus on yourself and the delicate life you're carrying.”
Obi-Wan nodded. He tried to smile for her, but it went as fast as it came. No doubt she could see how tired he was. Gods, he more than felt it. “I am trying for what I can, but I'm not entirely used to a self-focused life.”
Beru only exuded sympathy. “Trust me, you won't have to get too comfortable with it when the baby comes.”
Despite her light-hearted words, Obi-Wan's heart only continued to shrink into him at the thought of delivery, of having to survive in this hellish landscape with another vulnerable life. Coping as he was was a process. With each day it grew harder and harder to carry the weight of his thoughts, the wounds of his emotions, and he feared that when the time came for the child to be born that he'd . . . he really didn't know what kind of state he'd be in if he was honest.
Without the flow of the Force, it was more than a challenge to cleanse himself from all of the hurt, the dread, and the fear barraging him daily. And though this was the first time Obi-Wan's carried, he knew that the darkness festering inside him from the aches of his failures was not healthy for the child. It wasn't healthy for him either, which is likely one of the reasons Beru took it upon herself to pamper and mind.
“I'm here for you, Obi-Wan. I want you to know that, and I want you to believe it too.” Beru squeezed his hands one more time before she pulled away and stood back up. Taking hold of her scarf, she then began to wind it around her neck and chin, preparing to venture out into the sand again. “I'll come by once more before sunset, is that alright?.”
Obi-Wan wanted to argue, but kept those confrontational words to himself, knowing that Beru would just fight back and the exhaustion of it all would make him surrender. Again. “I have an upcoming shift at nightfall. It probably won't be the best time.”
“Then I'll return earlier, and I'll even drop you off at work. How does that sound?”
Obi-Wan shifted his jaw. Once more he wanted to fight, to decline her offers, as he often did to the helping hands he came across. He's survived this long on his own, and he knew he could continue doing so, but . . .
Eventually he won't be by himself anymore. So what was so wrong with taking pity from a kind soul? Even if Obi-Wan felt he didn't deserve it, his child certainly did.
“That would be appreciated.” Obi-Wan watched the woman's face light up at her success. And as she turned to head outside he decided it was only right to part her with a polite show of some gratitude. “Thank you, Beru, for keeping me in your thoughts.”
Beru's expression was gentle, but even Obi-Wan could see the deeper sadness in her eyes before she even went to explain it. “I've carried twice,” she informed, “Owen and I, we wanted children and tried for so long, but after losing two, I fell into myself. It was an ugly time. Owen supported me to his best ability, and as much as I loved him for it, I still couldn't stop from hating myself. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, and when I inevitably found out I was pregnant for a third time, it was too late.” The strength Beru had to push that grief in her gaze away and look at Obi-Wan with resolved resolution took the Jedi's breath away. “If I can help you in any way then I will. And I won't take ‘no’ for an answer. Tonight, I'll be back. Wait for me, alright?”
Obi-Wan couldn't trust himself to agree with her words and so simply nodded and watched her go. He didn't intend to rely on her and all the things she promised aloud and in secret, yet instead of heading out at dusk to make his way toward work, he found himself stalling, keeping an anticipating eye out for anyone traveling closer to the canyon. When Beru did return, Obi-Wan shook off the surprise and accepted all of the things she'd brought in for him, as well as the ride to his place of employment.
And Obi-Wan, exiled Jedi master and expecting mother, felt a little bit lighter than he had in a long, long time.