Storming off down the rocky pathway, every step familiar, the shaggy Jedi raised his staff suddenly and roared his rage into the darkness of the ocean beyond.
Luke felt a gentle tremor through his head, the scent of cool linen and jasmine suddenly in the air.
Leia
Their Force bond was shallow, but every now and then, with great concentration, they could communicate like a whisper into a bottle sent across the sea. He opened his mind to her, trying to strengthen the bond. He sensed her worry for him.
He focused.
"Rey. Danger."
A feeling of questioning. His lips tightened, knowing the pain this would cause his sister.
"Ben. Rey. Force. Bond."
Shock came down the line.
"Powerful. Developed."
Worry coloured the shock. He tried to control his anger, but knew she felt it anyway.
"They. Can. Touch."
He was unprepared for the flood of hope. It transmuted into a feeling he sort of recognized as parental.
The memory from an age ago surfaced hard. Han's face was an open book of emotion, glowing Leia was handing Luke a tiny bundle. He looked at the first baby he'd ever seen, the little face of his nephew. Ben's eyes were a midnight blue, and fixed eerily steadily on Luke's face. The baby raised womb wizened finger and slowly touched Luke's chin. There was a surge in the Force, emanating from the newborn, and Luke was overwhelmed by love and fear and joy. A tear hung in the corner of his eye. Son of my sister, Solo and Skywalker, you are welcome here.
Luke shook his head in present, the memory's emotional impact fading quickly.
"Rey. Danger." He sent again firmly.
Two athletic hormonal attention-starved brats, he thought, who can touch each across space. He knew exactly how this would end if uninterrupted and so did Leia. The difference was their perspective.
He felt the Force around him grow more powerful, his sister's scent stronger, and for the first time he heard her directly.
"Redemption." She sent.
"Heartbreak." He countered. "Darkness."
"Grandchildren."
He rolled his eyes.
Yes, he had no doubt that that's exactly where it would end up. Thoughtless, clueless young pair making the next generation of Skywalkers to screw up the galaxy.
"Love." She sent, tinged with questioning.
He carefully considered his answer. The intimate scene he'd interrupted, the tender soppy expressions, the palpable longing, the familiarity.
"Love." He confirmed. Anger fading, he turned back on the path to look at the stone hut. In another life he'd have been happy to call that young woman his niece.
But he couldn't find it in himself to believe her capable of bringing back Ben Solo. Not yet, at least.