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Luke stands in the clearing, his face aglow with swirls of yellow and orange—his father’s funeral pyre. The suit that kept Anakin Skywalker alive for so long sits atop it, slowly being engulfed and destroyed by the flames.
As you watch from the edge of the woods, not wanting to disturb him, you reach out with your feelings, with the Force, and you realize how muddled Luke’s emotions are. Just as he sensed conflict in his father, you sense conflict within him now. His joy and relief—which stem from his father’s return to the light, from the destruction of the Sith—are battling with his sorrow and regret, from his inability to keep his father from death.
A tear slides down your cheek. How will you be able to join the celebration that no doubt awaits you back at the camp? Of course, you’re overjoyed at your victory over evil—over the newfound balance in the Force—but disappointment still grips your soul, for you had believed that Anakin Skywalker would survive. You had believed that the whole world would see his redemption and put their trust in the Force. Who will believe you now, without living proof?
You sigh, and the burning air engulfs your lungs as Luke turns toward you, his left hand outstretched, calling you to stand next to him.
When you reach him, he grips your hand with intensity, like nothing will be enough to calm his soul. It is not the tightest he has ever held your hand, but it is the most desperate, the most searching. You squeeze his in return, praying that this satisfies his need for connection, but the wild look in his blue eyes tells you that it does not.
You want to hug him, to let him know that everything will be okay, that you’re with him, and that the Force overcame and will always overcome. Just as you’re about to embrace him, he releases your hand and places his own on your shoulder. The movement is gentle, tentative, as if he’s not sure how you will react, for he has never touched you this way before.
Suddenly your mind goes back three years, and you’re standing in the cantina at Mos Eisley. You can hear the music and feel the desert heat. Luke is squeezing your hand for the first time and telling you that you’re not alone. If holding hands reminds you both of your bond, what does this new touch represent?
When you maintain eye contact and do not shrink away from his touch, he smiles and lets his hand rest fully on you. The added pressure, the complete weight of his hand, the smile on his face—all of these make you feel as if a burden has been lifted from you. You bring your left hand to rest atop his and intertwine your fingers, and you smile at him, a silent encouragement.
It is then that he projects to you all that this new touch means: trust. Trusting in one another and trusting in the Force. Not only are you a team—which your hand holding signifies—but you are a team in the living Force, the Force that Luke trusted when he refused to give up on his father, and he was—he is—right. They saved each other from the Emperor, from the dark side of the Force.
Words are not necessary in this moment, as they so often aren’t between you two. Content in this knowledge, in this new connection, Luke brings his arm around to rest on your far shoulder, and you bring your right hand to hug his waist. The two of you stare into the flames, feeling its warmth, reflecting on the past three years, and leaning on each other, until the fearsome armor—the cage built to encase the complicated man within it—turns to ash.
A few moments pass, and you wait for Luke to speak. You give him time to process.
“Let’s go,” he whispers with a smile, the conflict within him now a gentle tide, rather than a battle.
You walk toward the camp, and as you do, the sounds of hearty celebration, of giddy, laughing Ewoks, grow louder and louder. Luke’s aura continues to relax, and his excitement grows. Knowing that your friends await you draws your pace closer and closer to a run.
Feeling like a child, you laugh out loud, and Luke grins down at you.
The huts come into clear view, the music now loud and wonderful, and as you round the corner, your eyes land on Leia, her brown hair shining in the light of the fire. She turns around as you approach, her eyes wide and her smile as big as you’ve ever seen it.
She throws herself against Luke. Her brother, you think. A choked laugh escapes you, and tears slide down your face.
Luke moves on to hug Han, and as you fling your arms around your friend, you whisper, “Leia.” She squeezes you tight, and more tears leave your eyes as you bury your face in her shoulder.
There’s a jostle as you’re passed on to Han, who wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up for a moment to your laughter-filled astonishment.
When he sets you down, you grin up at him, playfully punch his arm, and remark, “This is the only time you’ll ever be able to get away with that.”
He simply shrugs and puts his arm around Leia’s shoulder.
A roar from behind you causes you to turn around and yell, “Chewie!”
The Wookiee, in turn, howls your name and lifts his giant arms in the air to hug you. Your arms wrap around him, and your head rests on his chest for a moment before he lets you go and ruffles your hair.
From your right, Lando, in his usual charming lilt, says, “Well, if it isn’t the most beautiful Jedi in the entire galaxy.”
“Lando,” you say, grinning at the man and giving him a hug. Pulling back, you retort, “If it isn’t the most flirtatious man I’ve ever met. Only you would be brave enough and bold enough to flirt with a Jedi Knight.”
He laughs, his head tilting back and his face turning toward the stars, and you laugh with him.
Lando places one hand on his heart and the other on your arm. “You’re gonna make me fall even more in love with you, with that high praise.”
You roll your eyes at his audacity, which you know is both genuine and in jest. Lando Calrissian is a loyal, honorable friend.
“But seriously,” he continues, his eyes darting over to Luke and back to you, “I wouldn’t dare to get in the middle of your relationship with Luke, even if you weren’t Jedi Knights.”
Your smile is not defensive as you shake your head. “How has this never come up, after all that time on Tatooine? Luke and I aren’t together, in that way. We’ve been best friends since we were children.”
He looks doubtful, but as you continue to smile at him patiently, he nods and says, “Okay. I’m usually right about these things, but I guess I’m wrong this time.” He pauses. “Can I say one more thing?”
You narrow your eyes at him, hesitant of where he’s going. “Are you sure you want to?”
He looks down at your belt, where your lightsaber hangs.
“You’re not going to chop my hand off, if I offend you; are you?”
“No, Lando,” you say, rolling your eyes again, “I just have a feeling that I know what you’re going to say.”
“In that case, I’ll just say it,” he replies with a grin, earning him a shake of your head. “Well, it’s more something to get you thinking…There are reasons that everyone thinks that (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) and Luke Skywalker are a couple.”
“Everyone?” You look around and then back at Lando, who’s nodding.
“Just think about it.”
At that, he leaves you, but not before winking at Luke, where he stands next to Leia.
Luke looks at you, confusion plain on his features, and you make your way over to him.
“What was that about?” he asks.
“Ask me again sometime,” you say, grinning at him. “I’ll tell you later.”
He scrunches his face up and grins. “And you call me mysterious.”
“Where do you think I get it from, Luke?”
As you laugh with him, you catch Lando’s eye from across the courtyard. His look is meaningful, and his smug grin earns him yet another shake of your head and roll of your eyes.
You look back up at Luke, about to comment on Lando’s behavior, when you see that he’s looking behind you, where the two of you entered. Following his gaze, you see them: the Force ghosts of Ben, Yoda, and another man—Luke’s father; it has to be—all smiling at you and Luke and at each other. Your heart feels as if it will burst as Luke places his hand on your shoulder.
Another moment passes as you and Luke smile at the trio, before Leia’s arms slide around your shoulders, and she inserts her head between yours and Luke’s. Her smile is infectious, and you turn around to face her and place your arm around her.
With one last look back to your former masters and their former apprentice, you allow Leia to guide you back into the party, where she takes her place by Han, and you take yours by Luke. Luke’s arms are around Leia and 3PO, whereas you place both of yours around Luke in a side embrace. As if on instinct, Luke removes his arm from 3PO and drapes it across your shoulders, leaning his head on your own.
The scene before you swirls, in the bright oranges of the pilot uniforms and of the fires, and in the deep, neutral tones of the dancing Ewoks’ fur. One of them dances in front of R2, and you smile at him. To your surprise—and to the howling laughter of Luke and Han—the small creature grabs your hand and leads you to the dance floor.
“Please help,” you mouth at Luke, who throws up his hands in defeat.
The Ewok stops, and a few more gather around you, speaking excitedly in their language.
You look each of them in the eye and say in a sing-song voice, “I don’t know what you’re saying.”
Something in your tone must please them, for their speech becomes more animated, and they begin to dance. The one holding your hands sways his hips back and forth, wordlessly inviting you to do the same.
You smile at him despite yourself and say, “You guys are really trying to embarrass me, huh?”
You move your hips inthe same way as the Ewok, although at a slower pace. It’s best not to give Han too much material to tease you with—or Luke, for that matter.
Determined not to look at your friends lest your embarrassment reach a fatal limit, you keep your eyes on the Ewok, who lets go of your hands, performs a few jumps, and then cartwheels before pointing at you.
Did he just challenge you to a dance-off? Here is where being one of only two Jedi at a party pays off.
First grinning at your friends and then at the Ewok, you take a deep breath, squat, and push off from the ground, performing a standing back flip to the awe of your small friends.
Your opponent is gracious in defeat, and he takes your hand, raising his own above his head and jumping up and down, while even more Ewoks flock to you. They pat your arms, and some even cuddle up to you. Others continue to jump up and down to the music, shouting words whose meaning you can’t even guess at.
You gaze shifts to your friends, who are all watching the interaction. Leia’s hand is over her heart; she finds it precious. However, Lando, Han, and Luke are all doubled over, in hysterics, and you can’t help but join in on their gleeful laughter. When you left Tatooine all those years ago, you never imagined yourself in this position. This may be the most surreal moment of your life—and, considering the past three years of it, that’s saying quite a lot.
A tap on your shoulder bids you to turn around, where you find Chewie, his hands reaching for yours. He spins you in a circle, and suddenly he brings one arm under your knees and the other behind your shoulders.
“Chewie!” you squeal as he lifts you from the ground and walks in the direction of your friends.
He laughs, pleased with himself. You simply cross your arms and shake your head at him, smiling despite the irony—a Jedi Knight (one who has just defeated the evil Galactic Empire, no less), cradled in the arms of a Wookiee, who is saving her from cute, bear-like creatures. This is officially the most surreal moment of your life.
You expect your descent from his arms to be unceremonious, but it is gentle. Your feet softly hit the ground, while he keeps his hand on your shoulders until you stand up straight.
The look you give him is one of incredulity. Chewie ruffles your hair, and you hear Luke’s voice from behind you, attempting to be serious but with an undercurrent of humor.
“I thought you could use a rescue.”
You shake your head at him and smile. “That may be one of the most dramatic things you have ever done, Luke Skywalker. And you’re the most dramatic person I know.”
The remainder of the party continues in much the same way, everyone performing ridiculous antics, now that the stress of the war is behind you. The addition of alcohol increases the absurdity of your friends’ actions, the most notable being Han and Lando drunkenly making up a song about the victory, while Chewie roars along in the background. You, Luke, and Leia watch it all unfold and experience new levels of pain from the laughter that racks your body.
Within a few hours, most of the Alliance members have fallen asleep outside, under the stars and cuddled up with Ewoks. You walk with Luke—the only person you desire to be near when you want to be alone—toward one of the bridges, away from the rest of the Alliance.
The disappearance of the music and of the rowdy chatter bring out the sounds of the forest around you. Your legs dangle off the edge, and you sigh, while the living world around you hums, in a way that feels spiritual.
Every once in a while, a clack is heard as your kicking feet knock against Luke’s. You chuckle whenever you hear it, for the almost childish noise contrasts, in the most delightful way, with how grown up you feel. Luke and you are both young and old in this moment, though you suppose you two have been old souls from the start—old souls without reservations about remaining in touch with their childlike side.
I love you, Luke, you project to him, peeling your eyes away from the sky, where the remnants of the second Death Star hover in orbit, and toward his smiling face, an echo of yours.
He reaches his hand out to rest it upon your shoulder, looking you in the eye. I love you too, (Y/N).
Your smile blossoms into a grin as you squeeze the hand on your shoulder—as you’re reminded of an earlier conversation with Lando, and of many other similar conversations shared with others over the years.
“You know,” you say, “Lando told me earlier that he, quote, ‘wouldn’t dare to get in the middle of our relationship.’”
Luke scrunches up his face into a confused smile. “What? Does he want to steal you as my best friend?”
“Ha!” you bark, then look toward the camp when you remember that everyone is asleep.
“I think it’ll take a lot more than that to wake them up,” Luke chuckles, grinning at you.
“You’re probably right. Anyway, no. He was flirting with me…you know Lando.”
You stay still, gauging his reaction. It doesn’t take long for it to dawn on him.
“So, you mean—”
“Yep. He thought that we were a couple. He’s known us for a whole year and thought that we were a couple. I told him that we’re not, but that’s why he winked at you earlier.”
“Wow,” he says, with a chuckle. “Han assumed the same thing when we first met him, you know?”
“Yes! I know! He teased me about it constantly. How have we never talked about this?” you laugh with him.
“I think I just assumed that people were saying the same things to you, and you didn’t seem bothered by it.”
“I’m only bothered when they don’t let it go. Han was the worst offender.”
“Yeah, when I told him that we were best friends, he didn’t believe me. Now that I think about it, people who’ve never asked me about it treat us like we’re a couple…People give us space to be alone a lot, and I never found it weird because we just genuinely enjoy each other’s company.”
He’s right. He’s absolutely right. All the times people have walked into a room where you and Luke were sitting alone, only to back out, saying, “Oh! Sorry. I didn’t know you guys were in here. I’ll leave you alone.”
So many times, people have gotten up from their seats, so you and Luke could sit together. All the weird winks from random people at Echo Base—you had thought Han was pranking you. Lots of stares and whispers you had disregarded at the time.
In particular, you remember one time before a mission, a technician, after putting the finishing touches on your X-wing, said, “Don’t forget to say goodbye to Luke!”
You project all these memories to him, and the two of you burst out into laughter for what feels like the millionth time tonight.
“I feel like we should make an announcement,” you choke out, in between fits of laughter, “tell everyone that we’re not involved.”
“That wouldn’t be embarrassing at all,” Luke jokes.
As your laughter dies down, you realize just how tired you are, and you lay back on the bridge, folding your hands on your stomach. The two of you lay in silence for a while, looking up at the sky. Even in the dark, the metal—the only evidence that the Death Star was ever there, that you and Luke had ever set foot upon it—shines in the light of the stars, reflecting them so that it looks like a star itself.
Luke whispers, “My father still had good in him.”
You shift your head to look upon him, and you take his left hand in your right, intertwining your fingers and squeezing. “Yeah,” you reply, in a whisper.
A few moments pass before he squeezes you back, an excited look in his eye. He turns to look at you.
Smiling, he declares, “I want to reestablish the Jedi Order. I want to train new Jedi, just as Ben and Yoda trained us. I want this balance in the Force to last.”
You beam at him and squeeze his hand, in a silent yes, before closing your eyes, and giving in to exhaustion.
Yes.