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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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."

She was noticing little things, but also telling herself that it was all her imagination. Rey was usually fairly good at reading people, but she was either failing spectacularly right now or else she didn't dare believe what she was getting off of Luke. He didn't pull back from her body, didn't even look at her oddly, but he stammered just slightly. That had to mean something, didn't it?

But what?

She was only half-listening by this point, still looking at him intently as he spoke. "I think I'd be a vegetarian if I felt the feelings of others the way you're implying," she murmured absently. "Unless you mean feelings other than the fish's."

"I don't mean every blow, every prick of the knife," he said, distracted by the intensity of her gaze and what it could possibly mean. Why wasn't she pulling back? It had to be because she was simply that innocent, that unaware of what this closeness could imply.

That, or he was simply that unfathomable a sexual object.

"But if we lose track of the impact we have on other life, we, perhaps, lose something more."

He wasn't even certain what he was saying now, only that he could feel that life inside him, newly awakened, yearning for connection. And not with a fish. But that was, ostensibly, why they were here. They could hardly stand here at the edge of a cliff forever while he fought his inner demons. Better to direct it elsewhere.

Without thinking any more about it, Luke leaned slightly closer, but only to break eye contact, raise the long wooden pole, and bring it down again, feeling the blade unerringly find its target as he tried to ignore the press of her body against his.

Luke had a major impact on her life, but he didn't seem to realize that. She almost told him so, almost pleaded with him not to lose sight of just how important he was, not just to her but to other people. He was hurting himself every bit as much as he was hurting those that were left without him.

But going back to that topic might only make him distance himself from her again, and as he pressed himself against her, Rey felt her heart flutter in her chest as she realized she couldn't imagine there being any sort of distance between them ever again.

She was distracted from her overly dramatic thoughts when her hands - guided by Luke's - brought the pole down, and she could feel the momentary resistance before it definitely pierced through a fish. Startled, she let out a surprised laugh, not having expected the spear to find its mark or for it to feel so exhilarating.

"We got one!" she laughed, looking back at Luke with an excited grin. "We actually got one!"

"And you're surprised by that how?" he asked, almost petulantly. But it wasn't what he felt, and either way his pique, real or imagined, could not stand in the face of her obvious glee.

It was not an emotion he'd seen in her before, and why should he? She'd been either determined, sad, or dealing with his nonsense ever since she got here. It was no real surprise that she was beautiful when she was happy, but he found himself transfixed anyway, by the way her eyes danced and her mouth lost its little frown and her whole body gave itself over to emotion.

He tried not to think about what other sensations might do to her, so unselfconscious in her movements, and in shutting down that line of thought found himself giving in to her joy. He didn't even realize he was grinning, eyes crinkling at the corners, as he watched her.

"We're not done," he reminded them both and began, hand over hand, to pull the pole up the cliff. His heart raced and his cheeks hurt from the unaccustomed action of smiling, and he told himself it was the exertion of the kill rather than her influence. Never mind that it hadn't done it yesterday.

"Honestly? I was too distracted to think I'd catch anything, even with your help." Her confession felt innocent enough, but then she realized that Luke might wonder over what had distracted her, if he didn't already know. After all, she hadn't exactly been subtle about staring at him.

Not that she could stop herself from doing that now, not with the way he smiled at her. He was outright beaming at her, and she found herself unable to look away even if he pointedly told her to. No one had ever looked at her like that, aside from Finn after they'd used the Falcon to escape the First Order on Jakku. But that had been understandable; anyone would beam after surviving a near-death experience. Luke was just smiling because of her. That-... that was weird. In the best possible way.

Though she didn't want to turn around, she knew it wouldn't be fair for her to let him bring the fish up on his own, especially not when he was doing it while pressed against her back. So she faced forward again, helping him to pull the pole up along the cliff. Even this, though, felt intimate in its own way, working together towards a common task, and Rey decided they would have to go fishing together more often.

Distracted by what? By his proximity, and the discomfort that must mean for a person so unused to company? Was there something on his face? Granted, he'd had no mirror, literally or figuratively, for years.

But she was still smiling. Still grinning, eyes flashing, and he could not for the life of him figure out what might lead to such an expression. Maybe she really was that excited about fishing. Either way, he could distract himself a few minutes with the task of retrieving their kill, the large fish coming into sight slowly as they pulled it up together. It was fat and healthy, and would feed them both for awhile if salted or cured.

He had to move away to land it, of course, and he immediately felt the cold lack of her body against his and told himself not to dwell on it like some sort of pervert.

"So, what do you think?" he asked when they had the fish laid out and the spear was back in the water. "Could you do this on your own?"

As soon as Luke moved away, Rey immediately felt the loss of his body heat. It wasn't the same sort of cold she felt when the temperature dropped, though. This one was much more personal, and not the sort of cold that she'd ever learned how to withstand. At least, not since those first lonely nights on Jakku, most of which she'd blocked from her mind.

She helped him haul the fish up as best as she could, panting slightly at the exertion. It wasn't hard work so much as it simply forced her to exert her muscles in a different way from what she was used to. She could adapt to that easily enough.

Despite that, Rey hesitated at Luke's question, looking down at the fish so he wouldn't have to see the mild disappointment in her eyes. She didn't mind being given a task, and she was obviously used to being alone, but... she'd rather not be. Not now.

"I could manage," she reluctantly agreed. Looking up at him, she tried her best to sound casual as she asked, "I'd rather not, though. But I'd understand if you had other things to do."

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