Work Text:
Time stands still, deep in the darkness of the temple. Luke is almost afraid to move, to speak, afraid that the slightest breath will disturb the dust and peace surrounding him. The books he has found are heavy in his bag, dragging him down like a reproach, like a we don’t want to leave barely whispered.
Luke does not want to leave either. Leaving means going back out, back to Coruscant to Leia, back to the agitation of the Senate. Back to his role of hero of the New Republic, to the press following him everywhere, to the smile hurting his cheeks. To the deep feeling of loneliness.
Here, deep in the darkness of the temple, Luke can almost feel their presence. When he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend to hear them, walk through the halls and talk in hushed voices. He can almost reach out to them, and feel their warmth. But when he looks around him, the ghosts of Jedi Past disappear and leave his hands empty, covered in dust and weighted by old books.
Sometimes, the weight of expectations almost crushes him. People expect to see him at events, next to his sister, next to Han and Chewie, and Mon Mothma, and every hero of the Alliance. People want to hear his opinion on almost everything, want to hear his story, want to hear his voice. They ask are you going to rebuild the Jedi Order, they ask are you going to train children, they ask are you really the only one left? It’s almost fitting, Luke muses, that the weight of the old stones where he wants to get lost presses on his shoulders just the same.
He wanders through the rooms, deep in the darkness of the temple, and feels impossibly small. The history of the place surrounds him, swirls around him, but all he can catch are glimpses and echoes of his own steps.
The last room he comes across is surprisingly small. The walls are bare, cold under his touch as he lets his fingers trail on the cracks.
But there is something here, something oppressive and freeing all the same, something all-compassing and impossibly small.
In the middle of it all stands a pillar, reaching up to Luke’s shoulders, brightly white despite the lack of light. The top is round, polished, and Luke can almost see his reflection in it.
He approaches cautiously, hand on the hilt of his saber. Something seems to call him forward, a tugging in the back of his mind, but Luke knows better than to trust everything he feels.
Something glimmers in the corner of his eyes and he freezes. When he turns, Obi-Wan Kenobi is looking at him, barely visible. His eyes are kind, his smile gentle, and he seems right at home, deep in the darkness of the temple.
“Hello, Luke,” he says, and his voice does not echo down the halls.
“Ben,” Luke whispers, afraid a louder noise will shatter the apparition in pieces.
Ben is silent, like he is waiting for Luke to speak. But Luke does not know what to say. How could he possibly explain the depth of his feelings? Luke does not know a lot about the Jedi Order, but what he has heard tells him he is not supposed to care as much as he does. He is not supposed to love as much, he is not supposed to hang on as tightly to those close to him. And certainly, despite all of this, he is not supposed to feel so lonely.
Ben’s eyes soften, and he reaches out to Luke. “Oh, child,” he says, impossibly fond, and the kindness of his tone brings tears to Luke’s eyes. He cannot feel the weight of Ben’s hand on his shoulder, but he can feel its warmth, radiating through him and chasing the grief away.
“Jedi were never meant to be alone,” Ben murmurs, and he takes Luke’s hand, and he guides him to the round stone, and he presses their hands on the top.
At first, all Luke can see is darkness, oppressive and freeing all the same, all-compassing and impossibly wide. He feels his mind expand through the universe, reaching out further than he’d thought possible, and slowly, gradually, he begins to see. Hundreds of little stars blink to existence in his vision, some brighter than others, some further than others. Most of all, he feels their warmth, radiating to him, towards him, like millions of hands reaching for him.
“What is this?” he can hear himself say, though he does not feel his lips move.
“This is the Force,” Ben replies in his mind, invisible but always there. “This is every Force-sensitive being in the galaxy. Some are young, barely born; others are much older than you’ll ever be.”
Luke watches those little lights, some blinking out of existence as others appear, and he feels incredibly warm.
“They are waiting for you,” Ben says, voice fading in the back of Luke’s mind.
At Luke’s next blink, he finds himself back in the room, deep in the darkness of the temple, feeling bigger than himself and very small all the same. Ben has disappeared, and when Luke blinks again, he notices the tears running down his cheeks. He cannot help the laugh bubbling up his throat, spilling out of him and echoing down the halls.
“I’m not alone,” he says out loud, maybe to Ben and maybe to himself, and maybe to the ghosts of Jedi Past. “I will find them.”
The first one finds him first.
It has barely been a day since Luke has come back from the temple, and already he is dizzy with the fumes of Coruscant, the press and the politics. He is more than grateful when Leia calls for him in her office, saying she has received a transmission from Yavin IV.
“You remember Captain Rex, right?” she asks, all her traits tired as she undoubtedly already thinks about her next meeting. Luke does not think she even actually has the time to talk to him, right now. Is this where he is always going to be? Squeezed between a press conference and a talk with the Senator of Ord Zeuol? Leia has not meditated for days, he can feel it; though it is true that she has always needed it less than him.
“Well, he says he’s found someone that you need to meet,” she continues. “He asks that you come to Yavin IV as quickly as possible.”
Luke nods, already mentally preparing his flight plan.
“Luke,” Leia says, and her voice is weary, tired. “I know it sounds important, but I could really use your help here.”
Luke doubts that. Leia is a powerful presence on her own, she does not need a so-called Jedi to back her up before the Senate. He thinks she knows that too; maybe she wants him to stay for herself. Perhaps they would be able to squeeze in some lightsaber practice, toward the end of the afternoon. Perhaps they could join Han and his friends at a bar and drink the night away, like they did on Endor.
But Luke can still see the thousand stars when he closes his eyes, burned into his retina like a laser. He feels something, whispering go in the back of his mind, and nothing has felt this right for a long time.
Leia must sense this, for she deflates a little and comes closer to him. She hugs him, warm against his front, and puts a hand on his cheek. “Be careful,” she says, gaze boring into Luke’s soul. “Keep me updated.”
She can probably feel he won’t come back to Coruscant, not for a while. Luke nods, kisses her forehead, and leaves.
The travel to Yavin IV is uneventful. Still, the peaceful glow of hyperspace is a balm for Luke’s soul, utterly silent where Coruscant was deafening, and it almost leaves Luke’s ears ringing with the difference. Only R2’s occasional beeping breaks the silence, and Luke would not have it any other way.
Captain Rex is waiting for him on the landing pad. Luke has never really talked to him before, but the old man smiles at him, with a familiar affection that Luke’s mind automatically links to Ben’s. He seems easy to get along with, now that the war does not plague his features anymore.
They make idle small talk as Luke follows him through the hangar, through the village some members of the Alliance have started building. Children are laughing, running around with a carefreeness Luke had not seen for a very long time, maybe ever. There is a peacefulness in this place, something freeing and all-compassing, and Luke thinks he would not mind staying here. These people are like him, after all; they do not have a home to return to either. Perhaps it is possible, to build something new.
Captain Rex leads him further than the village, into the forest so thick that Luke can barely see in front of him. Captain Rex’s steps are sure on the humid forest floor, and Luke can still feel a pull, stronger now than it was on Coruscant. He blinks away the memory of a thousand lights and makes sure he does not slip as he follows.
Luke almost doesn’t notice when they break free from the trees and into a clearing, focused as he is on the warm presence he can now feel in front of him. It is bright, brighter than anything he’s ever felt before, and it pulses as a Togruta woman stands up in front of him.
She is tall, taller than he is even without her montrals, and her posture is one of someone who is used to fighting, muscles coiled and ready for battle; but Luke does not feel any sense of danger coming from her. Rather, he feels a strong sense of nostalgia, and familiarity, that sweeps through his mind so powerfully that he nearly staggers.
“Luke,” she whispers, and her mind feels so warm against Luke’s. For a moment, all he can do is stare at her and breathe around the feelings that threaten to burst out of him.
“Who are you?” he finally asks, though his mind says one of us.
“My name is Ahsoka Tano,” she replies. “I was your father’s padawan.”
The next Jedi, Luke finds on accident. He had meant to search for more of them after meeting Ahsoka, but Leia had transmitted him a call for help coming from Kashyyyk, and Luke is not one to ignore those who need help. He reaches the planet in two days, brushes up on his Shyriiwook, and lands in a vast clearing.
Luke had been on Kashyyyk before, to meet Chewie’s family, but he feels the same as he did the first time, as he looks at the trees whose branches disappear into the sky; small, and young, and so very inexperienced.
Ahsoka had told him she would always be there for him, would be happy to share more memories of his father alongside Captain Rex, but she refused to help him seek out other Force-sensitive children, nor train them.
“The Jedi Order was far from perfect,” she told him, a faraway look in her eyes. “Its time has passed, as has mine. I trust you to build something better, without the Order’s, or my, influence.”
All Luke is left with, now, is books and artefacts he should not follow, and the memory of a thousand lights burned into his mind, still. But these Wookiees need help, so Luke squares his shoulders, banishes doubt from his mind, and sets out to help.
Their city is on fire, has been for several days. The Wookiees are evacuating to a safer place on the planet, closer to the water. They do not have the means to rain water on the blazing trees, nor do they want to; they tell Luke it is the will of Nature. Luke just nods and helps a young Wookiee across the river.
They almost don’t need his abilities; they just need an additional pair of arms, and Luke is happy to provide. It is different, not to be looked on as the hero everybody seems to think he is. Here, he is just another person, and Luke is fine with that.
Luke is not the only human here. He had heard some of the rebels had settled on Kashyyyk, invited by the Wookiees, but he had underestimated their number; they are almost as much as the Wookiees, all living peacefully together. And now, in time of crisis, Luke can see the bonds between them, the strong sense of community encompassing every one of them, and he wonders. Even without their homes, he knows they will stand together and rebuild. Can the same be said of him?
There is a man, watching Luke from afar. Luke had not noticed him before, but now that they are away from the smoke burning his eyes, he is painfully aware of his gaze. The man is much older than Luke, with dark skin and long black hair, and as much as Luke tries, he cannot sense anything from him. The Force is quiet around him, and Luke feels a shiver run down his spine as the man takes a step towards him.
“Skywalker,” he says, and his voice is deep, and full of secrets. “The last Jedi.” Somehow, it carries across the small settlement, impossibly loud, but none other than Luke seems to hear it.
He understands, then. He does not know the man, but the Force does, rejoices around his presence, celebrates his return like a long-lost child.
The man grins, and it stretches the golden line that crosses his nose.
“I’m Quinlan Vos,” he says, holding up a hand to shake Luke’s. “I believe I can be of some help.”
After that, Luke starts actively looking for others of his kind. Quinlan Vos had taught him a lot, in the few days Luke had remained on Kashyyyk. He had told him of Force powers, of abilities that one could learn, of some that were innate. Luke did not have any books, or paper to write it down; Vos told Luke it did not matter. The knowledge would stay with him, he said. If it did not, then it was not that important.
“Children,” Vos had said, gaze fond as he watched his granddaughter deftly climbs a tree, “are the most impossibly wonderful beings you will ever meet. They need teaching, yes. They need guidance. But most of all, they need love. And they will always, always, surprise you. Do you understand?”
Luke had asked, when he left, if he wanted to help. Vos had looked at his family, waiting behind him, and said “You can find me if you really need it.”
Somehow, Luke doubted he would be able to.
Luke spends months roaming the galaxy. He sits, for hours, in his X-Wing cockpit, tries to meditate and bring forward the memory of a thousand lights. He thinks he encounters a few Force-sensitive children, but he is not sure; even if he was, he has nowhere to train them. He writes their location down, resolves to come back in a few years. He is afraid, he knows; afraid of the responsibility, of the commitment. He still feels unprepared, unsuitable for the task that falls on his shoulders. It feels heavy, drags him down, and he wonders if he will ever feel ready for it.
He feels a pull, in the Thakwaa system, and follows it almost blindly. R2 beeps when they enter the atmosphere, when they land between mountains. There is no city here, he tells Luke, not even a house on my radar. Luke climbs out of the ship and follows.
There’s a cliff, standing above him, and Luke’s hands bleed as he climbs. It is steep, but not impossibly so, and the wind does not bite as much as he had feared. He reaches the top, and does not startle as he finds a man waiting for him, sitting cross-legged on the ground.
The man’s eyes open as Luke straightens up, and a smile graces his features.
“Luke Skywalker,” he says. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
Unlike Vos’s, his presence is not hidden from the Force; it shines and pulses like Ahsoka’s, and Luke does not hesitate to sit in front of him.
“You’re a Jedi,” Luke says, and it is not a question.
The man inclines his head. “I like to believe so,” he says. “My name is Cal.”
Luke does not know how he ends up alone on this unknown planet. He does not remember approaching it, even less landing on it. R2 is not here, and his X-Wing is nowhere to be found. The Force is strangely loud, here, but calm, peaceful. So, Luke walks and walks and walks.
The days are longer here, he soon notices. Or maybe night does not exist. He cannot see any sun in the sky, despite the soft light illuminating the colorful plants.
Luke can only feel one living presence, so far away from him; but it is the only one, so Luke walks, and walks, and walks.
He finally finds the man, but the man does not like his presence. He snarls at Luke, says “Just leave me alone!”, throws a few rocks at him, and flees the scene.
Luke does not understand.
“There is always good, in everyone,” Cal had told him, on top of the mountain. “Sometimes, it is well hidden. Sometimes, you won’t be enough to bring it forward. But you must never forget this.”
So Luke keeps walking, and follows the man.
He seems close to Luke’s age, but his dark hair is shabby and his clothes are torn to pieces. He appears to know the planet; sometimes, he stops and picks up a fruit, and Luke carefully picks the same kind.
The man is aware that Luke is following; Luke can feel it in the Force. But he does not turn around to look, so Luke keeps walking behind him.
Suddenly, the man stops, and Luke realizes that there is not much distance between them anymore.
“You’re real,” the man says, turning around and squinting at him.
“I think so,” Luke replies.
“How did you end up here?” the man asks, coming a little closer. Luke notices a lightsaber hanging at his waist.
“I don’t remember,” Luke says.
The man lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Great.” He turns back, and Luke scrambles to catch up.
“Wait!” he calls out. “Who are you?”
The man does not stop. “Ezra Bridger,” he answers.
It takes them a while to get off the planet. Luke follows Ezra for a long, long time, but does not feel tired. In the end, they both feel a pull from the Force, and they stumble upon the place Luke had woken up in; his X-Wing is waiting for them.
“This was not there before,” Ezra says, and R2 beeps from under the ship.
It is a tight fit, but they both squeeze into the cockpit and take off. When they leave the atmosphere, Luke turns the ship around to look at the planet; there is nothing but empty space in front of them.
“Huh,” is all Ezra says, and Luke enters the coordinates for Yavin IV.
Ezra reunites with his family. He listens to Luke’s pleas, but still turns him down.
“I need some time,” he explains. “Maybe later.”
Luke understands; still, he would have liked for Ezra to stay.
“You’re a great Jedi, Luke Skywalker,” Ezra says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can do it. You just need to trust yourself.”
Luke nods, and bites his lip, and watches Ezra leave.
Luke is meditating. He is sitting in a forest of bamboo, wind gently ruffling his hair. In his mind, he pictures the old temple. It is as dark as he remembers, deep into the temple.
He walks down the halls, and this time, his footsteps do not echo. He lets his fingers trail on the walls, but he does not feel the cracks.
The last room is as he left it, the stone still as white as it was when he last saw it. This time, Ben does not appear, but Luke can feel his presence all the same.
“I am not alone,” he repeats. “I am ready.”
He puts his hand on the stone, and feels echoes of Jedi Past doing the same. He feels warm, breathes out slowly, and looks at the thousand lights blinking in front of him.
He concentrates, this time, focuses on each presence. They flicker before his eyes, too fast for him to really see; but he does not want them to slow down.
Some are clearer than others; there is a boy with green hair, tugging on his mother’s hand; a small Wookiee, laughing; a Rodian, talking with her friends; a baby, cradled in his father’s arms.
Though they are not yet ready, Luke commits their faces to memory. These children, he knows, will one day be his students.
A young Togruta, running through a field; an Aqualish boy, sitting on a table; a teenage Weequay, playing with a ball.
A small green child, calling from another stone.
Luke opens his eyes. It is time to go.