Hello there. I’ve got another random idea for my PT… Well more like a scene, specifically involving Obi-Wan and Owen Lars (who are brothers, followinf what had been stated in the ROTJ novelization). I’ve been redoing my PT constantly that I’m not sure to keep this scene (if I do, I’ll probably make a lot of changes to it). For what it’s worth, I hope you enjoy it.
“Another refugee ship,” Beru said offhandedly as another black vessel flew far above to drop off the latest arrivals. “How many do you think that makes since yesterday?”
“Best not to think about it,” Owen
said, putting his datapad on the table. He had seen enough ships, both on his way and over the past few days on Coruscant, that he wanted to look at anything else. “What is taking him so long? I thought you said Anakin would come.”
“I did,” Beru frowned at Owen. “He could be busy with his studies. Jedi stuff and all…”
“Yeah…” Owen said, frowning himself.
“What is it about the Jedi? I’m not trying to be biased, but I only ever heard rumors about them.”
“Why are you asking me?” Owen huffed. A knowing look from Beru made him sigh in defeat. Scratching his head, Owen said, “Well, from what I heard, they use this Force stuff. Some energy or something like it. They train to use it and defend the folk… well the folk here, that is.”
“Huh, not too far from the stories I guess,” Beru said with a tiny smile. “Maybe Anakin can do some good with them.”
“They’re just a bunch of crazy wizards with crazy powers and strict rules, Beru. Anakin is anything but strict. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got kicked out because of his thick head!” Owen barked.
It was then he realized the stares on him, not just from Beru, but from the other customers, alien and human alike. Owen turned away from a three-eyed blob to Beru, who was just embarrassed as he was. “… Sorry… just a little on edge. Maybe it’s the air,” Owen said quietly and yanked at his collar.
“Okay…" Beru said as she put her hands on the table. "Maybe I should get us drinks. You want a Coruscant Garbler?”
At Owen’s sighing insistence, Beru slid out of her seat and went inside the giant gorge of restaurant. It was so far different from the cantina on Tatooine: loud and large, crowded to the brim, and always busy. There were many people that Owen and Beru had to take one of the few tables outside, right by the street of Coruscant’s mid-level. At bottom of the thousand-story skyscrapers, there were new arrivals, many poor refugees begging for money. Others were regular citizens minding their business.
Owen, minding his, was surprised by the glass sliding onto his table. Whatever liquid was in the glass, it wasn’t alcohol. “Hey, I didn’t ask for…” Owen began, but he stopped when he saw a lightsaber on his server’s belt.
The man with the saber smiled down. “Hello Owen," he greeted.
Looking up, Owen clenched his jaw. He suppressed the flash of surprise and anger, otherwise he’d make the other man’s face the same color as his Jedi uniform. Owen kept his expression while his server sat in Beru’s seat.
“I hope everything is alright,” the man went on. “I heard you and your fiance were held by the authorities. Must have been an unpleasant experience.”
“It was,” Owen said at last, fully aware who helped get him and Beru out of jail. “So, what name do you go by now?”
“It’s Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
“Mom’s maiden name?” Owen raised an eyebrow then lowered it. “I guess that makes sense, given her history…”
Obi-Wan fell into an uncomfortable silence before he continued, “How is the farm doing?”
“Ah, that’s good…” Obi-Wan fell into another awkward silence. “Have you visited the Jedi Temple? I didn’t see you-”
Owen cut him off. “Beru and I visited already. We were there to visit… someone.”
“You mean young Skywalker?” Obi-Wan said, and Owen cursed those freakish Jedi powers to read minds. “I didn’t read your mind, Owen. I merely guessed from your transmissions-”
“You’ve been spying on me?”
Obi-Wan hadn’t answered that. “-I was honestly surprised when I read some of them. I never thought you would’ve let anyone you knew join the Jedi.”
“I didn’t,” Owen interjected, frowning deeply. “If I had a say in it, he wouldn’t be here.”
“You aren’t his older brother, Owen,” Obi-Wan told him patiently.
“No,” Owen agreed but added, “but I have to act like it. After what Shmi did for us, I owe her to make sure her son is alright.”
Obi-Wan leaned forward, much like how their father used to. “Owen, you have to admit he has impressive skills. His piloting is by far is incredible. I saw him fly back on Taris," he said in that calm Jedi tone Owen found too irritating. "His skill is very impressive. His reflexes are beyond any of the other initiates I’ve seen so far. To deny him a chance with the Jedi is-”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Owen cut him off. “Anakin’s not supposed to even be here! He’s supposed to stay back home, not getting involved in this crusade!”
Obi-Wan frowned. “I would hardly call it a crusade, Owen. If you haven’t heard, the war will end soon. I am surprised you’re so angry about this.”
“You know, for all your Jedi powers, you can’t see Bantha dung,” Owen huffed. He went on before Obi-Wan could talk. “What are you surprised of? The fact Anakin left home and everyone behind without saying a word? That he didn’t even say goodbye?!”
Like you did.
Owen held his tongue before he said it. Across the table, Obi-Wan caught on the meaning. His face clearly showed he did, crazy powers or no. Owen didn’t care. He didn’t care about the stares from the nearby patrons of the restaurant. He did care when he heard Beru came in, two drinks in hand.
"Owen, what is…” Beru said and stopped, eyeing the man sitting with her fiance. “Um, hello?”
Obi-Wan’s stoic face warmed at Beru, and he stood up. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to steal your seat,” he said, earning a short from Owen. He didn’t pay attention and raise a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
Beru looked to Obi-Wan then Owen then back, her eyes brightening. “Oh! You must be that Jedi Owen told me about! I’ll-oh wait…” she said and briefly paused to put her drinks down. “Let me get you a seat. There is so much I want to ask you-”
“Afraid not, Beru,” Owen cut her off, his eyes on Obi-Wan. “The Jedi here is leaving right now.”
Obi-Wan met the glare calmly. “Yes… I’m afraid I do have other duties,” he said quietly then he looked to Beru, smiling. “Maybe we can meet another time. You can come to the Temple and call for me.”
“Oh, um, alright,” Beru said awkwardly. “Nice meeting you.”
“And it was nice to meet you, too.” Obi-Wan looked to the seated Owen. “… And you as well, Owen. You have given me much to think about.”
“Yeah,” Owen grumbled, grabbing his drink. “If you ever see Anakin, tell him to look at his mother’s message.”
Owen didn’t bother watching Obi-Wan go. He drowned himself in his drink, pouring it down in one gulp. When he slammed the had-empty glass on the table, Owen breathed from the cool sting in his throat.
“Easy, Owen!” Beru said. “You don’t want to hurt yourself-”
“It’s fine,” he rasped. “We don’t come by this stuff on Tatooine. Might as well enjoy it.”
Sitting down, Beru sighed. “Oh, brother… not this again.”
Owen shot his eyes up to her. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” she said, and Owen took another swing of his drink.
After he set down his empty glass again, Owen finally noticed the contents of his other drink. Blue milk.
With a tinge of nostalgia for home, it wasn’t long until Owen started drinking it.