Chapter Text
From the second he watches the Death Star explode, Luke Skywalker knows that, so long as he lives, he will never forget that image. It’s strange, really, to think that something so large and so cataclysmic could be destroyed from one good shot from one weakness, but only a few months ago, Luke was just another dune rat living on Tatooine and now…now he just blew up The Empire’s best weapon.
He can hear Han, hooting and hollering over the comm line, but his heart is pounding in his chest, hammering so hard his lungs are beginning to feel tight. The adrenaline that had gotten him here is now rapidly slipping from his hands, and he feels a sudden chill race down his spine as he turns his X-Wing back towards Yavin-IV.
By the time he gets there, Yavin is alight with activity and madness alike. Everywhere he looks as he scrambles to get out of the cockpit and down on the floor, the people of The Rebellion are cheering and laughing with looks of pure delight on their faces. Luke looks around wildly, as tens of people come over to clap him on the back and congratulate him. Still, his heart hammers at a thousand miles an hour.
He sees The Millennium Falcon pull in right as he hears someone cry his name. Whirling just in time, he hugs Leia tightly, meeting her ecstatic grin with one of his own. She grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him slightly, laughing brightly as she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. He’s just about to start speaking when someone else drags him away again.
Han shakes him aggressively, almost picking him up when he hugs him. “I just knew you’d come back!” He calls, a grin on his face as he shakes Luke up a bit. “I just knew it! I wasn’t gonna let you get all the credit and take all the reward!” He slaps Luke’s shoulder, ruffling his hair as he continues to laugh. Luke looks around wildly, his heart rate flying, and his mind spinning between hundreds of barely connected thoughts.
But his attention is taken away as R2 is pulled out of the droid station. Luke’s glee rapidly fades as he takes stock of the poor old R2 Unit, who is damaged and uncharacteristically silent. C-3PO starts nattering on, demanding that the mechanics who are already swarming tell him if they can fix the droid. Even when the mechanic says they’ll get to work immediately, C-3PO still seems unconvinced.
“Relax, my friend,” Another voice cuts in, resting a hand on the golden droid’s shoulder. “Your friend will be back to new before long. He is a hardy droid.” Both Luke and C-3PO whirl in surprise, and yes, there he is!
“Ben!” Luke says, right as C-3PO says, “Master Kenobi!”. Immediately, Luke is hugging the man tightly, feeling his heartbeat settle just a little as he does. Ben–Obi-Wan Kenobi, really–claps him on the shoulder and pulls away, scanning Luke’s face with a tight-lipped smile that makes Luke’s brows furrow in confusion. “Is all well?”
Luke does not get an answer, though, as suddenly Leia, who had been talking with Han, calls out Ben as well. Luke watches as Obi-Wan’s face breaks into another smile, and she hugs him as well with all the familiarity of someone who has known him for years. As she pulls back, she says, “I knew you’d come! I knew it!”
“Princess,” he says, voice softening. He glances at Luke and before Luke can even begin to feel anything ugly rear up in him, Obi-Wan is beckoning him forward. With his hands on both their shoulders, he looks between the two, a strange look in his eyes as he smiles, ever so slightly. Luke glances at Leia and sees his confusion reflected back in her eyes.
But they get no answers again as Obi-Wan pulls away and nods at someone approaching behind them. Luke turns to see Mon Mothma who is coming closer, a wry grin on her face. She stops a few feet away and appraises Obi-Wan for a moment, raising a brow as she takes him in. “Master Kenobi,” she finally says, and Luke glances at Obi-Wan to see that he is smirking a little himself. “It has been quite some time, no?”
“Indeed it has, Senator,” he agrees, but she waves him off.
“I am no senator, now, Obi-Wan; I left the Senate some time ago, now,” she tells him, drawing forward to offer a hand. They shake and she glances at Luke and Leia. “I hear you are the hero we owe ourselves to. Skywalker, was it?” She asks, and he nods. She sends a keen glance towards Obi-Wan, who seems to be pointedly avoiding her gaze. Luke narrows his eyes, but he’s starting to get the sense that most of his burning questions are going to remain unanswered, for now.
“And Princess,” Mothma continues after a beat, nodding at Leia. “I am relieved to see you alive, and I extend my deepest apologies for the loss of Bail and Breha. They were terrific people and part of the very heart of this effort.” She smiles wanly at Leia, who dips her head in acknowledgement of the regards but says nothing of it.
Instead, Leia asks, with a deep furrow settling between her brows, “Pardon, but I had heard you were on your way to a safer location?”
Mothma smiles reassuringly. “I was, and we were just about to jump to hyperspace when we saw the explosion. We were certainly cutting it close, but I am glad for it!” She laughs slightly, a trilling noise, but her eyes are bright with worry. She glances around, her face sobering. “Come now, there is much that needs to be discussed. We have made our strength clear, and now is the time to get ahead while we can. Yavin-IV is compromised.”
They begin to walk with her, Obi-Wan beside her and Luke and Leia trailing behind her. At some point, Han joins them, throwing his arm around Leia and saying something that has her smacking his arm. Luke snickers, glancing around in wide-eyed wonder at the sight of The Rebellion all around him. To think that all of these people are fighting the same fight, are from hundreds of planets and backgrounds, bound together in one cause!
Leia had said, in one of the many conversations they had while bored in the Millennium Falcon on their way here, to the heart of The Rebellion for the first time, that it hadn’t always been like this. For most of the time since Rebellions had started cropping up, she’d explained, there had been cells centred around different locations, and that they only started really banding together about two years ago, now. For most of this fight, cells had barely interacted with one another, except when interests or situations aligned. And now, here they are. One group. One unit.
Perhaps it is even enough, with enough time and effort and blood and sweat and tears, this will be enough to secure this new future. A real future for The Galaxy. Luke can see it in his mind’s eye, and it makes him smile, makes him feel some spark of hope growing in his chest. Obi-Wan glances back at him, as if sensing his emotions, and when he sees Luke smiling, he gives him a smile of his own.
The Command Centre is far less busy than it was when Luke was first here, but this time, his arrival is immediately noted by the few occupants of the room. Most especially, General Dodonna–who appears to be on call with a Twi’lek woman–says a quick goodbye and cuts the call nearly the second he sees them enter. He claps Luke on the shoulder and says, “Good job, kid,” with a weary smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
His brows raise as he sees Obi-Wan, but he makes no comment as he leads them to the main table. Only one other man is sat at the table, and Leia leans over to Luke when he sends her a glance, whispering, “That’s Jun Sato–he runs Phoenix Cell, one of the best and largest cells in The Rebellion. They worked with my father a lot.” He nods, not missing how her eyes sadden at the mention of Bail Organa, and for lack of anything to say, he just squeezes her shoulder.
They all gather around the main table–Dodonna, Sato, and Mothma, along with Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, and Obi-Wan, though Obi-Wan lingers a little ways away from the table. All eyes are on Luke, anyway, and it is only when Mothma clears her throat and gently tells him, “Could you speak of what led up to the explosion, Mister Skywalker?” does he realise that they’re all waiting for him to speak.
And so he does. He tells them that the information had been entirely correct, and an odd expression crosses Mon Mothma’s face at the comment, but she does not say anything. He tells them about how Vader pursued him, and again, he does not miss the expressions of the occupants of the room. Obi-Wan looks particularly troubled, his eyes guarded as he silently strokes his beard, staring at the table as if it is the source of all his problems. When he finishes his report, the silence lingers awkwardly.
Unsure of what to do with himself, he glances at Leia, who sends him a comforting smile that he manages to meet. Up until about an hour ago, he’d been just another pilot, just another boy from Tatooine. But now, he’s something a lot more. He heard what people were calling him out there. Hero, saviour, the guy who blew The Empire’s best weapon up with nothing more than a single shot from his X-Wing. That means that he is, in a near instant, suddenly very important to this Rebellion.
It is Commander Sato who ends up breaking the silence and putting Luke’s thoughts into words. “The Empire will seek out the man who blew The Death Star up with a vengeance. We cannot stay here for much longer. We have some time, now, with The Death Star destroyed, but we have bought ourselves no more than a week. And we must also expend resources into making sure Skywalker here isn’t immediately murdered by a bounty hunter.”
“I believe that I can aid in that,” Obi-Wan says, startling all of them as he comes closer to the table. Mon Mothma smirks slightly like she is aware of something that no one else is, but General Dodanna and Commander Sato just blink at him in confusion. It is only when he pulls back his cloak and unclips something from his belt, setting it on the table, that understanding dawns in their eyes.
“A Jedi,” Dodanna ends up breathing, and Sato’s brows shoot to his hairline, but he looks far less awed than the man beside him. The General eyes Obi-Wan for a moment, and Luke is watching closely enough that he sees the exact moment the pieces click together and recognition washes over the man. “Obi-Wan Kenobi–I can hardly believe it. I thought you were long dead, General Kenobi!”
“As did many,” he says, his expression darkening. Dodonna sobers after a moment, his eyes hardening as he listens with rapt attention to Obi-Wan. “I hid for many years in Tatooine, avoiding The Empire and the bounties upon my head. But Vader knows I live, and likely knows that I have not returned to my exile. He will hunt both Luke and me to the ends of the earth. For there is more to Luke. He too wields The Force.”
Sato and Dodonna exchange a glance, but Luke is less focused on that. Mothma’s brows are furrowed, and she is looking at Luke critically. Dodonna seems to register something himself after a moment, his mouth pressing into a thin line as he glances between Obi-Wan and Luke. But whatever is troubling them, they do not say, and no one makes a move to ask.
“Vader despises me,” Obi-Wan says, with no explanation as to why that is, but his eyes speak enough for him. Still, Luke feels himself bristle slightly at yet another unanswered question, and when he glances at Leia, he sees the same annoyance in her eyes. “If I become too much of a danger to this Rebellion, I will leave and do so swiftly. I do not want to endanger anyone more than needed.”
Luke glances around as he speaks, nerves beginning to creep in the longer he stands here, the more everyone keeps glancing at him. Han looks to be half paying attention, meaning Luke is not going to find any sympathy within him, not that he was looking for aunty from the smuggler. He wonders how it was on The Millenium Falcon, with just him, Chewbacca and Obi-Wan to keep one another company. Even C-3PO had stayed behind, after all, though that might have just been an effort to preserve everyone’s sanity.
“You are the very model of a Jedi, Master Kenobi,” Commander Sato remarks, a glint in his eyes that makes Luke do a double take, along with Obi-Wan.
“You have met other Jedi?” Obi-Wan asks, politely enough, but the edge is there.
“One of the main groups within Phoenix Cell is–or was, I should say–host to two Jedi,” Mon Mothma explains, and Luke and Obi-Wan exchange a look at that. He can feel interest and excitement swelling up in him, and he hangs onto her every word. “Kanan Jarrus and his padawan, Ezra Bridger. Jarrus was injured about a year ago in a fight on Lothal, and Bridger disappeared shortly thereafter, but Jarrus lives and still fights aboard The Ghost, one of the central figureheads within Phoenix Cell.”
Obi-Wan frowns, considering something. A sad light comes into his eyes as he shakes his head and says, with remorse in every word, “I might have met Bridger, once, a few years ago, but I cannot be certain. And the other name rings no bells. And…pardon, but what do you mean, disappeared?”
“The Ghost Crew has spoken only a little about it,” Sato jumps back in, splaying his hands on the table as he begins his story, “But what we know is this: Grand Admiral Thrawn had besieged Lothal, their centre of operation. Bridger turned himself over, and, one way or another, and likely through the use of The Force, took Thrawn out of the equation, and him along with it. He’s been missing for a year or so now, and all hunts for him have come up dry. He is completely off the radar.”
“Thrawn?” Obi-Wan asks, running a hand over his face and murmuring something to himself, a queer light in his eyes that makes Luke exchange an uneasy glance with Leia. “I have heard the name in passing. He fought alongside my padawan, Anakin, once. Anakin spoke highly of him.” He glances at Luke, and seems to consider saying something, but does not, in the end. Luke frowns, biting his tongue to keep from saying something endlessly stupid that will make everyone in the room mad at him.
“I will contact General Syndulla,” Commander Sato says after Obi-Wan trails off, “And inform her and Kanan Jarrus of your presence. He, I believed, was a Padawann during The Clone Wars, though I cannot be sure. In whatever case, he certainly will have a story for you, if he wishes to share it, and I do not doubt you would be glad to see another survivor of your order?”
“I would,” Obi-Wan agrees. He pauses for a moment, before saying, in a notably careful and measured tone, as if he is afraid to give too deep into hope, “Are there any more Jedi you know of?”
“Not many, I am afraid,” Mon Mothma says apologetically. “There are some, though, and I will gather their names and see if I can get you in contact with them. The Jedi Order has much to gain from the end of The Empire, and I would feel comforted if I knew that its survivors were in contact with one another and bound together.”
Obi-Wan bows his head in acknowledgement, and the conversation shifts again, and suddenly, Luke is back at the forefront. They all speak about him, all talk about how to protect his identity for as long as possible, and what ranks to give him, given the fact that he’s already proven himself three times over. Leia jumps in a few times, always in defence of him, talking about her rescue and all that, and every time she does, that strange look comes into Obi-Wan’s eyes again, like he’s seeing something more than the both of them, something unnamable.
But when Luke looks at him curiously, he just smiles and waves it away. Luke bites his tongue again, feeling oddly frustrated by all the things that are being left completely unanswered, and all the things he feels like he deserves to know, but doesn't. His stomach rolls, and he forces himself to take a measured breath, feeling exhaustion creep in as he does. That, most certainly, is not helping with his mood in the slightest sense of the word.
Finally, after perhaps an hour, they are let loose. Obi-Wan catches him as he leaves with Leia and Han, resting a hand on his shoulder and smiling kindly at him. Still, that look dances in his eyes, and standing this close to him, Luke can see the regret mixed with remorse and grief that burns in him. He squeezes his shoulder and says, voice thick, “We’ll speak more later. I know you have many questions, but patience will get you farther than you know. The answers you seek are coming, Luke.”
Obi-Wan glances at Leia, and Luke has no name for the look in Obi-Wan’s eyes, then. “Go, go with your friends, and get some rest–you have earned it. I will find you when it is time, and then we will speak. But for now, take comfort in your victory.”
———————————————
He rewards himself–or as Obi-Wan put it, takes comfort in his victory–by taking a very, very long shower. By the time he comes out, hair sticking to his face, the manic energy of The Base is still there, but everyone seems more focused on the task at hand now. Still, people congratulate him as they see him, but seeing as he’s no longer in his flight suit, he does slip by some notice, which he’ll admit to being somewhat grateful for.
He’s also unbearably hungry, so before long, he’s in the mess hall getting food. Han calls him over from a table in the corner, and Luke feels his heart rate settle as he sees a familiar face. Han claps him on the shoulder as he sits down, immediately talking a hundred miles a second to him and Chewbacca both, who growls in agreement every so often. Luke himself only half listens to Han, more focused on just getting some food in him and taking a moment to rest.
Just as Han is halfway through his recount of the fight around The Death Star, Leia comes over and sits down like she owns the place which…of the four people sitting at the table, she’s the only one who was actually involved with The Rebellion before this all happened, and she was the daughter of one of the biggest leaders in The Rebellion, so she’s probably got some claim to that statement. Han immediately starts talking to her, and she, in turn, looks at Luke in exasperation.
“Do you ever shut up?” She cuts Han off with a look. Chewbacca laughs immediately at that, and his laughter only gets louder when Han sends him a deeply offended look. Leia smiles innocently before beginning to eat, ignoring Han as he splutters, in favour of Luke. “You clean up well, flyboy.”
“Flyboy?” He repeats flatly, and her grin becomes just that much more sickly sweet, and she laughs slightly. He can’t keep up his air of offence though, and he snickers himself, dipping his head and taking a bite of his food so she can’t quite see the dumb grin on his face. He likes Leia, that much is clear enough already, likes her and Han both–though, for very different reasons.
Han reminds him of some of the older boys he knew in his youth on Tatooine–effortlessly cool and perfectly suave and collected, like your friend’s older brother who seems to be impossibly grown up when you’re still quite young. He’s also an excellent pilot, that much has been made very obvious, and Han certainly knows how to get what needs to be done, done when all the chips are on the table and everything is on the line. He’s steady in his own way, and Luke is certainly glad that fate led him and Obi-Wan Kenobi to Han Solo in the Mos Eisley Cantina.
Leia, though…she is a lot like him, he thinks. He likes her stubbornness, and she’s funny too, with a glint in her eyes that always makes her look like she’s scheming–both for good and ill. And she’s a wicked shot, he remembers from their daring escape on The Death Star, and can certainly hold her own. It’s no wonder she’s so involved with The Rebellion, she thinks, and also no wonder that Obi-Wan seems to like her. Which reminds him–
“How do you know Ben?”
She laughs slightly, though it doesn’t sound fully genuine to Luke. He exchanges a glance with Han, who just shrugs, as if to say, why are you looking at me, kid? “When I was about…ten, I got…minorly kidnapped, by order of one of The Inquisitors,” she says, a sheepish look in her eyes as she shrugs. “I never found out why The Empire wanted me, but they did, and I have my own guesses. Obi-Wan ended up rescuing me, at the behest of my father.”
“What’s your guess?” Luke asks, unable to help himself.
She sighs, biting her lower lip and looking away from Luke for a moment. “I think Obi-Wan knew my parents and The Inquisitor knew that if I was taken, it could perhaps lure him out. He’s one of the most famous Jedi from The Clone Wars who is still alive, and they really wanted to rectify that, I guess. And they were right. It did draw Obi-Wan out. But in the end, it didn’t work. I went home and he…” she frowns. “How do you know him?”
“He’s lived on Tatooine for years,” Luke says. “Everyone used to call him Old Ben–I didn’t even know he was Obi-Wan Kenobi until we talked in his hut. He lived away from everyone in The Dunes, and barely spoke to anyone. My uncle didn’t like him much, because he thought that he killed my father, but Obi-Wan told me that there was more to it. He didn’t explain, though. When 3PO and R2 showed up with your message, I took them to him, and that’s where he told me about the whole Jedi thing.”
She nods along, a strange look in her eyes, like there is something bothering her. But it disappears after a moment as her expression shifts into something a little more scheming, and she leans forward, pushing her half-eaten plate of food aside. “We can ask Ben about it all later. What I want to know is what you two are doing next.” She directs the comment to Han, who seems to startle at the sudden acknowledgement. “Are you staying?”
Han glances at Chewbacca, who shrills something out in Shyriiwook that is lost on Luke and Leia both if that look on her face is much to go by. Han sighs heavily and then shrugs, “Well, I guess so. Not like my debts to Jabba are gonna cancel out without active effort on my part, but I can probably stay away from him if I stick with you lot.” A crooked smirk crosses his face. “Besides. You’re both gonna need someone who can fly you around undetected, given the stunt you pulled.”
Luke rolls his eyes as Leia snorts, a slight glare on her face, but she, thankfully, doesn’t start arguing. For the few hours that they were all on the Millenium Falcon on the way to Yavin, and when she and him weren’t talking, she spent a not insignificant amount of her time arguing with Han about seemingly anything she could find it in herself to argue about. After a while, Luke had just decided to talk to Obi-Wan, but then he’d been off in his own world, so he was forced to listen to them argue for longer than he thinks anyone deserves.
Anyway, she turns to him once she’s done giving Han a look, and he thinks he knows what she’s going to say even before she opens her mouth and–“You know, The Emperor is going to be hunting you down the second Vader crawls back to him and tells him what happened. And everyone and their mother is going to want to know who the Hero of The Rebellion is. Do you have a plan for that?”
He grimaces at the reminder. In the short few hours since The Death Star blew, he’s already heard the whispers and how people are already starting to call him the Hero of The Rebellion, and as he glances around the mess hall, he catches a few people doing their best to subtly stare at him as they talk about him to their table mates. When they see him looking, though, their eyes suddenly dart away, faces flushing, and it makes something in him feel wound tight. He used to be a no-one from Tatooine and now…
“Well, Obi-Wan said that he’d talk to me about the whole Jedi thing later,” he says, and Leia nods along, her eyes digging into him and making him feel oddly revealed and laid bare to The Princess of Alderaan. A planet that was blown up by the weapon he just blew up–now there’s an unsettling thought, one that makes him feel suddenly too small for his boots and the trappings of courage that are slowly enveloping him. Something that devastating shouldn’t be that easily destroyed, he thinks.
He shakes his head, pushing the thoughts away for later, when he’s really alone and there’s not tens of prying stares all around him, judging him for all he’s worth. Clearing his throat, he continues, but he knows his discontent is not missed by Leia and her sharp eyes. “I’m sure there will be something there that can help me. And anyway, I was a nobody kid from Tatooine before this. That will buy us a little time, I’d say, and it’s not like they’re gonna be plastering my face all over the Holo Net in the meantime. So, I don’t run a risk of being recognised if I go out, not yet, at least.”
He pointedly avoids the thoughts about what will happen once The Empire and The Emperor and Darth Vader do know who he is. Certainly, The Emperor will want him dead, and Luke has a sinking feeling that if The Emperor has his way, Luke is going slowly and painfully, to make him pay for what he took from The Emperor. His Greatest weapon, he thinks with a surge of something that feels close to madness, I destroyed The Emperor’s greatest weapon!
Leia makes a face at that, her eyes raking over Luke. Again, he thinks that she doesn’t seem to miss much, if anything, and it’s a little frightening if he’s being fully honest. “Command isn’t going to let you out of their sight that easily, Luke. You’ll be stuck with them until they know that you can handle yourself and you won’t immediately drop dead the second you’re on your own. Propaganda is important, and whether you like it or not, Rebel forces and sympathisers will latch onto you.” He makes a face, and she nods in sympathy, her face pinching as well.
“But you do have some time,” she says after a moment, elbowing him slightly as her face brightens. “So, don’t go wasting your last few weeks on anonymity, flyboy.” Han laughs loudly at that, drawing multiple pairs of eyes, and Luke ducks his head with a slight groan, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. Whether he likes it or not, he’s going to have a lot of eyes on him, more than he’s ever had. The Hero of The Rebellion. He can’t imagine what they’ll do once they realise he’s a Jedi, or a Jedi-to-be, and how they’ll start spinning that into the stories they tell about him.
They finish up their food and the four of them start making their way back to The Millenium Falcon. When they’d arrived on Yavin, there hadn’t been time to assign him, Leia, Obi-Wan, Han, or Chewbacca any quarters, so it would seem that they’ll be continuing their residency on The Falcon for the time being. Luke can’t really complain; for a ship that is, admittedly, a slight piece of junk, the cots are surprisingly comfortable. And there’s not sand everywhere, as well, which is strange, but nice. Really nice.
As he lays in bed that night, though, staring at the ceiling, the weight comes crashing down on him as the adrenaline finally disappears and it’s replaced by the understanding of what he just did. Of how many people he just killed, how massively he has just overturned the board, and how much danger he has just put himself in. He thinks he’s almost glad that Owen and Beru are already gone and can’t get caught, but that makes him just feel endlessly guilty, and the thought is bitter on his tongue and sour in the depths of his stomach.
He is, admittedly, deeply scared for what comes next. He’s done something that he cannot come back from, whatsoever, and he knows that before long, his life will become a bargaining chip in the darker corners of the galaxy. He just hopes that Obi-Wan can help make sure he can stay alive long enough to continue being useful to this fight.
His dreams are strange–full of the images of The Death Star’s end, full of emotions he hardly recognises and the feeling of everything crashing down that he’d hardly noticed when he’d blown The Death Star up. It replays over and over again, until it is seared in his memory like a brand in skin, until it is a part of him, makes up a part of his blood and his bones.
He wakes up the next morning feeling decidedly less wildly happy and exhilarated, and he knows it must show as he comes into the main room of The Falcon and Leia’s brows raise the second she sees him. He sits down across from her at the table, running a hand over his face as he sighs heavily, peering at her from between his fingers when she remains suspiciously quiet. “What is it?” He asks with a furrowed brow when he sees the look in her eyes.
“The Empire–well, probably The Emperor, really– sent out an announcement about an hour ago,” she says, clearing her throat as his stomach utterly bottoms out. Her eyes flick towards him briefly as she procures her datapad, the blue glow reflecting off her face and making her look strangely and notably harrowed by whatever it is. Her eyes scan it for a moment before she begins to speak, her voice sounding like it’s being pulled from within her, slowly and arduously, betraying her hesitation and worry.
“The Empire has been attacked in an extreme act of unwarranted violence. Anyone with information on the Identity of The Rebel Leader who carried out this attack should inform the ISB immediately. Any Rebels found within Empire space will be arrested immediately. Anyone who is found to have ties to The Rebel Leader will be executed.” Her eyes glance up to him, saying so much without even another word from her mouth. “No mention of what the attack was, of course–they have to keep the truth of The Death Star hidden, no matter what. But still…”
Swearing under his breath, he leans back in his chair and sighs from between his clenched teeth, trying to calm his breathing and his erratic heart rate. Leia’s eyes are still bearing into him like twin scythes, but he does his very best to ignore her gaze, trying to sort his thoughts into something resembling a coherent spiel. But it’s proving incredibly and unnaturally difficult, as it feels like the weight of the whole world is pressing in on him from all sides.
He can hardly breathe around it all, around the sudden feeling of everything crashing down on him. He blew up The Death Star. People might die because they know of him, and he thinks of all the people he left behind on Tatooine, his friends and all that, people whose blood might just end up on his hands for something they had nothing to do with. He’s condemned them all, he’s broken this all, he should never have taken that shot, he never should have left, he should have stayed home, should have, should have–
Distantly, he hears someone call his name, hears footsteps followed by another call of his name. But he is far away, boxed in on all sides, with nowhere to go, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nothing left to him but the feeling of the world burning up in the palm of his hand–
“Luke,” a strong voice cuts through his mind, as a wash of sudden calm slams into his mind and snaps him back to reality. His eyes fly open (when had he closed them?) and he is suddenly met with Obi-Wan’s intense gaze being fully on him. The Jedi’s hand is on his shoulder, a warm band that is rooting him to the spot, and from it, Luke can almost feel tendrils of cool calm bleeding into him. He frowns at him, tilting his head slightly.
“Is that from you?” He asks.
Obi-Wan nods, expression grim but not angry or unwelcoming. His hand leaves Luke’s shoulder, and it is strange how Luke can feel the coolness slowly leave him as Obi-Wan goes to sit before him and Leia, who had apparently moved to sit next to him at some point. Silently, she knocks their shoulders together, a silent and brief comfort that Luke didn’t realise he needed. For a moment, Obi-Wan just sits there, looking at the two of them with a strange and distant expression.
He clears his throat and begins, “Yes, that was me. That is one of the first things I will teach you as a Jedi–” Luke immediately perks up, and the ghost of a smile passes over the Jedi’s face, though there is something sad to it as well, “–In due time, Luke. I am glad that you are ready to begin, eager to start, but patience is key. I trust you have heard The Emperor’s proclamation of The Rebellion and the actions you undertook yesterday?”
Luke nods, which makes Obi-Wan hum in apparent consideration, his blue eyes dancing with a light that Luke did not think to see in the old man from the dunes of Tatooine. “You have been made a player in this delicate game of warfare we play, and you must learn to defend yourself. I will teach you, as I taught your father.” He glances, strangely enough, at Leia, and when Luke glances at her as well, he’s only met with a look of confusion from her as well.
“There are many questions you both need answered, and I promise I will do so, to the very best of my ability,” Obi-Wan says, and still, his voice drips with sincerity and kindness but sadness and remorse as well, which is reflected plainly in his eyes. He smiles sadly. “Again–in due time, though. For now, our first priority is making sure we know what our next steps are, and what that means for both of you. Doubtless, The Emperor will assume you have connections to this all, Leia, given your timely rescue.”
She nods along. “I have nothing left to lose,” she says, and though Luke can sense her grief like a live wire feed in the air, ( Because of The Force, he thinks in the very back of his mind, heart spinning with glee and near terror at the feeling of it all), there is an undeniable strength in her. Gone is her white dress, and she is now in well-made but more practical clothes, her hair bound back into a single bun. She looks like a rebel, not a princess. And her eyes burn as she says, “Let them come for me. Let The Emperor fear me.”
Obi-Wan’s face makes a strange movement, then, one Luke barely catches. He narrows his eyes at the man as he continues to speak, all the unanswered questions spinning in the back of his mind, maddening and just out of reach. There is something he is missing, no doubt, but what it is, he cannot say. He just hopes that is one of the things that Obi-Wan was speaking about when he spoke of questions left unanswered. Because, while Luke has a lot of questions left for Obi-Wan Kenobi, this one seems content to worm its way into his mind, and never leave him alone. To take root and to spread until there is nothing left in Luke but thoughts that are bent to it.
Obi-Wan’s eyes flick, briefly, to him, and Luke feels himself struck by how sharp those eyes are. They root him to the spot in the brief moment they are locked on him, and he can feel the traces of an unfamiliar presence at the corners of his mind, reaching out and gently consoling. Luke’s fingers relax from a fist on the table, and he breathes deeply as he hangs his head, feeling The Force swim around him.
Again, he is drawn back into the world by a point of contact. Leia rests her hand on his shoulder and says, her voice concerned, “But what about Luke? We both know I can stay with The Rebellion as long as I want, given my father, but what about him? If The Emperor gives everything he has into finding Luke, some people in The Rebellion might start thinking it best to have him elsewhere.”
Luke straightens in sudden panic. He hadn’t even thought about that! About how his notoriety in the eyes of The Empire could endanger every man around him, and how that could even turn the men who were whispering The Hero of The Rebellion just yesterday against him before he knows it. He meets Leia’s eyes in a panic and says, in a semi-hoarse voice, “I have nowhere else to go.”
But Obi-Wan does not reflect their panic. “This is a large galaxy, and The Rebellion is larger than you know. They’d sooner keep you close, I’d say, than send you away, where you are out of their hands entirely. And you are a Jedi, Luke, just as your father was. There is more strength in you than you know, and more left of this Order than perhaps even I know. There are…connections, perhaps, connections I could seek out…” He trails off, though Luke can guess his thoughts are still stirring deep within him.
They all end up sitting there in silence, each of them caught in their own thoughts, lost in their own worlds. Leia is pressed close to him, a wall of heat at his side, and when he closes his eyes, he can feel The Force, filling the room and binding him to the two other occupants. It’s a strange but undeniably nice feeling, and he’s just about to maybe get a little lost in it when footsteps break his reverie.
It’s Han, with a strange look on his face. They all turn to look at him as he slouches in the doorway and says, “There’s a new arrival out there. Mon Mothma asked me to get you three.” He glances at Obi-Wan. “Asked for you specifically.”
Obi-Wan’s brows shoot up, but he stands without a word and follows Han out. With a glance at Leia, Luke follows, her walking right at his side. They descend The Falcon into a bustling hanger, and they push through the crowd, following a briskly walking Obi-Wan, who is just a little behind Han. All around, Luke can hear whispers, but he cannot make out what anyone is saying, for the life of him. Up ahead, at least, there appears to be a break in the crowd.
Then, suddenly, right as Obi-Wan reaches that break, he halts right where he stands, and Luke can feel his shock bloom in the force like how the light of the twin suns spreads out across the sands of Tatooine as dawn breaks. Luke and Leia come to his side, and Luke glances at him, and that is where the real surprise comes, for it appears that Obi-Wan Kenobi is close to tears, his mouth hanging open. Luke follows his gaze.
Standing there is a tall Togruta woman. Her eyes are blue and remind Luke of Leia’s, for they seem to miss little. Her montrals are blue and white, her skin orange and the markings around her face white and sharp, like the clothes she has on. She wears a glimmering white cape, but that does not disguise what rests on either of her hips. Lightsabers. A Jedi!
He straightens in interest, glancing briefly at Leia and seeing his excitement reflected back at him by her face. He meets the stranger’s eyes briefly, and her mouth quirks in a slight smile that makes him feel like he has been entirely exposed to this strange woman. And finally, at last, she breaks the silence, her calm composure cracking as she whispers, “Master.”
“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan breathes.