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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He stared at her hand on his, like it was an unfamiliar limb. He wasn't used to being this off-kilter, but he was vaguely aware that he was losing his hold on the situation. He'd been doing fine--not living, exactly, but existing until he finally didn't. There was no loneliness, no need, because there was nothing.

Now, with this disruption, he was equally unable to process the feelings or to push her away. And it was getting harder, the worse his unbalance got. He needed to meditate on this. Find a way to, if not close the door, deal with what was coming through.

He didn't want to feel safe. He didn't deserve it.

"Rey, no," he said quietly. "You can't... you shouldn't put your faith in me. Whatever you think I can give you..." He shook his head. "I can't."

"... you already are," she told him, a touch of confusion in her voice. "It's not a conscious choice. It's just... hard to be lonely when you're alone with someone else. It's a good thing, Master Skywalker. There's no harm in accepting a good thing when it comes your way."

That was something that Rey had needed a little time to accept, herself. She wished she'd been able to recognize Han Solo as the good thing he'd been in her life while he was still around.

She wasn't going to turn a blind eye to what Luke was, or what he could be to her.

There's no harm in accepting a good thing when it comes your way.

He'd believed that, once. Time and again, he'd accepted the unexpected into his life--after, sometimes, a short struggle--and believed it to be for the best. Until Ben. Until what had come his way had been himself, and that had been disastrous.

He couldn't accept the responsibility for ruining another life. Not again. And this girl, this fiercely independent soul, was looking to him for guidance he couldn't give himself. And he was leaning in, despite all his training and his defenses. Which, it turned out, were for naught. He was rusty. And tired. And she had no idea either how dangerous he was to her, or how much a danger she posed to his equilibrium here.

"The lesson is over," he said unnecessarily, standing up abruptly. "As is this conversation." He stood for a moment, head bowed, struggling with how to apologize when he wasn't sure what for, or why he needed to get away. "The... demonstration today has left me in need of time to meditate. I suggest you occupy yourself with your exercises."

There. That would have to be polite enough for now. He didn't know what he'd do if she followed him, so he didn't look back. Instead, he strode off away from the dwellings, lamenting the fact he'd shown her his own private valley.

But it wasn't her he needed to get away from. The hollow feeling followed him, dogging his attempts to walk it off or meditate. It was the difference between mere absence, and lacking. Somehow, she'd blown a human-shaped hole in his composure, and the stiffness of his awakening humanity pained him. The patterns of his normal life here no longer made sense, though he tried to go through the motions.

He kept seeing her eyes, hearing her words. Feeling that little tug towards her as he remembered the warmth rushing in to meet him as he opened himself up to her probing senses. He could not allow himself to feel that again. It shook his resolve. To what, he was not yet certain.

He spent the rest of the day avoiding her, though returning again and again to their conversation in his mind. And at night, lying on his pallet in his stone hut, he waited for sleep to claim him, not aware that it was not entirely his conscious mind which was holding on...

Rey couldn't pretend not to be disappointed when Luke unceremoniously concluded their conversation. The lesson had been over for some time, as far as she'd been concerned, and she'd been sitting with Luke and talking with him because she was genuinely enjoying it. For him to simply get up and walk away... it left her wondering over what she'd said or done to push him away from her.

As she'd picked up their dishes and washed them, though, she'd tried to take it as a hopeful sign that Luke was going to go and meditate about what they'd talked about today. Maybe it would be the first step in him deciding to come back to the Resistance with her. And maybe it was the start of a regular occurrence of such intimate talks between them.

One of those meant more to her than the other, and it wasn't the one that should have.

But she kept telling herself that she was only happy that Luke was possibly finally coming around, because she had to believe that her pleasure was the selfless sort. After all, that was what being a Jedi was about, wasn't it? Selflessly acting towards the greater good?

The fact that it meant she and Luke could continue their friendship even after the First Order was finally gone was just a bonus.

But as the day went on and turned into night, Rey began to grow worried, not having seen Luke again. She didn't think anything had happened to him, but it was still a little concerning that he wouldn't come by to say anything else to her throughout the day. As she lay in her hut and stared up at the ceiling, she could feel her worry eating at her the more she told herself she was being foolish; it was almost like a physical entity that was keeping her from sleep.

It took a long time for her to realize that not all of these feelings were her own, and she looked towards the window, in the general direction of where she knew Luke slept. Or where he was trying to sleep. Or where he was dreaming. It was hard to tell, but it felt almost as though their earlier connection had opened up again, and she could feel things that were coursing through his mind, hazy thoughts and regrets and emotions that were far too mature for her own mind.

It was all too tempting to peek into his head, to make her presence known as she tried to sooth over his uncertainties. But even though this connection had formed accidentally, she didn't want him thinking that she'd been poking her nose in where it didn't belong. That might sever the trust between them, and she didn't want that.

So she did what a normal, non-Force-sensitive person would do when they were worried about the well-being of a friend. She got up and left her hut, a blanket draped over her shoulders to protect from the slight chill in the night air as she moved towards where she assumed Luke was sleeping, or trying to sleep, or pretending to sleep. She hesitated for a moment at the door before knocking just loudly enough to be heard over the crashing waves, hoping she hadn't alienated him earlier and wasn't currently doing anything to alienate him further.

He was drifting.

Between fitful sleep and wakefulness, but also along the threads of the conversation they'd had--and his connection to her. He'd been so long without practice, not only with emotional connection but also with his connection to the Force. And it turned out, his shields were used to being complete and fully in place. By lowering them just that much, he'd weakened them. Or maybe just his resolve in shoring them up.

The knock wasn't his first warning--he could feel her coming, like an elastic band relieving pressure as the two ends drew closer.

He considered pretending to be asleep, but only for a moment. There's no way she would believe it, and he wasn't prepared to be quite that petulant. So he sat up in bed, and arranged his robes as he got slowly to his feet. He wasn't sure if he was irritated that she was seeking him out or relieved.

"What's wrong?" he asked upon opening the door, despite knowing that he probably knew.

"You tell me."

Rey knew that wasn't exactly the most considerate way to begin the conversation, but she was slightly startled by the way Luke had answered the door. It was almost as though he'd known she'd be coming, but if that were the case he should also know why she was there. But then, even Rey couldn't exactly put into words why she was there, so she was probably putting too much stock in the idea that Luke knew everything.

"Sorry, I just-... are you all right? The way you left earlier, it had me worried that I'd said something that bothered you."

Tilting her head at him, she looked him over as though trying to suss out how he was feeling before softly saying, "Please tell me that you're okay."

Are you okay?

The question made him want to laugh. What right had he to be okay, let alone have anyone ask it of him? He'd given up that right, not only when Kylo Ren had shattered the dream of a new Jedi Order but when he'd taken on the mantle of Jedi Master. At first, he could not afford to not be all right. Later, nothing could ever be right again.

Luke vaguely knew that he was on the edge of some sort of breakdown, that what was going on was the result of an unhealthy period of abnegation and denial followed by a new circumstance he wasn't dealing with well at all. But in the moment, he only knew that he was torn between anger at himself and concern for her.

It made him uncharacteristically mean.

"What?" he asked, brow furrowed. "You think that after everything I've been through and done, the Sith lords I've faced, wars I've fought, worlds I've visited, that something a girl says is what's going to take me down? You think a conversation ranks up there in the list of bad days Luke Skywalker has had? You think I can't handle one wayward child--"

He stopped cold, a look of horror passing over his features as his own words sink in, as his own anger melts away in the face of the memory of what that anger has caused in the past. And he stepped back inadvertently, seeking to increase the distance not from her, but from the impulse to lash out that could only be because he had so little practice with any real feeling that none of them seemed to be working.

"I'm sorry," he said, almost voiceless, and staring at her as if waiting for something to change in her eyes, some sign that he's failed her, too. "I don't mean any of that. I'm..."

Luke's response took her off-guard, and Rey could only blink at him in shock for a few moments before the hurt began to creep into her eyes. For someone who didn't want to be known as a legend, he suddenly seemed to be fond of pulling together all of the things that had made him a legend and using them to point out just how insignificant she really was to him, in the grand scheme of things.

It wasn't as though she'd thought any differently, really. She was a nobody from a trash planet, and the only reason she'd been sent here had been because Leia couldn't step away from her duties as general and Rey had been eager to learn more about the Force. She'd just... had so few friends that she'd made the mistake of thinking she and Luke had had a connection of some sort. But if he only thought of her as a child....

He seemed contrite, though, and she wasn't sure if that was because he realized he was being harsh or because he could see the tears brimming in her eyes even in the darkness. But she wasn't about to run crying from his door just because he'd been harsh, so she swallowed back the hurt and did her best not to be emotional.

"You didn't answer my question," she told him levelly once she was sure she could speak without her voice cracking. "Though given your outburst, I don't think you need to tell me whether or not you're all right."

She couldn't help being at least slightly petulant, though, and she glanced away as she blinked back the tears before they could fall. "I'd ask if you wanted to talk about it, but you probably don't want to waste time talking to a child when you'd rather be sleeping."

She didn't run. And she was trying not to cry. And both things made him feel like a monster, and like he needed to protect her from people like himself. Like himself. This wasn't him, he felt sure of that, but he was equally certain that he was losing his grasp of who he was.

He'd come here to literally be no one, so that was kind of the point. Why did it, now, hurt so much? Why, if he was trying to chase her away, did he feel so bad at having almost succeeded?

Instinctively, unconsciously, he reached out. The link between them, forged earlier, had not truly been severed, and something inside him had grasped on with both hands. Now, in his need to prove to her that she had everything backwards, something wormed its way past his shields, even as he shook his head, shaken.

alone afraid so much like me so much like BEN save yourself don't leave not worthy don't ruin her you don't deserve this you don't deserve ANYTHING why aren't you dead yet why can't you remember how to talk to people Not in words, exactly, but the trickle of conflicted emotion increased in volume.

"You don't understand," he said hoarsely. "I came here to die. I came here so that no one would else end up like Ben--or like me. I came here so I couldn't hurt people like you." He tilted his head. "But I have, haven't I? You don't get it."

He turned, pacing along the wall of the hut, just to have something to do, some distance.

"I'm pushing you away because no good can come of you emulating me. I'm pushing you away because I am the one I can't forgive."

Rey didn't know what she was expecting in terms of a response, but whatever it was, it certainly hadn't been... that. There was suddenly a wave of some sort of indescribable emotion, rolling over her and covering her and threatening to drown her. It was hard to parse out any one thought or feeling, but the overall impression she got was one of extreme self-loathing.

Luke shouldn't feel like this. No one should feel like this.

She almost didn't hear what he actually said, so taken aback by whatever that was that he'd perhaps unwittingly shared. Though she generally had enough of a sense of etiquette not to enter someone's space until invited in, Rey found herself stepping into Luke's hut, staring at him as he paced.

This wasn't right. None of this was right. All of the stories she'd heard, all of the victories that Luke had had a hand in... it couldn't have all resulted in a man who thought he was so wrong and broken and useless.

"What did you do that was so unforgivable?"

She didn't expect him to answer her quiet question, given the way he'd been playing it so close to the vest this entire time. But if the root of all of this was tied to the fact that he'd done something he couldn't forgive, then maybe uncovering some of that will help bridge the gap between them. And if not... at least he would know that there was someone who cared about him, other than his sister.

Stepping towards him, she cautiously rested a hand on his arm, tilting her head to get him to look at her. "You haven't had much luck in pushing me away yet," she told him softly. "Your luck isn't going to change now, Luke."

Luke. Not Master Luke. Just Luke. He stared at her hand, then had to shut his eyes. This was ridiculous, and he was acting like a child. Well, a worse child than he'd ever been, himself. But perhaps it was because this was the first he'd been truly forced to deal with this since losing Ben.

There was a lot pent up behind that.

Stopping it back up was harder than it should be.

But he reigned in some of his spilling emotion, taking a few deep breaths and realizing, belatedly, just how much he'd been projecting. As if he needed more reason to hate himself.

"I created Kylo Ren," he said softly, deciding in the moment that she deserved to know the truth, if she was going to insist on staying.

If Rey noticed any difference from how she usually addressed him, she didn't show it. All she knew was that she wasn't coming to Luke now as a student. She was coming to him as a concerned friend. Friends don't usually refer to one another by titles.

His words didn't immediately make sense to her, but then she realized she had to look at it from his point of view. Which was, she knew, ridden by guilt and shame, most it not all of it being wholly undeserved. "Snoke created Kylo Ren," she told him evenly. "You were just trying to help your nephew. What he became was out of your hands."

Luke opened his eyes, meeting hers finally, and the conviction in them was plain.

"No," he said. "I saw what he would become, and I did not give him the consideration I gave the man who had murdered my family. I saw potential, and I allowed him to be overtaken by Snoke's influence. I was not there for him. The Jedi way teaches detachment, discipline, balance. I foolishly thought I could do better than those who had taught me. I foolishly assumed nothing like Vader could ever happen again. And I was so horrified by the possibility that I... I did nothing but ensure his fall."

He put his hand over hers where it rested on his arm.

"So you see, there is no way but your own, Rey. I don't have the answers. I don't even..."

"You didn't allow for this to happen!" she told him, trying to keep her voice low. She didn't want him to think that she was angry or frustrated, didn't want to give him any reason to shut her out again. But it was important that he understand her.

"Everyone has their own choices to make. Ben Solo made his choice. Whether he could eventually make a new choice and be redeemed the way Vader had, I don't know. But he's with the First Order now because he chose to be there.

"And I-... I choose to be here. I won't fail you the way he had."

She stepped in a little closer, the determination in her eyes palpable as she told him, "You might not have answers, but you have experience, and that's worth more than anything that could ever be taught in a traditional lesson. I didn't come here for a legend, for a myth, not even for a mentor. I came here because I needed someone who could make me feel less afraid of what was happening inside me. I don't feel afraid at all when I'm with you, Luke."

The shadow of Yoda--thankfully, only imagined--cackled a bit at that.

"Then you're a fool," Luke said sadly, without any bite. "And you're not listening. Ben didn't fail me. I failed him. Whatever his choices after--I failed him. And I don't have any experience to take away that fear."

If anything, his fear had only grown over the years. His youthful idealism shattered by expectation and loss.

And yet. He knew, with certainty, that he could not turn her away. Not with a personal plea such as that. Now that she'd wormed her way past his defenses, he was not capable of outright denying the connection.

"I'm listening," she told him solemnly. "You're not."

She sighed softly, shaking her head. "I don't know how Ben turned into Kylo Ren, and I'm fairly sure no one does for sure except for Ben. But you didn't create the thing that had killed Han Solo, no more than Han had himself. Ben might have perceived some of your words or actions a certain way, but you hadn't set out to create a monster. Snoke had. Snoke is the real enemy here, and I'm not a fool for acknowledging that. Whatever mistakes you'd made in your past don't change how I feel about you in the present. Remember that, Luke."

Granted, she didn't know the full extent of his supposed mistakes, but she still had enough of a pristine image of Luke Skywalker being a hero that even seeing him as an embittered older man hadn't taken away from her conviction that he was one of the good guys.

One of the good guys.

She wasn't projecting it in words, of course, but there was a warmth coming through that made her intent plain. And it made Luke want to shake his head, simultaneously shamed and buoyed by her faith, and its relative simplicity.

"Just because events transpire differently than we intend," he said, "doesn't absolve us of responsibility for them. You're still looking for a man who isn't here." He sighed, and looked over at her. "But I'm too tired to push you away, Rey." Not just old, not just deprived of sleep. But too weak to deny a new seed that had taken root in soil too long left fallow. "And I am sorry. For what I said earlier. I am... not much used to company."

He was stubborn, that much was obvious. But Rey had had to fight against tougher terrain than him. And survival had taught her how to be every bit as stubborn as he apparently was.

His apology was met with a downcast look and a slow nod. It had hurt, hearing that Luke thought of her as a child, but she wasn't going to prove him right by focusing on a bit of heated name-calling. Instead, she peered up at him, giving him a small, wry smile. "It's fine. I'm not exactly used to being company."

She took a breath to shake that off, straightening up as she gestured towards where he'd apparently been trying to sleep. "What I see is a man who tries to carry too much weight on his shoulders. You couldn't carry the weight of the galaxy on them half a lifetime ago, and you certainly can't be expected to do that now. No one can. So I'll stop bothering you if you promise to catch up on your rest and stop being weighed down by the past, at least for a little while."

Luke and Leia had both already had their turn at saving the galaxy, and Han had lost his life just trying to save his son. Rey wasn't going to lose anyone else, not when it was her turn to shoulder a bit of that responsibility. It was, after all, her galaxy too.

Foolish girl, he thought. But the thought was almost fond, recognizing the will of one who waded in to a situation without knowing what she was getting into, knowing only that she was part of it. How could he, of all people, deny that? Had he listened when his betters had feared he was moving too quickly?

Had he, after all, failed because he had tried not to be all the things Ben Kenobi and Yoda had warned him he was, and not because he was those things? The idea was a potentially life-changing one, and he backed away from it, for now. Instead, he found himself, smiling down (not too far down, really) and Rey and briefly touching his fingers to her chin as she looked up at him.

The skin contact was unexpected, even to him, because he had not consciously sought it. But he lingered on it only a moment, before his hand dropped, apparently having seen what he needed. She was determined, and she was honest. She had made a decision about him and he could not dislodge it.

"I don't need a mother," he said dryly. "But I will promise... to try."

Rey still wasn't used to sensing other people's feelings, or at least, she wasn't used to acknowledging that that was what she was feeling. She just thought she could get a sense of another person's approval or disapproval through nothing but body language and other small clues, and it was probably for the best that she didn't try attributing that to the Force and becoming overtly conscious of it.

Because really? She liked the sense of fondness she got from Luke, liked it more than she really should. It made it so she hardly thought about it at all when his fingertips brushed along her chin, and she didn't realize it had happened until he moved his hand away. And even then... she only realized it because she suddenly found herself missing the contact.

She blinked, surprised at herself, given that she'd never been overly fond of being touched. But maybe she'd just never known anyone that she'd wanted to touch her. Even with Finn, she'd had to get used to the fact that he simply grabbed her hand or hugged her out of relief. But with Luke....

Luke was different. And she simply didn't have the social aptitude to actually piece together how.

"You can do better than try," she told him once she decided to push that aside for now. Her voice was every bit as wry as his as she put a hand on his arm, gently nudging him. "Go on. Don't make me watch you all night and... do whatever it is that mothers do."

She knew that most children had some sort of bedtime ritual with her parents, though if she knew that as part of some hazy memory from before she'd been abandoned, it wasn't a strong enough memory to tell her what, exactly, that was.

"I wouldn't know, either," Luke said gently, with a smile. "But I doubt it's watching me while I sleep. Go on, now. You've... done your duty. Get some rest."

There was no graceful way to end this conversation, especially with her standing in his hut, but once she left he would lay down again. He wasn't sure he could sleep, after all that, but he was more exhausted than he knew, and eventually drifted off.

As confused as his thoughts and feelings were around Rey's presence on the island, one thing she definitely was not to him was a mother. And contrary to his outburst and her own fears, he did not exactly see her as a child. Perhaps if he'd been around society more, he'd have been more cognizant of what his own age meant, but as worn and out of it as he was, there was a part of him that had, perhaps, never grown up. In truth, he had skipped something between the farm and the rebellion hero, some stage that he'd never really passed through.

Not that he was conscious of any of this. No, it took his subconscious and the admonition to sleep to manifest. And, perhaps, not a little bit the connection itself, morphing within dreams into a form that made physical the metaphysical link between them.

Finally dead to the world, Luke's mind was no less active, in a way he had not experienced in many years. He'd been alone for so long. And before that, he'd kept everyone at arm's length, as well as kept his mind and desires tightly regulated lest anything get past his barriers to disturb his charges. Without that practice, and with new material, suddenly his imagination took liberties he never would have guessed.

The images and sensations were dim and abstract, at first. Just fleeting touches, a tingle of aroused nerves, warmth traveling the unmapped course of his body. Gentle and tentative, almost shy with lack of practice. But the ambiguity did not last long. There was only one focus for such feeling, after this day, and his sleeping brain caught glimpses of her. Smiling up at him, hand on his arm, scooting closer. Body and spirit both bending to touch his, to get closer, to take more than the taste they'd fumbled for platonically that afternoon.

It was more a feeling than specific acts. Union. Togetherness. Warmth, but a heat that touched parts of him long forgotten except for where he had to maintain the basics of life. Flashes of hands, lips, of awkward rhythms enhanced by shared energies, minds brushing along with skin. Two souls, needing connection, finding it in each other.

When he woke, it was with a sheen of sweat and a sickening sense of guilt at the twist his mind had put on her kindness. She had shown him compassion, and it had taken less than a day for him to make it into something dirty and selfish. That it was not like him did not matter. Nor did it occur to him to wonder if it was entirely of his own doing--the idea that she might have something to do with it was unfathomable. No, this was Luke, dirty old man, taking advantage of a young person's trust in his legend yet again.

And further proof he could not be trusted about other people. Further proof, unlooked for, that something was very wrong with him and he was not worth saving.

Rey wasn't so socially awkward that she didn't know when a conversation had come to a natural end, and so she nodded, bidding Luke goodnight before leaving the hut. She didn't think she'd be able to sleep now, but maybe her conversation with Luke had quieted some of her anxiety. Whatever the case, it hadn't taken very long at all for her to drift off as well.

While Rey had been forced to grow up quickly while fending for herself on Jakku, there were some very important bits of growing up and adulthood that she'd just never experienced. Puberty had been a hell of a time for her, for example. Her body had begun changing in ways that she'd considered flat-out horrific, and if not for the fact that there was the occasional village of humans that she'd come across during her scavenging trips, she would have been convinced that there was something wrong with her. But she'd had things explained to her very patiently, and the physiological aspects of it had eventually made sense to her.

But there were other things, other feelings and sensations and emotions, that she'd just been unable to explain. Logically, from the point of it being a reproductive drive, it had made enough sense to her. But she'd never been interested in any person she'd ever known, and so alleviating those feelings in her bunk had been confusing and unfulfilling, given that she'd never had anyone to focus them on.

Not until now, apparently.

She'd heard of Luke ever since she was little, but now, actually knowing him as a person, he'd evolved into a fully fleshed-out being, someone warm and brave and wise and humble. That brief touch of his fingers against her chin carried over into touches that lingered longer, traveling lower over her body, satisfying her in a way that her own touches had never been able to.

Satisfied as she might feel, though, she knew there was something missing, something just beyond her grasp. She had no practical knowledge of how this worked, no real experience with a man that didn't involve violent combat, but somehow, she could feel Luke guiding her the same way he had when he was teaching her to connect with him. Only this connection was much deeper, much more intimate, and her desire to learn from him was even more passionate now than it had been when she'd convinced him to train her in the Force.

It wasn't until she woke up that she realized just how much the hazy sensations and longings had affected her, and when she saw just where her hand had slipped into as she slept, she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She immediately looked to the door, and once she ascertained that there was no one there, she hastily fixed herself and stepped outside into the morning sunlight, making her way to a water basin to wash her hands and splash enough cold water onto her face to get her bearings straight.

It took Luke a little longer to emerge. Having woken at the same moment--though neither knew it--there was a certain discomfort he did not wish to bring out into daylight with him, even if the robes hid a multitude of sins. Even so, he took care of it the Jedi way, willing his body into submission in a way he had not had to do in some time. He'd thought this had simply been age, though his drive in that area had never been strong. As it turned out, given a target, however inappropriate, everything was apparently still in working order.

He'd have to face her again, of course, and he would. But how could he forgive himself for this betrayal, hidden and victimless as it was? How could he continue to teach her, interact with her, to abuse her trust when apparently he harbored some craven desire to touch her in a way that she could never return and which he was damned for imagining, even inadvertently? She had opened herself up to him and he had run with it, in a way he'd never experienced before, much less with someone young enough to be his--

No. The only thing to do was to banish it from his mind. Hopefully, his body would follow. She could not know, for to apologize for this in any way was to impose his perverse impulses upon her. He could only hope that it had been a fluke born of too long apart from people, that it was a dream in the way dreams often manifested parallels to truth rather than actual reality. He would forget about it, and she would, soon, become satisfied with what he had to teach and leave. It was the only answer.

Composed at last, he emerged, shields intact though somehow he knew exactly where she was as if his internal compass was now magnetically aligned to her north. At least, he thought, any embarrassment could be interpreted as shame for his behavior the night before. And he'd thought that had been reprehensible. If only he'd known.

"Rey," he nodded stiffly, taking his turn at the basin. What did he say? He could barely look at her, not with his banished thoughts so fresh in his mind, but to run now would be to invite her to follow. And he could not afford to have her ask what was wrong, now.

Just as Rey realized how thankful she was that she hadn't shared yet another inadvertent connection with Kylo Ren and ended up letting that monster see her in such a compromising position upon her waking up, she heard a voice behind her, and she jumped in surprise. Of course Kylo Ren would see her at her lowest, of course he would ask after it with barely-veiled amusement. He might even think that he'd been the subject of such dreams, because after all, that would make more sense than her fantasizing about his uncle.

But even as Rey realized who'd spoken to her, she also came to the realization that Kylo Ren might have been able to sense her dreams if he'd been watching her. He'd claimed to have been able to do it before. While that was mortifying in its own right, she suddenly became aware of the fact that Luke, too, may have sensed it, might have known that his student had thought impure things about him... as much as she could, really, given her lack of experience in these matters. For a moment, she could do nothing but watch him at the basin, trying not to stare and scrambling to try and hide her panic and her shame.

But while she was good at hiding specific thoughts, she'd always been something of an open book when it came to emotions, and Rey knew that. Still, she did her best to clamp down on it, not wanting to give Luke any reason to pry or make him think that she was somehow still upset over their exchange the night before. It was bad enough that she found herself looking over his features and deciding that no, it wasn't so strange that she would think of him, especially not in comparison to Kylo Ren. Luke had more than enough good qualities, but dwelling on them only made certain feelings spark up all over again.

"Good morning, Luke," she said, words a bit too quick to be natural. Searching for something to say so he wouldn't end up listening to something she didn't want him to hear, she eventually managed to tug the corners of her lips up into a small, strained smile as she asked, "Sleep well?"

Did she know? She was acting strange, but then, maybe that was his imagination, colored by his own shame. He certainly wasn't ascribing any of her behavior to anything but his own failings, but the way she asked after his sleep, could she possible have seen--

But no. No, she'd left him with an admonition to sleep, so it was perfectly innocent. On her part, anyway. She was treating him gingerly because he'd thrown a fit last night, like a petulant child. Part of him wished she'd stop calling him 'Luke,' though yesterday it had been all he could ask for, that she'd stop with the 'Master' nonsense. Now his first name felt like an unearned intimacy.

"Yes," he managed, after a too-long pause where he stared without actually seeing her. "Yes. Sleep. It was..." He caught himself, swallowing, started again. "I have to apologize for my behavior last night. It was... unbecoming as a man and a... as a ... host."

Fantastic, Skywalker. Is this really the best you can do? It wasn't the first time he'd confronted someone after some awkward dreams but it certainly had never been quite this inappropriate a subject. And, like everything else, he was grossly out of practice.

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