Title:A Desert Morning
Author:Storm
Feedback:Sure, why not?
Rating:G
Category:Drama
Timeline:Inter-Trilogy
Archive:Certainly, just let me know where
Disclaimer:Star Wars places and characters are figments of George Lucas' imagination. I only borrowed them.

Ben Kenobi dreamed of water. Cool, clear water, rushing down a stream bed. The waterfalls from Naboo, cascading down the gigantic cliffs. Steaming, mineral scented, hot pools on the Moon of Daleine. A tall glass of iced water. Rain falling from the sky. Water.

He woke, the rememberence of the slick water sliding around his body as he swam through his dreams. He woke, and felt the early morning sun, already heating up his dusty stone cottage. His mouth was dry, as it always was in the mornings, as it always was no matter the time of day, here on desolate Tatooine. He blinked his eyes against the glare from the window, and rolled out of bed, reaching for the jug of water on his nighttable. His thirst temporarily quenched, he began his limbering exercises, stretching out his night stiffened muscles.

A wry smile flitted across his face, as he thought back to when he could jump out of bed and battle a rock-targ without losing a beat. Or at least he had thought he could. Who was it who said that youth is wasted on the young? The Jedi's muscles finally responding, he went into his next routine, and felt the sweat beginning to slide down his back as the sun crept a little higher in the sky. What was on the agenda for today? His thoughts circled around as he lunged and parried, the feel of his hidden light sabre distinct in his empty hand.

It was not the right time to send a message out to Yoda, it would be waste of credits, because the other Jedi would not be there to recieve it. Yoda only traveled at pre-determined times, and Ben timed his messages accordingly. A trip to Anchorhead might be useful, he needed some provisions, and perhaps that book shop dealer had come across some of the titles he'd been looking for. Yes, Anchorhead, and right after breakfast too. That way he would find himself in a cantina during the mid-afternoon heat, perhaps with the book dealer, who was fast becoming a good friend. And who knows, maybe he would get a glimpse of the boy too, heaven knew he had few enough of those. Perhaps Owen would be in town for provisions himself, and he normally did bring Luke along. To teach him the ways of the moisture farmer. Ben grinned openly now, and finished his morning session with a glass of chilled fruit juice. The ways of a moisture farmer indeed. With the Force running through that boy in the strength that Ben had sensed, moisture farming was not in his future.

Still, it wouldn't be wise to antagonize Owen again. If Beru were with them, he might be able to get a few words in before being sent on his way. But Beru did not often leave the farm. Ben's thoughts warmed as he thought of her, a good woman, one he could have loved himself had he not decided she would be as a sister long ago. And a good mother to the boy too, maybe not better than his real mother, but under the circumstances she did wonderfully. And Luke loved them well, this Ben knew, and it made him glad.

He no longer remembered his own parents, really never had, only the stories he's been told. He hadn't met them until long after he had left childhood behind, and though it was the way of the Jedi, he sometimes felt a faint regret. What would it be like to be part of a 'normal' family? Well, it was ridiculous to think about that now. And he had had a family, and it was a real family too. Yoda, who he was still able to contact now and then, though only secretly and briefly. Qui-Gon, the thought of his late Master, his true father in all ways but one. A flash of pain, quickly suppressed. No matter what came after, that one instant, that one scream of denial, had never left him. The controlled battle that followed, the long years after, and all his Jedi control was still needed to thrust that memory down, to keep the pain and anger under his control, to not give in. He took a calming breath, and let other faces slide through his mind. Anakin, the young Anakin, gleeful over some trifle, laughing aloud with joy. Anakin, older, perfecting his control over the Force, smiling with happiness over the sound of birdsong, and looking with love on the face of his beloved. And Amidala, as he first saw her, in her handmaiden disguise. In her royalty 'get-up' as he had called it, making her laugh. And the love in her eyes as she watched his youthful Padawan grow to adulthood.

Family. Most people, at least the ones who remembered the Jedi, thought they were emotionless. There is no passion, there is serenity. Ben smiled again as he wrapped his desert boots to keep out the ever-present sand. Passion there was, the difference was a Jedi could control it in a heartbeat. The true test of a Jedi was in control, not in suppression.

Ben grabbed his cloak, the one thing he had never been able to leave behind, his brown Jedi cloak, which worked well in this desert clime, and did his final sweep through the rooms. He always followed the same routine, checking the sand seals on the windows and door, putting the power on minimal, and finally, making sure his lock box was secure. As he pulled the box out from under the bed, he had a sudden impulse, and with a rueful thought, gave into it. He opened the box, and stood lost in thought again as he looked down on his most reasured possessions. One by one he lifted them, running his hands over them. This was truly a morning of remembrance, he thought. And on the bottom, his light sabre. Built by himself, how many had he built over the years? More than most Jedi, at least that's what Yoda always said. He had a distressing tendency to..well...ruin them. A laugh shook his body, stilled suddenly when his eyes fell on the other light sabre, lying so peacefully next to his. Anakin. Where was that laughing boy now, the lover, the friend, the Jedi? The father? Ben's Jedi control clamped down again, as he swallowed the quick tears. What is the matter with me this morning? I must get out of here.The thought of other faces, other voices filled him with longing. Why, he thought with wonder, I'm lonely! It's no surprise, living out here at the far end of the Dune Sea, a hermit, the 'old wizard' that Owen calls me. Anchorhead. The vision of the town filled him with pleasure, and he knew he had to go there, and be with others for a while. The lock once again fastened, he threw the cloak over his shoulders, and set the alarm system on his way out.

He climbed into his rarely used speeder, and pointed the nose of it towards town. He sped off over the desert, and brought the face of the book dealer to mind. The present, young Padwan, always be mindful of the present, he thought with one last smile of remembrance. Qui-Gon, beloved friend and mentor, dead in his arms. Anakin, lost forever. Amidala, as she said goodbye to her only son. Yoda, hidden. Mace, gone. All the Jedi, gone. Only one old man, living in exile on a desert world, one ancient Master surviving in a swamp, and a boy. The boy. Anakin, Amidala, Qui-Gon, Mace. The evil that was loose in the galaxy, the memories of the ones left behind, all waiting for one boy to grow up. And Ben Kenobi was waiting too. Let Owen rant and bluster. Ben Kenobi was a Jedi, and the Jedi were patient. He could wait.