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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Luke sighed, shaking his head. She reminded him so much of himself, sometimes, and it was as painful as it was amusing. He wondered, not for the first time, how Yoda and Ben had felt, confronted with all his hot-headed insistence that he could do anything, and more.

He remembered literally hitting the roof when he thought Yoda was going to refuse to train him. Was he going to do the same? Was that threat real? Was there any reason to go on making her believe it was? Hadn't he had enough of cagey Jedi obfuscation?

"Calm down," he said, voice softening into a gruff rumble. "I'm not kicking you out." He pointed a finger at her. "Yet. You know just enough to be even more dangerous than you were." He'd never seen anyone pick up the Force as quickly without instruction as Rey. It seemed like all she had to do was see something to be able to do it herself. It was terrifying.

He'd let himself run before. There was no where left to go.

"What did you feel, just now?" he asked instead. "Describe it to me."

Yet. Rey hated that that single word was a very real threat. If Luke kicked her out and turned his back on her, it would hurt on a personal level, yes. But beyond that, it would be a much harsher loss for everyone else she knew. It would be the loss of hope, and the fate of the Resistance hinged on hope.

She couldn't disappoint Luke. Too much relied on her learning as much as she could from him before getting him back to General Organa. For the time being, Rey would have to make sure to stay in line.

Even as she came to that conclusion, she hesitated at Luke's question. So he had felt her. Of course he had. Even thinking about playing innocent had been monumentally stupid.

"I... don't know," she admitted, shaking her head and opting for total honesty. "A struggle, of some sort. Conflict."

Shame. Fear. Regret. But it didn't feel right to say so quite so blatantly. She pressed her lips together, looking him in the eye and trying to get a sense of how she should best phrase it.

"There's something you want, but you don't want it at the same time. Or you're trying not to want it. I couldn't parse it out...."

Blinking, she added, "Not that I was trying to! I just... overreached. I'm sorry. I won't do it again, not without your permission."

Luke just watched her for a long time, expression the same impassive one he'd donned since she'd gotten there.

Inside, her words reached in to scrape parts of him up and mix them back in, like one of Beru's recipes. He'd let memories and emotions settle in layers and harden, easy to ignore until they were stirred back in. Conflict. Struggle.

And all those she didn't speak, though her pinched expression was eloquent enough. As forward as she was, she still held some respect for him. Why, he had no idea. He was just an old, tired man, who had failed in the one thing he'd been set to do. And she... she had so much in front of her, if she would simply let go of the notion he could help her.

The invasion of privacy might have bothered him more at another time, when he himself was more collected and sure of himself. As it was, there was a part of him that felt violated and part that couldn't blame her. And another, far quieter thread that, unknowingly, thrilled to the touch of another mind after being alone for so long.

"The Force's influence on the weak-willed is dangerous," he said at last. "The ability to read and shape other's thoughts should not be taken lightly." He tilted his head, regarding her, recalling a sense he got when she'd mentioned Kylo Ren. "You... know that, I think. So tell me, Rey. What were you trying to do?"

Grateful for the pale warmth of rising suns he waited, hands folded inside the sleeves of his robe, for her answer, all thoughts of another lesson dismissed.

"I wasn't trying to shape anything!"

The words were defensive, perhaps, but no less true, and it was important that she made Luke aware of that. It was bad enough that she'd seen and felt things that she hadn't been meant to see or feel; it would have been another thing entirely if she'd been trying to alter his mind. He'd never trust her again, and she wouldn't blame him. She'd lose all trust in herself, too.

"The only time I've ever done anything like that was to get away from a Storm Trooper, and I wasn't even sure I could do it." And yet she'd known, somehow. Known what to say, how to say it. It had taken her a few tries, but something instinctive had eventually come over her, and she'd known to speak calmly and confidently and he would do as she'd asked, dropping his weapon and leaving her alone.

She'd never seen anyone do anything like that before, and so she had no idea how she'd known it would work. So she wondered, now, if she'd always known she'd be able to reach out and connect with someone, had known just how to do it and just what it would feel like, and she'd only stumbled now because she'd thought Luke would be further away from her than he had been.

"I just... wanted to talk," she concluded weakly, even though it was the truth. "That is possible, isn't it? To use the Force to talk over long distances? I just thought I'd give it a try."

If it's a common enough occurrence that Luke would agree that it was possible, then Rey could let this whole thing drop. All she'd wanted to do was disprove any supposed connection between her and Kylo Ren. Beyond that, actually being able to tap into the ability to communicate with other Force users at will in the same way wasn't actually something she cared to do. If she wanted to talk to Luke, she had no issue with finding him somewhere on the island and starting a conversation with him the normal way. Considering how much of a novelty "normal" was, she'd wager to say that that was even better than using the Force.

She got defensive too easily. Jumped too soon and asked questions later, if at all. She thought she knew better and assumed the worst about how others reacted. So worried she'd be pushed away, that she pushed first.

He was in danger of pushing her away. He was in danger of it working. The darkness he saw inside her, the power... was it any different from Ben's? Or his own? Could he truly risk another mistake like that which had created Kylo Ren? Had he not pushed Ben until he broke, creating the exact future he'd feared? By leaving, he had thought to end the cycle. But he hadn't. He'd left a gap, an imbalance in the Force that it would fill in any way it could. And this girl... she'd found him.

He could no more walk away from her than he could leave a thermal detonator armed. He'd set it, years ago.

"Do you ever think about these things before trying them?" he demanded. "Did you even consider the consequences? Or were you too afraid I'd say no?" He raised a hand, as if to forestall her reply. Or, perhaps, offer some concession. "I'm just trying to get you to think before you act, Rey. I've never seen anyone with the kind of instinctive facility you have. So I'd hesitate to say anything was impossible. I simply want you to learn to stop and think before you attempt the impossible. This isn't a game, and it's not a toy."

It wasn't. But, he realized, he could no longer afford to treat her like a child. He'd tried that before, with Ben, and his school. And it only led, he was just now understanding, to rebellion. Keeping them at arm's length, never letting them in... isn't that what his masters had done? And had he not chafed under their restrictions? He could say that he had not fallen, but could he say that had been because of their teachings?

And could he truly say that he had not lost everything because of one moment of darkness?

Old habits were hard to break. But it was dawning on him that this student was not like the others, and he could not treat her like the others lest she end up like them. He took a deep breath, and nodded, as if to himself.

"Come with me," he said, and started off up a path that wound along the cliffs .

Rey wasn't so cocky or immature that she would argue back when reprimanded, particularly when she knew very well that she was in the wrong. She could have asked for Luke's guidance and permission before doing anything. She should have asked for his guidance and permission. But she'd been so focused on proving to herself that Kylo had been lying, that their so-called connection was nothing special beyond being a sign of one person strong in the Force searching out for another who also happened to be strong. What better way to immediately test that theory than to try to reach out to Luke?

Even so....

"I'm sorry," she earnestly replied once he seemed to give her leave to speak again. "I know what I did was impulsive and foolish. I promise, I won't consciously do anything like that again without your permission, or unless I think it's urgent."

She didn't want to disappoint him. It had been a long time since she'd last worried about disappointing someone. Meeting Han Solo had been exciting, and she'd bonded with him remarkably well, but it had been over the Falcon. They had common ground. It was easy to bond. She and Luke had the Force, but... she couldn't exactly finish his sentences or show him workarounds, the way she had when it had come to Han and his ship. She couldn't bond with Luke.

But she wanted to. And that was where the fear of letting him down came in.

A little surprised when he suddenly turned and beckoned for her to follow, Rey nevertheless did so immediately. She knew she was walking on thin ice, and if she didn't want him to completely shut her out as he'd had when she'd first arrived to the island, she was going to have to head in the opposite direction and try to find a way to turn off this link she had to Kylo, rather than go seeking it out in others.

"Where are we going?"

Unseen, Luke rolled his eyes. "The island is less than a kilometer across at its longest point," he threw back over his shoulder. "Have some patience."

The irony of this statement uttered by him was not lost, but it also was more sad than funny, and he didn't want to dwell on it. He'd been so impatient, back then. So ignorant. And yet, the lessons learned had been vague and contradictory, even with long years now of meditating on his mistakes. In some ways, he was no closer to understanding the Force than he'd been in Ben Kenobi's hut. And yet, when Rey looked at him, he saw someone reflected in her eyes he did not recognize. He didn't know which he wanted more: to live up to that image, or to tear it down.

But this wasn't about him. The long she lingered, following him around like a shadow, the more he understood her own restless conflict. The fear of what welled up within her, mixed with a thrill he, too, recognized. The potential to make a difference, to change the balance. It was dangerous.

The path wore its way through boulders and outcroppings of rock, bordered with moss, until after several minutes it emptied into a saddle between two peaks. In the little bowl formed there, dirt had accumulated enough to let wildflowers grow, and the sight and sound of the sea was reduced dramatically from most other points on the island. Luke had discovered it shortly after his arrival, and in those first, dark days it had been a refuge from the relentless sweep of the ocean. Sure it had been thirty years or more since he lived on Tatooine, but there was a part of Luke that would never really get over his fascination with that much water--or his wariness of it.

It was nothing, really--a small depression with little white flowers dotting the green--but what Rey could not know was that he had not brought her here yet because it was his. He wasn't sure why he was doing it now, except in an attempt to do something, anything, differently.

Turning, he dropped to the ground, legs crossed.

"You can use the Force to communicate over long distances," he said, as if no gap existed between her question and his answer. "I've only ever done it during times of great necessity." Mostly because he hadn't thought about it until then. "And in my experience, it's only possible when you know who, or what, you're looking for. The life of every living being is visible to us in the Force, but to connect to one specific person, to communicate in words rather than merely emotion, takes control."

"I was just asking," Rey returned, trying not to sound petulant. It didn't quite work, and she was sure he probably thought of her as some sort of impetuous youth, more focused on the end result than on the journey getting there. And maybe she was, but that wasn't unique to her. Most people slowed down when they got older, became more contemplative, thoughtful. That was why people her age were supposed to look up to them, wasn't it?

But while she did look up to him, she couldn't pretend that it wasn't just a step away from madness, following after him like this without knowing where they were going. She meant that in the metaphorical as much as the literal sense. She could feel herself growing stronger and more focused whenever they were together, but it was a slow growth. Rey didn't want to learn the Force in inches. She didn't have time for that. None of them did.

But she didn't want to badger or upset him, especially not now after her little stunt. She followed along, resisting the urge to reach out to him either with a touch to his shoulder or a cautious nudge of the Force. She just... didn't want him being angry at her. She couldn't stand the thought, really.

When they arrived at their destination, Rey looked around, ears ringing slightly in the comparative silence from the ocean waves. The whole island had a lonely sort of beauty - anything that wasn't covered in sand and blistering sun was apt to be beautiful to her - but that particular spot felt especially lovely. Peaceful.

It must be the flowers. Rey had always liked flowers, especially the ones that bloomed in less-than-ideal conditions. Those were the only sorts she'd ever seen on Jakku, after all.

She watched Luke as he took his place on the ground, and she was going to join him, to sit across from him and soak up whatever lesson he had to offer, but she hesitated. He was answering her question, finally, but... he wasn't. Not really. And if she dug too deeply, it might make him suspicious.

"What about... more than words?" She knew it wasn't the best way to phrase it as soon as she said it, and so she didn't quite look at him as she slowly sat down, not so much directly across from him but adjacent.

"What about being able to see another person, along with hearing and feeling them? I don't just mean seeing them in your mind's eye, but... as though they're right in front of you, talking to you, even though you know they're not. Does that just take a little more control?"

The proximity of another sentient being was almost distracting. Especially now that Luke had loosened his barriers to the Force, which had been not so much a choice as a reflex he didn't fix. The longer she was there, the less resistance he could maintain to bending to her like one of these flowers to the light.

Which was, he reflected, a pretty stupid thought for an old man.

But she was so bright, not just in the Force but in her presence next to him. Even without the added senses, she'd aroused something in him he'd never thought to feel again. The desire for connection with another living being. She had spoken of conflict within him--and among the many, that was chief. He did not want to want her here. Did not want to need people. Growing up as he had, he had made friends late and held on to them tightly. Being alone, while not a natural state, was habitual. It was easier. Because Luke had never been good at moderating attachment, once begun. So what in the nine hells was he doing?

"Have you?" he asked, eyes slanting towards her face. "Seen someone, I mean." There was suspicion there, but not for the reasons she might have thought--he was thinking of Ben Kenobi, of Yoda. "There are those so powerful in the Force, so attuned, that they can project themselves into being. We are all the Force, and the Force is us. So, yes. It takes a tremendous amount of control to be one with the Force to the extent that it... takes your shape."

She inhaled sharply when he asked if she'd seen someone. He knew. He had to have known. Or at least he suspected it. And if he were to find out that she had a strange bond with his most dangerous student, what would he do to her? Turn her away? Yell at her? She didn't know which option sounded worse.

But if Luke did know or suspect anything regarding her and Kylo Ren, he wasn't saying anything about it. So she was fairly certain that she wouldn't have to worry about being abandoned again just yet.

"So...." Short of explaining her situation and just why she was asking, Rey was having trouble getting the information she needed without arousing Luke's suspicions. Despite whatever he might think about himself, Rey knew he was a smart man, or at least certainly not an idiot. If she kept on with a certain line of questions, he's going to find out, and the fact that she'd tried hiding it from him would just upset him further.

"It can only be done with control? Not... accidentally?" Shrugging a shoulder, she looked down and explained, "I-... I've been having dreams. Or visions or hallucinations or who-knows-what. They're just... very realistic. Full conversations, small details on clothing, specific sounds and smells. I was just wondering if I'd stumbled onto something."

Or, more accurately, if someone had stumbled into her.

He looked at her sharply, his breath hissing softly between his teeth. "I didn't say that," he said, spreading his hands. "When are you going to understand that the Force is larger than any one person. I don't have all the answers, Rey. My experience isn't a stand-in for the entire history of the galaxy."

She was hiding something, and he didn't know why. She'd seen a lot, this girl. He knew that. There was a well of loneliness fueling her desperation, her passion, her anger. He wished it didn't terrify him as much as it did. The only thing worse, he thought, would be if he wasn't.

"The Force can send visions. Dreams, if you like. The future, the past--it's not for us, necessarily, to decide why." And yet, they were only mortal. They had two choices: to act, or not to act. After that night, Luke was no longer certain which was the right one. The visions he'd seen, the future built by Kylo Ren... had he not brought it about by acting?

Or had he brought it about by not acting quickly enough? And who was he to teach this person?

"The Force is telling you something. Or, if you like, your connection to it has brought you in touch with some understanding denied to most people. Be very careful with it, Rey. We might think we know what it's showing us, but don't make the mistake in thinking you know what to do about it."

It was happening all over again, he thought. Only he wasn't sure who Rey was in this scenario--Ben Solo, or himself. And she had only this broken old man to guide her, not even a real Jedi like Obi-Wan or Yoda.

"But if it's showing you something, you need to listen. Is that what you were trying to do?"

Luke didn't understand that Rey needed him to have all the answers. Or, at the very least, she needed him to sound as though he had all the answers. He could pretend, for her sake. But then, why should he? All he'd wanted to do was be left alone.

But he wasn't alone, and he was going to have to deal with that. There was another person on his island now, another person who had feelings and fears and who desperately needed clarity. If a legendary Jedi master couldn't grant her that, what could she do? Turn to the person who'd offered her answers, even if there was a good chance it had been little more than a lie to get her to embrace the darkness?

No. She was going to fight Kylo Ren tooth and nail on this, and she was going to use Luke to do it. He deserved to know that his own nephew was appearing to her, his former student was visiting her at her loneliest and most vulnerable and was trying to-....

Except it didn't seem as though Kylo had been trying to do much of anything during their conversations, either. He'd appeared just as surprised and confused to see her as she had been to see him, that first time. So if this wasn't part of a plan, Rey needed the confirmation that this could just be a fluke, an accident, a sign that Kylo was desperately trying to find her and Luke and this was how his powers manifested.

She almost had that confirmation, until Luke claimed the Force was telling her something. So... they were connected. She didn't know how, or why, but if nothing else, she was fairly certain that Kylo didn't know, either. He'd been trying to use that to his advantage this whole time, but maybe she could use it to hers instead.

Just... carefully.

She debated telling Luke the truth, but in the end, decided that it was best to keep mum, at least while Kylo was still unable to see where she was. She could avoid the truth without outright lying to him.

"More like I was trying to understand it so I could stop listening," she admitted softly. "Or listen at will. It's been... distracting, looking around me and no longer being sure what's real. It feels like I'm going insane." And if she'd retained her sanity the entire time she'd carved out some semblance of a life on Jakku, losing her grip on it now was far from a good sign.

Looking at Luke and no longer being sure what kinds of answers she wanted from him but knowing she wanted something, she asked, "Is it always like this?"

"Like what?" he asked, head turning to take her in. She was giving off waves of agitation, though suppressed. And he was forcibly reminded that she was a kid, seeking answers. Just as he had been once, thrust unwilling into a conflict he hadn't started but was suddenly expected to solve.

"You're not insane," he said, voice far more gentle than it had been. He was realizing that by putting her off, by trying to keep her from the pressure of destiny, he'd actually done something of the opposite. Just because he denied her did not mean the Force stopped in its tracks--and it definitely wanted her for something. Did he think he could stop that by denying her? He sighed. "I'm sorry. You came here for answers, and I... I can't help but wish you didn't need them. You don't deserve to be forced into a role you didn't ask for. You don't deserve to be expected to fix things. That's why I find it hard to give you those answers. Because you didn't ask for this, any more than I did."

"But you still learned where you fit into your fight," Rey told him, trying to keep her voice steady. She'd come to Luke hoping that the clouds would part and she would suddenly know her place in everything, but... either because of Kylo's interference or some shortcoming of her own making, she was more confused now than ever. "You didn't deserve to be taken from whatever life you'd had at the start. But you did what you could with what you had and came out a legend."

Leaning in towards him and looking at him with eyes every bit as determined as they were fearful, she concluded, "You're all I have, Master Skywalker. If you can't help me, then-...." She was almost in tears, and she hated it, but if nothing else, she felt she could be vulnerable around Luke. Even if he thought her tears foolish, who was he going to tell?

"Then I'm afraid. Afraid of where I'll turn to find the answers. Please, just... just give me something to hold onto."

He had hardened his heart long ago--or so he thought. From hero to legend to untouchable was not a great leap, after all, and after Endor, people had begun to treat him differently, with a reverence he found difficult to understand or accept. And no one, it seemed, had wanted Luke Skywalker, the man. Even Leia, who knew him better than anyone, had been too busy to notice what was going on, and she had needed him. And Luke had always gone where he was needed, rather than where he needed to go.

"You don't need a legend," he said, voice laden with sorrow. "Legends disappoint, Rey. Legends never live up to their reputation. The legend of Skywalker has caused more death and destruction..."

He looked away for a moment, collecting himself. What was it about this girl that could undo him so? Or was it merely that his heart was not as hard as he had tried to make it, such that the smallest chink was a fatal weakness?

"I've been reluctant to teach you because I have failed. I created a monster. And I will not do it again And yet, if I refuse, you threaten what? To fly to him on your own?"

Though Rey had already known that Luke was far from the wizened old master she'd been expecting, it was still disheartening to hear him talk about himself like that. "The Skywalker legend inspires hope," she murmured softly. "Leia wouldn't ask me to come here otherwise."

Or would she? Maybe General Organa had long ago lost hope and had just wanted to see her brother one last time before everything fell apart. Maybe she knew that Luke would be reluctant to leave the island, and was hoping to keep Rey out of harm's way while she tried to convince him to leave. She didn't know, and the fact that her certainty and resolve just continued to crumble the longer she spent in here made it frighteningly easy to lose that hope she'd been clinging to.

But then Luke's question shocked her, and she wondered how much of her dilemma with Kylo Ren Luke had been privy to all along. "What? No!" Except yes. Yes, that was what she might end up doing, but it wasn't a threat. It was a very real fear.

She moved from sitting to kneeling, holding herself up straight and intent as she glared at Luke, some measure of her determination sparking back into her eyes. "Snoke created a monster. And you'll have no hand in any other monstrosities. This is about my own weakness, not yours. You're Luke Skywalker, and whatever that might mean to you, it means worlds to me."

She'd heard his name even on the outer reaches of Jakku, and he'd been a wonder long before she'd even known to actively grasp onto hope and never let it go. Whatever stories might or might not be true, he was a legend, a hero, a beacon of hope for rebels everywhere, and that? That meant more than he seemed to realize. Would Kylo be so desperate to find him otherwise?

And yet....

"You're right; I don't need a legend," she admitted softly. "I need a teacher. A mentor. A friend. Because if I don't have anything anchoring me, I might lose my balance, and that terrifies me."

He was surprised by Rey's vehemence, and could only sit in wonder as she glared at him, unafraid and so, so certain of herself despite her voiced apprehension. He was surprised, too, by how many emotions the word Leia evoked. After all he'd done, all that had come about as a result of his insistence that he could teach the boy, yet she still sought him.

How could that be? How could anything make up for the disaster Luke had allowed under his watch? And how could he guide the person in front of him, when he could barely guide himself without the rut of his daily routine to keep him alive?

"Leia... is far too forgiving," he said, though one could barely claim that as an obvious fault of hers. But as he spoke, he was struck indelibly by the similarity between her and Rey. Not Leia now, old and careworn, but Leia as the fiery, independent warrior he'd first met. Rey had her spirit and drive. And Luke was no match. He'd made the decision already, and this, all this, had been merely dancing around the inevitable, just as he'd done when Artoo had first shown him that hologram. "But I won't turn you away." He took a deep breath. "Sit down. While you can't count on other people to save you, I know the... the importance of an anchor in the storm. If it means that much to you, I'll teach you how to find me."

When Luke said that he wouldn't turn her away, Rey blinked at him, feeling a huge amount of tension slip from her shoulders. She sat down, just barely managing to keep from collapsing onto the ground in her relief. She'd been worried that she'd upset him, offended him, that she'd overstepped her bounds and would be cast out. But Luke was giving her a chance.

And if he was willing to teach her how to strengthen a Force bond, maybe she could use this so-called connection to Kylo towards her benefit, and the benefit of the Resistance at large.

"Thank you," she breathed, smiling fairly cheerfully. "You have no idea how much this means to me. All of this."

The truth that Rey did not know was that Luke had a hard time casting anyone out. It had taken utter isolation and throwing away the map, not to mention cutting himself off from the Force, to ensure that he would not get drawn in again. After that night, Luke had been in no position to help anyone, but the only way to truly remove himself had been to physically get as far away as was humanly possible.

That said, it wasn't that Rey was not special herself. It would not have been just anyone he'd have brought here, or spoken these things to. But Luke was a hermit by choice, not by nature. He was not strong enough to turn anyone away, once they'd wormed their way under his skin.

The prospect of letting her in closer, well. He did not like it. He was, frankly, terrified of it--of the vulnerability, of what she might see, of what he might see of himself through her. But the alternative was looking less attractive all the time. What if, he second-guessed himself, by turning her away he aided in the creation of another Kylo Ren?

Could he have that on his conscience as well?

"I'm not sure you do, either," he said, shaking his head. She didn't know all that she asked. But he hadn't, either--and he would not have given up, regardless. "Close your eyes. Like we talked about before--reach out with the Force. Feel the energy of everything around us. The grass. The rock. The island. The birds. The water below, in constant flow like the Force itself."

He kept on like this for a few minutes, guiding her attention to elements in turn and encouraging her to focus on them. The better she was able to distinguish the various ways in which the Force interacted with both the living and not, the finer attuned she would be.

Finally, when he felt her calm, he shored up rusty mental shields so that she might not see all the way through him, and said, "Now, me. Focus on me, in the Force. Feel the energy flow within, around me. Between the two of us. Nothing else, yet. Just feel it. Until you can see how we are connected. Not because we use the Force, but because we live, and are all part of the same energy."

She didn't know what he meant by his statement - of course she knew how much this meant, or else she wouldn't want it so badly - but that didn't matter. The moment he began talking as though he was giving a lesson, Rey immediately snapped into the image of the perfect student. She sat cross-legged directly in front of Luke and closed her eyes as soon as he told her to, and though his instructions were abstract at best, she followed them as closely as she could.

As before, she could feel it all with his guidance: the light and the dark, the peace and the conflict, the joy and the sorrow. Everything around her had some place in the story woven by the Force, and while it would have been all too easy to get distracted by the fact that she still had trouble picturing her own place in it all, she focused outwardly, walking along the gray area in between it all that acted as the balance between the two extremes.

She only hesitated when he changed the lesson, asking that she focus on him. She didn't want to overreach, especially since he was right there, but he knew what he was asking. Taking a slow, deep breath, she did as he asked, visualizing that she was reaching out with her hand and feeling him there, though she kept her body still.

There was warmth there. Not just the body heat exuded by most humans, but an ephemeral sensation of more than a body, of a soul. Her curiosity tried to break in, to make her ask questions about the nature of the soul and whether a person's story truly ends when they die, but she kept it quiet. That wasn't the lesson.

She could live with that, all things considered. She'd rather focus on life than brood on death.

"You're warm," she murmured at last, once she got a firm grip on just what she was feeling. "Not in the same way as the sun. And not in the same way as me. It's close, but... it's different. Unique. Yours."

He did not close his eyes. He didn't really need to, and he wanted to watch her. It wasn't as if he didn't get all the input he needed from the Force, but going without for so long, he'd begun to recall the value of his original senses.

That, and when she began talking, he feared that the feedback loop created by her seeing him this way, by the sheer gratitude of recognition, would be overwhelming if he focused only on that. As it was, the warmth she described washed towards her, mingling with his own sense of her, bright and stormy and so raw it almost hurt. The hurt was, however, the kind that made you feel alive and aware, rather than pain. The sort of feeling that reminded you who you were, of muscles and emotions you'd forgotten you had. It was something he could quickly become too accustomed to.

To hear her describe him, define his shape in her world, was a mirror held up to show someone he did not recognize. He didn't feel warm. He felt still and cold and ancient, worn like the rocks below where the surf had eroded them for years. Full of crannies and holes which caught nothing. Stagnant.

He pushed those thoughts away.

"Good. Now. Most Jedi can only sense feelings, emotions. Predict actions if they're imminent. Plant thoughts or actions in those who cannot resist. But with a connection, more is possible. Open your eyes."

He gazed into hers still keeping the vast majority of his private thoughts shielded, but allowing her to use the anchor of his eyes to focus on the thoughts he was willing to share.

"Look at me. Without practice, eye contact can help. Look at me, and try to her what I'm saying. Don't guess."

He formed a clear thought, something she would not predict, that could only have come from him.

Krayt dragons make poor pets.

Compared to the nothingness she'd felt from Luke that first time, to when she'd learned that he'd purposely cut himself off from the Force, what Rey felt now was a welcome wave of potential. Luke was stronger than the stories said, stronger than even he knew. Rey didn't know if it was the hero worship from her childhood coloring her impression of him, or if was simply all of the strength and beauty that Luke had turned himself away from coming up to meet the emptiness he'd tried to replace it with.

It couldn't stand that way for long. He had to have known that. It was as he'd said: everything in the galaxy exists because of both Light and Dark. He couldn't maintain that precious balance if he tried to turn his back on it.

It was easy to get distracted by what she could feel from Luke, but she knew she couldn't afford that, not now. He was giving another order, and so she had to focus, opening her eyes and blinking for a moment as though still sensing that brightness from behind her eyelids. When she was able to, she focused completely on his eyes.

They were nice. Blue. She didn't see blue eyes often.

She blinked a few more times, wondering where that thought had come from and thinking for a moment that that was the thought she was supposed to get off of him. She doubted it, though. Luke didn't seem like the sort of man who would try to convince young girls that he had nice eyes.

"What's a krayt dragon?" she asked, deciding that that must be it, since she'd never seen such a creature. "And how would you know they make poor pets?"

For all his vaunted detachment, she was right. The balance would, somehow, right itself. Perhaps it already had.

But which way?

He was not aware of her observation of his eyes, only of her intense scrutiny and the way it made him feel more self-conscious than a man of his age should. Then again, he hadn't done anything like this is years. It was bound to feel... invasive.

He did notice she had freckles, and quickly shoved that away as an oddly inappropriate thought for an old man to have about a young girl. Well. A young girl who was actually a woman.

How do you think? His eyes crinkled with pleasure at her skill, and he smiled, that same warmth still flowing between them. And this time he formed an image to send her, of a young (though still quite sizable) Krayt dragon, snarling unhappily at the viewer whose gaze then turned to look at gashes in their own arm. A memory, Luke's own, from an ill-fated teenage adventure on Tatooine.

She was powerful. Intuitive. Like no one he'd ever taught before.

He tried not to enjoy that feeling.

The sudden touch of humor in the thought she got from Luke was quietly surprising, and immensely appreciated. It helped to soothe her nerves from the jarring way she'd started the day, and she chuckled at their silent exchange, amazed that he could so effortlessly speak to her without saying a word.

All things considered, if she was going to be that closely connected to anyone, she'd much rather it be Luke than Kylo. There was a warmth in him that she'd never sensed from his nephew, and it easily enveloped her now as they interacted, making her feel safer than she had in ages.

The sudden image gives her pause, so lifelike that she looked down at her own arm as though looking at the very gashes that a young and inexperienced Luke Skywalker had once received on his. She wondered if he still bore the scars from that, and she glanced over at him, briefly picturing what they might look like until she realized that, right, it probably wasn't appropriate to imagine what her teacher looked like under his robes, even if it was only his arm.

She took a moment to increase her focus, to hold on to their connection a little more tightly and see if she could respond wordlessly. Meeting his eyes again, she tried to pay attention to signs that he could actually hear her, hoping she wasn't just causing an awkward lull in their conversation. Did you want a pet that badly, or were you just trying to see if you could tame it?

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.

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