Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Luke Skywalker woke from a sleep he did not remember entering with a splitting headache, and an unsteady sense in the Force—as though the entire course of life had shifted on its axis.

The sensation was so jarring that he shot up to his feet from—from wherever he was, panting and in a cold sweat, as he fought down the sudden nausea of his own twisting insides. 

And then, just as suddenly, the pain and confusion ended, and he was left blinking at his unfamiliar surroundings. 

Or no, they weren’t unfamiliar. Not unfamiliar at all. In fact, he knew them too well. In a way which should not be possible.

He was back…. home. In his Aunt and Uncles’ farm on Tatooine. In his old room, even.

Luke had been within the ruined husk of his childhood exactly twice since its destruction, and in his opinion, it had been twice too many. He knew what every inch of that place looked like now. Should look like now. Every burned and battered and blaster-ridden inch of it seared itself into his mind and overlaid his memories of the space until the original childhood recall was irrevocably warped. His own former room, tucked away in the upper-back area of the homestead as it was, had been spared the worst of it. The flames of the fire the stormtroopers had set had only reached the edges of the doorframe. But, whether out of spite or thoroughness, the soldiers had still been sure to ransack the place with extreme prejudice. Remnants of smoke still ingrained themselves into every cranny of the place, mixing with shattered glass and dust and deteriorating paper and sand left to its own devices, coating the room in a layer of loss made physical. And then there was the Force sense. That had been consistent throughout the entire house. Luke had been sick the first time he’d entered it. And the second. None of that was true now, in this place out of time.

Luke blinked multiple times in quick succession, utterly shaken. The mirage in front of him didn’t shift. His childhood bedroom sat, perfectly preserved in a way his own human memory could never have hoped to achieve, and everything his gaze landed on felt like a forgotten part of himself clicking back into place. There was his bed, a rough cot settled into a small nook in the wall, painted in the color of the night sky fading into sunrise. There was his workbench, overstuffed still with a thousand unfinished projects, There was his small bookshelf, housing the few precious books Luke had managed to scavenge from the Anchorhead market, and a few more equally precious models of ships and pod-racers and speeders. There were his walls, a massive, ever-changing collage of posters and blueprints and advertisements, a few rebellious newspaper clippings buried within. It was all there. It looked the same. It felt the same.

That last was what convinced Luke that he was not dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or being tricked in some way. Luke had learned, over time, that the Force could not be touched in dreams. Or, at most, it could be touched only in the way one touches a cloud. Vague threads of intangible somethings that fled any hint of connection and refused to coalesce into anything solid. But the Force was solid here. And beyond that, it was downright frantic . The overwhelming explosion that had woken Luke had calmed now, just, but constant ripples still pulsed at intervals, and Luke could feel a thousand little twitches as the Force seemed to…..search for equilibrium, perhaps. It—whatever it was—left Luke with the distinct impression of someone made restless by the need to continuously adjust for an unknown and unexpected injury. And even so, below it all, Luke could feel the familiar sense of childhood, flowing through the space and reaching toward him with instinctive ease.

Wetting his lips and pushing through the odd sense of deja vu that threatened to sweep him away, Luke moved throughout his—his room. Picking up item after item, trailing his fingers along the walls and probing with surgical precision in the Force. With almost desperate scrutiny, he inspected the area around him. And there was nothing. Not a twinge in the area that he could tell, aside from that same strange….choppiness that was bigger and wider deeper than the here and now. Every item in Luke’s room, every inch of it, felt right , in a way he had never consciously realized when he lived here but recognized all the same. And with none of the cold-iron aftertaste that he had felt when he’d last been here. Not even any of the flickering distortions that marked a psychic imprint of times’ past. As far as Luke could tell, everything here was real and present. 

And this was bad. This was bad. Because Luke had no idea how to deal with it. What was going on? 

The sketchy outline of an idea too great and terrible to contemplate was just beginning to take shape in Luke’s mind when he caught sight of himself in the practical, square slice of mirror that hung next to his door. 

Luke stared at his reflection. His eyes widened, and a child’s eyes followed him in mimicry. Their eyes traveled to their hand—his hand— Luke’s right hand, as it cradled the mirror. A flesh hand blemished by nothing but the routine farm work that marked every desert dweller on Tatooine. 

Luke scrambled back across the room as though under attack. He slammed, full body, into the— his work table, and 19 years’ worth of collected scrap crashed to the ground in a landslide.

Automatically, Luke slapped his own hand over his mouth to stifle a scream. He reeled his Force sense into near invisibility, and his attention snapped to the door. 

For uncountable moments, he waited. Waited for footsteps he should never be able to hear again. Waited for dead voices come to life. Waited. Waited.

His breath hitched, his Jedi calm utterly dissolved in a moment of pure, distilled panic. His breath pooled hot and heavy under his hand—flesh hand pressed to an unscarred face—and the sensation brought him gradually back to himself as everything clicked into conscious acknowledgment. His panic settled and cooled into a distant thrill of anxiety, which he grappled with clinical focus before releasing it into the Force—which roiled back discontentedly at the weight of further disturbance. Oh, Luke thought. So that was what had caused the ripples. That….made sense. Hysterically, Luke felt a pang of sympathy for the Force at large, and then was hit with just as hysterical an urge to laugh at the insanity of his existence. He choked it down.

Ok. Ok. So he was….in the past. In his past, apparently. And if he judged the state of things correctly, not long before….before the end. The start. Whatever it was. And….and no one had come up to check on the absolutely massive racket he had made so…..so. His Aunt and Uncle must be out. Luke racked his brain for anything that might narrow down the date from that, but his brain proved persistently blank. Of course it was. What, was he supposed to remember every detail of everyday of the monotonous farm life he hadn’t lived in 5 years? If only. Luke choked on a sob that died before he could voice it. He swallowed it down, closed his eyes, and forced himself to breathe until he was steady again. It wasn't easy, with the Force itself in turbulence, but Luke visualized the unease as a desert storm, buried himself in it until he went deaf and blind. Then, slowly, he excavated himself piece by piece. Let himself and the Force work together to reassemble something like stability again. When he was done, he felt raw in more ways than one, but his mind was clear enough to move forward.

The question was, he thought, what he should move forward to do. He turned the problem over and over in his head for a moment. Finally, he decided that he couldn’t really make any plans until he knew when, exactly, he was. Which meant he’d need to check Aunt Beru’s calendar. In the kitchen. Which, of course, would mean going into the homestead proper. He….couldn’t say he was looking forward to that. But there was no point putting it off further. In fact, the longer he put it off, the more likely it was that he’d lose his fragile grasp on calm. He needed to act. And frankly, as much as he was….uncertain about interacting with anything—or anyone—outside, staying in his bedroom had very abruptly lost its appeal.

So Luke walked the door, took a breath that wavered in spite of himself, and turned the handle.

The sight of the old homestead, complete and whole and unmarred, hit him instantly and intensely. Luke bent over slightly, leaning against the wall to steady himself. Then he pushed off with force, and let muscle memory carry him down the stairs and across the courtyard to the kitchen. The entire walk made him feel ready to jump out of his skin, and not simply because every step was tinged with the possibility of encountering his dead guardians at any moment. Once again, Luke noted a thousand little reminders of a life abandoned: clothes in need of mending left by the door, dinner preparations placed on the counter. Each one brushed up against his awareness like a careless press on a bruise he had forgotten to mind. Luke pushed past the sensation and locked his attention on the calendar  Aunt Beru always insisted on keeping over the wash basin. 

He tracked the dates with his finger. Checked again, dredging up his memory of this time period for comparison. Oh. 3 days. He had 3 days until Uncle Owen bought—would buy?—R2 and 3P0 from the Jawas. That was….that was good. That gave him so much time to prepare! Luke felt a wave of relief rush over him for a moment, but it was followed almost immediately by an equally strong rush of adrenaline as understanding settled in him. A thousand plans shuffled through his mind at once, each with their own sets of variables—

The Force heaved, Luke’s mind snapped back to the—the present —like a rubber band, and he heard two sets of familiar footsteps and felt two familiar presences a moment before their owners turned the corner into the kitchen.

Owen and Beru stared at Luke. Luke stared at Owen and Beru. 

Luke’s mind went blank in an instant.

“Oh,” Luke said, “hello”.

“Oh, Luke dear,” said Aunt Beru, as though Luke’s reality wasn’t deconstructing and reconstructing itself before his eyes, “What’re you doing up?” 

“It’s…..day time?” Luke asked stupidly, and as he did he realized just how true it was. Not only was it day, but it was peak work hours. How had he not realized it before? What had Beru and Owen been doing away from the homestead? Without Luke? It didn’t make sense.

Something passed between his aunt and uncle. And oh, he could sense them now, in the Force. Or….no. He’d always been able to sense them, but he was aware of it now, in a way he hadn’t been before. And that made a difference in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Beru, bright and crisp and clear as moonlight, lighting up everything in her path with gentle surety. Owen, rough and worn as an old hand-me-down blanket and just as shot through with sentimentality. And strung between them, love for him. Strung with fear and concern and grief that he was only now starting to understand but had felt as a child all the same. He knew them. And he missed them, all over again, in a way he never realized he had until now.

And oh, Luke realized, Aunt Beru had said….something to him. He hadn’t heard her. He needed to hear her.

“What?” He asked.

“I….I asked if you were feeling better, Luke. But I think you answered my question for me. Luke…..sweetheart, you shouldn’t be out of bed just yet.”

“Feeling….better?”

“You’ve been sick, boy”, Owen spoke for the first time, and his voice hit Luke like the sound of distant thunder in a time of drought. Too good to be true. “And sick something fierce, too. You were burning up so bad I had to make you come inside, ‘stead of finishing repairs. Was afraid you’d fall straight off the vaporators otherwise”.

Luke….didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t remember being sick, in the days Before. Was it some side effect of the….the time travel? His body sensing the effects of whatever happened before his mind did? Had the Force been warning him? Preparing him, somehow?

“I….I don’t….”, Luke floundered, at a complete loss. 

His uncle moved forward, and placed a hand to his forehead. Luke flinched before he could stop himself.

Owen pulled back quickly, and frowned at Luke. 

“Did I hurt you boy?” Owen asked, and Luke’s heart tore on the edges of hurt-worry-confusion he sensed in his uncle’s words.

“No sir”, Luke said,  “I’m fine. Just….wasn’t expecting it, is all”. The words sounded unconvincing even to his own ears, and he held back the desire to flinch again as Owen’s frown deepened, and a new flash of pain dug into Luke. 

Gingerly, Uncle Owen placed his hand on Luke’s forehead again, and Luke forced himself stock still.

“Luke, you're burning up”, Uncle Owen said.

“Oh”, Luke said. Was he? Had he been this whole time? He hadn’t noticed….he’d been so distracted by….by everything. But maybe that explained it? Maybe this was all just a fever dream or….no, that didn’t make sense….the Force was….well, not steady, but solid. Real. This was all too real and detailed and….and….

Oh. Uncle Owen was buzzing with worry now. Luke had always hated when he did that. And Aunt Beru was at his other side now. She’d probably reach out soon—

Luke could feel panic setting in again, and almost absently, he felt himself slide into meditation, letting the tangle of half-formed thought around him unspool into the Force—except—

Except—

Except the Force couldn’t handle it either, Luke realized. It was already dealing with too much, and Luke’s lean on it sent it recoiling back into him. For the first time since Luke could remember, he couldn’t rely on the Force for support.

His legs buckled.

Owen and Beru were there in an instant to hold him up, of course they were. And Luke felt their hands and their fear and the constant churn of their thoughts—

“I think I’m going to be sick”, he heard himself say. And he was.

And then he blacked out.

Chapter Text

When Luke came to again, the first thing he noticed was that he was still in his home on Tatooine. In his own bed, to be precise. And the realization of it—the final, dreadful confirmation of the fact and everything it meant—crashed into him like a wave. Unexpected, harsh, but when all was said and done, refreshing in its cool simplicity. 

He took stock of himself. Sent his senses out. He was….alright, he thought. The worst had passed. And, now that Uncle Owen had pointed it out, he knew he had been feverish before, but the fever itself seemed to have broken for good in that same last wave of clarity. Luke took stock of the Force. Still ansty, yes, but in a way that Luke could only describe as anxious, not the nauseous mass it had been, and with the disturbance hovering more tightly around Luke himself. A more familiar kind of unease. Lastly, he took stock of his surroundings. It was night now, he noted dully. The only light from his room came from the small combination heater-lamp he had kept on his bookshelf for that purpose. Someone, Owen or Beru, had noticed the mess he had made earlier and had tried to right it, but had only succeeded in making a larger mess of mechanical debris that Luke knew he could never untangle. His heart pinched with affection for the effort all the same.

The last thing he noticed was a figure sitting in one of Owen’s folding chairs by his door, half-slumped over in sleep. At first he thought it was Owen, but his Force-sense corrected that assumption before his still-adjusting eyes could. No sand and grit for this figure. Someone….more polished. More self-aware and purposeful in their presentation. Dignified, maybe, but with cracks running deep and pouring deep sadness from the center.

Obi-wan. Ben.

“Ben”, Luke said. His voice sounded small and croaky in his ears.

Ben, in color and in the flesh, snapped awake so quickly Luke wondered if he’d really been asleep. He stared at Luke sharply.

Luke coiled himself back into his shields instantly, a sand-snake hiding from the glare of the sun, and sat up in a way he hoped conveyed drowsy nonchalance. 

“Young Luke,” Ben said, “Awake at last. How are you feeling, little one?”

Luke’s lip twitched amusedly at the title. “Better”, he answered honestly, “definitely better”.

Ben probbed at him in the Force, squinting, “So it would seem”.

He got up and came to Luke’s bedside, checked him for fever just as Owen had done. Luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes, then thought better of the resistance and did it anyway. Ben smirked but didn’t relent.

“Yes, it seems your fever has broken at last. You should begin to heal now in earnest.”

“Duh”, he said childishly.

“You were quite sick before, however. Your Aunt and Uncle were right to be worried, I think. And you should go easy on yourself for some time yet.”

Luke’s mind gave birth to a thousand and one conversations in the span of a moment, then squashed them just as quickly. He smothered their remains under piles of shields stacked like dunes one atop the other, then shifted until the lines between them blurred. Mental shields were Leia’s specialty, of course, but Luke wasn’t half-bad when he was reminded to put the effort in.

He turned back to the conversation at hand. Obi-wan was staring at him hard. Luke hoped he hadn’t worried him, either with his silence or with whatever he could pick up from Luke’s mind. He should say something, he thought. His mouth was dry.

“I’m thirsty, Ben”, he said, and regretted it immediately.

Ben’s eyes scoured Luke, and he was like the Force, hovering and overeager (He probably felt the Force’s unease too, Luke realized, and felt inexplicably guilty). His senses padded Luke down in a way that reminded Luke of Chewie scanning the Falcon crew for injuries after a particularly disastrous mission, and Luke found himself squirming under the scrutiny.

Ben pulled away from him, nodding to himself.

“I’ll get you something to drink”, he said softly. Then, more sternly, “Stay where you are until I return”.

Luke gave a two-fingered salute in acknowledgment as Ben headed outside.

As the door closed, Luke slumped slightly, let his gaze wander to his ceiling, and began to try sorting, finally, through the mess of his thoughts.

So, he was in the past. Three days earlier than R2’s arrival. His Aunt and Uncle were alive, of course. And for some reason, Ben was here. That was interesting. And, more than that, potentially useful. Would he tell Ben, about who he was? What he knew? What should he tell Ben? And should he do it here and now? If he was being honest with himself, the idea of explaining—well, explaining everything—was overwhelming. And, perhaps selfishly, he wanted to cherish this time with the people he had lost, and who had, somehow, been returned to him.

But he needed to tell them. He knew he needed to. And he wanted to. Because he couldn’t stay still and quiet, or let things play out. He was going to do what he could to change things here, now, and Ben and his Aunt and Uncle needed to know something of what was going on before that happened. Because they deserved to know, yes, but also because from a purely practical standpoint, it would make whatever he ended up doing so much harder, in more ways than one, if he tried to hide it. And anyway, he didn’t expect he could hide it forever.

On the other hand, babbling about time travel to Ben immediately after coming out of a fugue state bad enough to bring him into Luke’s home seemed….ill advised. Luke had a vague memory of another time in which Old Ben had actually entered the homestead, back when Luke’s appendix had burst right before a sand-storm and trapped everyone indoors. Ben had shown up a right as the brewing winds were stirring in earnest, wide eyed and edgy and looking very much as though he had a Crayt dragon on his tail. Owen had groused endlessly about forcing hospitality (though, Luke had noted even then, he hadn’t denied the Jedi), until Luke had collapsed with his arms wrapped around himself in pain. And then Owen had gone white, and Beru had looked at Ben, and Ben had gotten to work. Luke never knew what he had done exactly, this time period was blurred by pain, but he’d kept Luke stable and alive until it was safe to leave again. And then he’d ridden with them to the tiny Anchorhead hospital, given Luke a solo visit and a speeder model to show for it, and promptly left before he’d been discharged. Luke was sure, now, that Ben had sensed his condition in the Force ahead of time. That Ben was here in the Lars’ home again meant he’d either sensed something of Luke’s post-time travel condition, or, perhaps more worryingly, that Luke’s aunt and uncle had actively sought him out of their own accord. Neither option boded well. And that Owen had let Ben stay in the house, in Luke’s room even, struck him as more serious still. It was not a context which seemed conducive to Luke frantically ranting about Force phenomena weird enough that it challenged even his own open-mindedness.

So, he would tell them, but perhaps not right away. It was also, he thought, with a brief splash of bitterness on his tongue, probably a good idea to tell Ben and Owen separately. Luke winced inwardly at the idea of confronting Uncle Owen with all of this . 

As he reached this decision with himself, Luke felt Ben return to the hallway outside his room. Luke sighed, steeling himself and his mental shields as the door clicked open. Ben stepped into the room quietly, shutting the door behind him and turning up the lamp light on the way over to the bed.

“I come bearing gifts”, Ben said, smiling at Luke. He carried in his arms a clay plate, which housed a small matching cup of some sweet-smelling drink, a few pieces of some Tatooine flatbread, and…..and, Luke recognized suddenly, several slices of his Aunt’s famous blue-milk cheese.

Luke’s stomach twisted harshly. And not just at the sudden realization of hunger. 

“Thank you”, he whispered, as Ben sat the plate down in front of him. His eyes skirted over the cheese. He picked up the cup (and if his hands were shaking, neither he nor Ben were going to draw attention to it). It was some form of spiced milk; though, Luke noted with an odd note of relief, it was not his family’s secret tzai recipe. This particular recipe was softer, with notes of cinnamon and maru-kalu, a night-flower found in the oases that were often coveted for medicine. Luke briefly pondered the idea that either Ben or Aunt Beru must have had to dig deep in their stores for this, and forced himself to drink slowly and savor the taste.

“Do you like it?” asked Ben, “Your Aunt prepared the food, of course. I’m hardly a cook. But my skill with drink-making has been well-regarded in the past”.

Luke sidestepped the well-known urge to pepper Ben with questions about his past. “It’s good,” he nodded, “refreshing.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ben said, “Please try to eat something as well. Your Aunt and Uncle said you hardly touched your last meal.”

Luke didn’t remember his “last meal”, but his stomach growled traitorously to prove the point. He shoved a piece of bread in his mouth without looking down at his plate. 

“Ok. Thanks”, he mumbled.

Ben stared at him a bit longer, then returned to his chair. Luke stuffed another piece of bread in his mouth, and chased it down with milk.

“What are you doing here, Ben?”

Ben blinked at him, his head tilting slightly in acknowledgement of Luke’s incredulity. “Your uncle asked for my help.”

“With me? Because I was sick?” 

“Yes”, Ben said.

Huh. Straight-forward honesty, from Obi-wan. Well, the sarlacc tasted rain at least once a digestion cycle, after all. 

“You’re not a doctor”, Luke noted, making sure to tilt his voice up slightly in question. None of the desert kids knew what exactly Old Ben the wizard did , after all. He might be a doctor, for all Luke’s younger self might have guessed.

“Not in the traditional sense, no”, Ben conceded. And there was the evasiveness and mystery. Oh well.

“So? Why would Uncle Owen call you? No offense Ben, but you aren’t exactly on great terms.”

“No”, Ben shifted, “We aren’t. But your Uncle loves you, Luke. Far more than he cherishes his pride. You know this. It is a great credit to his character. And he believed, with good reason, that the exact circumstances of your illness were such that I would be of particular help to you.”

Luke lifted an eyebrow, “What, did I get sick during a sandstorm again or something?”

“Or something”

Luke flopped back onto his pillow with a groan that was only slightly exaggerated.

“Oh come on!” He said, putting every ounce of farmboy whininess he still possessed into it, “I’m never going to get a straight answer out of you, am I?”

“It’s becoming increasingly unlikely, I’m afraid”.

Luke gawked at him, and burst out laughing. The small smile on Ben’s face grew.

“Stay”, Luke asked, when his laughter had faded and left exhaustion in its place, “I—I like you Ben. I wish you were around more”.

Luke regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. Ben’s sadness-pain rang out in the Force.

“I do as well, Luke.”

Luke grit his teeth around the sudden flush of festering longing on his tongue. So familiar here, in this room. In this body, even.

“But”, Ben interrupted, “I will stay, for tonight. Or as long as your Uncle will have me, though I suspect those two time frames are near-identical to one another. I will not leave until I can be sure you are well and truly on the mend.”

Luke nodded. It was the best he could hope for. “Alright”

“In the meantime”, Ben said, “please do continue to eat. Your Aunt prepared her best recipe for you, you know. And it is quite good, if I do say so myself.”

Luke looked down at his remaining food. He picked up a slice of cheese, and popped it into his mouth in one go. Chewed with slow deliberation. It….tasted exactly like he remembered. Or at least he thought it did. But it felt like the memory felt, which was more or less the same. He closed his eyes as he savored the taste, working very carefully on his shields as he did so. He was a Tatooine boy, even now, and he couldn’t bring himself to cry over cheese, in spite of everything. But still, he didn’t want Ben to catch the wetness in his eyes, or the rawness in his sense. He might recognize some of himself there, after all. And how could Luke explain that?

Luke repeated the cheese eating ritual again and again, punctuated with milk or bread when his emotions threatened to spill over, until his plate was clean and his cup empty. He handed the empty dishware to Ben.

“Here”, he said, “It was all delicious. Tell Aunt Beru for me, if you see her before you go.”

“I will. Luke?”

“Hmm?”

A beat passed.

“Nevermind.”

Luke shifted,  “I don’t like you sleeping in that chair. You’ll throw your back out. I can take it if—”

“You will not .”

Luke worked his mouth, indignant, but the look on Ben’s face told him not to waste his breath. And well, Luke supposed he couldn’t blame him.

“Alright. Goodnight, Ben.”

“Goodnight, Luke.”

Luke wished he could say he wasn’t tired. But that would have been a lie not even Leia could sell. He fell asleep before his eyes had even properly closed.

Chapter Text

Luke’s eyes fluttered open in the heat of a late Tatooine morning. Instantly, he spread his senses outward to encapsulate the farmstead like a mist. As he sat up and stretched life back into his limbs, Luke examined what the Force had to tell him. Owen was  outside, a tense knot of simmering focus as he worked on one of the farthest placed vaporators of the farm. Distantly, Luke’s memory supplied that that particular machine was also one of the oldest, and had been giving Owen persistent trouble for a while. Aunt Beru was in the small, carved out chamber that passed for the family gardens, which she managed to maintain through her own potent mix of pragmatism, perception, and stubbornness. 

Luke swallowed down the memory of precious greenery burning into ash. 

Brushing gently against his own swell of grief, Luke redirected his senses out with more purpose. But try as he might, he could not detect Ben anywhere nearby. Disappointing, but not surprising. Uncle Owen must have kicked him out as soon as it was clear Luke’s health was no longer dire. That was fine, Luke thought. At the very least, it would give him more time to gather resources and settle on plans before he had to break the news to the others. And with Owen and Beru out of the house for now, he could act more or less as he saw fit. 

With that thought, Luke found himself settling into a meditation pose. He probably would have done it anyway, merely to keep up the habit, but he found himself desperately needing the routine now, grounding as it was in a sea of uncertainty. His younger self had struggled with this sort of simple, sitting practice, and Luke still found that he preferred more movement based forms when possible. But now, the Force was nipping at his heels so badly Luke hardly needed to think to slip into it, and the opportunity to sit in silent contemplation with it, undisturbed by the needs of immediate action, was welcoming to him. He let himself sink into the Force, the lines between himself and it blurring as his thoughts and feelings spilled out. He let them drift outside himself like leaves on the wind, foam on the surface of an ocean. Turned them over carefully in his mind.

No great strike of insight hit him. The fact was, Luke was at a loss on how to approach the situation he found himself in, on either a personal or pragmatic level. The personal….he suspected he would just have to face as it came, so he put it aside for now. But he needed to know how to move forward, given what he knew. And frankly, he was stumped. There was so little that Luke could actually do as a 19 year old farm boy on Tatooine. He knew that well, it was part of what had driven his intense desire to leave in the first place. Luke Skywalker, 19 year old farm boy, had none of the resources, none of the influence, and none of the contacts that Luke had spent years building up. More than that—ironically—he didn’t have the time that he’d need to enact change from his position.

Sure, he had a few days before R2 and 3P0 made their way to Uncle Owen and himself, assuming all else stayed the same. What to do with the extra time? He couldn’t just get them now—he was sure they wouldn’t be there. He’d never talked about the exact timeline of things with Leia or R2, but he was sure that the droids had not been on Tatooine long before Owen purchased them. They were beyond good quality, by Tatooine standards, and the Jawas were known for making quick turnarounds even on more questionable merchandise. He had a day, maybe, if he wanted to intercept. Most likely far less. He did know enough about Jawa schedules and trade routes that intercepting probably wouldn’t be too difficult outside of the time factor. But then what? If he got the droids early, what would he do? Where would he take them? Not to the homestead, that was for sure. To Ben then? So, he’d need to let Ben in on things before then. Where would they go after? To Alderaan? That was its own set of issues. To the Rebellion? It might cause problems if they tried to go without Leia to vouch for them and—

Oh. Luke braced himself as an unexpected wave of emotion hit him. Han and Leia. Would he have to meet them all over again? Would they look at him as a stranger? He felt with deep conviction that that would be a pain he would never recover from. And what about them , he thought with a pang of sympathy? Han was Han, always, but Luke had seen how he’d changed for the better over the past years. Now, he would be back to being prickly and closed off, with that rough-edged loneliness underlying it all. And Leia—Leia! She’d be stuck on the Death Star all alone again, going through the worst time of her life. Again. 

Unless….

Unless.

Luke’s thoughts took a turn as a passing consideration suddenly solidified into true hope.

He’d been operating, in a passive, subconscious way, under the assumption that he was alone among his friends, his family, in traveling through time this way, but why had he thought that? He couldn’t even remember how he had gotten here, so it wasn’t as though he had any context to inform his hypothesis. There was no reason, Luke realized, why he should be alone in this. And if he wasn’t alone—then his options had definitely opened up.

This revelation shifted Luke’s meditation from introspection to an active search. While still working to maintain his link to the larger Force, Luke began to reel in and condense his sense of self back into something that he could direct forward. He reached, reached, up and back into the part of himself where Leia lived. The part once reserved for half-remembered dreams and longing dismissed as childish fancy. Leia, bright and white-green, ambitious as a mountain peak and ferocious as steel fresh from the forge. He reached out and tugged. A plea on his metaphorical tongue. Not the first time he’d thought the words. Not the last. Leia, hear me.

And Leia answered .

…. Luke ? 

Luke shot back a jolt of elation so fierce he feared Ben might feel it out in the Dune Sea, and immediately calmed himself.

Leia?! Where are you?? Are you alright? Was the jist of the frenzied mess he sent out. Not words exactly, but so strong in shape and intent they might as well be.

He sensed fond exasperation on Leia’s end, and underneath a quiet bracing as something once tremulous found sure footing again. 

I’m fine , she sent, I’m….I’ll be fine.

Where are you?

Leia sent frustration after frustration, and then a mental sigh that settled on resigned. She shoved a picture into his mind of a starship, a cruiser, running full tilt. Familiar, icy, urgency. The feeling of gritted teeth and mounting dread. Prey and predator instinct meeting on an internal battlefield, and finding common ground as Leia dung in with determination.

Oh Leia , Luke thought. Not on the Death Star yet, then. But her ship. Too late to stop the chase, caught in a waiting game with Vader hunting at her heels. 

Luke wouldn’t offer more sympathy, though. She’d hate that. The acknowledgement was enough.

What are you going to do? He asked.

Leia sent a predator smile. The feel of her mind fashioned into a blaster-sniper. Then—an image. A series of pods, sent out across the galaxy at different times. Two of them shining like beacons as they barreled to Tatooine. One containing two droids. The other, Leia.

Luke’s mind gave a mental blink as he processed this. He couldn’t piece together Leia’s full plan, but he thought he understood enough. He sent her Ben , the name and image and sense of him, and everything Luke remembered about the trail to Ben’s hut. Leia sent back a flare of thanks.

Almost at the same time, they thought at each other— Han?  

The two of them were a binary star system, yes, but they were part of a larger constellation still. And as they turned a twinned focus there, they realized that one other star—the one closest to them, perhaps—still shown bright with mutual acknowledgement. 

Han couldn’t sense them, of course. Their ability to communicate with him was beyond limited. But he was here and aware . As one, the two of them sent as much warmth as they could down their entwined bond with Han. Even if he couldn’t consciously decipher it, maybe it would give him some comfort and sense of preparedness.

They cut off shortly after that. Luke had a thousand and one things he wanted to ask or say to Leia. But in the end, he trusted her to do what she could. She didn’t need reminding about Alderaan or the Death Star, and anything else could wait. 

He settled on, Be safe.

More a prayer in the Force than anything, and Leia, knowing, returned it.

With a sigh and a series of restless movements, Luke came out of his trance. Finding Han and Leia, at least in a way, had settled something in him, but it had also finally lit in him the guiding flame that had so struggled to truly take form since his re-emergence in this time. He almost felt like his old self again, and he knew what to do and where to go.

Luke opened his eyes and relaxed into his physical self again.

He opened his eyes, pulling himself from meditation, and found himself staring into the eyes of his Aunt Beru.

Chapter Text

Luke could almost hear the gears working in Aunt Beru’s head as she considered him. 

“Oh, Hey Aunt Beru,” Luke chirped, leaning back on his hands in a desperate attempt to sell his pose as casual, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”

He hoped that he hadn’t. He hoped that she hadn’t just been waiting there while Luke acted like….well. Like a Jedi. The part of his mental voice that sounded like Yoda chided him for his lack of situational awareness. The part that sounded like Leia scolded him for forgetting to lock the door before he started . Rookie mistakes. Good going, Skywalker.

“…..No,” Aunt Beru said slowly, eyeing him pointedly. 

Luke very purposefully stopped himself from shifting under her gaze. She definitely suspected something, Luke thought. And, ok, he’d much rather she catch on before Uncle Owen, but Luke didn’t have to give more ground than necessary. He uncrossed his legs slowly, under the guise of shaking sleep from them, and turned sideways on the bed.

Luke’s eyes flitted to the bowl in Aunt Beru’s arms, an achingly nostalgic smell wafting over to him. 

“What’s that?” He asked.

Aunt Beru lifted the bowl at him. “Breakfast”, she said, without breaking eye-contact, “porridge”.

Luke nodded. He could guess. Aunt Beru had made him the same dish every time he was sick. He’d tried to make it for Leia once or twice, but it hadn’t come out quite as good. He reached out his hand to take the bowl from his aunt, who passed it to him with a warning about the heat. Then she went to sit in the folding chair Ben had vacated. Remembering the effect that the cheese had had on him, Luke hesitated slightly to eat in company. He covered it by blowing on his food. The thrill of melancholy was still there, but not as strongly as the night before, and he managed to swallow the meal without much difficulty. It was a particularly sweet variety of the recipe, with honey-butter and cinnamon and dried fruits. Luke had never had much of a sweet-tooth, but this warm treat from his aunt never failed to cheer him.

He was a few bites in when Beru, who had never stopped watching him, finally posed the question.

“So…..what were you doing when I came in, exactly?”

Luke startled, “Hmm?”

“That sitting thing? What was that? It seemed….intense.”

Luke forced himself to keep eating. “No, I was just resting,” he tried, unconvincingly.

“I see. And did Old Ben teach you this way of….resting?”

Of course she would come to that conclusion.

“No, it just….felt right”, Luke tried.

“Hmm.”

“I mean it, Aunt Beru. Ben didn’t show me anything. Really”, Luke said, lacing as much earnest honesty as he could into the words.

His aunt tilted her head at him, studying. “Alright. Did this start around the time you got sick? Or before?”

Luke shrugged, “Same time, I guess”.

“And….do you have any idea what might have gotten you sick? Something you ate or—somewhere you went, maybe? Something you interacted with?”

“Not that I know of. Did—did Ben not have any ideas?”

For the first time since she’d entered the room, Aunt Beru’s eyes left Luke to rest on the floor.

“No,” she said, “he didn’t”.

“Then why would I know?”

“I don’t know, Luke,” Beru sighed, then, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Luke nodded. They fell into awkward silence for a moment, and Luke went back to his food sheepishly. Aunt Beru seemed to settle after a while, but it wasn’t a pleasant settling, Luke could tell.

“Hop in the fresher after you eat, ok? It’ll do you good to clean up.”

Again, Luke nodded. He really shouldn’t press his luck here but—

“Can I go out later? I heard the Anchorhead depot got some good parts in lately, and I have some ideas for a new project.” 

“Can you—? Luke, you’ve been sick!”

“But I’m not now. I’m completely fine!”

“We’ll see.”

“Aunt Beru!”

“I said we’ll see, Luke”, Beru said firmly, and Luke knew that was the end of it.

“Alright,” he said, “Thanks, Aunt Beru”.

Aunt Beru got up, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and left.

Luke did as he was told, hurrying through his meal and an efficient—if disappointing after acclimating to real, regular water showers—stint in the sonic fresher.

Getting changed again had been….more of an internal struggle than he’d expected. His face and body still struck him as wrong when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Which was beyond foolish, since they looked exactly as his younger self had done, and Luke had never been self-conscious of his looks even as a teen. But still, it all sat wrongly in his gut. Like a photo with the colors just slightly too saturated, or like the odd dissonance of hearing himself on a recording. He avoided his reflection as much as possible. 

Equally trivial, and just as equally persistent, was the thought that he missed his black Jedi robes. Not for the luxury of them so much as for the way they made him feel. The reminder that the last 5 years of struggle and accomplishment hadn’t been a dream. The coarse whites and tans of his childhood made him feel—well. Young. Wrong-footed. He had a black set of clothes stashed somewhere in the family closet, he knew, but that was special occasion wear on Tatooine, reserved for high holidays and freedom celebrations. So. He wasn’t about to disrespect his aunt and uncle by wearing it so casually, or waste their hard-earned money by frivolously coating the rich fabrics in sand. He’d just have to make due. He was being petty, anyway.

It was harder to brush off the stab of shock when, after dressing, he unthinkingly moved to clip his lightsaber to his belt. Only to realize it wasn’t there. That it couldn’t be there, because his lightsaber didn’t exist yet. That—hurt, in a way similar to actual grief. Lightsabers were alive, in a way, and they were also personal. A manifestation of a Jedi’s unique relationship with the Force. After Bespin—after losing his father’s saber, as his understanding of what being a Jedi meant threatened to crumble around him—Luke had needed that symbol. A reminder that he had value and a place in the world outside Vader’s shadow. A reminder that the Force was still with him and still worth fighting for. He’d worked hard to forge that lightsaber, reforge his faith, and it had grown with him. The pain of losing it now, foolish as it might seem in the face of what he had gained back, couldn’t so easily be brushed aside. He tried though, if only because he had gained back so much. He could always construct his saber anew. His crystal would still be there, waiting for him.

Once Luke was finished getting cleaned up, he headed down to the kitchen. He tried again to convince Aunt Beru to let him go out, but no such luck. He “confided” in his aunt that he really wanted to go out to get a new droid for Owen, or at least get the parts to make a boche translation engine, since he knew they’d needed a droid with that capability and struggled to find one. But Beru just stared at him and then said, in overly-measured tones, that Owen wouldn’t want Luke to compromise his health at the risk of some droid parts. Especially given that market day was only a few days away, and they could always send Luke to Tosche Station then if needed, or wait until the Jawa’s passed through with their wares. Luke couldn’t really argue that point, given how things had gone last time, so he dropped that particular track.

 He couldn’t quite let the matter go, though, and in truth he probably pestered Aunt Beru far more than was wise, but he was absolutely itching to do something now that he had his head on straight. He complained of restlessness, and Beru very matter-of-factly dropped a pile of mending into his hands and told him to get to work. Luke sighed in resignation. He should have known better than to try outsmarting Beru Whitesun. She’d let him go when she thought he was ready, and not a moment before. Luke would either need to wait it out, or try and sneak out of the house after dark. 

He chafed at the idea of waiting. He needed to get to Han sooner rather than later, But unless he wanted to tell his aunt everything now —which would take time and run the risk of getting walked in on by Uncle Owen—he wasn’t sure what else he could do. So he bit his tongue and tried very hard to look the appropriate level of put out for a stir-crazy teenager.

Despite himself, a part of Luke found himself enjoying the work. It was nostalgic in more ways than one. It was the sort of work that Luke had found easy to carry with him into his time in the alliance, when being able to quickly repair a flight suit or an armor weave or a tarp could be literally lifesaving, and the repetition had made for good makeshift meditation when he’d just started his Jedi training. Having his aunt working beside him added to the enjoyment too, of course, even if the swell of feelings he felt every time he remembered she was there threatened to completely derail his efforts. 

Even if the sight of his own hand—untested flesh in place of durasteel and wiring—left him flinching mid-stitch. Even if it’s movements left him feeling too-quick and clumsy, it’s sensory input unexpected in it’s intensity.

Ok, so he wasn’t as content as he would’ve liked. He still tried to take some enjoyment out of his situation. He was with his aunt again, after all. He couldn’t take that for granted.

Except—Aunt Beru kept looking at him, when she thought he couldn’t see. Staring at him with intense curiosity, as though he was a puzzle she was determined to solve. It set Luke’s teeth on edge.

Uncle Owen came back in from work just just before suns-set, as usual. He paused at the door, taking Luke in.

“You’re up,” he said, pointing at Luke.

“Uh-huh,” Luke said, “I’m actually feeling great.”

Owen gave him a flat look.

“Your nephew wanted to go out to Anchorhead for droid parts as soon as he woke up, Owen,” Beru chirped. Luke noted with cautious relief that she didn’t mention the meditation incident.

“You told him no, I assume?”

“I told him we’d see.”

“So no,” Luke said.

“So I saw ,” Beru corrected, “and I decided your project could wait until tomorrow.”

“You don’t need to go out for droid parts, Luke, it can wait until market day,” said Owen.

“We don’t need to wait until market day, I can go now.”

“You’re recovering.”

“I’m not going to be recovering until market day .”

“Luke….” Uncle Owen pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Luke could feel worry-worry-worry dripping off him in the Force,“Drop it, alright?”

Luke sank down into his chair. He dropped it.

The rest of the night passed in relative silence, with Luke talking only when needed and trying to avoid Beru and Owen’s eyes. The tension hung tight and heavy in the air between them, thoughts unvoiced and questions unanswered. He felt he might choke with it. 

He excused himself as soon as he could without it being noticeable, wished his aunt and uncle a good night, and headed back up to his room. He made sure to lock the door this time. He couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to, he knew. He was sick of sleep and sick of this room. He pulled a piece of piping off his workbench and went through a series of saber forms with it until the night arrived in earnest, and he felt Owen and Beru drifting to sleep around him.

Then he got up, pulled on a lightweight jacket and his old blaster-rifle, and snuck his way out to the garage. He sent his force sense outward, partly as an act of vigilance against being followed, but also to help guide him to Han. He hopped into his landspeeder, sparing a moment to pat it affectionately, and headed out in the direction of Mos Eisley. It was time to retrieve his friend.

Chapter Text

Luke’s sense of Han petered out as he entered Mos Eisley. He was still here, Luke could tell, but even at night, the city swarmed with enough people that getting a precise location was near impossible. Luke could guess, though, where Han would be. And if he was wrong, he wouldn’t be for long. He parked the speeder a few blocks from the spaceport, and snuck inside to find the Falcon. It was almost too easy, really, and Luke’s years of experience-backed paranoia had him on high alert. This was Mos Eisley, though, so no one was monitoring the spaceport for crime, let alone for something so mundane as trespassing.

The moment Luke laid eyes on the Falcon, something settled in his chest. The ship, much like everything in this time period, felt ever-so-slightly off, missing many of the scrapes and dents Luke so fondly recalled it receiving over its time in the rebellion, but it was still a piece of junk. It was their piece of junk, and Luke unconsciously relaxed as he got closer. The Falcon was closed up for the night, but Luke’s sense of Han had been growing steadily, and now it had reached its peak. This was definitely the right place. 

Luke levitated a chunk of rock off the ground and lobbed it at the Falcon’s door panel. Again. And again.

On the fourth throw, the ramp lowered down with a too-quick thump .

“Rawwr!” Chewie’s voice rumbled out through the landing pad, all annoyance and confusion. 

Luke stepped back immediately, hands raised, “Hey Ch—er, hey there big guy. I’m looking for Han Solo?”

Chewie stopped, head tilted and hands on hips. He let out a series of questioning growls that Luke’s shaky grasp of Shyriiwook told him roughly translated as < who the heck are you? >

Luke ignored his hurt at the question.

“I’m, uh, I’m an old friend of Han’s.”

Another question, tinged with incredulity.

“I’m serious! Look, can you just get him? Or at least let him know that Luke—”

< Luke Skywalker? > Chewie asked sharply.

“Uh—yeah?”

Chewie studied him for a moment, but he seemed to calm. Luke lowered his arms hopefully.

< The cub was asking for you all yesterday > Chewie grumbled.

Luke’s lips quirk up at the term of endearment. “See? He knows me. So can I come in? Please?”

Chewie gave an affirmative yowl, then gestured for Luke to follow him as he headed into the Falcon. 

Han was sitting at the dejarik table in the lobby, as high strung as a double viol and eyes trained on the doorway as Luke entered. He shot up when he saw Luke, and his eyes locked onto him with something like desperation.

“Kid?”

Luke flashed him a smile.

“Hiya, Han,” he said.

Han collapsed back across the lounge seat in an instant.

“Thank kark,” he said in exhale, “I’m not the only karking one! Kid, I’ve put up with a lot of weird stuff since I met you—but this? I wake up and the last five years are just….” he snapped his fingers, “Gone. Didn’t happen! My body, my ship, it’s all been wound back. Even Chewie—” 

Han pointed to Chewbacca, who had come up behind Luke and seemed to be taking in the scene shrewdly. Luke shuffled away slightly, feeling suddenly awkward in front of this past Chewie, who still saw him as a stranger.

“—Well,” Han finished lamely, “he isn’t affected by….whatever this is. I asked about you and Leia and he looked at me like I was crazy.”

< You were hungover > Chewie supplied.

“I was not ,” Han said emphatically, “I was….I don’t know….time travel lagged.”

Luke was about to ask what Han meant, but he felt Chewie go still and thoughtful beside him. His eyes danced from Han to Luke, and ultimately settled there.

< You’re from the future?> he asked Luke.

Luke nodded.

Chewie gestured to Han. < Both of you? >

“Yes,” Luke said, drawing himself up and pressing seriousness into his voice.

Chewie’s eyes did one more flick across their faces. Then he let loose a soft rumble that Luke could only describe as bemused resignation. He went to sit by Han, and softly placed a paw on his shoulder. He let out a quiet, questioning bark.

“Yeah bud, I’m 5 years ahead of you.”

Chewie whined. He gave Han a little pat. Han put his head in his hands.

Luke let out a little huff of not-quite-laughter.

 “You’re….taking this well?” he told Chewie.

Chewie gave a series of rumblings. Luke thought the jist amounted to < Han is too much of a skeptic to make this up, and I’m too old to be easily surprised >.

Luke snorted in delighted surprise at that, and Han laughed with a wetness that everyone very carefully avoided mentioning.

“Leia’s here, too.” Luke supplied, hoping to cheer up his friend.

Han’s head snapped up. “ Leia’s here? ”

“Not here here. In this time.”

“On the Death Star!??”

“No! On her ship for now. But I think—I think she’s coming to us.”

“How do you know?”

Luke gave Han a flat stare.

“Right, right, stupid question—Force twin weirdness. That how you found me?”

“Something like that.” 

“Great. That’s….one less thing to worry about, I guess,” Han gave another one of those wet laughs, then added, in a dull tone, “How’d we end up here anyway, Luke? What are we doing here, exactly?”

Luke shrugged, feeling helpless, “I wish I knew. I don’t know how we got here, Han. I don’t remember anything about what I was doing before.”

“Yeah. Me either.”

“As for what we do now….I’m just trying to make things better, however I can.”

“And what’s that entail exactly? Seems risky.”

“My Aunt and Uncle are alive right now, Han. So is Alderaan.”

Han let out a long, low whistle, and moved forward in his seat.

“So what’s the game plan?”

“Leia has an idea—”

“—of course she does.”

“She’s gonna try to avoid capture and get to us sooner. And take some heat off R2. I know about where the droids will land, so hopefully we can get them early and meet up.”

Han folded his arms, clearly sliding into business mode as he weighed the situation.

“It’s a start. What about your folks?”

“What about them?”

“Do they know about….all this?”

Luke shifted, “No….I’ll need to tell them.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“You need to tell them before things get hot, otherwise—”

“I’ll tell them, Han. Them and Ben both.”

“Oh, right. The old man. Well, he’s a Jedi, right? So he should be more open to this kind of thing? Maybe talk your aunt and uncle around?”

Luke shook his head, “It’s not that simple, Han”.

“I know, I know, Ben and your folks weren’t exactly on great terms.”

“There’s that, yeah. But also….whatever‘s happened….I don’t get the sense that it’s standard Jedi stuff. And the circumstances around my….travel….weren’t ideal for trying to convince anyone.”

“Say again?”

Luke turned to Chewie, nodding in Han’s direction, “He was feeling off before?”

“I’m right here!” Han said, indignant, “….And yeah. Woke up with a killer migraine yesterday and feeling like I got hit by a hoverbus. That’s it. Chewie wasn’t wrong to write it off as a hangover.”

“Hmm…”

“You too?”

“Oh no, it was way worse than that. Apparently I—or my younger self, whichever—got sick enough for Ben and Uncle Owen to call a truce. I don’t know just how bad it got but….everyone’s acting like they were worried for my life. And I don’t get the sense they were exaggerating. Aunt Beru never exaggerates.”

Han grimaced, “Geez. Any idea why it hit you like that?”

“The Force is….something was weird with the Force when we came back, Han. Really weird. It’s gotten better now, but it’s still….uneasy? I think the Force is mostly trying to adjust for the changes us being here has caused. Which makes sense, but it really hit me hard. I’d wager any Force sensitive in a parsec felt something, at least.”

“What about Leia?”

Luke shrugged, “she seemed fine when we talked, but you know Leia. She can work through anything. And she isn’t as trained, she might not be as affected as I am.”

“Ok….and the old man?”

“Ben wouldn’t tell me if he felt anything. Owen would skin him if he tried,” Luke tried to keep the resentment out of his voice as he said it.

“Yeah, but….would he be more likely to believe you? On account of the extra-weird Force weirdness?”

“I don’t know, Han, maybe? Like I said, I don’t know how far off the beaten path we are.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to him soon. Tomorrow, if I can.”

“Sure, kid. In the meantime, why don’t you give me details on the droids. Maybe I can get a head start on scouting for them, yeah?”

“That’s actually a good idea, Han.”

“Don’t act so surprised!” Han said, in mock indignation.

Luke chuckled. He gave Han the information, then asked Chewie for some flimsi to write it down. They spent another hour or so hashing out details, making a list of supplies in order to prepare for leaving the planet. When the ship’s chrono let Luke know the time was only a few hours from suns-rise, Luke gave Han a hug—and Chewie a heart-squeezingly polite smile—and headed out.

He arrived back to the homestead a few scant moments ahead of his Uncle's usual wake-up time. His adrenaline was still up from the rush to make it under the deadline as he snuck back into his room. But the stress and the lack of sleep was more than worth it, Luke thought. Riding high on reunions and aspirations, Luke prepared himself to meet the day ahead.

Chapter Text

The next day fizzled into a vague outline of monotony. Luke spent his morning helping Beru with household chores. He still felt his aunt’s attention on him as they worked, and he still found himself startling at every other reminder of where—and when—he was. He gravitated toward darker browns in his clothing now, and found himself wearing gloves whenever he could—the less he had to look at his own hands, the better. Luke was sure Beru noticed this, but she never said anything, and he was hardly going to break whatever truce was held between them. More surprising to Luke, though, was Owen’s reaction. His uncle seemed to have also agreed to ignore Luke’s obvious weirdness, which frankly set Luke on edge more than anything else. It made it clear that this was some sort of operation that his guardians had agreed on between them. Either they were going to drop the other shoe when he least expected it, or they were hoping playing it cool would pull a confession out of Luke on his own accord. Neither option was appealing.

 Owen also seemed to have decided, after watching Luke stumble through chores for roughly 24 hours without collapsing in delirium again, that he could finally get out of the house and pick up some of the less strenuous outdoor work. Which….was a bit of a mixed bag. On the one hand, it was good not to be on house arrest, and to have an opportunity to get out from under Aunt Beru’s shrewd observations. On the other hand….well, there was everything else, pretty much. His attempts to carve out time, either to talk to Obi-wan or to help Han with scouting for the droids, were blocked at every turn. Luke went from being under his Aunt’s scrutiny almost entirely to operating under Uncle Owen’s as well, both guardians' full attention being unavoidably centered on him. And if he had had the occasional struggle to readjust with his aunt, it was nothing compared to the struggle of doing chores with Uncle Owen again. 

There were the practical concerns, of course—his body still remembered how to do the work once he had started it, but his mind had long fallen out the habits of Tatooine farm work. He kept forgetting—or rather, realizing that he had forgotten—the correct order of things, finding himself jarred out of what should have been a natural rhythm of action. All the little tips and tricks he’d developed to help him in his chores slipped from his mind all too easily, or came back in bits and pieces, or at the wrong time. Owen called him out on it throughout the day, too. Asking him where he was going, wasn’t he forgetting something, why was he doing  that thing this way when he usually did it completely differently? And Luke had no answers for him. What could he say?

Well—he could tell him the truth. But the words stuck in his mouth like wet sand when he so much as considered them. 

The disconnect with his hand continued with outside work, too, though at least the sense of disassociation had lessened a bit since he’d started wearing gloves more frequently. But he was still clumsy and hypersensitive. If he wasn’t nearly dropping plates in the house with Aunt Beru, then he was outside with Uncle Owen, struggling to hold a wrench while working on the farming equipment. And he couldn’t even use the Force to make up for his lack of coordination. In fact, he actively had to squash his own instincts to reach out to the Force and float an object or correct his balance—which took up even more of his concentration, and made him feel clumsier still. Owen noticed this too, Luke could tell. He kept squinting at Luke every time his hand slipped mid-action. The Force around him sang with a sharp high-note of fear-confusion-suspicion-helplessness , and it fed into the static of Luke’s own emotions. 

And that led into another set of problems. Because every comment Uncle Owen made, every scrutinizing look he sent Luke’s way, hit him like blaster fire. It was as though interacting with his uncle threatened to open a box filled with a thousand messy thoughts he’d considered long put to rest. Because Luke was 19 again—or at least Uncle Owen thought he was, and treated him like he was, and that made him feel like he was. It was different now, sure, because he understood the undercurrent of fear and wariness that drove Owen to hover over him and prod him with questions. If anything, his gruff worry was even more justified now, because Luke had single-handedly managed to press all his panic buttons just a few days ago. But still….

But still, there were times that Owen would talk, and Luke would have to bite back the instinctive urge to retort, and all he could think of was a last, strained conversation at the table, and torched skeletons that would never say anything again.

What did it matter that he knew Owen’s motivations, when they had led to Luke’s last memory of his parents being painted in shades of anger and regret?

And Luke was angry! Angry at Owen for how he acted in Luke’s past, at all the things he hadn’t said. Angry at him now, for tarnishing this miraculous new start Luke had been granted. And angry at himself, above all, for the power these old resentments held over him when he’d long thought himself past them.

Tatooine was full of stories that warned against the horror of resurrection. Death was….complicated, to Desert Kin. A constant companion; an ever-hungry, ever-hunting shadow. But also—a gift. The final mercy, final dignity, final guaranteed freedom for those living under the Hutts. To disrupt someone’s lasting peace was the ultimate cruelty. Luke had grown up on those stories, and thought he’d understood. But standing next to his Uncle’s remnant, Luke was hit with the sudden knowledge that the act of resurrection didn’t only hurt the once-dead.

Luke bit his tongue, and carried on with his work. The Force buzzed in his ears, and he buried himself in it.

——————

Luke complained to Han about his troubles as they set aboard the Falcon that night, camped out in Beggars’ Canyon. Chewie was outside, scouting the surrounding area for signs of flashing metal or blinking sensor lights. 

Han fixed Luke with a flat look, though Luke felt pity creeping around the edges of it. 

“You’re gonna keep struggling until you talk to them, kid.”

“I know!” Luke said, “I know, Han. It’s just—I’m just—”

“—Scared?”

Luke bit down on the instinctive denial, “Well yes,” he admitted, “But it’s not like I don’t have reason to be.”

“Yeah.”

“….What about you and Chewie?” Luke ventured after a pause.

“What about me and Chewie?”

“It feels….weird, being around him when he doesn’t really….know me. Doesn’t it bother you?”

Han shrugged, “Chewie already knew me. But yeah it’s weird. I keep wanting to make jokes, reference things he hasn’t seen or done. It’s been a long time since we were out of sync like this. Can’t say I missed it.”

Luke nodded, looking at Chewie sitting just outside the viewport. Luke thought of R2 and 3P0, soon to reach Tatooine if they hadn’t already. He tried to mentally prepare himself for them to look on him as a stranger. Though Luke thought, with wry amusement, that nobody would be surprised if the little astromech had managed to follow them through time somehow.

The silence stretched out of a few fragile moments before Luke broke it again, his mind set.

“I’m telling them tomorrow, though,” he said, “I’ll have to.”

Han watched him, “You sure? We might have another day before the pod drops.”

Luke shook his head, “No. You know Leia. She’ll want to move the timeline up as much as possible. They’ll be here soon.”

“Speaking of Leia, you feel anything from her yet?” 

“Just that she’s getting closer.”

“Right,” Han said shortly.

Luke turned to him, smirking, “Aw, Han,” he said dramatically, “You miss her .”

“‘Course I miss her,” Han snorted, “You do too.”

“I’m not the one pining.”

“I’m not—”

“Sure, Han,” Luke said, rolling his eyes, “Call Chewie in and let’s get the Falcon in the air, yeah?”

They flew 3 patrol rounds around the canyon that night. Luke managed to pressure Han into giving him control for a lap, and it was the first time in days he felt like himself.

Chapter Text

Luke had barely slept in his childhood bedroom since that first chaotic night after traveling back in time. Partly, this was because he couldn’t manage to look at his room too long without smelling smoke and tasting bile. But partly, it was because he—and the Force—were too restless with anticipation of everything that needed doing. 

So, when he felt his sister make her move at last in the hours before dawn, he was thankful to already be awake and mid-meditation.

It was not a disturbance in the Force, exactly, so much as a sudden snap . Several things suddenly, decisively landed into place. It still left clear trances in the force, though, and a shiver traveled up Luke’s spine as he realized the bright beacon Leia had made of herself in that moment. He followed the thread of her trail, passing along comfort and bravery and comprehension, and got to work.

Luke pulled a commlink Han had given him from his desk drawer and thumbed it on, keying in Han’s frequency.

“Han, it’s Luke. Are you there?”

There were a few drawn-out moments of silence over the comm, during which Luke’s impatience began to bubble.

It was Chewie that picked up first. Luke gave him a quick rundown of what had happened, and he promised to drag Han out of bed. Luke thanked him, reconfirmed his own part in the plan, and headed out. 

———————

“There!” Luke said, pointing down to a particular crack in the canyon landscape.

“You’re sure, kid?” Han asked, looking up at him from his place over the Falcon’s control panel.

Luke gave him a flat look. Han sighed, and maneuvered the ship down into the space Luke had indicated. As they descended down into the canyon proper, Luke caught sight of a Jawa crawler, its nose barely peeking out from its hiding place wedged between a rocky alcove. He pointed it out to Han, and they set the Falcon down across from it.

Luke was the most familiar with the Jawas out of the three of them, so he took the lead in their interactions. The Jawa’s were, understandably Luke thought, pretty skeptical of them at first. The Jawas went to the homesteaders to share their wares; the reverse rarely happened. But Luke’s family had traded with this particular clan often. Many of them even recognized Luke, and knew him as someone who was both passionate about mechanics and fair in his assessments of their merchandise. So, when Luke offered the group his landspeeder—a well-cared for luxury worth more than R2 and 3P0 combined—in exchange for their newest merchandise, they took the deal with only some obligatory haggling.

Luke held his breath as the Jawas rolled out his droid friends. 

“Oh hello,” said 3P0, “I am C-3P0, human-cyborg relations.”

“Oh hells ,” Han said under his breath.

Luke held back a near-hysterical laugh.

“Thanks,” he told the Jawas, “we’ll take them”.

The Jawas chattered incredulously. Luke hadn’t even seen the droids, after all.

“I’ve seen them now,” Luke said firmly, his hand falling to unconsciously pet R2’s dome, “and I think they’re perfect.”

“Oh well!” spluttered 3P0, flustered.

Han groaned, “Great, we got the droids. Are we done here?”

Luke rolled his eyes at Han’s grumbling. But he did tie things up quickly after that. Though more for his own sake than Han’s—His anticipation bubbled up in earnest when combined with the Force's own urging and the growing sense of Leia in his mind.

As soon as the Falcon’s ramp door closed, R2 went wild. He immediately began chirping into Luke’s ear. He felt smiling as a surge of affection overtook him, only undercut by the sharp twist of longing as he registered R2’s lack of recognition in turn. He was just trying to accomplish his mission, of course.

“Hey hey hey,” Luke soothed, “it’s fine, ok?”

“Of course it’s fine,” 3P0 interjected, “I don’t know what you mean with all this talk of secret missions R2, but I think you should put it aside and worry about serving our new masters here. They seem very kind, after all. And if nothing else, they’ve certainly proved themselves to be good judges of character—”

“—No,” Luke interrupted, over Han’s groaning, “Well, I do want to treat you both kindly, 3P0, but that isn’t what I mean.”

Luke turned back to R2 and crouched down to his sensor level.

“Look, R2, right? I’m Luke. Did Leia mention me? I’m….a friend of hers.” 

R2 gave a questioning little chirp.

“That’s right. Luke Skywalker.

R2 began to babble happily. Luke’s mind rushed to translate.

“How about we hold onto any messages from Leia until later, ok? For now, let’s worry about getting you to Ben—um, Obi-wan. We have a lot to get done, and not a lot of time.”

R2 gave a trill of anticipation.

“Oh my,” said 3P0, “I must admit, I’m quite unsure what exactly is happening. But if you have any need for a protocol droid, then I would be happy to offer my services, master Luke. Especially if it might help our dear former mistress.”

Luke smiled, a little melancholy. He clasped a hand to 3P0’s shoulder.

“I know, 3P0, and thank you. But—you can just call me Luke, alright? No ‘master’ or ‘sir’ needed.”

“Of course, master Luke.”

Luke shook his head fondly. It was worth a try. 

“Then let’s get going,” he said, passing Han and heading to the cockpit.

———————

“This it?” Han asked, looking out the viewport to Ben’s hut across the way, “Geez, the old man sure was living it up out here, huh?”

Luke shrugged, “by Tatooine standards? Yeah, he kinda was.”

Han snorted. Luke gave an unthinking grin at the sound, but neither his heart or his attention were in the interaction. His words petered out, his mouth feeling dry as sandpaper. He studied the hovel before him. Reaching out with the Force. 

Han gave him a worried look.

“Alright, kid?” He asked.

Luke nodded, “Ben’s definitely in there.”

“That’s good, right?” 

“Sure. I just….I’ll need to get right to it, I guess. No reason to drag it out.”

“You want me to go in with you?”

“No, I should go alone. I don’t think bringing in a stranger is a good idea. It’d put Ben on the defensive, make him less likely to open up then if it was just me at first. Besides, you’d be a distraction.”

“For Ben or for you?”

“Yes.”

“Well ok. But keep your comm on. Chewie and I should be able to keep you posted if anything happens. And the other way round, too.”

“I will,” Luke confirmed, “Be back soon.”

Luke hopped out of the Falcon and trekked to Ben’s hut. He hesitated, just slightly, before bringing his fist up to knock on the door.

Ben’s voice reached him before he could make contact.

“Come in,” he said.

Luke paused again, then did so.

“Hi Ben,” he called out, falsely chipper, as he entered the small hallway that existed in most Tatooine houses for the purpose of divesting clothes of sand, “Sorry to bother you. I know you don’t get much company, but I really think we need to talk—”

“Oh yes, I’d imagine you do,” said a voice that was decidedly not Ben Kenobi’s

Luke’s heat rate spiked. He rushed through the entranceway, yanked open the door to Ben’s main living quarters….

And saw his Aunt Beru, sitting across from Ben at his small stone table.

Beru smiled at him, sharp and shrewd and purposeful.

“I think I’d like to join in on that talk, too, if you don’t mind.”

Chapter Text

Luke stared at the sight of Ben and Aunt Beru, who studied him with twin looks of under bafflement. Their senses of confusion and resigned exhaustion tangled tightly together in the air between them and Luke. 

Before Luke could figure out the best way to cut the knot of tension, Beru beat him to it. She swiveled to Ben, lifting a brow at him.

“I thought you said you didn’t know where Luke was, Ben,” she said, her tone trapezing on a dangerous line. 

Luke internally shivered. He recognized that tone, and he did not envy Ben his place on the receiving end of it.

“He didn’t—” Luke began.

“—I assure you, Beru,” Ben cut in, “Until this moment, had no idea of Luke’s whereabouts. And I am just as in the dark on his motivations for coming here as you are.”

“I really did just get here,” Luke finished.

Beru studied Ben. Studied Luke. Her gaze bounced between the two of them, and then she seemed to confirm their honesty. All at once, Beru seemed to fold in on herself. She thudded back down into her seat at the table, messaging her temples before she turned her gaze on Luke again. 

“Aunt Beru, what are you doing here?” Luke blurted, and then winced in regret almost immediately.

Beru’s head snapped up with such force Luke could almost hear it.

“ What am I doing here? ” she hissed, “I’m looking for my bantha-headed nephew , since he just up and disappeared on me and his uncle today!”

“I left a note,” Luke said lamely.

“Oh? You left a note ?? The note saying you’d gone out to Anchorhead??? Well, your uncle went out there to get you, and guess what? You weren’t there. Or anywhere else we looked for you. No one had seen you in days, though I know you’ve been sneaking out at night—which is unlike you! And now I find you here , though you and Ben both say you haven’t been here before. And All-Mother help me, I believe you. So I think I should be the one asking you, Luke, what are you doing here? Where have you been ?? What is going on!? ”

Luke felt like he’d been slapped. He could count on his hands the amount of times his aunt had ever raised her voice to him. The last time she’d yelled at him with this level of fierceness had been when Luke was twelve, and had snuck away into the Mos Eisley slave quarters on market day. The same frantic fear was thick in her voice and in her sense, and it settled like a rock in Luke’s stomach now.

He’d pushed his luck with her too far. It was time to come clean. 

“Oh, Aunt Beru—I’m sorry, alright? I was going to tell you. Today, even. I—I just….didn’t know where to start, I guess.”

“I suggest you start somewhere .”

“I will. I will, I promise. Is….Uncle Owen here? Outside maybe? Is he on his way?”

Beru shook her head, “No, I had him stay at home. In case you went back there.”

Luke nodded, “I should probably wait to give most of the details until we’re all together but. I can give you the basics,” he chuckled ruefully, “Probably better to let you in first, anyway. Uncle Owen will be more likely to believe you than me.”

Aunt Beru blinked. She exchanged looks with Ben, who had been silently observing Luke from his place across the table.

“If I may interject, young Luke, what trouble have you gotten into that you feel is so difficult to believe?” Ben asked, speaking up for the first time.

Luke met his gaze, steeling himself as he began to slacken his control of his shields.

“Ben, the day you came to our house, you knew I was in trouble, right? Before Uncle Owen came and got you? Like you did before my appendix burst. You felt it in the Force.”

Luke paused to let his words sink in.  Ben and Beru stiffened, and he felt them grow taught as bow strings.

“Luke, what—?”

“I beg your pardon—?”

 “—Only the Force was acting extra strange the other day,” Luke barreled on, running his hand through his hair in a half-grounding, half-hysterical gesture, “It’s been acting strange ever since, and you have no idea why. But I do. I do Obi-wan, because I’m the cause of it.”

There. He’d pulled the blaster trigger now. No turning back.

“What did you call me?” Ben whispered, bone-white with his knuckles pressed into the table. 

Aunt Beru looked equally pale, but Luke could feel the gears turning in her head. He found himself faltering under her gaze. Best to finish shoring up his case before he dealt with the emotional fallout.

“I called you Obi-wan. Obi-wan Kenobi? That was your name. You told me. Though I know it’s been a long time since you’ve heard it. You told me that, too.”

“I most assuredly did not,” Ben said, voice wavering. He made to stand up.

“No no, you’ll want to stay seated for this next part,” Luke gave Ben a light shove with the Force. More a poke than anything, one that a prepared Jedi with Ben’s power and training would easily be able to brush off.

Ben was not prepared. He did not brush it off. Instead he folded under Luke’s urging. Ben stared at him for a moment as understanding came on slowly. Then he blinked, and took in a small breath.

Luke collapsed his still present shields in a rush of determination. 

Ben flinched. His breath transformed into a gasp of shock.

For the briefest of moments, they regarded each other. And then Aunt Beru’s voice cut like blaster fire through the hut.

“Luke Skywalker, you owe me an explanation. Now .”

Luke’s eyes fell on his aunt of their own accord. She was so scared it sizzled off her. Luke hated that.

He fixed his gaze on a spot on the wall just over Ben and Beru’s heads. His sense of Leia beat ever stronger, ever closer. And he focused on that. Let it ground him.

“You did tell me, Ben. You told me about your past and the Force and—well, a lot of other things. Or, a version of you did. I met him a long time ago. Before. But you haven’t gotten around to being him, yet. I guess you don’t need to now.”

“You….had a vision of some kind?” Ben asked, but Luke could tell even as he said it that he wasn’t convinced.

Luke shook his head, “No,” he said, “weirder than that.”

Luke’s anxious mind, reaching halfway outward to anticipate his needed next action, caught on something interesting then. An idea blossomed in Luke’s head, and he couldn’t shake it. He smiled to himself a little.

Closing his eyes, Luke reached out with his senses toward the familiar song of kyber that he knew resided within Ben’s house. He felt Ben’s realization of what he was doing. But before he could act in opposition, Luke pulled on that kyber. It responded. 

Under Ben’s bed, a wooden box popped open. His father’s lightsaber flew out, answering Luke’s call to come to his hand.

Luke heard two sharp intakes of breath. He ignored them for the moment. Caressing the hilt of the long-lost saber that had started his journey. It wasn’t his as it had once been. As his own saber now was (would be? Had been?). But it still hummed beautifully in his grasp. Not in remembrance, perhaps, but recognition nonetheless. Acceptance. The purr of a contented Tooka cat.

Luke gave the saber a fond pat, then hooked it onto his belt.

He turned to look at Ben and Aunt Beru, feeling more stable.

“I’m a Jedi. I’ve time traveled here from 5 years in the future. So has Leia. She’s on her way, and we need to be ready to meet her when she does.”

Chapter Text

“Well,” said Aunt Beru, after a few moments of contemplation, “That would certainly explain some things”. She clicked her nails on the table in thought. “Ben? Can you confirm this?”

Luke had never known Ben to be at a loss for words, but he certainly seemed it now. His jaw worked several times as though to speak, but no sound came out. Luke felt a perverse thrill of pride at besting his mentor, and quickly dismissed it, embarrassed. To Ben’s credit, he put himself back together quickly. Luke could feel him reaching out to probe at Luke’s sense, searching not just for truth but for any form of mental confusion or uncertainty.

Luke met him openly, hiding nothing. Even the fossil framework of his shields were available for inspection. Ben paused at the fuzzy boundary that marked where Luke’s individuality blended into his sense of Leia. Luke followed Ben’s attention and grabbed at the bundle of knowledge that was their bond. Then, partially to build trust with Ben and partly for the pure fun of it, he plucked at the strings. Sent Leia a sense of readiness from himself, and also gave her a brief glimpse into Ben’s sudden flare of joy-surprise. Leia sent an echo of her own laughter at them. Ben backed off then, watching from a distance. He moved quickly to finish his investigation.

When he had finished, Luke watched his expression solidify into something…..tired. Resigned. But not in the usual heavy method Luke was used to from him. It was like a parent, coming across their child’s wall-drawings for the third time that week. Luke flashed him a bashful smile.

“Well?” Aunt Beru inquired, breaking through their silent interactions. Luke's attention snapped to her.

Ben turned to her, too. “To the best of my ability to determine, Luke is telling the truth and completely in his right mind,” he brushed a shaky hand through shaggy hair, “Frankly Beru, at this point I’d have a lot more pressing concerns if he isn’t a time traveler.”

Aunt Beru aborted a sharp breath before it could voice entirely. She nodded.

“Alright,” she said, “Thank you for telling me, Luke.”

She looked him up and down. There was something in her gaze Luke didn’t care to name.

“You’re….24? That right?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Hmm. And you said….Leia was on her way?”

“Yes ma’am,” said Luke, and realized a beat later that Ben had accompanied him with a rueful little “oh yes”.

“You two know each other?”

Luke rolled his eyes, “She is my sister.”

“Ah,” said Ben quietly.

“Yes,” said Aunt Beru, less quietly but more carefully, “I suppose she is. When did you two….meet?”

“About 5 years ago. Though we’ve only known we were related for about a year and a half now.”

“You were due to meet soon in any case, then,” Beru said with purposeful carelessness, “time travel or no.”

“That’s right.”

A thousand thoughts swirled behind Beru and Ben’s eyes, and in the air between them. Luke chose not to look too carefully at any of them.

“She should be here soon,” Luke offered, “She had to take a longer way, for safety.”

A high pitched whine in the Force. Winds beginning to pick up.

“Safety?”

“That’s….part of the story I’d rather wait to tell when we’re all together. And honestly, we need to, because I don’t even know it all myself.”

“Leia didn’t tell you?”

Luke shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

An uneasy diffusion of a storm before it could form.

“I see,” said Aunt Beru, tone turning business-like, “what do you need us to do, Luke?”

Ben cut in, looking unsure, “Pardon me Beru, but given Luke’s surprise at seeing you here, I’m given to believe that he wanted to consult with me, specifically”.

“I—uh, yeah, actually,” Luke scuffed his foot on the floor as he took in the room around him, “You need to pack, Ben. We need to be ready to go. Soon.”

“Oh?” said Ben, arching an eyebrow, “And where might we be going, if I might ask?”

“Knowing Leia? Alderaan. Maybe a rebel base, first, but most likely Alderaan.”

“Why Alderaan?” Beru questioned.

“That’s—”

“—part of the story that should wait until later?”

“Yes,” Luke said firmly, “that’s Leia’s part to tell”.

“Hmm. Then—Ben, if you would?”

“Yes, I’ll begin preparations now. It shouldn’t take long. I have few belongings I wish to take with me.”

“We’ll help—unless you have another task for me, Luke?”

Luke blinked. “Not now,” he said, “Though I should check on my friends and fill them in, first.”

“Friends? Which friends?” Beru asked.

“Just some friends from….before. Though only one—Han—traveled back with me.”

“You trust them?” Ben queried.

“With my life,” Luke replied firmly.

“Then go talk to them,” Beru said, “and come back after.”

Luke nodded and ran off to talk to Han.
———————

Han insisted on coming in to help with the packing. Partly out of genuine care, Luke was sure, but also undoubtedly as a means to stave off his own restlessness. He introduced—or reintroduced—himself to Ben off-handedly, taking the old Jedi aback. But he was almost polite to Aunt Beru, giving her his hand to shake. Beru, for her part, seemed mostly amused by him, but Luke was sure she was noting every time Han’s eyes danced nervously between her and Luke.

Unfortunately for Han, Ben hadn’t been lying about having few possessions worth bringing. Luke and Beru were far more insistent on packing little domestic objects—rations, tea, various mechanical odds and ends—than Ben himself was. Even then, it took them only a few, brief moments to finish their preparations. Ben fixed them the last of the tea—a rare off-world brand. Luke wondered how he managed to obtain it—before he packed it, and set out some candied fruits for them to eat.

They all sat crowded together at the table, time travelers on the one side and Ben and Beru on the other, as they waited for Leia. Han’s leg jittered up and down, bumping into Luke at regular intervals. In between giving regular updates on Leia’s status, Luke found himself peppered by questions from Ben and Beru. About his plans, about himself or Leia or Han, about the future. Some he answered; most he didn’t.

When Luke felt a bright little tingle dancing in his mind, like a feedback circuit of energy, he knew immediately what it meant. He waited until he saw Han take a gulp of tea out of the corner of his eye.

Then he said, cheerfully, “Leia’s here”.

Han did a spit-take, spewing tea onto Ben across from him.

Ben jumped up, indignant. Aunt Beru startled. Luke burst out laughing.

Han glared daggers at him.

“You did that on purpose, kid.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Luke said through his laughter, “I couldn’t resist! Can you blame me?”

“Yes!” said Han and Ben together.

But Aunt Beru had calmed down quickly after the initial shock, and Luke could see her laughing behind her hand.

“No,” she giggled, “I can’t say I do.”

He’d missed his aunt’s laughter so much.

Before Luke’s heart could catch up with that thought, Han’s mind caught up with the meaning of what Luke had told him.

“You mean it? Leia’s here?”

“About a mile off, yes,” he said, still holding onto the shadow of a smile.

Han hopped up. “You should have told me sooner! I gotta get ready!”

“Get….ready?” Luke asked, tilting his head in question.

“Yeah! I need to—y’know! Get cleaned up or something!”

Luke blinked. “Han, this isn’t a date. And you last saw her like, 3 days ago.”

“Try 5 years ago!”

“Han.”

“Ok, ok, I know alright? I just—it’s been a long 3 days.”

“Yeah,” Luke sighed, “I know”. He gestured to the door. “Go on. I can stall.”

Han bounded out. And Luke couldn’t help but smile after him.

“I…take it Han and your sister are….close?” Aunt Beru asked, bemused.

Luke snorted. “Obnoxiously,” he said, without heat. Then he shoved his own chair back. “I better go out to meet her. She only mostly knows where she’s headed, after all”.
———————

When Leia finally, finally emerged into Luke’s field of view, a speck of white bridging Tatooine’s sky-blue and sand-tan, Luke’s force sense knew it was her immediately. Even so, as his sister got closer, and his eyes took some of the weight off his Force sense, Luke felt a little taken aback at the sight of her—he had forgotten just how young Leia had been, and he couldn’t avoid looking at her the way he could his own reflection. The depth of his sister’s sense was undercut by the softness of her skin and the bounciness of her step. Her eyes sat uncomfortably in the face she’d long outgrown—like gashes in hyper-space, bleeding space-time.

And there was something else, too. Leia had swapped out her Alderaan gown for practical Tatooine working clothes. White-tan and hearty and very much a twin to something Luke might have worn on the farm. Her ornate, noble Alderaani hairstyles had been replaced with a simple braid, looped once and draped over her shoulder. It was a style Aunt Beru had worn often in Luke’s childhood, one common among Desert Kin. He was sure his Grandma Shmi had also worn it.

Leia looked so Tatooinian it took his breath away.

But if she felt any of his conflicting thoughts, she didn’t show it. Instead she waved excitedly and picked up the pace steadily, until she was hurling herself into his arms. Luke wrapped her into a hug on instinct. She smelled of Tatooine spices and sand, but also of a flowery perfume that Luke had not known her to use in years. A strange mixture of scents, both wholly like, and wholly unlike, Leia. He squeezed her tightly. Embracing the sense of home.

“I missed you,” he said.

Chapter Text

Leia’s answering laugh had only a hint of wetness in it as she pulled away from their hug.

“I was only gone a few days,” she said.

“Tell that to Han.”

A frown edged onto Leia’s face. She glanced at the Falcon furtively. “Where is Han?” She asked.

“Getting ready for you,” he said, smirking.

“ What? ”

“He insisted.”

Leia rolled her eyes, fond. “10 creds says he comes out in the same jacket he always wears.”

“See—I have more faith in him than that. I think he’ll wear a different jacket….it’ll just look almost exactly like the one he always wears.”

“No, it’ll definitely be the same jacket. Maybe better pants if I’m lucky,” she sighed dramatically, then, “So you’re in?”

“Of course.”

Still laughing and ribbing at each other, they headed to Ben’s hut. Leia paused at the door just as he had, and Luke nudged her gently in the Force. She opened the door without knocking, and barreled forward. She took a moment to study the living space as she entered it, cataloging it with all the efficiency of a politician turned rebel. And then she came to the table, her eyes traveling up to the people sitting at it. Landed, so briefly, on Beru. Just enough for Luke to know she had registered her, filed her away to deal with later.

And then she looked, full-force, at Ben.

“Oh,” she said, so so breathy. A wisp of a wish once unfulfilled, now taken from her hands before it could truly be made. Luke moved closer to her.

“Leia,” said Ben, almost as stunned. Then he rallied, stood up, and smiled. “Hello, dear one”.

Leia rushed at him. 

Ben caught her and cradled her like something precious. And Luke felt a pulse of intuition, not quite a vision, exactly, but stronger than mere deja vu. A sense of intense rightness . Of something deeply entrenched and enduring.

I missed you, Leia whispered, and Luke was too far away to hear her, but he felt it sweet and clear. Ben’s echoing answer was not as defined to his senses, but he knew the shape of it all the same.

Another quick squeeze from Leia, and then she pulled away. Turned toward Beru, who had stood up from her sitting position.

“Hello,” she said.

Aunt Beru gave her a small little smile. “Hello, dear,” she said, “I’m Beru Whitesun.”

“Yes, I know—you’re Luke’s aunt.”

“Yours too, I hope?”

“I—of course. Yes.”

Leia adjusted her shields, subtly but forcefully, as she moved to shake Aunt Beru’s hand. Luke felt a twinge of something coming from his aunt, as well, but she brushed it aside before he could name it properly. She met Leia’s handshake squarely, giving only the briefest of squeezes before she let go again.

Leia took them all in, opened her mouth to speak, and then—

“Hey, sweetheart,” said Han.

Almost as one, the group swiveled around….to see Han, leaning against the door frame. There was a bottle of some form of liquid—Luke guessed Corellian brandy—in his hand.

Luke and Leia exchanged silent glances. They studied Han in synchronicity.

He was wearing a different pair of pants. But….

“Uh….Han?” asked Luke, “did you….change your jacket?”

“Of course I changed my jacket!”

The Force very helpfully informed the twins that Han had not, in fact, changed his jacket.

Luke dung into his pockets, pulled out 10 credits, and gave them to Leia, who was smirking smugly.

Han’s gaze bounced between the two of them as realization set in.

“Now wait a minute—”

Leia cut him off with a big kiss. 

“Hiya, hot shot,” she said, pulling away with a smile. Then she dove back into another kiss. It lasted a solid minute or so.

Ben coughed awkwardly. Luke rolled his eyes at him.

Leia, mid-kiss, met Ben’s look and continued for several more seconds before breaking it off. Then she snatched the brandy from Han’s hand, popped the cork, and chugged it.

As she handed the bottle back to Han, Leia stepped forward again. Primly, she busied herself in a futile attempt to brush sand from her clothes.

“You’ve filled them in?” She asked Luke.

“Sort of? Just on the basics. Uncle Owen’s still at home.”

Straightening up, Leia nodded. “We’ll need to pass by there, then”. She turned back to Ben, “Are you ready?” 

“I believe so, yes.”

“Good. We’ll go get the Falcon prepped, then. Come on, Han.”

The two of them left, Leia with a light blush brushing her cheeks and Han fighting down a dopey grin.

Luke waited until the door had closed behind them. Then, sighing, he turned to Beru and Ben. They were looking at him with a mix of amusement, confusion, and embarrassment.

“See? I told you,” Luke said, “ obnoxiously close.”

———————

“ This is the ship you’ve been flying around in?” asked Aunt Beru incredulously, “Luke, this is a hunk of junk!”

Luke snorted. “Don’t let Han hear you say that,” he said, adjusting the box he was moving onto the Falcon. “But yeah, she’s….rough around the edges. Though she flies like a dream on the rare occasion she isn’t breaking down”.

“And when is that, once in a sarlacc’s digestion cycle?”

“Pretty much,” Luke shrugged.

Han chose that point to poke his head out of the Falcon’s entrance. Luke quickly moved to swerve around him.

“Hey!” He scowled at Luke, “And here I thought your aunt had taste”.

“She does.”

“Hey!”

“C’mon Han,” said Leia, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, “the Falcon is just an….acquired taste, is all.”

“Yeah, ok,” grumbled Han. 

Aunt Beru came up behind Luke, her arms filled with her own set of boxes.

“Forgive my rudeness, Captain Solo. Your ship is clearly full of character.”

Han spluttered, unwilling or unable to be confrontational with Luke and Leia’s dead-until-recently aunt.

“Well, like Leia said, you don’t really know her yet—er, Mrs. Whitesun?”

“Beru’s fine.”

“Right.” Han said, then, a beat later, he took the box from Luke—having noted the slight shake of his hand, he was sure—and retreated into the bowels of the ship.

“That goes to the kitchen!” Luke called after him. Han waved idly back.

“Your friend is….nice, but a bit jumpy,” Aunt Beru commented 

“He’s….not exactly used to talking to parents,” said Luke.

“Or respectable people in general,” added Leia.

Aunt Beru waved them off. “I’m hardly respectable. But I take your point.”

Luke eyed the box Beru carried. He gestured in an offer to take it off her hands. Beru refused him, holding on to her burden more tightly

“I can carry a box, Luke,” she said lightly, “but thank you. Go to old Ben if you want to help. He insisted on carrying the last box himself. Jedi paraphernalia, I believe.” 

“Sounds about right.”

Beru tilted her head at Luke, “I suppose you’d also have a vested interest in that, now, wouldn’t you?”

Luke felt suddenly self-conscious, but he nodded.

“I’ll go help him.” He said, and jogged down the ramp.

————————

Ben, for his part, seemed just as thrown on off by Luke’s offer of help as Luke felt giving it. This failed to make Luke feel any less awkward though. And as most of the objects in this particular box were things Ben had brought with him last time, Luke couldn’t even lose himself in the spark of curiosity that usually came with discovering new Jedi artifacts. Oh well.

What Luke did feel, though, was the sudden catch of a new idea taking hold in him—or rather a new opportunity to act on something that had only been background considerations so far.

“So,” Luke whispered to Ben before they exited the house, “do my aunt and uncle know about my father?”

Ben’s pause was nearly invisible.

“They know that your father was a Jedi, of course, as I assume you learned around this time. I’m given to understand that your grandmother informed them of Anakin’s calling long before I met them.”

Luke nodded, then—

“That’s not what I mean, though.”

Ben’s pause was visible this time.

“Then I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Luke locked eyes with him.

“Ben. Do they know that Anakin Fell?”

“I— What? ”

Luke sighed. “Do they know that Anakin is Darth Vader?”

The Force sat in anticipation. 

Ben’s hand shook. He dropped his side of the box they had been holding. 

Luke took the weight of the dropped side with the Force. He held it for several beats. Then lowered the box to the floor. He shifted his gaze away from Obi-wan. He’d moved back from Luke. Several beats passed between them.

“Well?” Luke asked, as neutrally as possible, “Do they know?”

Ben flinched at the words, but he shook his head. Answered.

“No. I—I told them only that Anakin was dead. I thought that was all they would never need to know, when I brought you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think father would come for me?”

Ben’s look bore into him. “I didn’t realize Vader was alive.” Said Ben sharply, “I thought he had died in our last duel”.

Vader. Not Anakin. 

“Alright,” Luke said, locking eyes with Ben, “I’m not planning on telling them yet. I just wanted to know. Going into family situations without important information hasn’t exactly worked out for me in the past, after all.” 

He tipped his chin at the leftover box, and very carefully did not watch as Ben put himself back together, before picking up the work again. As they left the hut, Luke heard Aunt Beru call out in mild concern.

“Everything alright in there?” She asked.

“We’re fine”, Luke said, “I just reminded Ben about something he’d forgotten, is all.”

Chapter Text

The ride back to the farm was quiet and restless.

Everyone remained suspended in thick silence, casting furtive glances at one another and tentatively offering up questions that were met with clipped half-answers. Leia paced anxiously through the Falcon’s chambers, bouncing between Luke and Han as if they were alternating magnetic currents.

Luke sat at the dejarik table, fiddling  with the leather of his gloves. It was good, high quality material. Uncle Owen had been willing to spend good money on his gloves—and boots—because they were practical. You needed both to do your work well. True, the desert would eat a pair of leather goods as sure as anything, but it would do it faster to ones that were shoddily made, and there was no need to hurry the work. A good pair of gloves should last as long as anything could hope to last on Tatooine, Uncle Owen claimed.

Claimed. Had been. Luke still found himself referring to Beru and Owen like that in his thoughts. In the past tense. Tinged with nostalgia. 

He gripped the leather tightly in his hand. Good Tatooine leather—tanned dewback leather, coated with a gritty layer of ever-present sand. 

And underneath it, soft flesh. Veins and blood, not wires and rivets. It should be a relief. It should . 

In the last few years, He’d fallen quickly into the habit of tinkering with his prosthetic. After Cloud City, it had helped to have something solid to pull his mind from—from everything. To take the result, the symbol of the horrible things that had happened to him, and make it his . Make it real, and to decide for himself what that reality meant. 

And now it was gone. It was all gone, everywhere but in Luke and Leia and Han’s mind. And Luke was a Jedi, was Amavikka— was Desert Kin. He knew the power of thoughts and feelings, the way they made truths and shaped reality. But still. But still. 

He knew the power of objects too. Of making vessels for personal truths, anchors to the world. Proofs of self. Japor charms, family recipes.

Dark Robes. A lightsaber.

A mechanical hand, and the time he’d poured into it.

Now, all he had was long-dead flesh.

His stomach gave a perverse turn at the thought, and kept turning until it was a mobius strip of itself. Bringing him back to the thing he’d been avoiding. 

He caught his mind mid-way through the loop. Inhaled. Exhaled. Fine. Fine. He could take a hint.

Uncle Owen. That was what—was who— he’d been fleeing from the thought of. Because he did not know how to face this. Face him . He was lucky, probably, that he had fumbled his way into having to tell his aunt. And that had been bad enough. How could he convince Owen of who and what he was? Of what he needed to do? 

And once he did….then what?

His glove creaked. His skin prickled.

Another hand landed on his own. Too soft. He realized who it belonged to a beat too late. 

Leia.

Luke blinked up at her.

“You were thinking too loud,” she said, and there was no judgment in her voice.  Even her smile was flat and dull. Rote.

Luke ducked his head a little, not….embarrassed exactly. But feeling raw at the acknowledgment all the same.

“Just nervous, I guess.”

Leia snorted. “That’s one way of putting it”. 

She sat down at the table with him, slyly casting glances at the others. Leaned toward him. When she spoke, her voice was whisper soft.

“I know I never met Owen, but I know he loved—”

“—Loves—”

“— loves you. I could hear it in the way you talked about him. I can see it in your actions. He’ll come round, for you if nothing else. We’ll get him out and away.”

“That’s….not what I’m worried about.” 

I know….” Leia hissed through her teeth, her gaze traveled back toward the Falcon’s cockpit. It stayed there a long while.

“I’m worried, too, you know. About my parents. About what will happen when we—when I—”, she breathed out and looked at him again. “I’ve spent so many nights turning over scenarios like this in my head. now that it’s actually happening….I—”

She broke off abruptly with a turn of the head. Her gaze landed unhappily on the table; on their linked hands. She lifted them up. Feeling the glove beneath her grasp. Slowly, she eased it off. 

“Oh Luke,” she breathed, eyes wide. Luke held back the urge to flinch.

Leia rubbed her hands along the back of Luke’s, slowly and carefully. He was shocked by how soft they were. 

“It’s not the same”, Leia said, “But I’m missing scars. Callouses. The first time I woke up here and saw myself in a mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself”

“ I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Leia giggled, high pitched and a little too long.

“We look like children!” she said.

Luke shot a look at Aunt Beru. At Ben.

He shrugged.

“We were, I guess. Or close enough.”

Leia hummed in unhappy agreement. She kissed Luke’s knuckles. 

“Don’t pick at the skin, alright? You can’t replace this set so easily.”

Luke nodded, bashful. That had been a bad habit he’d toyed with, in the early months. Before he’d realized his life was too hectic and synth-skin wore out too fast to be worth keeping. Uncle Owen would have been horrified at the waste.

Leia kissed him on the forehead and stood up.

“It’ll be alright, Luke.”

“Sure,” Luke said, “but it’ll hurt like hell first.”

Leia gave one more smile, sharper.

“Doesn’t it always?” she said, and walked back to Han. 

Luke slid his glove back on and tried not to think for the rest of the flight. 

—————————

Owen was standing in the door of the homestead by the time they got there. Luke had expected that; Aunt Beru had commed him while they were still at Ben’s to prevent him from having a breakdown. What he hadn’t expected was for uncle Owen to already be surrounded by boxes and bags, clearly halfway to packed. 

He shot a look at Aunt Beru, and she simply shrugged.

“I told him to be prepared,” she said, “No harm in getting a head start”.

Luke couldn’t fault her logic there. It was pure Tatooine. Everyone Luke had ever known growing up had had emergency go-bags prepped from birth.

Owen tossed Luke and Beru theirs as they descended the ramp. Luke caught his and strung it over his shoulder absently.

“What’s going on?” Owen asked, and his typical bluntness couldn’t quite hide the note of panic that briefly spiked his voice and his sense.

Luke hesitated for a moment too long.

Owen's eyes scanned the cobbled together mess of The Falcon. They noted Leia and Han, but it was Ben that they locked onto. He frowned, and Luke felt his defenses rise.  

Luke stopped in his tracks. His mouth felt sandpaper dry.

Aunt Beru, a foot or so away from him, glanced back and noted his hesitancy. 

“It’s a long story, Owen,” she said lightly, “and Luke has a lot he needs to tell you. Let’s head inside, out of the suns.”

Owen frowned, but he moved toward the door.

“What about them?” he asked, tipping his head at Han and Leia. 

“ Inside , Owen”.

Owen took another few moments to study the group, then nodded and headed inside. They all skittered into the entrance dome, and Aunt Beru locked the door behind them.

As soon as they’d settled in the guest parler, Owen rounded on them.

“Alright,” he pointed at Leia, “who are you?”

Leia blinked at him, then said, plainly, “I’m Leia”.

Uncle Owen ricocheted back; he caught Beru’s gaze.

“You’re Leia?” he asked, voice softer than Luke had heard it in years.

Leia nodded. “Leia Organa. Of—of Alderaan”.

Uncle Owen huffed, almost dismissive of the title. Luke felt instinctive offense on Leia’s behalf, bolstered by the pain he could sense from her in the Force. Almost none of it showed in Leia herself, though. She straightened her posture and busied herself by tucking away some stray hairs. That was all.

Before either of them could craft a response, though, Uncle Owen continued speaking.

“You’re Luke’s sister,” he asked, quickly catching Ben’s eyes so the question was aimed at both he and Leia at once. 

“I am,” Leia said. Solemn but kind.

Owen stood a moment regarding her, and Luke marveled at the joy he felt rolling off him in the Force. His throat warbled.

And then he closed himself off, wary. Luke saw him make to turn slightly, and quickly anticipated his concern.

“Ben didn’t introduce us. I know that’s what you’re thinking, but he didn’t. We just….we found each other”.

“Then how….?”Owen started to ask.

“That’s part of what we need to explain.”

Owen seemed to accept this, quicker than Luke had expected. But his eyes skidded off Leia, as though desperately seeking shade in the sun.

“And him?” he asked, gesturing to Han.

“Han Solo,” said Han, from his place leaning against a doorframe, “I’m a….friend of the twins.”

Luke snorted. Uncle Owen mouthed the twins to himself.

Eventually, he found his way back to Luke.

“I know all your friends,” Owen said.

“Not all of them”.

Owen’s eyes narrowed.

“Are they who you’ve been sneaking out to see the last few nights?”

“Oh—” Luke blushed in embarrassment. The other two were definitely going to give him grief about working on his stealth later. “—sort of.”

Aunt Beru spoke up then.

“Luke….?,” she said, walking up to put a hand on his shoulder. 

Luke felt himself sink a little under the weight of her unasked question. If Luke needed her to, if he asked it of her, she would break the news to Uncle Owen in his stead. Part of Luke, the childish farm boy part, desperately wanted to let her. But that wasn’t an aspect of himself he could afford to indulge right now. If he didn’t cross this threshold, it would only cause more difficulties later. Besides, it wasn’t fair to Aunt Beru. He wouldn’t make her his shield in this. He was a Jedi Knight, and well used to fighting his own battles besides.

So, he gently shook off his aunt’s touch and stepped forward, whipping sweaty palms on his robes.

“Uncle Owen,” he said, “I know you’ve noticed I’ve been acting strangely. Since the sickness? And I know you didn’t know why. And neither did O—old Ben. I….I can explain. But you’re gonna find it hard to hear. You….might wanna sit down”.

Stiffly, tensely, still making eye contact with Luke, Uncle Owen lowered himself onto a chair.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, Luke,” said Uncle Owen, strained.

Luke took a breath.

“Uncle Owen,” he said, “I’m from the future”.

Chapter Text

The words hung in the room, a taut, thick, smothering blanket. No one moved. Owen didn’t move. 

“Uncle Owen?” said Luke, after endless moments, “Say something. Please”.

Uncle Owen licked his lips and swore under his breath. 

“Sands take it, Luke,” he said, plainly, “that fever must have done a greater number on you than we thought.”

Luke started to respond, but Owen ignored him, turning to Ben.

“Did you give him another look over, wizard?”

Ben started at the casual tone and address, but his lips thinned as he realized the implications of Owen’s statement.

“I did,” he said, “I assure you, Luke is entirely healthy, and of sound mind.”

Owen frowned as words sank in. Luke felt him pulling away internally.

“Right ok,” he said, “So what? Did you put this insane idea in his head yourself? Or is this some sort of wizard illness you passed to him?”

Luke caught Han shifting out of the corner of his eye, but Leia lifted her hand, and he seemed to cut off whatever interfering instinct had reared up.

Aunt Beru, though, refused to fall silent.

“He’s telling the truth, Owen,” she said, not sharply but with the cool solidity of pourstone, “They both are”.

Owen blinked dazedly.

“You can’t be serious, Beru. It’s impossible .”

“Owen Lars, ‘impossible’ is a word the depur use to chain minds. I will not give one inch more of ground to that thinking when my mind and senses, and those of people I trust , tell me otherwise. That’s foolishness. We are not fools.”

Owen’s throat spasmed again. He looked from Luke to Ben, and then to Leia. Back to Beru. He clung to her with his eyes, lost.

“You believe this?” he whispered.

“It makes sense”, she said.

Uncle Owen crumpled, head in his hands. Luke moved forward in an instinctive need to comfort, but stopped himself. 

Luke wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. The tension of things unsaid had broken, but in its place was something jagged and fragile.

When Owen pulled himself together, his voice and Force sense were worn out.

“How far?”

“How far in the future are we from?”

Owen nodded.

“About 5 years.”

“ Why? ”

Oh. There was more than one note of fear in Owen's sense. Luke really should have expected that. Of course, from his perspective, it would seem like Luke and the others must be back to right a wrong, harbingers of a doomed timeline. But no. That wasn’t right. He should explain.

“We didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t even know how we got here,” Luke turned to Han and Leia, “Do either of you?”

They shook their heads.

“Kid, I don’t even remember what I was doing before this”.

“Same here. Leia?” 

“No, nothing.”

Luke tipped his head, considering. Leia had probably the best chance of supplying them with information—she was more attuned to the past than Luke, and more prone to those kinds of visions. If she had no leads, he was stumped.

“What kind of lives are you all leading, that you can’t even remember how you managed to time travel?” Owen asked, flustered.

Luke winced.

“You don’t want to know,” said Han.

“I asked, didn’t I?” 

Han opened his mouth to—Luke didn’t know what he was going to do, but it probably would have caused trouble. Leia cut him off.

“We don’t have time for this,” she said, “we can talk theory later, M—U—Owen. Right now we need to get moving.”

“Moving where?”ask Owen.

“I thought we had time?” Luke asked, “We got the droids almost a full day ahead of schedule.”

“What droids?” asked Owen, “What schedule?”

“Well—yes,” Leia said delicately, “But my presence here may change things. It was good for buying time, I needed a distraction, but now our paths have crossed….I’d rather not take chances.”

Han frowned, “Take chances on what ?”

“Just that I—”

“Someone explain what the hells is going on!?” Owen huffed.

As one, Luke, Leia, and Han startled.

“I’m sorry,” said Leia “You’re right, of course; we keep getting ahead of ourselves. Luke, do you want to explain?”

He really really didn’t. But it was probably for the best.

“Leia’s part of the Rebellion. In the past—I mean, the first time we experienced this—she ended up sending some sensitive information to Tatooine in a droid. That’s how we met the first time. So when we came back, Han and I made sure to grab them early. And Leia….” Luke waved vaguely, “did whatever she did to distract the empire before coming here. That all changes things. We do need to move soon if we want to take advantage of those changes.”

“Which means what, exactly?” Uncle Owen asked.

“We need to get to Alderaan,” Leia said, “though I suppose some of us should go to Yavin IV to hand-off R2, just in case.”

“You want us to split up?” said Han, incredulous.

Luke shrugged. “It’s a good idea—”

“—The kriff it is—”

“But there is a problem, Leia. We don’t have another way off planet except the Falcon. I still have my old skyhopper, but it’s not hyperspace capable.”

Leia paled.

“Oh. I forgot. I thought—I thought you had your X-wing, Luke.”

Luke tried very hard not to dwell too hard on that. His brain whirred with the urgency of the situation, trying to troubleshoot—

“Why Alderaan?” Uncle Owen interrupted.

“….What?” said Leia.

“Why do we need to go to Alderaan?”

“It’s my home,” said Leia tightly, “and it’s in danger”.

“In danger how? Why? Because of your rebellion?”

The question fell like a stone. Han moved toward Leia, his sense a brewing storm. Beru and Ben exchanged looks.

“Owen—,” Beru started.

“Uncle Owen,” Luke said, a warning in his voice.

Leia pushed Han away, gentle but firm.

“No,” she said, every bit the princess. Every bit the general, “the Empire destroyed my home because it could. Because Alderaan was an inconvenience. Nothing I did could have saved it, and even if I had just laid down and played the dutiful citizen….my people still would have died. But they don’t have to now.”

Luke felt a swell of pride for his sister.

“They have a planet killer, Uncle Owen,” he said, “and they don’t need a reason to use it.”

Something shuttered closed in Ben. Beru hissed sharply. 

Uncle Owen shifted, uncomfortable. Luke probed him in the Force and felt him thrum with the desperation of a cornered hare.

“Alright. Alright,” he cleared his throat, “So we go and save your world. Give whatever information to whoever needs it”.

Leia nodded, thinking she’d won. But Luke knew Uncle Owen. He knew better.

“Then what?” he asked.

Luke winced.

“ Then what? ” said Han.

“Then we keep fighting, Uncle Owen,” said Luke. He sounded tired, even to himself.

Uncle Owen crossed his arms. Luke watched his eyes rest on Anakin’s saber  for the briefest moment.

“Seems to me you’ve been fighting for years. You wanna keep doing that again?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Are you seriously asking me why I think freedom is worth fighting for?”

“This isn’t like things on Tatooine, boy.”

“No, it’s exactly the same, except things in our time actually got somewhere.”

“Luke Skywalker!” That was Aunt Beru.

Luke recoiled. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

“The Rebellion is off-world squabbling. It’s not our fight.”

“That’s bantha shavit, Uncle Owen and you know it. Depur only wins when we stop helping each other.”

“Luke—”

“Besides. I’ve been in this fight before. And I won.”

“Right,” added Han, “Your kid won peace for the first time in decades, and you want him to give it up because it inconveniences you?”

“You beat the empire?” Beru asked, voice feathered with something like hope.

Luke nodded. Uncle Owen fell silent, but Luke could feel he wasn’t quite convinced.

“So what?” he said, “You got a taste of peace and got it ripped away. It didn’t last. You’re back here. Couldn’t that be your Force trying to tell you something?”

“To give up?” Luke snapped.

Owen shrugged. Luke bristled, forcing himself to tamp down on his tongue.

Leia leaned forward.

“I killed a Hutt,” she said, “I killed Jabba ”.

The words cracked across the room, but they weren’t loud. They were quiet; Coldly precise. A blade slipped expertly between ribs. 

And Luke knew they had found their mark. Uncle Owen’s family was one of the few in the Dune Sea that had held onto their freedom and their names by the skin of their fingers for generations. But he was still of Tatooine. He knew freedom under the Hutts was only a matter of degrees, and one as fickle as the harvest besides.

And he loved Shmi Skywalker. Loved Beru and Luke. 

Leia had seen that love, and she’d weaponized it. 

“I wrapped that sleemo’s own chains around him and pulled until I felt the last drop of his life drain away. And then I spent my career making sure that everything he and his kind ever made or ever stood for would be utterly destroyed. Do you think that was wasteful? Should I ‘give up’ on that?”

Leia met Uncle Owen's eyes and held them, a challenge. Luke knew that look in his sister. It was the same look that she got just before she hit a bullseye on the blaster range, or cornered a political opponent into conceding a point. There was no arrogance in it, only an easy certainty in her own triumph.

Uncle Owen saw it too. He crumbled, the shrewd haggler’s mask melting away, and Luke thought he almost sensed relief in it.

“No,” he not-quite-grumbled, “of course not”.

Luke fought down the edge of a sharp smile. He saw Leia do the same as she leaned back and broke eye contact.

“Now that’s settled,” Leia said, “Let’s figure out how we’re getting off this planet, shall we?”

Chapter Text

“I still don’t get why we need to split up,” said Han, “it seems like over complicating the situation to me”.

“Because,” Leia said, “I drew a lot of attention to myself getting down here, and I’d like to avoid bringing any forces focused on me down on R2. No point in conflating targets.”

“‘Drew attention’ how? Because we can take a few extra stormtroopers.”

“Yes. We can. I’m not talking about stormtroopers.”

That got Han’s attention. It got Luke’s, too. He had already had an idea of what Leia had planned, but he had been blissfully vague on the details. Now, he was almost certain his worst case scenario was the right one. And no one present was going to like it.

“Then what, exactly, are we talking about here?”

Leia pointedly held Han’s gaze.

“Something more….personally tailored to finding me.”

Han tensed. “You mean—?”

“—Leia—?” Ben paled, his fear sending a shock through the Force.

No. They were not doing this now.

“Do you think they’ll be able to track you faster than the droids?” Luke asked, cutting through the brewing tension.

Leia sent him a pulse of gratitude. “I’m not sure, but I think so. I certainly don’t do us any favors by being close to R2.”

“Ok, then we split up,” Luke tipped his head back, thinking, “until we’re off the planet. I think I still have some credits left from buying the landspeeder—”

“—You sold your landspeeder?” gasped Aunt Beru.

Luke felt a headache building.

“We needed money for the droids. I think that should be enough to buy a low quality hyperdrive. But I’ll go grab some scrap off my bench just in case. Then Han, Leia, and I can head into Anchorhead and make the purchase”.

“Your aunt and I can go into Anchorhead,” said Owen.

Luke shook his head. “No, I want you to stay here. If we take the Falcon we can put off the stormtroopers connecting you both to us for a while.”

“You think that matters to us?”

“It matters to me . At least until we get off planet.”

“And what would you have me do, Luke?” asked Ben.

Luke looked at him. His headache pulsed behind his eyes. He was so tired.

“Just….keep them safe?”

“Of course.”

———————

Once the Falcon (with Han, Leia, and Luke inside—Chewie had agreed to stay behind with the droids) was in the air and headed in the direction of Anchorhead, Han swiveled in his chair to interrogate Leia.

“Please tell me you weren’t talking about who I thought you were back there?”

Leia sighed. “Yes, Han. I have Vader on my tail.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“It was the only thing I could think of!”

Luke tried to breathe through the complicated knot of emotions in his stomach. He had known this was a possible path that Leia might take, though he had avoided thinking about it. And while he couldn’t stop how worried he felt about the situation, he wasn’t exactly about to tell Leia off for it. He would have done the same thing in her situation. It was a strategic move.

“Does he know who you are?” He asked, cutting through Han and Leia’s continued bickering. 

“I’m not sure,” said Leia “I’m not as experienced in tracking other Force signatures. But he probably suspects something. If nothing else, he definitely knows I’m strongly force-sensitive.”

“That doesn’t mean old dark-and-gloomy is coming after you himself. Surely he’s got some inquisitors kicking around—” 

“Do I look like a padawan Han?”

“Well, no.”

“I can take some inquisitors.”

“But he doesn’t know that.”

“He knows it. He’ll come.”

Han made a discontented grumbling noise and busied himself with steering the Falcon.

“Alright, so what’s the plan exactly?” he asked.

Leia pursed her lips. “I’m sending the droids off to Yavin. Whatever else we end up doing, the rebellion still needs those plans.”

“I’d like my Aunt and Uncle to go with them,” Luke put in, “They can take the family skyhopper. No one will be looking for them.”

“Okay,” said Han, “and what about us?”

“I’m going to Alderaan.”

“Leia….isn’t that risky?”

Leia shook her head. “I don’t think they’ll destroy Alderaan. Not until they’ve captured me. But it’s still a target.”

Luke caught her train of thought. “You think they’ll try to use Alderaan as a bargaining chip?”

Leia nodded tightly.

“Or as bait”, said Han, “we might be walking into a trap.”

“So we spring it,” Leia quipped, “hardly the first time. And….” Leia took a breath, “we may need to set up our own bait.”

For a minute, Han looked like he wanted to ask questions about that. And then the full implications of the statement hit him. And he thudded back into his seat.

“Baiting Vader,” he said, “great.”

———————

Anchorhead was small.

Luke had known that, of course. Even on Tatooine, the outpost had been far outstripped by Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. Now, having seen the overwhelming cityscapes of Nar Shaddaa, or even the capital cities of mid-rim and core worlds, Luke knew more than ever just how truly insignificant this fixture of his childhood had been.

Still though, it was one thing to know the facts of something, and another to feel it truly.

 He hadn’t been back to Anchorhead since before the day he had first left home. Even after the Jabba’s palace mission, he hadn’t dared come back here for fear of leaving a trail. So he hadn’t yet had to face that odd viel of dissonance that perpetually covered his interactions with anything from his childhood. Now, it hit him full force.

Anchorhead was small. Under a dozen blocks of buildings crafted in the most basic Tatooine style possible. Luke was sure he could name everyone that entered the town with any frequency. He could stretch his entire Force sense through the whole town without any effort.

Anchorhead was small. And Luke had outgrown it.

The sudden intensity of the realization stopped him in his tracks.

Han and Leia stopped too, and looked at him.

“Hey,” said Han, “you alright Luke?”

Luke blinked. Flexed his hands. Grounded himself in the Force.

“I’m fine,” he said, “shop’s this way, come on”.

Luke led them to the Loneonzer’s shop. It wasn’t hard to find, being one of the larger buildings in Anchorhead, but it was mostly muscle memory that carried him there. When he pushed the door open, a small sound trilled out; not quite a bell but some kind of hollowed out desert reed that tugged at long buried memories. The place smelt of polishing oils and fuel and scrap metal—a sudden and intense shove into the sensory landscape of his childhood. He exhaled deeply with the primal need to savor it.

The dark-haired girl manning the counter turned at the noise. Camie Marstrap, Luke realized dully. She slid into a more casual posture as she saw him, a small smile on her face.

“Oh! Hey there, Wormie. Your folks came by earlier looking for you. Everything all right?”

Luke winced, as much at the reminder of all the trouble he’d caused as at the old nickname. He’d always hated that stupid name. He heard Han chuckle behind him. Great.

“We’re all fine, Camie. Just got some wires crossed is all.”

Camie hummed vaguely in acknowledgment, perking up as she moved her attention to Han. 

“Can I help you?” she asked, voice slightly breathy and laced with….infatuation. 

Oh Great .

Leia had noticed too, her lips screwed up as though she had tasted something sour. Han’s gaze flitted warily between the three of them. He looked decidedly wrong-footed.

“Uh….I’m with him,” he said, gesturing vaguely to Luke.

Camie blinked. 

“ Him?”

Luke felt a childish rash of indigestion flare in him briefly. He’d never harbored the same intense crush on Camie his peers had—his own rare crushes had been vague and fleeting—but he’d still valued her esteem, as he had all of the older Anchorhead kids. The reminder of just how little she’d thought of him stung more than he’d like to admit, even if most of it was proxy pride on behalf of his younger self. He tamped it down and hoped none of it showed on his face. Cleared his throat.

“Camie, this is Han. He’s from offworld. And this,” he hurried forward, gesturing to Leia, “is Leia Whitesun.”

Camie sobered up quickly at the mention of the pseudonym. 

“Whitesun?”

Luke nodded. “One of Aunt Beru’s family. Distant cousin.”

“You helping them out?” Camie asked, head tilting forward inquisitively.

She was no doubt forming her own assumptions about the situation. Luke felt more than a little guilty about letting her run away with those. But they needed to get off world quickly, and a Camie who thought she had the answers already would be less likely to ask questions.

“Yeah,” he said, “listen, Camie, we’re in a bit of a rush. I need to buy a hyperdrive.”

“A hyperdrive?? Wormie, can you even afford that?”

“I can afford it. Do you have one?”

“….uh-huh. I’ll go get it.”

When she’d gone into the back shop, Han turned to Luke. 

“ Wormie? ”

“Stow it, Han.”

Leia caught Luke’s gaze, tense. “She doesn’t belief I’m Beru’s cousin, does she?”

“Probably not the way you’re thinking. But she won’t push it.”

They faded into a weary silence. 

Camie returned a few moments later, carrying a clearly used but serviceable hyperdrive. Luke gave her the rest of the cash from his landspeeder, as well as a bag full of his old workbench parts. 

Camie whistled lowly when she saw it.

“Geez Luke, you’re really in a tight spot, huh?”

“Just trying to help my friends.”

Camie flashed him a smile, a little fond. “You’re a good kid.”

Luke didn’t really know what to do with that.

He shuffled the hyperdrive into the pack at his side. 

“Thanks, Cames. Tell everyone I said ‘hi’, alright?”

“Mhmm. Take care of yourself, Skywalker.”

In spite of himself, Luke caught himself at the door. Took another breath full of nostalgia-drench air. Took another potential last look at a cornerstone of his youth. 

“Yeah. You take care of yourself too, Camie.”

Chapter Text

The good news was that it took less than 30 minutes to hook up the hyperdrive to the skyhopper. Which ok, was still longer than Luke would have liked. But it was also far better than he could have reasonably expected, given how their luck tended to turn.

The bad news was that there was a good chance talking Uncle Owen around on the plan was likely to take twice as long.

“There’s no suns-cursed way I’m going to take off to some rebellion base and leave you two to fend for yourselves,” Owen said, for approximately the sixth time since they had broached this topic.

Luke sighed and messaged the bridge of his nose.

“Uncle Owen, we are just going to Alderaan.”

“With whoever the Empire sent on your tail. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about how twitchy you’ve all been about that.”

No, of course not. That would be too convenient.

“We can handle some imps. Besides, we’ll be off planet way before we have to face anyone. We’re gonna be right behind you!”

“If you’re gonna be right behind us, then why bother splitting up at all?”

“We’ve been over this,” Leia cut in, voice tight, “It’s a security measure. We need someone to take the droids to safety, and we need someone to take heat off of the delivery team. And before you ask, yes, the break-off point needs to happen planet-side to give you the best possible chance of getting away without being linked to us.”

“Besides,” said Han, “the Falcon isn’t built to tow something as big as the skyhopper.”

They could go back and forth on this—they had gone back and forth on this—for ages. At least Uncle Owen wasn’t trying to talk them out of going to Alderaan. He knew that wouldn’t get anywhere. But ultimately, Luke had very little with which to counter his uncle’s desire to come with them. The pure and simple fact of it was that sending him and Beru off now was probably the best way to ensure their survival. And having them tucked safely out of mind meant that Luke would have the clarity of mind to do what he needed to do. Whether his uncle believed him or not, Han, Leia, and he were a well-oiled machine at this point. But if he had to spend time factoring in Owen and Beru….worrying about them….well. A spanner in the works was an apt metaphor. Though not one Owen would like to hear applied to himself.

“—so send Ben off to your rebels. They’re expecting him, aren’t they?”

“Ben is going to the rebellion, Uncle Owen,” said Luke, glad that Ben was ahead of them loading the skyhopper with Beru and unable to add his own counter-arguments on the matter. 

“Then why can’t Beru and I come with you?”

“Because—”

“—because you’ll get in the way,” Han snapped.

Luke took a breath and cut Han a look. He appreciated that his friend was trying to save him from carrying the bulk of the conflict on his own shoulders, but tact really wasn’t Han’s strong suit.

Then again, tact wasn’t exactly an effective tool against Uncle Owen, anyway.

Owen spun around sharply at the foot of the skyhopper’s ramp way. His familiar anger spread itself thinly over the less less familiar, churning depths of hurt .

“So that’s it then? You think we can’t handle ourselves?”

“No, of course not,” Luke sighed, “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what , Luke?”

Luke put down the box he was holding, giving himself time to gather his thoughts. He noted Beru and Ben coming back down the ramp and caught their eyes quickly before turning back to Uncle Owen.

“Han, Leia, and I are used to dealing with imperials. And we’re used to fighting together and with Chewie. We know what we’re doing. We’ll be fine . But the more people we have on board, the more things we have to account for. It’ll throw us off balance.”

“So we’re stumbling bantha calves, tripping over ourselves and getting in your way?”

“ Uncle Owen ,” Luke groaned, “this isn’t about you.”

“Then who is it about, huh!?”

“Me! Ok? It’s about me! I need to be focused, and I can’t be with you around right now! I can’t—I’ll just be too worried to act. I’ll freeze up every time I need to make a decision. So I need you to leave. So I can be sure you’re as safe as possible.”

His words smothered out in a sudden hush. But their weight hung heavy on the air and around his shoulders.

“We died, didn’t we? In your time,” said Aunt Beru, quiet and sudden and certain.

Luke forced himself to meet her gaze. 

“Yes.”

Beru’s expression and sense briefly flashed with pain. Luke wasn’t sure where it was directed. And then it was gone too quickly for him to poke deeper.

Uncle Owen, though, was a storm that Luke had to actively try to ignore.

“Did we go down in a ship?” he asked.

“No,” Luke shook his head, tearing himself away from Aunt Beru’s look, “you didn’t make it off planet, before.”

Almost out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw his uncle, face bleached-bone white. His jaw worked with tension.

“Alright,” he said, “alright, Luke. We’ll go with the droids.”

“Thank you,” said Luke.

He turned to look at Ben. Felt Leia shift beside him to do the same.

“We need to talk,” Leia said.

————————

In the parlor of the Falcon, Ben perched on the bench, regarding them with shrewd understanding.

“You want me to go with your aunt and uncle, I assume?”

“Yes,” said Luke and Leia together.

“You’re asking me to abandon my charges—”

“—I’m not—,” Leia started.

“—You are ,” Ben corrected, “and you’re asking me to abandon you to danger to go with someone with whom my relationship is….rocky at best. And with whom my presence will almost certainly not be welcome. I’m sure Owen, for his part, would much rather I provide you with some supervision.”

“We’re not children, Ben,” snapped Leia, “and we can handle ourselves”.

“Yes, you seem very eager to reassure me.”

“Ben,” Luke said, “please”.

Ben leaned back slightly. Straightened. Met their eyes.

“Tell me, who exactly is after you, Leia?”

Leia crossed her arms, defensive. “You really don’t want to know.”

“It’s Vader, isn’t it?”

Leia didn’t say anything, and neither did Luke. But the silence was its own confirmation.

Ben collapsed in on himself, head in hands.

They let the quiet stretch out for a few beats, as Ben wrestled his breaths under control.

“We’ve fought father before,” Luke offered eventually, “several times.”

“That,” Ben said, voice rising just a touch too high, “is not reassuring. Does he know who you are?”

Luke and Leia exchanged glances. 

“I’m not sure,” Leia said, “he didn’t time travel with us, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely. I don’t know what he thinks of….well, me. But he knows I’m strong.”

“And your brother?”

Leia shrugged. Luke cut in.

“He doesn’t know about me but—well, the version of him from our time did. We had a….a sort of connection. I’m not sure how that will affect things.”

Ben looked at him, and Luke felt curiosity peeking around the edges of Ben’s tightly controlled panic.

“I’m not sure. You and your sister are alike enough in the Force that he may not recognize you as your own person, even if your bond did carry over.”

“So you agree, Luke and I should stay here and tempt Vader away from the plans.”

“That is not what I said.”

“You implied it.”

“Leia, I can not, in good conscience, abandon you and your brother to a Sith Lord.”

A sudden memory of Ben’s death flashed through Luke’s head, chased by the ghost of old boyhood resentments that he very quickly tempered. 

Leia, however, had no such reservations.

“Well, that didn’t stop you before.“

Ben reeled back. Luke felt his shields shutter for a moment, a quick torrent of hurt briefly rolling through the room before Ben very firmly reasserted control of himself.

“I can not give an account of my alternate self’s actions, nor do I consider it my place to do so. If I am understanding your inference correctly, he died, I assume in defense of one or the both of you. This is what you both must understand. I was there when you were born. I have watched you grow up. I have known you longer than I have known most people in my life, including—including your father. And I have spent a very, very long time dedicated to safeguarding you. And now you ask me to give that up? To let you face Vader alone? That is no easy thing.”

Leia fixed her gaze on an area somewhere above Ben’s shoulder. Luke fought past a new wave of emotions—his own or Ben’s, he wasn’t sure. 

“It’s not as bad as all that, Ben. We aren’t planning on engaging in combat. All we need to do is stick around just long enough for Vader to sense Leia. If all goes well, we’ll be off-planet long before we need to do any fighting.”

Ben huffed a breath. “When do things ever go well?”

“So cynical for a Jedi,” Leia quipped, rolling her eyes.

Ben gave her a dry smile. “I am only human, my dear.”

“Then stop making yourself into more,” Luke said, ”We won’t fall apart just because you aren’t there, Ben. Your mission succeeded. Now trust us to do what you raised us to do.”

“You help us by helping them. Honor what we’re fighting for,” said Leia.

Ben gave them a long, long look, shadows dancing in his eyes like sands shifting in the wake of a krayt dragon hunting trail. Then, slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.

“Alright. I trust you, both of you. I’ll go where you ask.”

“Thank you,” said Luke, “It means more than you know”.

—————————

After all that, the final goodbyes were a quick affair. Owen gave Luke a solid hug that lasted a beat or two longer than usual. Aunt Beru tousled his hair. Leia also received affectionate send-offs from them both, which Luke could tell she found deeply touching, if awkward. They both assured everyone that they’d reunite safely and soon.

Han made brief gestures suggesting  handshakes, before huffing self-consciously and settling on a dull salute.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring ‘em back in one piece. It’s….what I do.”

“I’m sure,” said Aunt Beru, in an amused tone that said she wasn’t overly convinced but was charmed by Han’s earnestness.

Luke and Leia both hugged Ben at once.

“May the Force be with you,” he whispered, and the twins returned the blessing.

They watched the skyhopper disappear into the atmosphere. Then Leia turned and squared her soldiers.

“Well,” she said, “Let’s go bait a Sith Lord.”

Chapter Text

Luke had one more thing to do before they put their plan into action.

He went to see his grandmother.

Staring at the japor wood charm that marked Grandma Shmi’s grave—and the blaring blank patch of sand where Owen and Beru’s once-graves might have been—Luke felt the tension in his shoulders shift. Not lighten, definitely not lighten. But the weight of it was grounding almost. And easier to handle. They had done it. They had done it. Beru and Owen had made it off planet. Whatever happened now, his aunt and uncle had been spared the particular fate of cooked flesh and charred bones. Their lives had been made longer, their futures irrevocably changed. There was no going back.

His grandparents were still here, though. They had always been beyond his power to save. 

“Hey, Grandma Shmi. Grandpa Clieeg. It’s….been awhile. For me, at least. I don’t know how things work for you, wherever you are. But a lot’s happened—is happening. Everything’s complicated.”

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling flustered and a little self-conscious.

“I saved them, you know. Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen. They died before and—it was horrible. But they’re safe now, and they’re with us. We’ll be going away for awhile—again?—but at least the farm is here. I know it’s not that important in the grand scheme of things, but I’m glad for that. I know our family worked hard to hold onto this place. Skywalkers and Whitsuns owning property on Tatooine for as long as we did is special, ya know? I wanted to honor that. And I wanted to honor you, so….”

Luke slipped a hand into the pockets of his robes. Found the small panel of leather he had placed there. He didn’t have japor on him, but he had his leather gloves, Tatooine-durable. And while they were in the Falcon, he had cut into the leather of his left-hand glove and carved sigils for mourning and thanksgiving and peace into it, and tied it with rope to create a makeshift charms. It wasn’t much, maybe, but it was what he could do, and more than he had been able to offer before. He knew his grandparents would appreciate that.

As he slipped the smaller charm around his grandmother’s memorial totem, he leaned down to whisper to her.

“I saved Father, too, Gran. The first time. And I’m gonna save him again, quicker if I can. I’m not going to let him suffer anymore. No more chained Skywalkers.”

In the back of his mind, Luke had felt his sense of Leia slowly growing, and now as he straightened up, it gave a restless little spike. He turned to see his sister walking towards him, though she stopped to eye the memorial markers a few feet away. Luke couldn’t have named exactly what he sensed from her; she sat perched on the precipice of her own emotions like a storm caught in the moment before its true arrival.

“Would you like to say something?” He asked.

Leia pursed her lips, and for a moment Luke could feel her start to pull away again, but she changed course suddenly. Instead, she walked up to place a hand on his shoulder. Took a breath.

“Hi Grandma. Grandpa. It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

Leia had been to the family graves, their maru-niik , before, when they were preparing for the heist of Jabba’s palace and Luke had come to pay his respects. But he didn’t mention that. It was different, knowing that the ghosts you had vaguely connected to your friend were also your ancestors.

Leia walked up to the grave markers, caressing them with cautious reverence. Her eyes darted to the empty plot beside them, where Beru and Owen had once been buried. Would have been buried.

“They’re good people, your aunt and uncle. I knew that, of course. You’re proof. But seeing it….seeing them….it explains a lot.”

“Even Owen?” Luke joked.

Leia rolled her eyes. “Yes. He’s—“

“—a lot?”

“Hmm. Rough around the edges. But he has a good heart.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad to meet them. I think this galaxy will be better for them being in it longer.”

“I do, too.”

Leia looked back towards grandma Shmi’s grave again. Luke felt her steel herself. She turned on her heel towards him.

“You’re going to reach out to him again.”

“Not yet. Not now. I wouldn’t do that, Leia. I wouldn’t risk our mission like that.”

I wouldn’t risk Alderaan like that echoed clear and unvoiced between them.

“I know. I know, Luke.”

Leia sucked a breath, sharp and quick, through her teeth. Her shields shuttered.

“I know how you feel about—about this. Most days I don’t understand it. And some days I wish I didn’t. I won’t try to stop you. Just….be careful, ok?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

Leia swatted him.

“I’m serious, Luke. Don’t throw yourself on a pyre for his sake. I’ll never forgive you if you do.”

Luke stared at his sister. Voice and sense and posture so very still and quiet and controlled. She was terrified for him.

He wanted to hug her. But he knew better than to try. Leia would not thank him for letting her fall apart now. And they all needed the general for a little while longer.

“I promise, Leia,” he said, as gentle as he could afford to be, “you won’t lose me”.

Leia snorted. “Now you’re making promises you can’t keep,” she said. Then she added, fierce as an oath, “but not to him, at least. Never to him.”

“Not to him. Not to either of them.”

The Force sang with the truth of their words.

Leia nodded, satisfied. She shifted halfway to the maru-niik.  

“Goodbye, grandmother. Don’t worry, we’ll keep each other safe.”

Then she slipped her hand into Luke’s, and pulled him away towards the Falcon. They did not look back.