coolhandluke | Ahch-To, Baby

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Ahch-To, Baby

There were a lot of things Luke hadn't asked himself in the years since arriving on Ach-To. Some because he didn't want to know--or imagine--the answers. Some because there was no reason to borrow more trouble than he already had, and the litany of regrets was already long enough. Some because, well, they just weren't thinks that Luke Skywalker ever thought of.

Like the fact that he looked like some old Jedi hermit, complete with beard and unkempt hair and dingy robes. It hadn't exactly been part of the plan, but then, there hadn't been anyone to comment, or even a mirror.

That was the outside, however. Inside, something in Luke had died long ago, stopping in its tracks. Meeting himself, he would have assumed wisdom and calm, if a little eccentricity. But that hadn't been why Luke had come here, and it hadn't been what he'd found. No, it wasn't the Jedi Master who had retreated. It was the scared farm-boy, who'd flown too high and been brought crashing to ground. It was Luke from Tatooine, who had tried to be Master Skywalker, the hero, and failed.

That was what he'd been running from. That expectation, and his failure at it. That, and the disaster he knew his presence would bring to what was left of what he and the Rebellion had built, if Ben knew where he was. Better, he'd thought, to close himself off and shut down before he hurt anyone else. By his own hand, or by leading Kylo Ren to exact revenge.

It was not so simple a thing, however, to die. Unwilling to take any more lives, including his own, he lingered. Unwilling to open himself up to the Force, he nevertheless existed within it, his body sustained by it as much as by the food he caught. For awhile it seemed that he would just continue, in a sort of limbo of his own making, unwilling to make a move that would upset the galaxy even further than his presence already had.

Until she came.

Rey held a mirror up to him, one he wasn't always willing to gaze into but one from which it was impossible to escape--not least because she simply wouldn't go away. At first resentful, he quickly became resigned.

And then, suddenly, he became expectant. Not hopeful--he would not go so far as to say that--but there came a morning when he realized he would be disappointed to find her gone, given up. Despite his fear, despite his warnings, he wanted her to persist.

Maybe because he hadn't. And as much shame as he felt over that fact, the shame was at least an emotion. And as much as he'd tried to suppress those over the past years, the irritation at her arrival had begun to wear away at his resolve like grains of sand until emotions he'd thought long buried began to unearth themselves.

The truth was, Luke Skywalker was every bit the mess he looked. And yet, the longer she stayed, the less he could find it within himself to resent it. He'd been too long alone, and too long waiting. It only stood to reason that he'd bend to the first wind that came.

Wasn't how this had all started, to begin with?

The sun had barely risen when he took position, waiting outside the hut she'd claimed, unwilling to seem too eager but having to quash a small stirring of impatience, just the same. Warnings not to get too close, too attached, flickered in his mind's eye like a glitched holovid. But Luke had never once detached from anything--and if going to the most remote location he could find hadn't done it, he didn't know that it was worth trying, anymore.

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"No."

Did he need company? It was the most absurd question Luke thought he'd been asked since the last question Rey had asked him. What was he supposed to do? Spend the day fishing and foraging next to her, like nothing had happened? Or spend the day imagining what she was doing, wondering where she was, thinking--

"I mean, I'm fine. I don't need help. I've... done this before."

It was a fairly lame explanation, all things considered.

The negative response caught her so off-guard that she almost jumped. Oh. Oh no. She'd made him uncomfortable. They'd been getting on the day before, but now he'd seen what she'd dreamed of or could at least feel the painfully obvious vibes coming off of her, and he didn't want to be anywhere near her.

She didn't know if he could see the surprised disappointment in her eyes or if he'd just had a belated surge of etiquette. Either way, his explanation didn't really help matters, even if she uncertainly nodded.

"I understand that. But I didn't ask if you needed help. I asked if you needed company. Or if you just want me. For company. If you want me for company."

Oh stars, but she was awful at this sort of thing.

Luke stare at her, aghast. But not so much at what she'd said as at what it made him think, which was surely not at all what she'd meant. Innocently misspeaking, twisted by his diseased and, at this point, probably deranged mind.

She knew. She had to know--there was no other reason for her to correct herself so quickly. Why was she being polite about it? Did she fear his reaction, if she called him out?

Was he that much of a monster? Was she afraid to go, and afraid to stay? Luke took an inadvertent step back. How could he put her off without just being rude again? "No. No, I... it's not necessary. If you need rest you should stay here. Without me in your... way."

That step back made it obvious to Rey that her slip hadn't gone unnoticed, and she closed her eyes, silently berating herself. Lovely. Perfect. She'd finally found someone who could understand and explain the Force and what it meant for her, and she had to go and turn an innocent friendship into something resembling a childish crush. He was probably worried about making her burst into tears or do something else equally immature if he turned her down point blank, which meant that she should probably address this sooner rather than later.

... though later did have a nicer ring to it.

"I'm not going to get any rest and you're not going to get in my way, especially not when this is your home. I'm sorry. I'm a little... out of sorts this morning. It doesn't mean I value your companionship any less. But if you'd rather be on your own, I'll of course respect your wishes."

This was sounding far too formal, contrary to the comfortable way they'd talked the day before. She missed the casualness of it all, but maybe this would help put some distance between them and sharpen those blurry lines in between what they were supposed to be to one another versus... whatever it was that Rey seemed to want them to be.

He'd ruined everything. And he didn't know how to fix it. He didn't know how to make her comfortable, or deny what she must have seen, or tell himself that this was all a mistake since he'd apparently decided that any connection to a human being had to stand for every connection.

His wishes didn't deserve respect. From anyone.

"My companionship," he said a little hoarsely, "leaves much to be desired. I was rude yesterday. I am not going to demand you stay away from me, even if I thought it would do any good. But you are under no obligation to entertain an old man. Nor do I think I am in any state to... teach you."

Depends on what you'd be teaching, his brain--or part of it, anyway--offered helpfully.

She didn't know why his words sounded so fatalistic, not when she'd obviously been the one to mess everything up. It was especially bad that her brain tried to purposely misconstrue everything he'd said: his companionship was very desirable, he could demand whatever he wanted from her, she'd entertain him any he'd like if she thought she were actually any good at it.

But the only thing she thought safe to answer was that last one, and even that had to be phrased carefully, given her inner struggle.

"I think there's no limit to what you could teach me."

She felt herself go warm at that again, a flush that she couldn't just package up and hide away from view. She knew she was a mess, she knew that he was either perfectly aware of why she was so awkward today or else he was left utterly in the dark. Either way, she took a deep breath and forced herself to make eye contact with him, not wanting him to think that she was completely uncomfortable in his presence now.

"Neither of us are good with... well, people. But I think having that in common means that we understand one another in a way that we don't understand others, or in a way others don't understand. So I'm not just 'entertaining' anyone, especially since I don't see an old man here. I see a man who could be my friend, if the circumstances allow for it."

Or more, that little voice cheerfully piped up, but she managed to shut up before that voice had any sway.

It was around here that Luke realized he'd lost. He wasn't sure what, exactly, the game had been, but he was entirely without the upper hand and he knew it. Every sentence out of her mouth was subject to gross misinterpretation by him, and the way she flushed and made a point of eye contact only further established that she knew.

What could he do? He could not call her on it, admitting to his own craven thoughts and thus driving her away for good. And he could not purposefully drive her away after that little speech, even if his body wanted very much to interpret it in a way she could not have meant. To deny her now, after her words of understanding and friendship, was to be cruel in a way he could not cover as unintentional. He was trapped between her innocent devotion and his own misplaced desires, and the only possible course was to give in--to her. Let her set the path and the tone and meditate away the follies of midnight. He could put this all behind him because, in truth, he was not strong enough to throw away a declaration that, even without the dreams, would have brought tears to his eyes.

She was utterly wrong, of course, to put that kind of emotional energy into someone like him. But he could no more stop her than he could stop the wind.

"One day," he said quietly, "you'll have friends enough that you don't have to rely on the one other person on an island for that." He shook his head. "But I'm not going to fight you any longer, Rey." After everything she must have seen, for her to offer something like this... he'd be a fool to throw it away.

Instead of being any level of encouraging, Luke's words echoed Rey's earlier fears. Was she really only feeling this way about him only because he was the only man she'd had anything even remotely resembling an opportunity with? Granted, he'd never presented himself as being interested in any sort of opportunity, but the fact that he actually saw her and they'd gotten along for all of one day had translated to Rey as something that could possibly turn into something else in the future.

But then, she wasn't going to be on Ahch-To forever. And once he was back with the Resistance, Luke would be far too busy to give her another look, especially since he'd want to spend time reintroducing himself to society. And besides everything else... there was a war going on. She couldn't afford to lose sight of that, or else she and Luke would never leave this island.

Though if she were honest with herself, she could think of worse possibilities.

"I don't rely on you for friendship, Luke," she told him, fighting her way out of her own thoughts. "I want to be with you. As a friend."

And more. Tell him you want him as a friend and more. Tell him, he already knows anyway, why don't you just-

"You're... special to me," she murmured instead, needing to quiet that voice down again before she ended up snapping at it and making Luke fear for her sanity. "One day, when you're surrounded by people who care about you, I hope you remember that."

If Luke had been remotely aware of Rey's thoughts or feelings, rather than ascribing the whole thing to his own diseased mind, he'd have assumed that, yes. She was only feeling them because he was the only available person to feel them for. So when she continued on to worry plaintively about his losing interest when he had his real friends, he held up a hand as if to stop her.

"Rey," he said firmly. "You are..." He swallowed. "Very sweet to say something like that. Your concern is unwarranted. I told you before--I am not leaving this island. And even if I did, I..." He shook his head. "Your perception of my... social circle is exaggerated."

The truth was, having her fling such fears at him made him feel all the guiltier about twisting it into something else, something prurient. He didn't deserve this. And if he ever opened himself up to her, she'd know.

It felt as though they were dancing around a subject, and given the only subject that was currently on Rey's mind, she thought it was only becoming more and more obvious what that was. So his words made it sound as though he was thinking of the gentlest way to turn her down - why else would he call her "very sweet?" Even Rey knew that that was just a nice way of telling someone to stop being interested because it wasn't reciprocated.

But that was fine. If they were only going to talk about this tangentially, she'd accept the idea of him turning her away. At least it meant she wouldn't have to come out and say anything.

That made it a little bit easier for her to smile at him as she lightly mentioned, "If you don't leave this island, I don't leave this island. So again, you're just going to end up stuck with me for an even longer period of time. I don't mind that, but...."

But he was making it clear that he would, or at least that he eventually might.

For his part, Luke was swiftly feeling like he'd dodged a blaster bolt. She was letting him off the hook, with a graciousness beyond her years. She knew, and she was not calling him out. She was letting it be the private follow of an old man, and he felt a surge of gratitude to her. Now he just had to avoid ever thinking of her that way again.

And ever was looking to be a very long time.

Perhaps it was a fleeting whim, born of solitude and sexual disuse, and it would pass. He hoped so. For both their sakes.

"You will, though," he said, unable to keep the hint of sadness from his tone. He shook his head. "But that's neither here nor there today." Abruptly, he turned on his heel, picked up his gear from where it sat next to his hut, and made off down the path to his habitual fishing hole.

Part of Rey wanted to believe that he sounded sad because he'd miss her, because he had some inkling that they might actually be good for one another. But maybe he just missed being a teacher, or maybe he was incredibly lonely. Either way, she shouldn't place too much stock in the idea that he'd have anything but platonic feelings for a girl that he'd - perhaps rightfully so - referred to as a child.

"Luke," she told him even as she moved to follow after him. "I told you. I'm not leaving here without you. And if that means I never leave here... I've been stranded in worse places before."

She realized with horror that she was reaching out towards him, as though meaning to take his hand, but thankfully she stopped herself, fingers clenching into a fist at her side as she walked alongside him.

He did not see her hand, but part of him sensed it, with perception long honed by more violent altercations than this. He was grateful, though part of him sneakily lamented that he could not have appreciated the casual touch.

No more, he told himself. It's not casual if you're craving it, and you craving it is wrong.

"Stranded," he repeated, almost under his breath. Yesterday, the day before, he would have shot back that she was free to leave any time. Now, he did not feel like it. But he did not know what to say instead. He'd spoken more yesterday than he had in years. It was both exhausting, and exhilarating. "Have you ever caught a fish?"

She'd grown up on Jakku. Of course she hadn't.

If Rey knew about the inner struggle Luke was undergoing, if she were anywhere near as trained as she needed to be to be able to tell what he'd been feeling throughout this entire conversation, she would have taken his hand without question. She would have proven that no, the touch wouldn't have been casual, and he wasn't the only one who was craving it, and it didn't have to be wrong if they could make it feel so right for each other.

But Rey didn't know that he was being anything but friendly, so the moment passed without incident.

She looked up at him as he repeated that word, wondering if she'd insulted him. Of course she was free to leave at any time, so long as he left with her. While he wasn't exactly keeping her a prisoner here, he was certainly seeing to it that she extended her stay beyond what she'd initially anticipated.

But rather than admonish her for her choice of words, he asked her a question, and she tilted her head at him in curious amusement. "Did you ever go fishing on Tatooine?" The dry question was followed by a small smile as she shook her head. "I've hunted a few times, when food went scarce, but fishing was never exactly an option."

Reaching the edge of the cliff, where below the relative narrowness of the chasm offered a certain relief from the crashing waves that fish seemed to like, Luke turned to face her. The first day, he had used this to goad and dissuade her. Now that motive had fallen away, replaced by... Well he was no longer sure, but there was nothing to do but attempt to go about his business. With, it seemed, a precocious woman-child in tow.

"No," he said. "I didn't." Which probably explained his method now, authorized by literally no fisherman ever. He grasped the end of his pole/spear and thrust it at Rey.

She remembered following him along here and hating every moment of it, wondering if he was waiting for her to simply give up or if he was half-hoping he'd dash his own head against the rocks so he'd never have to confront her. But now... well, this was just life for him. She understood that now. And for whatever reason, he was letting her tag along, even if she was much more lax about doggedly following his every move.

... not that she wouldn't do that now, but her intentions were obviously different. Painfully so.

She took a startled step back when Luke shoved the spear towards her, blinking at him. "Um... what am I supposed to do with that?"

After all, he couldn't just thrust his pole at Rey and expect her to know what to do with it.

Luke stared at her, wondering if she'd been paying attention at all.

"Catch a fish," he said. "If I can do it, you can."

As a teacher, and a human, he was obviously out of practice.

She frowned, looking down at the spear as she gripped it in her hands. It was much heavier than the quarterstaff she was used to arming herself with, and she looked up at Luke uncertainly.

"Yes, but you learned how to do it. Over time. Not instantly."

Plus, whereas she was nimble and quick and far from a weakling, Luke likely had more upper body strength than she did, not that she would ever admit to that.

Luke sighed.

"You're still thinking like one of them," he admonished, though he has little room to talk given the lack of training he's offered. Deciding to remedy that, he moved behind her, gesturing for her to take the pole and placing a hand on it as well, over her shoulder. For the moment, he was focused on teaching her basic survival skills, not her proximity, or he never would have risked it.

"With the Force, you are not simply yourself. You are the spear, the water, the rock. Even the fish."

Rey would have been insulted, but before she could take it to mind to feel that way, Luke was suddenly behind her, close enough for her to feel his body heat. Maybe she imagined it - she hoped she was imagining it - and so she did her best not to focus on how close he was to her and instead concentrated on what he was showing her.

"So I'm... spearing myself with myself?"

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, not wanting him to think she was being anything other than mildly cheeky with that comment. But oh-... that was probably a mistake, given how close they were, and so she quickly amended that with, "You'd cut yourself off from the Force. How did you catch fish without it?"

There were multiple levels to each question she was asking, and that was on top of the sudden knowledge that he'd positioned himself right behind her, close enough to--

Teaching had never been this difficult. What was wrong with him?

Getting hold of himself, he cleared his throat.

"First of all, there's cutting yourself off and there's..." He frowned, trying to focus on this instead of how she smelled, still, of sunlight and sand. How was that even possible? "If I unfocus my eyes, I cannot see into the distance," he offered imperfectly, "but I am not blindfolded. Do you see?"

She noticed the way he trailed off, and it gave her just enough time to look him over, noticing the light in his blue eyes. Had they been that bright when she'd first met him? And if not, were they now so vibrant because of her?

Realizing that she was just giving herself credit where none was due, she tried to focus instead on what he was saying and not on how stilted his explanation was. "I think so," she murmured softly, still looking into those eyes. "So it's... still an intimate part of you that you can't permanently turn off. Like any instinct or drive."

"Hmm," he rumbled in confirmation. She was staring. What did she see? Could she see all the way through him to what he'd seen in his mind's eye? She looked at him with an intensity and clarity that reminded him of Leia, back when he couldn't stop staring at her, either. Yes, good. Think of her like Leia. Sisterly thoughts, if he could not ignore at this close proximity the fact she was decidedly not a child. "Instinct, yes," he nodded. "There are things we do and perceive with our conscious minds, and those we pursue regardless of thought. What connects us endures, whether we reach out or not."

She couldn't tell if he was speaking in riddles or if she was just trying to tie what he said to what she felt. Was he telling her that it was all right to pursue her feelings regardless of what she thought of them? Or was he just straightforwardly teaching her to use the Force to fish? Either way, she wasn't going to come out of this without feeling foolish if she didn't manage to relax.

So she did. The trouble was, she relaxed against Luke, leaning back against him before she realized what she was doing. She could feel his chest against her back, and while it felt solid and strong even underneath the layers of his robes, Rey knew this wasn't something she could simply explain away. But maybe she could try to ignore it for just a little longer. "So your survival instinct enabled you to use enough of the Force to catch food while keeping you closed off from it on a greater level; is that what you're saying?"

There was no way that she knew what she was doing. Her body, warm and real next to his, a contrast not only with the chill wind around them but his years of isolation. There was no way she knew, because she would not have done it knowing his craven impulses.

Instincts. Force, but he'd been speaking around it without knowing, a double meaning in his words he had not intended. How much did she know? How gracious was she being by pretending none of this was happening? And how long could he allow it to continue?

"Y-yes," he said, not proud of his voice catching slightly. Perhaps she had not noticed. "You, too, are more connected than you know. Before hearing of the Force, even, it was a part of you. Not guiding your actions, but aiding you. Enhancing you. Allowing you to survive against all odds, because you are a part of it, too. And that is why you are you, and the fish. It is all one cycle, all part of life. You can't cut yourself off entirely. You cannot survive, truly, without feeling the feelings of others."

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