Dying wasn't quite like Luke had expected. For one, he had planned on dying of old age and loneliness, and two, Yoda had never given him a straight answer when he'd asked what it felt like.
He was on Alderaan, and he was young again. Smooth skin, blond hair, joints that bent without pain. A breeze rustled the leaves on the trees, and he could hear water somewhere close. He'd never had the chance to see Leia's blue-green planet before it was destroyed, but from the stories she'd told him, and the holos he'd seen, it was just as he'd imagined. It was quiet.
"Kid!"
Luke spun around."Han!" Jogging towards him was the young, handsome smuggler he'd met on Tatooine, with the eyes of an old man.
They embraced, laughing. Then Han pulled back and punched him in the shoulder. "That was for running off to some stupid island!"
Luke rubbed at his arm, shamefaced. "Yeah, I deserved that-"
Han hauled him back in for another hug, squeezing him tight. "And this is for coming back," he whispered. "You did good, kid, real good."
Luke blinked back tears, and buried his face in his friend's shoulder. He didn't know how long they stood there, but finally he pulled back enough to see Han's face. "So you saw everything."
"Yeah," Han said, running a hand through his hair. He looked up at him with a grin. "That Rey's really somethin', isn't she?"
Luke laughed. "Yeah. How'd you come across her, anyway? I didn't really have time to hear the details."
"How 'bout I tell you over dinner," Han said, slinging an arm over Luke's shoulders. "It's a hell of a story."
It was quiet. They were young again, and together. And there was hope.