Chapter One

Well I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth,
The minor fall and the major lift
The tragic king composing Hallelujah.


11 ABY


"He won't come out."

It was hours after the sun had already set and even longer since Han and Leia's son should have been tucked into bed, sound asleep. After a long day's work, Han wasted no time intercepting his wife as she walked through the front door of their home: a modest dwelling far from the city on neutral Chandrilla. They'd chosen the planet for its beauty and peace, though Leia wouldn't admit to Han how it reminded her of Alderaan. More importantly, it was the perfect hub for her to conduct her affairs whilst maintaining a relatively anonymous façade. Much had happened in both her and Han's history – much that would call unwanted attention upon them in times of peace as well as in times of war. For their budding little family's sake, Leia needed and prayed for peace. And in Han's eyes, the further they could be from the so-called magical mumbo-jumbo, the better… until it bloomed within his own home.

Leia saw how Han itched each time she left for the day. She could see the yearning for freedom in his eyes, and she wondered how much longer he would withstand the calling. It wasn't for lack of trying; Han stayed of his own free will, even though he would disappear for hours to visit the Falcon in its private, unlisted hangar. Still, he came back. For his son, Han would always come back…But Leia knew the day was coming, when a few-hour trip to the hangar would turn into a few-day or few-week trip, beyond. Perhaps more.

When Leia didn't answer, lost in her thoughts, Han grew more flustered. "I don't know what you expect me to do if he won't come out. I tried…" His words trailed off and he ran a hand haggardly through his hair. Leia believed him. He always tried. Even when the boy who idolized him was too ashamed to go to him, Han still tried. But as a man who never truly knew his own father, Han struggled in being one, himself.

It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, and Han was making that fact blatantly apparent. It was beginning to happen far too often, driving a wedge between their once united front and leaving Han to feel helpless. Something inside of him broke each time and, at a loss, he resigned to waiting for his wife to return and do the apparent impossible. Helplessly he would watch Leia disappear behind the closed door of their son's room, only to emerge in quiet, disheartened victory… Though it was difficult to call it that when their child was sure to endure only a few nights' peace before starting all over again.

Leia could do what Han could not, and the guilt ate at her for it. She knew it hurt him, because he simply couldn't figure it out: the connection Leia shared with their son that Han did not. Yet she also remembered the first time she tried to explain it, and how Han had not wanted to listen. It was beyond him and it was humbling when he realized that he would never connect the same way she could – or, he feared, at all. He couldn't help his son, and it tore him apart.

Giving Han's arm a reassuring squeeze, Leia hurried to Ben's room. The mechanized door was left open, a usual request from her six year old. Every light, of which there were many, was lit to its highest setting. Stepping inside, Leia could feel the vibrations of everything; the floor beneath her feet, the spire of the bed's footboard against her hand, even the air itself seemed palpable in its tension. The room was alive and trembling, but nothing more so than the small bump beneath the covers in the center of the bed.

Their son was so strong with the force, and Leia wish she could tell Han what he refused to acknowledge. She wished he would join in her amazement of their son's remarkable potential. But for six years now, Han made it clear that it was not something he accepted. It was too dangerous, he insisted. He didn't want it encouraged or nurtured. He said he wanted it quelled, for his son's sake and theirs. Han had seen enough disaster in the lives of force-sensitives to last him a lifetime, and he refused to watch his son follow the same path.

"Ben," Leia murmured, her voice just a hair above a whisper. "Please come out, my little one." Beneath the heavy quilt, Ben visibly shook his head, so Leia followed him under. Safely beneath the warm tent, she took one look at his tear-streaked cheeks and damp eyelashes before pulling him into her lap.

"I hear things when the lights go out, momma," he whimpered. Leia shushed him knowingly.

"What do you do when I'm not here?"

Ben looked up at his mother, his eyes wide. With much steadier hands now that she was near, he pulled the blanket bit by bit until their heads were free and it was bundled under his chin. Scanning the room full of warm, bright light, he inspected his handiwork.

"You lit all these yourself?" Leia chuckled when Ben nodded vigorously. She eyed a lamp mounted high on the wall. "Even that one? How did you reach it way up there?"

"I-I didn't," Ben whispered. "I didn't reach it, momma."

Sighing, Leia pulled her son tighter to her chest. "Tell me, my little one," she asked again. "What do you do when I am not here?"

Ben's muffled voice murmured from where he hid in her tunic. "Find the light."

"That's right," Leia answered while trying to hide the worried strain in her voice. "When you get scared, just look for the light." It was the same mantra she recited each morning before she'd leave, her work calling her away no matter how much Ben begged her to stay. Or if she missed their usual bedtime ritual, and returned to find him in a similar state. When they were apart, even miles away, she would feel the little tug in her thoughts and would whisper it into the air. When he was an infant she could sense that same, needy pull whenever he cried. To her dismay, the pull was waning over the years. But still, it was there, and though Leia's heart sunk each time her son reached out for her through their bond, she was grateful for it. At least with it, she could help him navigate the growing power within him the best that she could.

"It's there, little one," she promised, rocking her baby long after his eyes drifted closed. "The light will always be there…"


Present Day


"You seek answers that I cannot give."

Rey felt the color drain from her face. Standing in the presence of Luke Skywalker, the supposed "only hope" and plethora of knowledge she had come to expect, Rey felt as if the ground was giving way beneath her feet. Which it very well could have been, there on the highest peak of the island of Ahch-To, its grit and grain crunching beneath her feet and the wind kicking about as if it wasn't sure of which direction it came. She'd found him. She'd found him… not the Resistance. Not the First Order. It was her victory. She'd done so much more than what would be expected of a mere scavenger: rescued BB-8, memorized the map, and flew the Millennium Falcon to deliver the legendary (and lost) Luke Skywalker his lightsaber… the very lightsaber she'd used to strike down Kylo Ren.

"Do not think his name."

Rey looked indignant. "Hey! Get out of my head!" She nearly stamped her foot in annoyance, had she not remembered who she was speaking to. It was unpleasant knowing someone could so readily step inside her mind, feel around, and take what they wanted. The first time she felt such an invasion was at the hands of a creature in a mask. He'd slipped in so easily, and she'd pushed back… Rey couldn't remember just how she'd done it, but she had with all of her might. She didn't know what frightened her more: Kylo Ren's presence in her mind and how complete it had felt, or the fact that ever since she'd forced him out, nothing had rid her head of the deafening, ceaseless hum left in his wake.

"How did you know I was thinking of –"

"Don't say it, either."

Rey deadpanned and took a deep breath. "Why? Are we in danger here?" When Luke did not answer, Rey swallowed her panic. "Is there anything you can tell me? Anything at all? We need your help, Luke. I need training. I-I need you to show me the ways of the force!" The old man looked at her as if she were asking the world of him, and her heart sunk into her stomach. She needed something… anything to calm her mind. A way to regain control – to ease the static that trembled persistently beneath her skin.

"Not until I know you can close your mind off to him."

Rey pursed her lips. In a flurry of excitement upon finally coming face to face with Luke Skywalker, she'd nearly bowled him over with the influx of knowledge that spilled from her mouth. Of it all – Leia and the Resistance's plans, Han's death, the First Order's endeavors – her connection with… with him was what stood out to Luke. He seemed unsurprised by his own nephew's pull over her as though he had an answer for it. And though the Resistance's mission was high on Rey's priority list, her hopes had been just as high in finding the Master Jedi and in finding that answer. Or at the very least a sense of direction. Anything.

Yet herehe was, a stalwart and guarded man who hardly said a thing and feared a name. She'd extended his own weapon to him, asking him to help her save the galaxy, and he refused to accept it.

"Master Jedi…"

"Luke," he waved his hand as if frustrated with such titles. "Just Luke."

Rey was relieved, the tension settling. The nicety felt foreign on her tongue, anyway. Such formality was never necessary on Jakku. Everyone knew their place and not many were above the others, if any at all. "Luke. So will you teach me, then? Will you train me to be a Jedi?"

All of his oddness, his quirks, his eccentricity all froze with that one question. Had she not known better, Rey would have thought he was force-frozen, just as she had been on… She didn't want to think of it. And before she could anyway, Luke was spinning on his heel and descending the mountain.

"I do not train Jedi. Not anymore."

Rey scrambled after him. "Wait! After everything we've done to find you – after everything that's happened – you are refusing to help?"

"The Jedi were wrong," he spat, his sights set ahead of him. "They believed that they could do nothing and peace and light would persevere. It is why they are nearly extinct. I will not train more to follow in their footsteps, just to meet their death."

"Then don't 'do nothing.'" Rey challenged, confused. What little she knew of the force and of the Jedi came from Leia's briefings over what to expect of her assumed, but now defunct training. Hadn't the Jedi believed in fighting for peace? "Luke, you can help us make it right. You don't understand –"

Whirling about, Luke stopped Rey in her tracks, a tired and tortured expression settling into the lines of his face. "Oh, but I do. It is you who do not understand, little one. I have already been asked to do exactly what you are expecting of me, and my answer has always been the same. That is why I came here –" he spread his arms, gesturing to the world around him, " – of my own free will. I left my sister the map so that she may one day find me. Not the Resistance. The fact that you are here tells me that what I feared is true. The Resistance is using Leia for their own agenda: to build an army of Jedi, expendable in nature after their purpose is served. I will take no part in it. I will not be the reason for any more death."

"It's not true," Rey begged, but for the first time since her and the Resistance's victory in collecting the map, the fire within her was dwindling. "Your sister leads the Resistance. I believe in her cause!"

Luke shook his head and sighed dejectedly. "They are using you as well, then. They sent you to convince me to return for the greater good. But the greater good will not be achieved in the hands of Jedi. There is much you do not know, and I fear that the more you learn, the more you will see that I am right."

Rey blinked slowly, confused and frustrated over everything that came from Luke's mouth. Of it all, the most jarring was what he had called her. Little one. Somehow, it felt familiar. Determined as always, she pushed it aside. "Then let me judge for myself. What can you tell me?"

Luke scrutinized her, and Rey couldn't decide if his expression was angry or regretful. "I can tell you that you should worry about yourself. Because he will find you – the one you are truly running from – and we don't have much time."