The Last Skywalkers
Unidentified Planet
62 ABY
Two Jedi stood alone on a hill overlooking their encampment, hidden by the night. The lights from the base below were dimmed, and the energy output from the hastily constructed buildings was at a minimum, lest the wrong people detect their presence. The shorter Jedi looked up at the sky and sighed.
"I wish I could remember him."
It was the same thing she said every time they got on this subject. Her companion looked over his shoulder at the red-haired young woman in tan Jedi robes. She was one of the few who still wore them. Like her mother before her, she held fast to the traditions of her unpopular parent. Well, to some of the traditions, anyway.
"Ben," she asked quietly, rubbing her thumbs together absently. "Do you think he could come back?"
As much as it hurt him sometimes to look at her, to see the familiar in her young face, Ben turned around and smiled at the woman. "There's always hope, Allana. But I'd be lying if I promised he would."
She continued to stare at her hands. "I know," she said matter-of-factly, as though she were chastising herself. "But I still have those dreams…"
Ben resisted the urge to tell her dreaming would get her nowhere, that people died and people fell, and there was nothing he or any Jedi could do about it anymore. Instead, he put his arm around her and hugged her to him. "Forget him. You have family here, you know."
Allana's expression darkened. "For how long? Jaina's sons are itching for revenge against the Sith. One day you won't be able to hold them back. And then what family will be left? Just you and me and all our sad, pathetic memories."
The bitterness in her words struck Ben hard. Usually she was so calm, a rarity in the middle of war. Something had set her off tonight. "You've been carrying this for years," Ben said knowingly. "Withholding your memories and emotions is as much a path to the dark side as misusing them."
Allana looked up at him with piercing gray eyes. "Don't preach to me, Ben. I never withheld half as many memories as you."
The older Jedi sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. "Talking with you doesn't get any easier."
"Are you going to let the boys choose their own fate? Or will they continue to be confined to scouting missions?"
"Those can be the most dangerous kind," Ben replied sharply. "What else would you suggest? That I send them to the Sith, lightsabers waving?"
"If you don't recognize their abilities, then that's exactly what they'll end up doing. This war is destroying what family we have left. If they're going to die, then at least let them decide how they'll do it."
Ben turned and paced back and forth, arms folded. He looked over at his cousin. "Tahiri would never forgive me."
"She'd probably kill you, but let's not argue the finer points."
Ben closed his eyes and prayed that the Force would give him guidance. It had become so hard to hear its whisper; sometimes he thought it had abandoned him completely. He no longer wanted the burden of sending others to die for a galaxy that had long since turned its back on him.
"Who would I send with them?" Ben asked helplessly. "I can't keep asking the Jedi to risk themselves for my family."
Allana lifted her chin imperiously – a Hapan trait, no doubt. "We are all Jedi, and we risk our lives for each other because that is our duty. No one can look at you and say that the Skywalker family has not done its share to protect this galaxy. We are together to the end." She nodded her head and watched his response carefully. Almost as an afterthought she added, "and if you're looking for volunteers to watch over the boys, then I'll gladly do it."
Ben shook his head. "I can't, Allana. I know they're ready, but I just can't do it. I can't lose anyone else."
The young woman's eyes grew solemn. "The day is coming when it will no longer be your choice," she said softly. "We all have to fight."
She was right, of course. He had known that for a long time. He couldn't protect Jaina's sons from their destiny, any more than he could protect Allana from hers. But knowing the truth didn't make it easier to accept. He stared back at Allana, wishing for the millionth time that she could have her father back.
"You would have liked him," Ben murmured, returning to the thing that had sparked their conversation. "He was one of the most caring people I ever knew."
"I know." Allana stood still, her gaze focusing on the base in the distance. "Get some sleep," she said after a moment. "You never know when you'll get another chance."
Allana strode past Ben, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Yes, she was right. He would have to make a decision, even if that decision might tear his family apart. He looked up at the night sky and blew out a long, weary breath.
"Forgive me," he whispered to the air. "I tried to do what was right."