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It’s the same conversation over and over again, but Ahsoka hopes for a different outcome every time.
They find another survivor of the purge hiding in a cave on Dathomir just before a storm hits. Rain whips in near the entrance, but the fire further in provides sufficient warmth. Luke pulls his cloak a little tighter anyway.
“Right now it’s only Luke here, myself, and one other, but that’s why it would be so important if you did come back to the Order,” Ahsoka presses.
Rachi Sitra, inscrutable at first, slowly builds into a well-worn displeasure, “Returning to the life that raised me is tempting, but I haven’t allowed myself to act as a Jedi for so long, it’s long past me. We promised to keep the galaxy safe, an undertaking we failed at completely.”
“I understand, believe –”
The twi’lek waves her hand, “We were arrogant, as much as we did not want to admit it. I do not want to fall prey to that again. As for Skywalker,” she glances at Luke, “I don’t know if you are truly his son or just a neat trick of the Rebel Alliance – although,” nodding at Ahsoka, “you were his apprentice, so I suppose you would know, but Skywalker was the pinnacle of arrogance.”
She scoffs quietly to herself, “Taking on a Sith lord by himself.”
Ahsoka and Luke remain still, though Ahsoka’s heart aches and senses Luke’s does as well.
Sitra had moved past the padawan stage a few years before Ahsoka’s own training abruptly ended. She probably only barely escaped Order 66 as well.
Their welcome’s worn out.
“If you reconsider our offer, we will remain at the Temple and be happy to learn from your experience,” Luke says quietly, but firmly.
Something flickers in Sitra’s eyes as they rise to leave, but she says nothing to stop them.
Out in the storm, the rain and the wind and the thunder swirl all around them.
They’ve heard it before and they’ll hear it again; it doesn’t make either of them less tired behind their eyes. Luke hoped as much as she did.
The Jedi are all but extinct. They can’t let the Emperor win.
----------
The rolling green grass fields around the farm remind Luke of home. The early evening stillness which drove him mad most days is finally peaceful.
Luke goes alone; Ahsoka remains on Coruscant to advise on the upcoming war. (There will be a war; Luke has little doubt of it. He feels it in his bones.)
“We appreciate this is a difficult decision; we have no desire to take your child away from you.” He pauses to examine their faces for the tell-tale fear and worry.
“We will do everything in our power to assure that mistakes of the past are not repeated.”
It isn’t a guarantee – nothing is – but they have to try.
The mother looks to her husband and then her son, then directs herself at Luke, “Might we have a word to ourselves?”
Luke nods, “I’ll be outside; take as much time as you need.”
Most of the pink’s gone out of the sky, but it is still light outside. Stars are only a bright clutter at the top of the dome of the world.
Luke leans on his X-wing, arms folded and waits.
“I was born on this system,” says Obi-Wan.
Bright against a dark grove of trees, the ghost steps forward. His father is a rarer appearance these days, but Obi-Wan never made freely with stepping in for any of them.
“Do you remember it at all?”
Obi-Wan shakes his head, “Not in the least bit. But then, I was not raised to want to return. And I was never as sentimental as your father.”
“Fooled me.” Luke is past bitterness; preferring to remember the wistful old man who spoke to him on Tatooine.
Obi-Wan smiles.
“Do not worry about this one; you and Ahsoka will have another student. I had the simpler task of only needing to convince one family to give up their boy, who knew from the beginning he had to go.”
Luke looks down, pushing dirt with the toe of his boot, “It’s strange Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru would have done that. They must have been stalling as long as possible.”
“I’m afraid I’m to blame. I told myself any number of things: you weren’t old enough to understand, your aunt and uncle needed more time with you, the time wasn’t right. The truth is I didn’t want to face the inevitable.”
The other times the ghost offered the truth to Luke, he was defensive. Now he sounds broken and small. Luke wonders how many times he’s sought confessions from the others, living and dead. If they spurned and held him responsible for past deeds acted or unacted upon.
“Ben, of course I forgive –”
The old habit slips naturally.
The boy, Luke’s first potential proper padawan steps out.
“Sir – Master Skywalker – my parents would like to speak with you.”
Excitement strains the end of his words; the pull of the galaxy and other places Luke recognizes.
Back inside, the parents look worn, but hopeful.
“I remember way back, my father was stationed out on Felucia and I saw the army spread out as far the horizon. There was a Master Unduli at the head, I’ll never forget it. If Set’s got the chance to be trained like her and he wants to go, we’re not going to stop him.”
Warmth and readiness fill Luke, as he gives them the assurances of what is to come for their boy. “You may visit him when his training allows. The Order does not want to remove you from your son’s life entirely. We want our students to form their new family with the Jedi, but we also do not want them to forget the one they were born to.”
“Are you going to train me, Master Skywalker?”
Set is boundless energy and too read up on New Republic holos. Luke doesn’t blame him.
“Most likely. Master Tano’s working with two other students, as well as filling in gaps in my knowledge. We’ll be learning together.”