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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"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.

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."

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