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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Rey, for all of her talk about how Luke needed to move on from the perceived failings of his past, was incredibly hard-headed and stubborn. It was one thing for her to be embarrassed over a one-sided crush on a man who'd reluctantly agreed to be her teacher, but once she knew her feelings weren't one-sided... well, there was no real reason for her to feel embarrassed after that, was there?

But she could sense Luke's continued uneasiness and was sensitive to it, so she maintained her patience, keeping her voice soft as she stepped in closer, trying to get him to meet her eyes again. "Luckily for both of us, then, I don't want to get rid of you."

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she murmured, "I'm the one who came looking for you. And now that I've found you, I'm not going to give up on you so easily. If you genuinely tried your hardest not to be found, then it looks like the Force had other ideas."

It was sweet of her to say, he thought, looking up at her with a sad fondness. She had not come looking for this, and one day, she would go again. But if every moment here could be his last, then it followed that he should live each for itself.

"I'm not sure this is what the Force had in mind."

His left hand is caught in hers, and reflexively he raises his right to trace the edge of her face. It's only after he makes contact that he remembers it's not flesh, and he freezes, metal fingers clenching a little in consternation. What a time to start feeling self-conscious...

Rey found herself chuckling softly at his comment, though it might have been just slightly delayed given that she was distracted by the way he was looking at her. No one had ever looked at her that way, and she realized she had no idea what that meant. He seemed somewhat sad, but also... content? Maybe? Emotions weren't her strong point, especially not when those emotions belonged to other people.

She was instinctively tilting her face towards his hand when he seemed to suddenly freeze, and she blinked as she tired to figure out what was wrong. She eventually realized that his hand was cool and stiff against her face, and she remembered about his prosthetic. She was used to machines, more comfortable with them than people, in some ways, and so it didn't bother her at all, but she wondered if he thought it would, or even if it still bothered him after all these years.

Slowly, she brought her free hand up, lightly settling against the back of the metal one he had along her face. She made no move to keep him there, but more importantly, she made no move to pull him away, instead simply smiling up at him.

"I've heard people say the Force works in mysterious ways. Maybe they're right."

There was more where that came, if this went on. He was likely going to get self-conscious about his body, his age, her experience (or lack thereof), his own. In some ways, he was a fumbling teenager, arrested at nineteen when destiny had caught him up and finally dumped him, used up and wrung out, on this island. But he watched her touch his hand, and breathed out a sigh he hadn't been aware he was holding in. It had been a long time since he thought about anything, let alone meaningless things like how he looked or the fact he had no skin on his right hand. (It still retained enough feeling to give him some feedback, or it would be useless as a hand, but still.)

"Then again," he said softly, "one of the things I've been trying to teach you is that we shouldn't rely on the Force for everything." He wasn't ready to admit that Ben turning on him was part of some grand scheme.

Rey was desperate for some sort of confirmation that she was part of some greater scheme, since that was the only thing that could make all those years alone on Jakku make any sense. She had to have been left behind, had to have grown up on her own before discovering the power she had inside herself, had to have been the one to be sent out to find Luke for answers. It was the only thing that made sense to her, though she was still reluctant to believe that that also meant that Han had had to die, or that Finn had to have been beaten badly enough to slip into a coma. She could pick and choose what was inevitable, couldn't she?

But then, choice automatically meant that something wasn't inevitable, and she'd been trying to tell Luke as much ever since he'd first refused to leave the island. So if it wasn't fate....

"Then maybe we're just lucky," she pointed out fondly. "I can live with that, too."

He wasn't exactly ready to think of himself as lucky, but he was also not going to argue about it. It was reality--for now, why didn't matter. He'd never been all that good at philosophy, anyway.

"So here's the part," he said, "where I admit... I have no idea what comes next." He meant, of course, that he wasn't sure where to take this newfound connection, and more immediately, what the next move was beyond just standing staring at each other. But after a moment, he realizes how that might have sounded and a pinkness creeps up his roughened cheeks. "I mean... for us. No, I mean... for the day?"

Rey found herself letting out a small, startled laugh at his comment, and she very nearly commented that he was supposed to be the teacher, but something told her that implied too much. She couldn't quite draw a straight line between that and the supposed implication, but it still felt like now wasn't the best time to bring up the fact that he was supposed to be "teaching" her anything that didn't specifically have to do with the Force.

"I, ah... I wouldn't be able to tell you," she admitted, though she didn't sound nearly as self-conscious about it as he seemed to feel, given the way his cheeks had colored slightly. "I'm still new to the concept of friends. Beyond that...." However much beyond they were, she still had no idea where to go next, and she said as much with a shrug.

"But the day's only just started, so we can figure it out? Maybe you can take me to where we sat yesterday? That little valley with the flowers? It was nice there, quieter."

"Yes," he said, with obvious relief. He really had only meant what should we do with this very odd day? but he was as tongue-tied as ever Wormie had been, back trying to buy girls drinks in Anchorhead. He squeezed her hand and let go in order to turn, grateful to have some sort of direction to go. Not to be away from her, but simply because he wasn't sure how he was supposed to behave, now.

Pausing, he grabbed a few canteens, and headed out the door, glancing back as if to check and make sure she was coming--or, in fact, still here.

Rey's childhood had taught her something very simple very early on: sometimes, the only way to survive is to not think too far ahead and simply live and react in the moment. So wherever this conversation had taken her and Luke, when it came to what they should do, she was only wired to think of the next logical, tangible step.

In this case, that was to spend more time together. At least, that was what she thought was the most logical step. Luke's reaction didn't make her think otherwise, though she couldn't help wonder over that sense of relief she got from him.

She didn't remark on it, though, instead following along with Luke as she wondered vaguely over just how they'd pass the time. "Let me," she offered, reaching out for some of the canteens, though if pressed she'd admit that she just wanted to make sure at least one of his hands was free in case he wanted to take hers as they walked.

He handed her one, smiling with less self-consciousness than he'd been able to until now. The truth was, he was a lot more worried about how they'd pass the time--he honestly had no idea how he'd done it the past several years. It had just existed, floating by him like the rest of the universe.

Making his way out into the sunshine, which lent less warmth than the appearance of it, Luke stretched a little, easing residual tension from his muscles. He could feel a host of little aches and pains he'd never noticed before, but along with that came other sensations. The breeze on his face. The smell of the ocean. Had he simply... not noticed?

They walked back up the path to the clearing that was theirs now, not his, and when they got there he set his canteen down and gestured for her to sit opposite him. But this time, he held out his hands, placing them palm up on his knees as he sat. An invitation.

Rey was never overly chatty, not unless she thought someone was trying to cheat her during a trade, and even then, she knew how to pick her battles. So being able to walk with someone else without the pressure of conversation weighing upon either of them was nice, and she was pleased to find that the silence was a comfortable one. The feeling had to be mutual, she thought, as she'd been able to pick up on Luke's discomfort earlier on without even trying, and now... now she sensed nothing but a quiet calm between them as they figured out where to go from here. Aside, of course, from the clearing.

Once they actually got there, Rey found that she had no idea where to go next, and her survival instincts didn't really extend this far. She was going to have to defer to Luke, and luckily he managed to provide the next step, small though it might be.

She readily sat across from him, staying close and not hesitating at all as she slipped her hands into his again. It didn't feel wholly natural, owing to a lifetime of self-imposed isolation, but at the same time, it felt more natural than anything she'd ever done.

Of course, she knew as well as he did that they couldn't just sit and stare and grin ridiculously at one another, so she searched for something to say, trying not to get distracted by Luke's normally surly or thoughtful disposition actually appearing genuinely happy.

"Tell me more about where you grew up," she requested softly. "Tatooine. Your family. Before all the stories and legends." She wanted to know his story, in his words, and know that she was familiar with him as a man and not just some heroic historical figure.

Luke shook his head. "You're still in training," he pointed out. He'd never been attracted to someone he was training, so he wasn't sure where or if it would overlap--but he'd cross that hurdle when he came to it. And it might not have been a great idea to further the connection that had led to, well, this--but it was a little late to think about that, now.

"Find me," he instructed, closing his eyes and opening his mind to her. Not all of it--this was practice for him, as well. But if she could navigate what was him, versus the other forms of life, then she could pull on threads that would allow her to answer those questions. Not that he was unwilling to talk, but he hadn't earned his place as a craggy Jedi sage for nothing.

He thought about home, a place he had not considered such in decades. But she had asked. And so he settled into his memories of Tatooine. The Lars homestead. A stern-faced man and smiling, sad-eyed woman. A messy room with little in the way of luxury, made up for in bits of machinery half pulled-apart. A skyhopper cockpit, sheering close to red canyon walls. Life in the desert, uneventful and lonely but not entirely uncomfortable.

Rey was momentarily confused by Luke's response, but then he elaborated and closed his eyes, and she realized what he meant. She was still a little surprised by the trust he was showing in her considering how guarded she can be about most of her own past - particularly those points she couldn't remember or had willfully suppressed - but she appreciated it, and she wasn't about to waste an opportunity to prove to him that she was indeed trustworthy.

So she closed her eyes in turn, gently tightening her hold on Luke's hands as though that would strengthen their connection. She didn't know how true that was, but it made about as much sense as anything else that had happened over the previous day, so she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, emptying her mind of all distractions and focusing only on Luke. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't too difficult.

For a moment, she thought she was back on Jakku, but Tatooine didn't feel quite so oppressive. She also didn't know the people that she realized had been Luke's caretakers, given the wave of affection she felt as she looked upon them. He'd had parents after all, in his own way. And an actual room that was his own, safe and to his tastes, and a speeder of some sort where he could pass the time. It wasn't too different from her own life, but just a little bit... more. Settled and yet freer. She would have liked growing up as his neighbor, probably.

It seemed nice, she told him silently, her appreciation for his old lifestyle palpable. Simple. Did you like it there?

Nice?

Luke's tone in her head is wry. There is something about his presence in this space that seems younger, but perhaps simply because it is without age. Some of the edges are smoother, the 'voice' less rough.

I couldn't wait to leave. Which was, I know, ungrateful to Owen and Beru. My uncle and aunt. They raised me, cared for me. Maybe a little too well--they knew, or suspected, anyway, that one day this power would manifest. And they weren't equipped to deal with it. They did the best they could, but right or wrong, I was never going to be content as a farmer.

More images, but feelings along with them--the empty desert stretching before them, the feeling of impatience and wanderlust. A holovid about pilots in some long-forgotten war, watched over and over. The swell of hope every time he thought he'd learn something about his father, only to have Owen's eyes darken in fear and sorrow.

I was a brat.

Despite the sense of familiarity she already got from Luke's voice, Rey did note the differences between the way he "sounded" now than he did normally. There was something more hopeful there, something shed'd hoped to be able to hear in his voice more often, if he'd just allow himself to remember what it felt like to believe in a future. As it was, she wrapped herself up in his memories, wishing more than anything that she could have grown up with at least some sense of family and security, though she knew herself better. If she had, she just would've wanted more.

Maybe she and Luke had even more in common than she'd initially thought.

You just wanted more for yourself, she replied with a small chuckle. There's nothing wrong with that. Me,... I would have loved an uncle and aunt, just to know that there was someone around me with answers, whether or not they'd give them to me.

She sighed softly, knowing that this sounded far too much like a bout of self-pity, so she lightly brushed her thumbs across Luke's knuckles, reluctant to open her eyes and break the precious connection between them.

Or I could have been every bit as much of a brat and tried to go off in search of my own answers before too long. But then I doubt the universe could've handled two people living in it who were so much alike.

Knowing she hadn't even had what he did made him feel guilty for ever having dreamed of leaving them. Then again, he'd felt enough remorse in his life for never having fully expressed to them his gratitude. He hadn't been able to until it was too late.

It didn't feel like that at the time. I felt they were stifling me, holding me back. I didn't know...

He squeezed her fingers, lightly.

I never got to tell them I appreciated them. They died, caught up in the very destiny they were trying to protect me from. It wasn't my fault, but it was because of me.

But then something that she's said catches at him, tugging at his gut unexpectedly, and he opens his eyes. He feels oddly vulnerable, as if she can see more of him that he's used to offering. Which, of course, is true.

"Do you really think we're that similar?"

Rey could feel the sense of guilt and loss that still lingered over Luke when he thought back on his uncle and aunt, and she returned the gentle squeeze of her fingers with a soft frown.

If they were trying to protect you, then they had to have known there were risks. They took those risks on because they loved you, and they did so of their own free will. No one chooses to die, but looking after you was how they chose to live their lives.

Of course, on the other side of things, that also meant that her own parents had made the conscious choice to abandon her without any explanation, but Rey couldn't say that she knew that for sure. There really were still any number of reasons for why she hadn't had an upbringing similar to Luke's, and until proven otherwise, she would still give her family the benefit of the doubt.

When Luke spoke up again, though, Rey noted the different quality to his voice and realized he was speaking out loud, and she furrowed her brow, still refusing to open her eyes. She wanted to forget about Ahch-To for just a little while, to live in the memories of someone who actually had some good ones to relive, even if he hadn't thought so at the time.

"Aren't we?" she asked softly. "Where we grew up, how we grew up, our desire to do the right thing. I'm not vain enough to think people throughout the galaxy will know my name in a few years, but... I don't need them to. And neither did you."

He felt a small surge of warmth, such as he'd seldom experienced while communing with another person like this, the Force equivalent of a blush.

What do you want me to know? he asked, almost shyly. Tell me--show me--about yourself.

It wasn't that he would not disclose more, but so much of his life that came immediately to mind was painful. And so much of his history, he feared, would be inexplicable or painful to her. Did she want to see a young, cocky Han Solo, or the brilliance that was Leia?

Better, he thought, to learn more about this stranger who had dropped into his life and, almost immediately, upended it.

The sense of hesitation that came from Rey at his request was almost palpable. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell Luke anything about her life, so much as... there wasn't anything he'd really want to hear, much less experience through this unique method of communication. Whereas much of Luke's life over the past few years had been simply surviving, that was the entirety of Rey's life.

So she paused for a few moments before reasserting her grip on Luke's hands, very slowly walking him through her day-to-day life on Jakku. There was the Imperial Walker she'd converted into a home, with her sagging hammock and the small samples of vegetation she'd been able to find in the desert and keep alive, along with books and a cracked helmet and other assorted things she'd scavenged but had been unable to sell or trade. There was also a workstation with various boxes and other makeshift containers, neatly keeping all of her projects out of the way until she was able to work on them. It wasn't exactly a lavish lifestyle, but it was cozy, and it suited her needs. It was a place where she could sleep off particularly nasty encounters with nightwatchers, store any extra crumbs from her daily portions in case rations ran low, sift through broken parts and see if she could make any use out of them, and draw out plans for modifications on her speeder.

Speaking of her speeder, there was an overwhelming sense of fondness as the scene changed to her riding astride a rust-colored machine that looked as though it might fall to pieces along the scorching sand at any moment. Rey didn't have many recreational activities, but customizing her speeder had been a lifelong project that she'd relished immensely, and it still hurt her to think of how quickly it had been destroyed soon after she'd met Finn.

Of course, that led to her thinking about how it had been destroyed, and how she'd been forced to make do with the grounded piece of garbage that she would later find out was the Millennium Falcon. Which led to her and Finn being found by Han and Chewie, which led to her remembering about Han calling out to a monster named Ben on the bridge of Starkiller....

Startled by how quickly her thoughts had turned towards that, she let go of Luke's hands, gasping out, "Sorry!" even as Han's voice still echoed in her mind. Opening her eyes would mean that she'd have to look at Luke, and how could she do that after almost showing him what had happened to his brother-in-law? So instead of opening her eyes, she covered her face with her hands, taking a deep breath to push those emotional images aside. "Sorry," she repeated, sounding a little steadier. "I didn't mean-... not much happened on Jakku until I met Finn, and then... everything seemed to happen all at once. I'm sorry."

He let himself get swept along in her thoughts, taking in the little plants, the plans, the care she lavished on the things in her life. There had been little, but she had made it into something. She was the type of person who could make a life out of anything, far stronger than he'd been at her age. His breath hitched a little at the helmet, at the small figure resembling a rebellion pilot, at the joy she had taken in flying--even low to the ground as her speeder had been.

It made him think fondly of his x-wing, sunk in a tiny bay beside the island and forgotten until just now. Now, it almost seemed like murder.

But her thoughts flew on, a young man he didn't recognize with wide, innocent eyes and then the Falcon and Chewie and Han--

And the connection was broken, Luke's breath shaking a little at the wash of emotion coming off her.

"No," he said, after a moment. "I'm sorry. It's a lot to ask and you haven't any practice in controlling this. We can stop, for now." Hesitantly, he put a hand on her shoulder. "If you want to talk about Han, I..." He swallowed. "When, if, you want to tell me, I want to hear it."

I should have been there. Han should be the one to live. Not me. But the thought was private, and he banished it in favor of concentrating on the girl in front of him.

Still unable to look at him, Rey shook her head, still feeling ashamed at how quickly her thoughts had gone someplace morbid. She didn't want to do that to Luke; he'd had enough unnecessary guilt weighing him down, and they'd finally begun to make some headway in their complicated feelings for one another. Laying out Han's death right in front of him was grossly unfair.

She eventually realized that his hand was on her shoulder, and she reached up to place her hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I don't want to do that to you," she murmured softly.

It took her a moment before she could finally let out a shaky breath, getting rid of the remnants of the nasty shock of reliving Han's death all over again, and she opened her eyes, fixing Luke with a small, sad smile. "It is a lot. And I'd rather focus on Han's life than... than on anything else. So since you have more stories to tell about that than I do, I should be the one asking you for stories. When you're ready, of course."

He lowered their joined hands to sit between them, watching her face as she chased the pain from her expression, and his heart welled up at the knowledge that she loved Han, perhaps not as he had but it was been real and true and deep. And that, too, was something they had in common, though without overlap.

He suddenly missed Han with a ferocity that took him by surprise. Like everything else, the newly-awakened emotional muscles were sore and overly sensitive. But there was an odd salve in having Rey here, in knowing there was someone--aside from Leia, of course, whom it hurt even more to think about--who knew.

"I wouldn't know where to start," he confessed, smiling slightly through the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He shook his head. "I haven't thought about those days in... a long time. I wish I could have seen you together." He huffs a breath that's almost a laugh. "You know, when we met in a cantina in Mos Eisley, I thought he was the cockiest, most arrogant son of a bitch I'd ever met. Though..." He bites his lip. "The bar wasn't that high, back then."

Edited 2018-07-06 19:52 (UTC)

Rey could see the sadness Luke was trying to hide, his eyes more expressive than he seemed to realize. It made a lump form in her throat, and she hated that she'd managed to bring the conversation back to something that was so clearly painful for both of them.

Her feelings towards Han were that much more upsetting because they'd only been half-formed, because she'd thought she'd have ages to flesh them out and fully rationalize them. The fact that he'd been so abruptly taken away from her just left a painful void in her heart, even larger than the one that he could have filled had he lived. She couldn't imagine the sort of hole she'd ripped into Luke's heart by reminding him of his lost friend.

So his candid remark about Han earned an unexpected laugh out of Rey, and she hoped to lift his spirits by keeping the talk light. "Oh, he was easily the cockiest, most arrogant person I'd ever met, too. And my bar was set pretty high."

She glanced down, giving Luke's hand a gentle squeeze as she murmured, "He was the one who told me that all the stories I'd heard about you and the Force were true. Somehow, I'm not sure I would have believed it if he hadn't been the one to tell me."

However worried she might have been about ripping a hole in his heart, there was no way around it. You couldn't rip a bandage like this off without taking a lot of skin, and everything about Luke now was more raw than either of them could know. And however painful, sharing the memory of his best friend was better than not doing so.

He raised an eyebrow at her words.

"That's a change," he murmured wryly. "I can't even count how many times he called me delusional and too big for my britches. When we met? He didn't even believe in the Force, let alone believe a starry-eyed teenager could possibly have anything to do with it."

"... but he learned better, didn't he?"

Rey met his eyes again, that small, sad smile still on her face as she remembered those first few moments when she'd realized she really was talking to Han Solo and that the legendary Luke Skywalker had been more than a legend. She never would have guessed that be sitting with Luke not too long afterwards, holding his hand and helping him cope with the loss of the first legend she'd ever met in person.

"He got to see you go from a naive teenager to a real Jedi. I wish I could have seen that, too."

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