Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or Star Wars.


Luke got nostalgic every time he was in Las Vegas. He wasn't even in the city proper, just at the airport waiting for the private plane to fly him to Naboo. But still, it was nostalgic.

Leia's godparents, the Organas, had taken Luke and Leia to Vegas for their high school graduation present. It had probably been the best trip of Luke's life. Sadly, now the Organas were both deceased.

Their house, Alderaan, had exploded.

It had happened about two years ago, and the most frustrating thing about the whole episode was the police's inability to solve the crime. Sure, there had been evidence found at the scene, but all of it had pointed to Owen Lars, who had passed away a few months prior in a freak barbecuing accident.

Luke knew that his father had blown up Alderaan with the Organas inside. Darth Vader had hated them for years. But every time Luke brought up the subject, Darth Vader's response was, "Son, how do you know what happened? You weren't there!"

"Dad, you were the only one who had access to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru's after they died. Except for the detectives, and I couldn't see the detectives killing the Organas!"

"Why not? Son, you weren't there! I still stand by my theory of the Organas having a gas leak in their basement that they didn't know about."

The deaths of Luke's godparents had been strictly an accident—Luke was even there when it had happened. But there was no doubt that the deaths of the Organas had been clear-cut murder. However, trying to talk to Dad about it was like trying to talk that new man on the base, Binks, into plastic surgery to fix his unusually long ears. Pointless.

But now both Luke and Leia's godparents were deceased, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. Sure, Luke had inherited his relatives' farm—he was renting it out until he retired from the military—and Leia had inherited about three million dollars, but they'd much rather have their godparents back.

Leia had needed the money. Real estate in Greenland was expensive. Han had wanted to live in Greenland because it was a remote place where he could relax.

"Bull," Luke had said to Leia over the phone in one of their rare long-distance calls. "He's at it again. Smuggling, I mean."

"You think I'm stupid?" Leia snapped to her brother. "I know he is!"

"You can't get involved in international weapons running and not have it turn into illegal smuggling, Leia. Why don't you divorce him?"

"He's never home, Luke, and neither am I. So it's almost like we're divorced already. I kind of like it this way."

Now, this was the Leia that Luke knew, the Leia that couldn't stand Han Solo. She'd hated him up until college, when she discovered him bartending off campus. He wasn't enrolled in classes; Han had never been much of an academic. In fact, Luke was still certain that Han still spelled the word 'circle' with an 's.'

But Han had been a charmer, and an inebriated Leia had fallen for him. They'd developed a love-hate relationship. She hated him because he was still the jerk she'd known in high school, but she loved him because he was the one person she actually knew upon moving to New York City to enroll in Columbia's International Studies program, and he actually seemed to care for her and protect her.

She'd only married him because she'd ended up becoming pregnant with Ben. But now Ben was at the Anakin Skywalker Reform School in Naboo.

Leia had ended up representing Greenland, her adopted home country, as a non-voting observer in the United Nations. So everything had worked out for Leia, and Han, and possibly Ben—if Luke's father could talk some sense into that rebellious grandson of his.


"Grandpa, I want to change my name."

Darth Vader looked over his newspaper, which he was still busy reading at the dining room table. His grandson, Ben Solo, was moodily eating his Space-O's.

"You do, son? That's swell. I always knew you were going to be a Skywalker. Ben Skywalker, that's what it'll be, right? I didn't know what your mother was thinking, marrying that Solo kid." Ben was Darth's grandson, but Darth still called him 'son' out of pure laziness.

"Actually, Grandpa," said Ben quietly. "I'm really changing my name. I want to be Kylo Ren."

"Kyle who?"

"Kylo Ren." Ben paused. "It sounds goth, and punk, and edgy. What do you think?"

"Well, grandkiddo, you still have to remember that a name change is lifelong. Do you still want to be Kyle Remm when you're fifty?"

"It's Kylo Ren, Grandpa, and yes, I want to."

"I don't know, son. What will your mother say about you changing your name?"

"I don't have to officially change it," Ben pointed out. "I mean, your name is still Anakin Skywalker on paper, but everyone knows to call you Darth Vader."

Darth paused. "You're right."

"So, from now on, I want everyone calling me Kylo Ren."

Darth shrugged, figuring it was just some dumb phase his grandson would grow out of sooner or later. "Alright, then." He picked up the paper again. "By the way, clean your room. I don't want your Uncle Luke to see what a slob you are."

"Uncle Luke doesn't have to go into my room."

"Well, it used to be his room, so he might want to see what you've done with it."

"Fine," Ben rolled his eyes. He bent down and gave BB8 a soft kick. "BB8, clean my room."

BB8 motored off, beeping unrepeatable swear words.

"Aren't you excited about seeing your Uncle Luke?" Darth asked from behind the paper.

"No."

"Why not?"

"He's so weird, Grandpa. Last time I saw him was when I was ten, and he didn't talk to me because he was on some sort of Jedaist vow of silence for an entire month."

"Er—well, that's because your Uncle Luke is very…spiritual."

"Yeah, whatever," Ben replied gloomily.