Chapter Text
Gazing out at the glittering lights of Coruscant below him, Luke sipped at his hot chocolate and considered the city-planet below. It felt like mere hours since the Battle of Endor – since he’d faced the Emperor, saved and been saved by his father, dragged him planetside and saw his soul into the Force – when it had, in fact, been weeks. The Alliance had been working tirelessly to dismantle the remnants of the Empire so they could rebuild the galaxy anew, and the galaxy had been working steadily to heal. Leia was busy as ever, easily sliding into the familiar role of diplomat and politician. Han and Chewie were also kept occupied with supply runs and relief efforts, while Lando helped handle the administrative side of things. And Luke…
Luke was left feeling a little bit lost.
Technically he was on medical leave. The Emperor’s attack had left him with lingering damage, even after his bacta soak, and he still got the occasional spasm or tremor. He would recover, the medics had been clear about that, but he needed time to rest and to heal. So far, the process had been… long. Or at least, it felt long, and it was certainly lonely. He’d scarcely seen Leia since they’d taken up residence on Coruscant. There was a lot for them to talk through, still, but mostly, he just wanted his sister. He hadn’t seen Han and Chewie much more than he’d seen Leia, their duties taking them all across the galaxy with very little time to catch their breaths. Lando was around a little more – he was the one who’d introduced Luke to hot chocolate, after all – but he was still busy enough to leave Luke feeling a little bit abandoned. He still had the droids for company. They were not, strictly speaking, the best conversation, but at least he wasn’t alone in his apartment all the time.
The worst thing, though, was just how restless he was feeling. He wasn’t on house arrest or anything, he was free to leave his apartment and explore the Capital, but the Powers That Be had insisted he take a break from anything Alliance-related until he was fully recovered. Luke knew what his role was going to be, eventually, but for now, he couldn’t help but feel a bit, well… useless.
And then there was the question of how he was going to go about doing what came next. With the rest of the Jedi having passed on to the Force, Luke was the only one left to carry on their legacy. It would fall upon him to rebuild the Jedi and work to restore the people’s faith in them, but twenty-three years of paranoia and propaganda would not just be undone overnight. Not to mention the fact that he still had a long way to go, regarding the Force. Luke had learned so much and come so far with his training, but confronting the Emperor at the Second Death Star had made it clear that there was so much more to the Force than he knew. There were ancient teachings to uncover and insight to be found, he just didn’t know where he was supposed to find them.
There were rumours, of course, regarding Jedi temples around the galaxy that might have been left intact or hidden from the Empire, and it was entirely possible that he could make some discoveries there. He could very well be spending his time doing some research on the HoloNet about these places while on leave, but information about the Jedi was… unreliable at best and counterproductive at worst. No, the only way to get accurate information would be to go there himself, which he was not permitted to do.
What he needed was some guidance on where to begin.
It wasn’t as though Luke had been neglecting his studies, though. He had been practicing his saber technique, and he meditated every night. The meditations kept him grounded enough not to lose his mind while he was grounded, but they also brought with them a repeated degree of disappointment. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, readily, each night he hoped that by reaching into the Force, he might be able to contact his father, or Ben, or even Master Yoda, just to be given a hint, a clue, or just some reassurance.
None of them had appeared to him since Endor. Luke didn’t claim to understand how they could manifest through the Force after death, but Ben had made it sound as though it took great effort, so he understood that they couldn’t talk to him constantly. Still, the lack of contact only served to compound his loneliness.
With a sigh, Luke flicked his eyes from the bustle below him to the sun sinking into the skyline. He should head back to his apartment soon. Threepio would probably work himself into a panic if he didn’t. For now, though, he just wanted to enjoy the relative peace he could only seem to find on this rooftop.
“I was told I might be able to find you here.” The gentle, female voice that spoke behind him caused Luke to jump; he hadn’t sensed her coming. “Do you have a moment to talk?”
Sensing no ill will from the stranger, he twisted around to find a togruta woman, about fifteen to twenty years older than him, wearing a long, white cloak and looking at him with an ancient, melancholy gleam in her eyes.
“I… Yeah, sure.” Something about her felt familiar, somehow, though he couldn’t quite place it. “Do I know you?”
The woman smiled, bright blue eyes glittering with a flood of emotion, and she took a seat next to Luke at the edge of the rooftop. “No, not directly – we haven’t met.” She paused a minute, smile fading and gaze drifting to the horizon where Luke’s had been just moments before. “My name is Ahsoka Tano. And… I knew your father.”
Breath hitching in his throat, Luke felt the air around him still. Over his time with the Alliance, a number of older Rebels had spoken of meeting his father, of seeing him in action, even of being acquainted with him, but something about this woman – Ahsoka – felt… different. There was a significance to her words that hadn’t rung through with anyone else.
“My – my father?”
Her smile returned, wistful, but with a spark of fondness. “Anakin was my Master… my teacher, when I was in the Jedi Order.”
Luke’s eyes blew wide. “You’re a Jedi?”
“No… Not anymore.” She sighed heavily. “I left the Order before the end of the Clone Wars. But Anakin trained me as a Padawan, and I fought alongside him and Obi-Wan during the war. He was… like a brother to me.”
“Padawan?”
Ahsoka chuckled. “Jedi Apprentice. We would train and travel with our Masters until we earned the rank of Knight. I… never made it that far.”
Something ached within Luke, a deep emotional longing that had plagued him his whole life. He’d always longed to know his father the way Ahsoka had, but the pang of jealousy ringing through him was overshadowed by the compassion he felt for her. There was an ache within her too, and they were perhaps the last two people left alive who could understand it.
“I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, Luke,” she continued quietly. “When I’d heard the name Skywalker again…” Another chuckle rang in her throat and she turned to him with a wry smile. “Anakin thought he was so subtle when it came to Padmé, but I could tell. And she was pregnant when she died, so I never expected… You look a lot like them, you know. Both of them.”
The ache in his chest only grew, though it shifted into something more hopeful. “You knew my mother, too?” Nobody had been able to tell him about his mother, not even her name, and now he had one.
Padmé…
Though her melancholy wistfulness hadn’t dissipated, it shifted at Luke’s eagerness. “Not as well as I knew your father, but yes. Padmé Naberrie, Senator of Naboo, formerly Queen Amidala.” A queen and a senator... Luke didn’t know much about Naboo, but Leia had spoken about their elected monarchy before. “She was passionate and cared greatly for her people, who loved her deeply in return. She was one of the kindest people I knew, and one of the bravest. As a defender of democracy, she stood by the Republic until the end. And Anakin… was completely smitten by her.”
Five years ago, when he was still a nobody on a Tatooine moisture farm, he never would have guessed that these were his parents: a Jedi Knight and a Queen turned Senator. He’d been happy to know his father had gotten out of slavery and off the planet, let alone as a defender of the Republic. And his mother had been royalty. Elected royalty, true, but the people she presided over trusted her enough to vouch for their interests on the galactic scale.
Luke’s head was spinning.
“They… loved each other?” Ahsoka nodded. “But then how come nobody could tell me who she was?”
Her expression grew sombre and she shook her head. “They loved each other in secret. The Jedi Council forbade attachments. But not even the Jedi Code could keep them apart. I can’t tell you exactly how long they were together – or very many details about their relationship at all, actually – but I can tell you that – that I’m sure they would both be proud of you.”
Luke swelled, at that, growing choked up at the emotions coursing through him. Resurgent grief coupled itself with a joy he’d long been starved of. It was all he’d ever wanted.
Ahsoka’s eyes were welling with tears now, their blue shining even brighter in the lights as they did. “I’m proud of you, too. We don’t even know each other, Little Skyguy, but I can’t tell you how proud I am. You did something I couldn’t do – something I tried to do, something I wanted to do, but just couldn’t. You reached Anakin. Somehow, you managed to find some tiny piece of the good, kind man Anakin used to be and refuse to give up until you dragged it to the surface, even when so many of us were ready to give up on it – had already given up on it. So… I’m proud of you. And they would be too.”
Though her voice did not waver and the tears in her eyes did not spill forth, her words carried weight and emotion that felt physical in the air. It was clear that Ahsoka had been carrying pain, all these years, one that she had endured with an immense strength even while it weighed heavy on her. Sitting here, shoulders steady but breath shaky, gazing out towards a skyline she’d once known intimately but had changed so much over the years, Ahsoka seemed to be finally removing her burdens and laying them down at the galaxy’s feet.
Without thinking, Luke threw his arms around her.
She stiffened in his embrace, at first, and he was nearly ready to pull away when she relaxed into his grip and wrapped her arms around him as well. They stayed like that for several minutes, as though making up for all that they’d missed out on, all that they’d lost, all that had been taken from them, and when they finally pulled away, it still did not feel long enough.
Ahsoka rested a hand delicately on Luke’s cheek and stared at him, examining his features more closely. “I’m not a Jedi anymore, Luke. I never will be again. But, in honour of those who came before, in honour of the man who shaped us both, and in honour of the future your mother wanted… I will help you rebuild.”
They exchanged smiles that carried their own sort of weight, and Luke thanked her softly.
In response, Ahsoka’s smile lightened. “If you want, I can take you to see your mother. We can visit her grave on Naboo.”
Luke’s heart skipped a beat before he deflated again. “I’d love to, but I’m not sure if High Command would allow it. I’m on medical leave.”
“That just means you’re not supposed to be working,” Ahsoka argued. “I’m sure they could be persuaded to let you go if we call it a vacation.”
“You… might be on to something, there,” he said, grin widening as his mood lifted considerably.
Ahsoka winked at him. “Trust me, I’ve picked up a thing or two over the years. We can go ask them to give you extended leave in the morning – I’ve got a few tricks to persuade them into saying yes – and then we can head out whenever you’re ready. While we travel, we can exchange stories. I’ll tell you about the time Anakin was tricked into buying an entire herd of bantha and we had to spend the next three days trying to get rid of them before Obi-Wan found out.”
As the two of them made their way down from the roof, Luke smiled to himself with a newfound sense of anticipation for the future. Though he had shared the galaxy’s collective hope after Endor, couldn’t deny his own anxiety over what comes next and his role in it all. With Ahsoka, though, he felt just a little bit more confident.