Chapter Text
Obi-Wan jolted from a deep meditative trance at the sound of a piercing wail. It was a testament to the stress he was under that instead of following his reflexes - trained into him from a very young age - he froze in instinctual terror.
They’ve found us , he thought, heart hammering in his chest. Luke .
It took an instant for reason to break through the panicked fog - he was safe, Luke was safe.
The piercing cry was growing in intensity and pitch. Obi-Wan unfolded his legs and got slowly to his feet, making his weary way to the makeshift cot. He peered down at the unhappy infant, tiredly contemplating what the boy might need, feeling inadequate and utterly lost.
Luke was a screaming, red-faced mess - a state of being Obi-Wan was beginning to woefully relate to, though his training at least meant he didn’t externally look like he was seconds away from a mental breakdown.
The Force is with me. I am one with the Force
He kept up the silent mantra, because, he thought with a self-defacing smile, it was important to maintain one’s decorum, even when alone in the middle of nowhere.
A pair of bright blue eyes - so painfully similar to their fathers - stared furiously up at him.
“You deserve so much better,” Obi-Wan mumbled, the words spilling unthinkingly from his lips. The moment he registered what he’d said he felt a wave of self-loathing and crippling guilt. It took him a long moment to realise he was crying.
All things considered, it was becoming something of a regular occurrence. So much for Jedi stoicism.
“Dear heart, I don’t know what you need. Are you hungry?” he asked a little desperately, gently picking up the child and slowly rocking him back and forth. He spared their supply of pasteurised milk a concerned glance, aware that he would need to purchase more far sooner than he’d initially anticipated. That would mean having to travel into town, which presented numerous risks he’d rather not contemplate. “Come now, you only just ate. You can’t be hungry already,” he blew an errant lock of hair out of his eyes and wiped away the grime and sweat on his brow. It was an exceedingly hot day, perhaps that was the cause for Luke’s bad mood. “Is that it, little one? Are you overheating?”
He sent soothing tendrils of calm through the force - a struggle given the torrent of emotions he was feeling - and picked up a piece of card, gently fanning the child’s face. Slowly, blissfully, Luke calmed down before eventually dropping off to sleep.
Obi-Wan sighed wearily in relief. He continued to soothe the child, aware in his agitated state it would take little to wake him. He pushed his fingers through the boy's tawny hair, silently admiring his hauntingly familiar angelic features.
It was easy to feel affection, when he wasn’t screaming his little lungs out.
And, oh dear, Obi-Wan appeared to be crying again. He really needed to meditate more often, or perhaps even try sleeping a little. But, sleep usually resulted in nightmares - torturous and vivid flashes of violence and loss. No, he would meditate instead - it was almost as good as sleep, and would help centre his thoughts.
Force knew he needed all the help he could get.
A little time passed, in which Obi-Wan sang a half remembered lullaby from another life. When he was confident Luke was deep in slumber, he placed the child down to sleep in his cot, before quietly making himself a cup of herbal tea. He sipped dejectedly at the sour tasting mess, wistfully thinking of Tarine leaves and wondering if he would ever get to taste his favourite tea again.
He sank onto the carpet he’d cobbled together from materials he’d managed to scrounge from the market, and tried to relax into a meditative pose. He’d barely begun to centre himself when he heard a distinctive and unhappy gurgle.
“Shhh,” he said gently, sending soothing waves of affection through their connection. He waited expectantly, but the child remained quiet and peaceful. He sighed, relieved and abruptly huffed out a despairing chuckle
The great general Konobi, terrified of waking a sleeping infant.
He settled back into place and allowed the Force to pass through him. He released his fatigue and the ever present sorrow and guilt that plagued his waking moments. He was calm - he was at peace.
He was in such a deep meditative state that it took him a moment to realise Luke was crying again. He huffed out another sigh, before climbing tiredly to his feet.
“My apologies, dear heart,” he said, dusting down dirty white trousers that always seemed to be finely coated in sand. “Force forbid, were you being ignored?” he picked up the boy and proceeded to carry him back and forth across the room, but no matter how he tried to settle him, Luke wouldn’t stop screaming.
Obi-Wan took a few calming breaths before checking the little one for any of the numerous things that could be making him unhappy, but ultimately the culprit seemed clear.
“You really are hungry again, aren’t you?” he asked, sparing the milk a desperate look. He would go into town tomorrow, he decided, and pick up as much as he could reasonably carry. He didn’t have the funds to spare, but really what choice did he have? “Alright then, let’s get you something to eat.”
He momentarily placed Luke down, trying to block out the increased pitch of his desperate cries and proceeded to make him a bottle.
“My goodness, you’re famished,” he cooed, smiling into the infant's large blue eyes as Luke suckled enthusiastically. “I’m so sorry, little one. I didn’t know. Honesty, who would have thought such a little stomach would require so much sustenance.”
Certainly not him, but then what did Obi-Wan know of infants? He’d raised a child once, but there was a vast difference between caring for a nine year old and a newborn, particularly when, up until recently, he’d had virtually no contact with infants. The matter of how often they needed feeding, to be held and changed and cleaned - it was all entirely foreign to him.
He proceeded to burp the child when he was finished, sighing when he was abruptly thrown up over.
“Charming,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the foul smelling odour. He tried to wipe himself down, sparing a moment to consider how lovely it would be to have water to bathe in, and then settled back down and allowed Luke to grab his fingers. Hunger sated and thusly amused, the infant cooed happily.
With absolutely nothing better to do, Obi-Wan watched him.
****
The last place he wanted to be - the last place he wanted to take Luke - was into a populated area. He disliked how vulnerable it made him feel. He was a wanted man, alone and hunted. Bad enough if he only had to care for himself, but he was also responsible for the safety of his young charge.
They have no reason to look for you here , he told himself, ensuring the walls around the force were high and strong. You are safe.
He wasn’t, not really, but hiding alone on a desert planet was really his only hope.
To ensure the full freedom of his arms, he’d placed Luke in a sling that ran diagonally across his shoulders and around his waist. He worried that the child might be harmed or unable to breath properly, but Luke seemed quite satisfied with the binding. He peered trustingly up at him, his bright blue eyes filled with the sort of innocence only the very young could exude.
“It’s busy today,” he mumbled, soothing a finger over the child’s soft hair. “We won’t linger.”
Luke didn’t answer of course, but Obi-Wan took comfort murmuring to the child. He was lonely, he supposed. He rarely spoke to anyone besides the boy, and on the rare occasions he visited the town he was careful to remain aloof and disinterested. A few minutes of pleasant conversation posed too much of a risk - it invited questions and interest.
Be small, unremarkable. Don’t draw attention.
Even with his precautions he knew he was being watched as he made his way towards the general store. Obi-Wan lived on the outskirts of the town, alone except for Luke. The townspeople surely thought he was mad, to choose such a lonely, dangerous life. He was an oddity to them, a stranger.
From their perspective, he was also unaffiliated. Easy pickings.
He moved methodically through the store, carefully selecting the supplies he would need, substituting his own food for milk in the hopes he could prolong the next journey into town and limit any unnecessary interactions.
The shopkeeper, a young human woman, didn’t take her eyes off Obi-Wan throughout his short visit. He felt mildly offended - did she think he was a thief?
“Cute kid,” she remarked when he approached the counter she was standing behind. He pulled his purchase out of the bag he’d secured on his back, eager to pay and leave.
“Thank you,” he said automatically, because if nothing else he had been raised to be polite. “How much for this?” he asked.
She looked slowly over the range of cans and dried meats before eyeing Luke thoughtfully. “Milk’s expensive,” she remarked softly. “Most people around here, they don’t need it - they ween their own. But then I suppose that’s the risk you take.”
Obi-Wan raised a single eyebrow, unsure where the conversation was going but quite certain it wouldn’t end pleasantly for him.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” she hastened to add, noticing his pensive frown. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, but it sure is a common issue among your kind.”
“My kind?” Obi-Wan repeated slowly.
She pressed her hands against the counter and leaned towards Obi-Wan, clearly intending to try and intimidate him with her unwelcome presence. “Everyone salivates over omegas, male omegas especially, but you do have issues with this sort of thing, don’t you.”
Obi-Wan kept his expression carefully blank. “I’m not an omega,” he said, indicating the small pile. “How much?”
She looked him up and down in a manner that was anything but subtle or polite. “Sure you’re not,” she said mockingly. When Obi-Wan didn’t respond she shrugged and turned her attention to his purchase. “Given the quantity you’re buying, I could let the milk go for ninety credits.”
“That is… it’s simply extortionate,” he hissed, shocked. “It’s twice what I paid before.”
“Supply and demand,” she said breezily, her lips twisting into a mean smile. “You understand I’m sure.”
Obi-Wan eyed the meagre supplies he’d picked out for himself. With an inward sigh he pushed away everything except the milk and the bear essentials they needed to survive.
Luke was almost two months old - Obi-Wan would just needed to make do until he could start weaning the boy onto solid food. He could hunt, forage, he’d make it work.
“How much for just this?” he asked, gesturing towards the small pile.
“You know there are other ways to make credits,” the woman said, eyeing Obi-Wan in a way that made him feel decidedly unclean. “Pretty thing like you, I bet you could make enough to feed that little one of yours in just one night.”
Obi-Wan could actually feel his ears burning. He managed not to outwardly react, but it was a near thing. “I asked how much?”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. Sixty credits.”
Obi-Wan begrudgingly transferred the credits before packing up his things and hoisting the large bag into his back. “Thank you,” he said as he left, though he wondered why he bothered when she was clearly trying to rob and manipulate him.
The next few months would be hard, he thought as he hurried through the town towards his Eopies, but he was adamant he would never hear the shrill sound of Luke crying out in hunger again.
The child was everything, and Obi-Wan would do anything to keep him safe.