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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The sense of connection, of belonging, was heady. Dangerous. He hadn't done this with anyone in years, and now he remembered why. Not only had his isolation seemed imperative for the safety of the galaxy, but his own need for connection sometimes overruled rationality.

He regretted, slightly, any sense he might have given her of actually being injured, but it seemed to pass quickly and at her question he smiled ruefully. Her words came through loud and clear. She was a natural, not just in this but in all of it. So like Ben...

Had the Force sent her as the opposite, counter to his nephew? Was she the balance, now that he'd removed himself from the equation?

I'm not sure I knew at the time. I mostly wanted... a friend.

He might have been eroding all her fantasies of the heroic, mighty Luke Skywalker, revealed as an old hermit who used to be a young orphan desperate for friends.

This was not the way get them, if you were wondering.

The smile that came as a response actually excited Rey. He could hear her! Of course, that could have been more to do with Luke being so skilled than because she'd actually done well in projecting her words over to him, but that didn't matter to her right now. The connection went both ways, and she was actually allowed to enjoy that feeling, unlike when it had been Kylo coming through to her.

She'd never felt this close to a person before. And she'd tried, searching for friends and surrogate family ever since being left on Jakku. She'd felt close to Han, but their time had been brief and, ultimately, very different from this. This was almost...

... intimate.

It wasn't really a word she'd ever used, and even when thinking it, it had rarely ever been in a positive way. But she and Luke were talking like a pair of old friends, using a language more personal than speech could convey. If that wasn't a form of intimacy, she didn't know what was.

I know what you mean.

Contrary to his belief, learning that Luke had been lonely even as a young boy didn't shake her image of him. After all, there was a certain strength that grew out of loneliness. She should know.

I never really had friends before I'd met up with the Resistance. And even then....

She might be biting off more than she could chew, but Rey tried to piece together a detailed image of a small, orange and white BB unit, rolling along the desert sand and beeping happily, emoting more than she'd ever seen a droid emote before. She smiled softly as she shared that image with Luke, thinking he'll appreciate it.

That's BB-8. The one who started all this. I'd still be on Jakku if I hadn't decided to rescue them from a Teedo.

He should end this, Luke thought. Before it became too tempting to just stay here, wrapped in an intimacy he had seldom allowed himself to know. Even before Ahch-To, he had worked hard to remain aloof, to be what was needed. Not once, in his estimation, had a lonely farmboy from the Outer Rim fit that bill. So he had become someone else.

But this, this conversation, felt dangerously close to acceptance of a sort he wasn't certain he could afford. Not and continue to eschew the outside world.

That's how I got involved in the Rebellion begin with. A droid carrying secret plans, a message from a princess...

He was smiling openly now, at the image of BB-8. Funny, how the Force had a way of working through astromech droids.

So was BB-8! That's how I found you! This is the droid I'd told you about, the one with the map!

It was such a startlingly random point of similarity that Rey couldn't help but laugh. To think that she'd gotten involved in all this in the same way that Luke Skywalker had been roped into the Rebellion.... It was an uncanny sort of thing to have in common.

And watching him smile like that, Rey felt even more connected to Luke; only it wasn't quite hero worship anymore. She didn't know what it was, but it was an affectionate, sincere sort of feeling that drew her in closer to him as she looked at him fondly.

I'll have to thank BB-8 for showing me the way to you.

I have little doubt you'd have found your way here, eventually.

The notion of history repeating itself sat a little less pleasantly with Luke, given his particular history. Then again, Artoo finding him, while a coincidence in some respects, had a logical explanation--he'd been looking for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Ben had only settled there because of Luke, little as Luke knew it at the time.

There was a part of him that wanted to lean into the connection, as if to wrap himself in it like a cloak, as if the chill of years alone would not soon leave and he was newly aware of it with her arrival. Had she not come, he might not have noticed, and would eventually have simply... stopped. He didn't see that happening anymore.

"I've never met anyone who could do that so quickly," he said out loud. "Complete sentences, images?" He shook his head. "The universe has a way of making sure people with that kind of ability aren't hidden forever."

How BB-8 had ended up on Jakku was something that Rey still wasn't entirely clear on. He'd been looking for his master, and apparently Poe Dameron had been on Jakku on a mission of some sort before the First Order had intervened. Why Jakku, Rey didn't know. But maybe it was just the Force's way of telling her that she really did have a part in this story after all.

Of course, she wasn't vain enough to think that she could be the Luke Skywalker of a new generation. She didn't know what her place was, but so long as Luke was willing to help her find it, she'd be okay. She was always okay.

But then, Luke was claiming that she was more than okay and would have ended up that way even without that sort of intervention. There was a little wave of excitement that moved over her at the praise, but she managed to tamp down the worst of it, only looking quietly pleased rather than outright preening.

"Considering where I'd spent most of my life, I'm surprised I was found at all." Shifting a little, Rey sat a little more comfortably, looking at Luke curiously. "So... we'd be able to communicate that way from long distances, then? And eventually I could work my way up towards full visual projections?"

Luke's eyes narrowed, thinking perhaps he'd been too fulsome in his praise. It would not do to let the girl lose her head over flattery--or worse, think that she did not need guidance. There was a rush within her at the praise, and he bit back a reply because he also knew that in her life, she'd seldom received any feedback, let alone positive?

It was surprising that anything could make him sad at this point, given his general baseline.

"It's limited," he hazarded, then frowned. "A visual projection takes a tremendous amount of power, not to mention concentration." Not to mention, something it seemed unlikely she'd have come up with on her own. "Why do you ask? Did you have someone you wanted to contact you get get on comm?" He swallowed. "Or were you planning on leaving?"

He tried not to feel anything at that thought. He kept the tinge of disappointment at bay, because it was beneath him, and her leaving was, after all, what he'd been asking for.

Whatever it was that she and Kylo had been doing couldn't be a visual projection, then, since it seemed to have been occurring almost naturally, with no thought on either of their parts. At least, Rey certainly had had no intention on communicating with Kylo that way; if he'd been feigning his surprise and confusion and had really been behind these visions all along, that was a little more troubling. It brought her right back to square one, wherein she worried that this strange sort of communication was a sign that Kylo had gotten into her head and was going to use that to his fullest advantage.

Before she could fret too much over that, though, Luke was asking questions, and for some reason, that last one hit her like a splash of cold water. "What? No! I already told you, I'm not leaving this island without you. And you're far from the most stubborn person in the galaxy."

The thought of leaving Ahch-To hadn't crossed her mind, not with Kylo telling her that he couldn't see her surroundings. Luke was still safe, and so long as that was the case, she had no reason to leave. Leia might forgive Rey for returning empty-handed, but Rey wouldn't be able to forgive herself.

Besides... she didn't want to leave Luke. She felt a natural kinship with anyone who was isolated and lonely, and even disregarding that, she liked him. He wasn't nearly so gruff as his exterior made him seem.

"You're stuck with me, Master Skywalker. Unfortunately for you, I've become very good at waiting over the years."

There was something she wasn't telling him. Something she was holding back. And he sensed that it was important, and that there was a reason she was loathe to mention it directly. But forcing it out of her was out of the question. She would reveal her true motives in due course, he tried to tell himself.

Still, her questions did not add up.

"I wouldn't say far from the most stubborn," he cautioned instead, raising an eyebrow. Who did she think he was? Which stories had she heard? Not that it mattered. He sighed. "I'm not leaving. I don't know how to make you understand why that's for the best, but I, too, have had my share of waiting." He tilted his head slightly. "What were you waiting for?"

Leia. It had been Leia who'd told her stories about Luke. Other people, too, strangers along the Niima Outpost and such, sharing anecdotes about the great Luke Skywalker that were completely, unequivocally true. But more recently, Leia had opted to give Rey an idea of the kind of man her brother was, and she might have mentioned the word stubborn more than once. Granted, it was usually wrapped in the context of almost as stubborn as me, but Rey had assumed she'd been joking. She highly doubted anyone could begin to compare with Leia Organa's stubbornness.

Of course, Luke was ranking a close second, and she debated - however briefly - actually telling him about the way his nephew had been reaching out to her, in the hopes that it would impress upon him how powerful Kylo had become and how much damage he could potentially do if his abilities grew much more. How else could Luke help her with her problem if he didn't know exactly what the problem was, after all?

But Luke's question distracted her somewhat, and she found herself looking down even as she answered automatically. "My parents." The response usually didn't come so easily and was something she'd always obstinately held close to her chest, but... in light of everything that's happened to her, it almost felt like she was telling someone else's story, like those travelers through the outpost talking about the adventures of the young Luke Skywalker.

"They'd left me on Jakku when I was young, but they'll be back for me one day." The words were hollow, and holding on to that empty mantra hurt more than she'd care to admit. Instead of making any sort of eye contact, she focused her attention downwards, fingers absently digging through the patch of soil on which she was sitting. "This is the longest I've been gone from there. I hope they don't think I've stopped waiting."

The hollowness of that reassurance struck him to the core, and he bit back any notion of pity. It would not serve either of them, and not be accepted by her. But it did hurt, to see such strength yoked to a dead dream. He could not dissuade her from it, but perhaps he could offer some comfort.

Or at least perspective.

"Rey," he said gently, eyes soft but his gaze firm. "I can't pretend it's the same situation, but I know a little something about... waiting for a family that doesn't come. Or isn't... what you expected. Sometimes you have to leave home to find it. If I hadn't left Tatooine, I would never have found my sister. My father. My own family."

It was more complicated than that, of course. He'd been lied to, for one. But then, how much was Rey lying to herself?

As soon as he said her name, Rey tensed, readying herself for the wave of pity that she'd always known would accompany any admission she made about her parents. Instead, she got something that was more along the line of commiseration, even if Luke was right: it wasn't the same situation. He'd found his family. Rey... despite the way she constantly clung to hope, she was no longer sure that she'd ever find hers.

"If I hadn't left Jakku, I would have never found Han." And he never would have been roped back into the Resistance and practically walked to his own death. That much she didn't say, though, but the way she swallowed back at the hurt was probably enough for someone as observant as Luke to know where her thoughts might have gone.

"Or Leia. Or you," she added, managing to offer up a small smile as she finally looked up at Luke again. "You might not be family, but I'm still grateful to have found you."

Luke sighed. He wasn't sure Rey should be grateful to have found him, and did not trust his own feeling of gratitude at being seen. He'd come here to stop this feeling from ruining any more lives. He could not let this girl's need for family, for guidance, draw him back in.

"Han is..." He briefly bit his lip. "Han was one of the people I meant," he said. "Family. It's not always blood, Rey. I, of all people, recognize the importance of blood. But it should not be at the expense of others who need you."

There was too much emotion there as Luke switched to past tense when talking about Han, and Rey looked down again, determined to force the tears threatening to spill from her eyes from making good on their threat. She wasn't a crier, not in front of other people, especially not about things that couldn't be changed.

Swallowing back those tears, she finally managed to look up at Luke again. "Does anyone really need me, though? I'm not sure that anyone outside of Finn would miss me all that much if I never left this island. Of course, that would be the complete opposite of what I was sent out to do...."

He wanted to ask about Han. There was a part of him that blamed himself for not having stopped Ben. He'd cut himself off--he hadn't known. He could have done something. What, he did not know--but inaction was no excuse.

It was, however, what he'd chosen. To avoid further pain. But whose?

There was, too, that part that knew that Ben was his fault, and thus Han's death was too in a very real, if indirect, sense. And so he bit back his questions, his need to connect on the basis of a shared friend who was as much of a brother to Luke as Leia was a sister. Perhaps even more so.

But it was not the time to wallow in yet another mistake he'd made.

"It doesn't work that way," he said, shaking his head. "You don't get to decide who needs you--or even know, sometimes. Our lives touch so many, Rey. The Force can often show us how what we do may ripple out into the universe, but better men than I have been mistaken about the actions of one person."

Part of Rey would love to talk about Han. She'd built up such an elaborate image of him in her mind, and she wanted to know how much of it was true. He hadn't been perfect, she knew that much. But he'd very obviously loved his son, even if it seemed like he didn't know how. She would have given anything to have a father who looked at her the way Han had looked at Kylo, and she would have cherished him for as long as she could rather than unceremoniously end his life.

But now wasn't the time. As difficult as it was to sort through all her emotions after a lifetime of not having a wide array of them to begin with, she had to focus on her mission. And her mission wasn't to wallow in self-pity or learn the ways of the Jedi or even to make friends with Luke; she was only supposed to get him to come back with her so he could offer a much needed spark of hope to the Resistance.

"So... when you said the galaxy didn't need Luke Skywalker, were you mistaken or lying?" It was a cheeky sort of comment, though she was too busy sorting through her own feelings to give her words much more than a sad sort of humor.

Busy or not, biting or not, the words cut Luke to the core. Later, he would look back on what had been said and acknowledge that he had opened himself up to exactly this type of comment. That she was right, at least inasmuch as he could not use that as an argument if he was not willing to hear the corollary.

But what he heard was simply an echo of his own failure, the double-blow of having been the instrument of evil in the galaxy as well as having given up. There was no way to win. And yet, winning hadn't really been the goal, had it?

He stood up abruptly. "The lesson is done for today," he said shortly, gazing sightlessly at the sky before turning and making his way back down the path.

Given how easy their conversation had become, Rey had sort of expected him to laugh, or to offer a sardonic comment before changing the subject. She hadn't thought he would suddenly get up and turn his back on her, and it was enough to jar her out of her own head.

"Master Skywalker?"

She got up right away, scrambling after him. She didn't follow him from the large distance she had upon her first arrival, but she hoped she wasn't interfering with his personal space. Whatever he might think of her or however he took her words, Rey wanted to think of him as a friend. She had too few of those to risk losing one.

"Did I say something offensive? I didn't mean it that way, really." She wouldn't apologize for it, not since she knew as well as he did that she had a valid point, but she could at least let him know that she hadn't meant to insult him.

He knew she didn't. He knew, and could feel it now. He could also feel her fear at losing him, and that hurt. She shouldn't fear the loss of something as broken as he was. Why work so hard to bring him back? To what end?

Luke stopped, not turning to her but letting her catch up.

"I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "I guess I don't take kindly to being reminded I'm either wrong or a liar. But you're right--I can't run from you on this island. And I can't run from... the truth inherent in the question."

He looked over at her, blue eyes sad, but warm. Not closed off, or cold.

"But you'll have to forgive an old man for not enjoying the reminder. The lesson is done for today. Not... forever."

It was just too much. She had to understand that.

She stopped when he did, still concerned that he wouldn't want her too close. But as he spoke, Rey walked over to him, a few of her defenses dropping as she moved to step besides him. Until now, she'd always thought there was something inherently mythical about him, that purposely getting too close would somehow sully his mark as a Jedi master.

But now she knew that, no matter what else Luke was, he was a person first and foremost. He deserved to have someone at his side. And he also deserved to have someone to remind him when he'd said something contradictory. She didn't know if that was what friends did for one another, but it was what she would do for her friends. She'd want them to do the same for her, after all.

"First of all? It was a joke, but thank you for acknowledging that there was some truth to it."

Her voice was soft, gentle, and she had a small smile on her face. While his constant need to run away when things got hard was frustrating, Rey could understand it. After all, the first thing she'd done upon hearing that Luke's lightsaber had "chosen" her was to do the very thing she'd been angry at Finn for and run as far away from everything that she could. It just hadn't been far enough.

Maybe that was the point: we can always choose to run, but at some point, we'll have to acknowledge that we'll never run far enough.

"And secondly... thank you for the lesson. Especially given that I'm sure it's not one of the ones you'd meant to give me. Still, just because the lesson is over, it doesn't mean we have to go our separate ways, does it?"

Unless he was so out of practice with social interaction that he needed the chance to get away from her and recharge. She didn't much like that idea, but she supposed she could understand it.

He used to know about jokes. Never very good a them, but he's pretty sure humor was something he used to understand. Han might have disagreed, but--no, he wasn't going to think about Han right now.

Still, joking about his tendency to run away wasn't funny. Then again, maybe she was just even worse at jokes than he was. That made him feel a little better.

His brow furrowed as she asked her question, a genuinely surprising one. "You must be pretty bored," he said after a moment. "Big social life on Jakku, given that an old man with no sense of humor is worth chasing after?"

It hadn't been a lesson he'd meant to teach. In fact, he'd gotten utterly derailed from his original plan, which had been to teach her every lesson he could think of to dissuade her from this path. From wanting to be anything like him.

He'd learn before too long that Rey's sense of humor was slightly skewed. After all, on Jakku, most of the jokes she'd heard were at other people's expense, so while she'd never been the mean-spirited sort, that kind of thing had just stuck with her. She'd been all too happy meeting BB-8 and Finn, given that they'd made her laugh without ever having to resort to insults... mostly.

She smirked slightly at Luke's response, giving him a small shrug. "Assuming you're claiming to be the old man in question, I wouldn't say you have no sense of humor. Just that it's a bit rusty. I don't think porgs make for a very good audience. They don't look like they understand subtlety all too well."

Rey paused for a moment, then, looking away from Luke for a moment before bringing up, "Of course, if you'd rather not hang around me any longer than absolutely necessary, I can understand that."

Luke gazed at her for a long moment, holding back another sigh. He didn't know what to do with this. He no longer knew how to just be with another person, and it hadn't started with Ahch-To--he'd been holding himself apart for years before that. Because he had to. Because his students needed that. Or so he'd thought.

Had he lost Ben not just to Snoke but because, in part, he'd been unable to let the boy in?

The silence stretched between them for an awkward length of time before he said, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. What, ah... What did you have in mind?"

Ach-To made for a different sort of loneliness from what she'd had on Jakku. On Jakku, there'd been no one around that anyone would want to associate with, but there had still been the hustle and bustle of other people around the outpost. Here, there was nothing but the never-ending roar of the sea, a sound that was so foreign to Rey that she'd had headaches the first few days.

Maybe Luke had grown accustomed to it, even if she couldn't see how. But that was perfectly all right. She could keep to herself and try her hand at staying out of trouble until Luke sent for her again. It wasn't how she'd ideally wanted to do her part for the Resistance, but if that was the only way to accomplish her goal without totally pushing him away, she'd say her goodbyes for the moment and find a quiet place to meditate on what he'd taught her so far.

So his answer took her off-guard, and she blinked up at him before shrugging, offering him a small smile. "I'm not sure, really. What do you do for recreation?" He had to have a hobby of some sort, or else there was a good chance he'd gone absolutely mad at some point and she'd just been unable to tell this whole time.

Luke just stared at her. He had no idea how to answer that question, not only because he found the idea of recreation laughable under the circumstances but also because he honestly didn't know what he'd been doing. His days had quickly started to blur, as he lost track of the outside world and tuned himself to the rhythms of the island.

He'd tried to read those Jedi texts, more than once, and ended up falling asleep and drooling on them every time.

"I'm not here on vacation," he said finally, as if that was an answer.

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