This one is for Treenahasthaal - it will get better.
Dropping out of hyperspace, he quickly scanned his surroundings to make sure that he was alone. Ever since walking into the trap they had set from him on Bespin, he had been more than paranoid whenever he'd arrived somewhere, double and triple checking that nobody was lying in wait for him. Space seemed empty enough for the time being, but nevertheless, he toggled his intercom. "Artoo, would you please do a long-range scan for me? See if there's anyone lurking on the other side of the planet? Just to be sure?"
Artoo's reassuring little beep in his headphones had a surprisingly soothing effect on him, and he managed to relax the tiniest bit while the astromech was performing his scan. Even when still in shock over what had happened at Bespin, he had dimly felt relief, gratitude even, to find Artoo on board the Falcon after they had been separated by a door closing between them on the gas mining station. Artoo had become more than a tool to him in the years that he had known him, and while he would never have believed it possible the day his uncle had purchased the astromech and the protocol droid on the arid ball of dust rotating through space in front of him, he now felt that Artoo, just like Threepio, was his friend and even reciprocated the feeling to a certain extent.
This was the first mission during which he was going to identify himself as a Jedi, and he was grateful to have his friend by his side for it.
.-.
Gently setting the X-Wing down near the humble structure, he carefully shut down all his in-flight systems, doing a quick check to make certain that everything was still working at peak efficiency. If things went south, or if they had someone on their tails getting out, he would need to be able to make a quick escape and he wouldn't have the time to do it then. When he was done, he popped his canopy and invited Artoo to get out of the blistering heat of the twin suns and join him inside.
While the weathered wooden door wasn't fully ajar, it was slightly cracked open and the sand had made its way inside. There were little drifts of it everywhere, no surface safe from the intrusion. Looking around the living area, taking in the sense of abandonment and loneliness that the place exuded, he was thrown back to his first and only previous visit, and for a brief moment the grief and horror over losing Ben on the Death Star flared up again as he allowed himself to feel the place that he had called home during his decades of self-imposed exile.
Sitting on the molded bench, leaning against the wall as Ben coaxed Leia's message out of Artoo, who had, until then, stubbornly refused to play it in full, going so far as to trick Luke into removing his restraining bolt to keep it secret.
Watching, mesmerized, as Ben opened his impressive wooden chest to retrieve a cylinder of brushed metal, with a round disc at one end and a switch on it.
Feeling that same cylinder, the handle of a lightsaber, thrumming in his own hands, the power harnessed in its electronic insides palpable, as he wielded it for the first time inside this very room.
Ben's voice, calm yet laced with pain and loss, as he told him the history of the Jedi Knights of the Republic.
He forced himself to stop reminiscing at this point. Feeling that it would be unwise to fully believe what he had been told at Bespin, he first wanted to talk to Yoda before taking that information at face value. After all, his enemy had every reason to sow dissent among the remaining Jedi, thereby weakening them for the conflict they were sure to engage in in the imminent future.
If he stopped believing in Ben and Yoda, what would he have left?
For now, he wanted to concentrate on his current mission, on freeing the good, loyal friend he had found in the wake of that first visit to Ben's home, so long ago – the man Leia had come to love. Even if she had not yet said as much out loud, he could still see it in her face, in her eyes, in her stance, every time she looked at the Falcon, every time Chewie dwarfed her by hugging her close for both her sake and his own, every time any mention was made of the Corellian smuggler within her hearing.
As Artoo cleared the door, Luke turned around to close it and then looked for a static broom to clean the room so he would be able to use it during his stay here.
The friend he had with him, and the friends who had preceded them here, would first free Han Solo.
Next on his own agenda was clearing the names of Ben and Yoda – or, if they had indeed lied to him, finding out their motivation for doing so. Not all lies, he knew, were evil. Some were meant to protect, and in this case, he was more than willing to give the only two Jedi he had ever known the benefit of the doubt.
After all, they were his friends.