Quick note, just wanna say, if you haven't seen it, there's a spin off book that's a collection of short stories covering things that have happened in the 19 year gap Zelina and Luke have been on Tatooine (As well as some new stories about pre empire era). There will be some explanations on how things have changed, like explanations about how Zelina and Luke have met some people, how Zelina got her second lightsaber, etc. Also, some stories or events mentioned in passing will be covered in that collection as well. Of Love and War: Us Against the World.
Yaaaaaaaayyyyy I'm back lol I've been slowly working on this chapter trying to get it right. I highly suggest following that spin off because there will be important stuff in there.
Plllleeeaaassseeee Review! I love reviews, reviews are fuel for writing. :)
Enjoy!
This side of the house was silent, since his mother was busy making dinner and had left him in his room to play. He didn't mind, he enjoyed playing with his toy ships and making them have dogfights with each other. The Imperial ships lost, of course. Usually he had the heroes from his mother's stories, especially his father, be the winners. He might have accidentally broken a few toys while playing, but his mother was kind enough to replace those toys every now and then.
Of course, now that he was older, he wasn't always playing. When he wasn't at school, or helping Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru on the farm, or helping his mother after hours at the cantina, he liked to tear things apart to see how they worked, and see if he could fix them. He was trying to convince his mother to let him start working towards being a pilot, but for some reason she was resistant. She would give him things to read about piloting, but she hadn't let him fly anything yet. One day she would, though, he just knew it.
Right now, however, as much as he tried to entertain himself with his belongings, nothing stuck. It had been like that for the past several days, but not nearly as bad as it was now. He kept picking things up with the intention to do something, but he just ended up setting it right back down.
Maybe if he tried to find something outside of his room to do he'd have more luck?
Quiet as ever, as if making any noise would somehow disturb his mother who seemed to have the patience of a saint with him most of the time, Luke slipped out of his room. Once out in the center space of their home, he paused, unsure of where he wanted to go to try and entertain himself. The refresher and the storage room were both an instant no, and his mother was making dinner in the kitchen, which left the living room and…
His gaze passed over his mother's room, which normally would have also been an instant no, but this time something felt different. This time his eyes were drawn back to the door, and he felt the sudden urge to go inside. He wasn't supposed to, so he probably should just go into the living room anyway and see if he could entertain himself in there.
Yet, his mother was busy in the kitchen, so…surely it wouldn't hurt to take a quick peek? To figure out why he had the sudden urge to go inside? His mother had told him more than once to always follow his instincts and strong feelings like this, so wasn't snooping just…following what his mother told him to do?
Before he could stop himself and admit the faulty logic of that thought process, Luke found himself already moving towards his mother's room, casting a partially guilty look over his shoulder towards the kitchen directly across the center room where his mother was. He still slipped inside despite the guilt, the door's hiss as it slid open and shut making him jumpy.
So now that he was inside…why was he here?
Puzzled, Luke looked with disinterest around the simply decorated room, ignoring the bed and passing over the small dresser with a mirror on top. For a moment he thought to check the small footlocker at the foot of the bed, but something didn't seem right about checking it. Instead, he found himself walking over to the roughly spun rug that lay in the open space of the room between the bed and dresser, covered in the sand and dirt of the room. He knelt down beside it with his back to the door, running his hand over the sand-infested surface, and while the feel of the fabric brought a faint sense of familiarity, it didn't seem to be what he was looking for. Instead, his hand wandered to the edge of the rug before pulling it back, moving the now partially rolled up rug by the wall.
For a few seconds, he thought he was simply staring at the floor, until his outstretched hand brushed along the sandy surface and revealed a flash of metal. Surprised, Luke swept aside the sand far more vigorously, revealing a small metal box buried in the ground, it's latch and lid facing upwards.
Well, he'd already come this far, he might as well open it. Maybe this was why he'd been drawn to the room.
There was a soft his as Luke opened the box, some sand falling within as he lifted the lid to reveal the contents within.
There was a decent collection of some sort of cube shaped device, some chips, and an old datapad to go with it, as well as what seemed to be a small sack at the way bottom acting as a cushion for the contents of the box to rest upon. While he was curious about the cubes, he was far more drawn to the cylindrical object that seemed to be placed with reverence in its own corner of the box. Looking at it brought on a strong pull towards it, with a far stronger and deeper sense of familiarity falling over him. Something warm seemed to be coiling in his chest as he reached out on instinct, electricity seeming to spark between his outstretched hand and the object within.
He'd seen something similar with his mother. Rarely, and it was always well hidden, but usually if there was some kind of serious trouble, she had something like this hidden on her, and he knew she kept one far more accessible in her room. Hers hadn't drawn him in as strongly as this one did now.
Luke's hand closed over the object, and he slowly lifted it out of the box, noting that it was heavier than he'd initially thought it would be. The metal was cool to the touch, and looked slightly warn and marked, like it had been through some things. The fingers of his other hand traced over the curves and details of the object as his hand turned it over, looking it over in wonder. It almost brought to mind…he wasn't sure. Images, perhaps? Hazy from his imagination, but in his mind he thought he saw…
"Luke? What are you doing in here?"
Luke scrambled to his feet at his mother's voice, attempting to hide his discovery behind his back as he turned to face her.
The disapproval Luke could see in his mother's eyes made him duck his head as she passed him, kneeling down by her secret box in the floor.
"How did you find this?" she asked, her voice a little harder and sharper, but not enough to make him think he was about to get grounded for life. Not to mention, for some reason her words didn't quite sound like a question. Almost like she already knew the answer and was simply looking for a confirmation.
His mind raced to try and think of an excuse that would get him in the least trouble, hands fiddling with his find still hidden behind his back.
"I…" He hesitated, thought better about lying, and reluctantly showed his mother his find. "I just felt like I should look. Until I found this."
Something flashed across his mother's face as she took the cylinder from Luke, turning it over in her hands as a myriad of emotions flickered across her face one after another. Pain kept showing up repeatedly, as well as a wistful, far away glaze across her features. She sighed, nodding as if she was accepting something before she lifted the cylinder for Luke to look at once more, though she kept it in her hands instead of giving it to him.
"Do you know what this is?" she asked softly. Luke shook his head, stuck between wanting to look at the ground as he waited to get in trouble for snooping and glancing at his mother curiously as he tried to puzzle out where she was going with this. "This…was your father's."
Luke's head snapped up in surprise. His…his father's? Did that have something to do with why he was drawn to it? And…what was it?
His mother continued speaking, which made him snap back to attention, and what she said…knocked his entire universe off balance.
"It was his lightsaber. Every Jedi carries at least one of these, and your father and I were both Jedi before the Empire rose. I haven't told you because I wanted to make sure you understood how serious this is, and make sure you understand you can't tell anyone about who we were no matter who they are, unless I tell you it's all right. Not any of your teachers, your friends, not any adults, no matter who they are or what they do. Considering you found this yourself…well, I'm going to take this as a sign putting off telling you anymore than I already have would be stalling."
Luke's head was spinning as he tried to process this. His mother…and his father…were Jedi? They had lightsabers? When Mom told him her stories, she'd never said that she used to be a Jedi, or that his father had been a Jedi—she'd only told stories about their heroics and adventures. Now that he thought about it, she'd always avoided that detail—she'd simply said they fought in the war, and that they were sent by the old Republic. She'd never even mentioned lightsabers in her stories about his parents, or even what lightsabers looked like in any of her stories about Jedi. Looking back…she'd left out anything that might make Luke think maybe his father and mother had been Jedi. Had some of the stories she'd told about the Jedi of the Republic been about his father? About his mother? Now she was telling him about it, but she was also saying that…knowing was dangerous? That telling could be dangerous?
"Why can't I tell anyone?" Luke asked hesitantly.
"Because," his mother started to say, setting aside his father's lightsaber for a moment as she took Luke's hands in her own, holding his gaze. "Bad people took over the Replublic and made the Empire, and they tried very hard to wipe out the Jedi. That's what happened to your father. But they didn't get all of the Jedi; some got away, like me. However, if the Empire finds out about any Jedi, they send people to try and get rid of them. That's why you can't tell anyone unless I say it's okay. Even if it's someone you know and trust, they might accidentally say something at the wrong time or to the wrong person without knowing they're doing something wrong, and then we'll be in trouble. Do you understand?"
Luke nodded, trying not to pay too much attention to the sudden terrifying image in his mind of shadowy figures coming to take away his mother. He'd already lost his father and his other mother before he could even remember, he didn't want to lose his mother. The Jedi thing alone was a lot to try and wrap his head around, he didn't even want to think about having the possibility of another loss hanging over him.
"So…so my father was a Jedi?" he asked carefully.
"He was. One of the best," his mother said with a gentle smile. She let go of his hands, reaching over to pick up the lightsaber once more. "And I'm sure he'd love it if when you're older you use inherit this…but you're going to need some training first."
It was like she was giving him some kind of shock therapy with all this information she kept dropping on him. Maybe if he hadn't found the lightsaber he would have been getting all this information a little at a time instead of all at once. Maybe he should have just asked to make dinner instead of snooping in her room. And yet, at the same time, as overwhelming as all of this was…it was also really amazing. She was saying that he could be a Jedi some day, a hero like in the stories she told, with a lightsaber and everything—his father's lightsaber, specifically.
"Train? You mean me, a Jedi? Like my father?" Luke asked his mother, brain trying to wrap around yet another idea she was proposing.
"You are your father's son. And that means many, many things, including the fact that you have the potential to become an amazing Jedi—if you're willing to put in the work," she said patiently.
If he was willing? Of course he was! He could be a Jedi, just like in the stories, like his father was, and like his mother apparently was! He'd be able to go on adventures of his own when he was older! He'd do all the work he'd have to! "Yes! I-I am! Please, mother, I wanna be a Jedi like my father!"
"All right. You will. Better, even, if you work hard enough. We'll have to start small, though, and you have to promise that you won't tell anyone about any of this Jedi stuff, or show anyone what you're learning. It's for our safety," his mother said seriously, making sure that she was holding his gaze so she would know he understood.
"I will, I promise," Luke said eagerly with nods as energetic to match his tone. Then he mellowed, an old pain bubbling to the surface with all of the talk of the father figure missing from his life. "I…I wish I'd known him…my father."
"I know, Little Dragon, I know," his mother murmured, pulling him into a tight hug as he smiled weakly at the old pet name. "But do you want to know what else? He's always with us."
It's not the same, Luke couldn't help but think. Something must have tipped his mother off about the direction of his thoughts, because she pulled back and gripped his shoulders in a gentle but firm grip.
"He is. He's with you every day, for every step of your life, and I'm sure he is and will continue to be so proud of the man you're becoming. Do you want to know how I know?" His mother placed gentle fingers under his chin, studying his features with a tender smile. "Because I see him every day, alive in you…Come here."
Luke's mother guided him over to the mirror, turning him to face it as she crouched down just behind him, looking over his shoulder with her hands still on his arms. "I see him…in your chin, and in your eyes. Your hair came from your father. And your nose. How much you love adventure and want to fly, your energy, your loyalty—"
Luke squinted at the mirror, looking at each feature his mother pointed out that he could physically see. But since he'd never seen what his father looked like, and likely never would…he had no way of knowing, and part of him doubted what she was saying. He turned his head away from the mirror to look back at his mother. "You're teasing me—"
"No, I'm being serious!" she insisted, turning him all the way around to look at her. "There is so much of your father in you…he really does live in you, every day. As does your mother—your real mother."
His mother. Right. It always confused him when his mother—the one standing in front of him—got insistent about the fact she wasn't his real mother, that another woman had him as a baby. But while he understood he had a mother he would never know, he knew the woman in front of him as the woman who raised him, as his mother in every other sense of the word. She was his mother, too. She used to get upset when he called her mother, but recently, she seemed to be accepting it.
Luke was glad she was. She was his mother, and those times when she'd rejected that when he was younger had been hurtful and confusing. Now that he was older, he was starting to understand why she'd reacted that way.
Maybe when he was all grown he would really understand why his mother had acted the way she had about who she was to him.
His mother put a hand on the side of his face, a thumb gently brushing along his cheek. "Your father's in your smirk, but your mother is in your smile. In your softer features, your level head. They never left you, Luke, never. They're with us, every day, all around us, watching over us and keeping us safe. If you ever miss them, all you ever really need to do to catch a glimpse of them…is look in the mirror. And one day, when you're more experienced and older, I promise your father's lightsaber will be yours. That'll be another part of him you'll get to keep with you."
Luke looked back at the mirror, taking another, much more careful look. Did he really look like his father that much? Were there parts of his mother that bubbled to the surface? And as much as his mother's words might seem like absolute gibberish meant to try and comfort him, there was this feeling in his heart. This warmth that seemed to glow when he thought about what she said. Maybe—just maybe—that was the part of his parents that was still with him; that, as his mother was saying, lived on through him.
Even as he gave that thought life, the warmth's glow seemed to grow larger, enough to nearly envelope him.
They were with him, weren't they?
With all this talk about his parents, it made him at least a little curious. If she had something of his father's that would one day be his…
"And…and my mother?" Luke asked hesitantly, turning back to look at her.
A faraway look suddenly settled in his mother's gaze as she waited in silence for a few long moments, appearing to ponder something about Luke's question. Finally, just when Luke was about to think he'd made some sort of mistake, his mother released him from her grip, reaching for something that was around her neck, out of sight.
As she lifted it up and over her head, he realized it was a necklace she was taking off…and now holding out in front of him so he could see.
"When your father was nine, he made this himself from a japor snippet and gave it to your mother. I don't think she ever took it off…not until the day she died, when she gave it to me." Carefully, his mother widened the chain with both hands and carefully hung it around Luke's neck, continuing to speak as Luke picked up the carved medallion to take a closer look at it. "It's yours now. I suggest taking good care of it."
Luke looked up at his mother. "Thank you, mother," Luke said softly, an indescribable feeling he'd not yet experienced in his young life falling over him as his thumb ran over the smooth surface of the japor snippet that gave him a vital connection to both his deceased parents.
(19 Years After the Rise of the Empire)
Luke tucked the necklace under his tunic so that it wouldn't blow about and possibly whack him in the face while he was in the speeder, hand lingering as always on the japor medallion for a few seconds.
Luke shook himself before he could dwell on his fantasies of the past, looking over at his mother sitting in the driver's seat as he let his hand drop away to rest on his side of the speeder.
"So how long do you think we'll be at the cantina tonight?" he asked. He always volunteered to help out when he could, no matter what his mother planned to have them do, but he still wanted a heads up so he knew what to expect when he did help out.
Zelina tilted her head in his direction, hair pulled up in the messy bun she usually kept it in when she worked, which also helped keep it out of her face while she drove the speeder. "The usual cleanup and closing routine, there is some damages we're gonna have to take care of I've already bought replacements for, and Han has a shipment for us we'll have to put away."
"Nothing crazy, then, just a normal if slightly busier than normal night," Luke sighed, leaning his head back against his headrest.
"Maybe after Han leaves you can get some practice in," Zelina suggested.
Luke cracked an eyelid open to glance over at his mother. "Anything in particular you want me to work on?"
"Your telekinesis could use some refinement, that's something you can do while you're helping out."
"What, no lightsaber forms?" Luke joked.
"Not unless you're going to go out into the street and knock some stormtroopers over with some Force pushes as well," Zelina replied dryly. "Save that stuff for your canyon training sessions."
"Well, not only in the canyon."
"You know what I mean."
Luke chuckled, turning his attention back to the desert racing by as they headed for town, closing his eyes and feeling the wind whip at his hair—as well as a little sand.
Suddenly, his mother broke the silence again, "You're not coming along because you need another replacement part for that skyhopper, are you?"
"What? No! You act like I always need repairs," Luke complained, rolling his eyes.
"You almost do," she said pointedly.
"I don't need repairs…though I am hoping to get some parts to improve the gyro-stabilizer. It's been a little temperamental recently," Luke admitted sheepishly.
His mother smiled. "I swear, if you're not repairing it, you're messing around with it trying to improve it in some way."
Luke shrugged. "What else am I going to do on this dustball?" His mother shot him a look that had him quickly holding up a finger, fighting a smile that was trying to sneak across his face. "Don't…don't say it."
A few moments of silence stretched between them, and as soon as Luke started to relax…
"Train."
Luke started to laugh quietly, while his mother simply smirked victoriously.
Since his mother had a bit of a lead foot, it didn't take too long for them to reach town, with Zelina pulling the speeder into its usual spot behind the cantina.
"I'll secure the speeder, you get us inside," Zelina said, shooing Luke towards the back door as she hopped out of the speeder and started shutting it down and locking it in place, doing her best to hide it from view to discourage thieves. Luke, meanwhile, when to the back door, hand briefly touching the scanning pad so he could get inside.
He passed the back room with a quick glance to see what needed to be done there—cleaning, mostly, including some dishes—Luke continued to the main part of the cantina, coming out just off to the side of the bar and looking out over the area. There were some private booths, though since his mother walked the floor she was able to keep an eye on them to make sure there wasn't anything happening in her cantina she didn't allow, like slave deals. There were also tables arranged on the main floor, a couple gambling tables that were strategically placed near Ameenah's usual posts so if trouble broke out—as they usually did when cantinas and gambling were mixed—it could be controlled again, and some holoscreens strategically placed so that all her patrons could see at least one screen. The bar was long and placed across the back wall, with glass shelves and mirrors that housed a wide array of alcohols from across the galaxy—with the illegal stuff hidden under the counters awaiting the order of those who knew how to get it.
Well, when everything was in it's place that's how the cantina looked. Right now…well, it looked like that little bit of damages came from a fight that had broken out, considering one of the private corners and a couple tables on the main floor was a mess of broken furniture. Something must have been thrown as well, because there was a large crack in the mirror behind the alcohol shelves.
And he was probably going to be the one cleaning most of this mess up.
"Well, you know the drill, don't just stand there," his mother chided him as she entered the room, hopping over the counter and starting to take the bottles and shelves off of the wall so she could get to the glass underneath.
"I thought you said these were just some damages—what happened?" Luke asked.
"Nothing special. I think a business deal went very, very badly, and it spilled over into the main floor before Ameenah and I were there to break it up. Minimal casualties," Zelina said flippantly.
"Well, how long do we have until the cantina reopens for the night shift?" Luke asked, already picking his way towards the wreckage.
"An hour, so we'll have to be quick. Han and Chewie should be here with their shipment in about ten minutes."
"Right," Luke murmured, already starting to kick and place the debris into two piles—large, partial pieces and shattered fragments.
When his mother first took control of the cantina, she'd started to implement a brief closing time that gave the cantina enough of a break around sunset to clean up any messes from the day shift and prepare for the night shift, with a second brief closing time around dawn to do the opposite. It was useful, smart…but it did only give them a short period of time to clean up messes like this on top of the rest of the routine.
Better than having to clean up during hours, when some of the patrons might take advantage of the increased chaos to try and do something his mother would usually throw people out for doing. Not everyone was happy with the rules that his mother had implemented, and while they could simply go to another cantina, this one was still popular, and the best place to find business. Even though she'd banned slavery deals of any kind on a planet run by a Hutt and known for its slavery history. Of course, her activity on Tatooine had gone well beyond business related opposition to slavery and cantina ownership over the years. Thankfully, she knew how to make a difference in the area without kicking the Hutts or the Empire hard enough to bring their attention to the two of them.
Something he hadn't entirely appreciated when he was younger until his mother had stirred things up a little too much and they'd found mercenaries at their door. Even then, seeing what his mother had done made him a little too cocky, and he'd been the one to kick the next of Tatooine's scum a little too hard. That was when he'd really learned why they needed to be subtle and couldn't afford to do too much and bring unwanted attention to themselves.
Of course, that had been when he was younger, and only pertained to while they were living on this rock. Now…
Silence had settled over the cantina for the few minutes they worked before Luke cleared his throat, his train of thought prompting him to bring up what had turned into a repeated conversation between him and his mother, with no changes in the outcome or the basic argument yet, unfortunately.
"Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru are almost all set on the farm. They're not going to need my help much longer," Luke said casually. It was true. It seemed like his aunt and uncle had been stretching to find something for him to do. Between his training, piloting, work on the farm, and on the cantina, he'd still managed to get stuck in a routine that was starting to drive him mad. The few people he'd become friends with had left, leaving only the people his age who went out of their way to pick on him whenever he was around, which meant he was getting more and more isolated. The only thing he talked about with his aunt and uncle really was farm work, and Han and Chewbacca were frequently off-world running jobs, so Luke's conversations with the smuggler were woefully few and far between, since Luke got a lot of his information about what was really happening in the galaxy from them. Which meant his only source of steady socialization was his mother, who he loved unconditionally, but he desperately needed more than one dependable person to talk to and a mind-numbing routine on a planet as barren as Tatooine.
Especially when he knew he was meant to be doing something more with his life and everything he'd been taught.
Zelina sighed over by the bar, setting one of the glass bottles she'd just pulled out of a large crate down with a sigh. "Luke, are we really going over this again?"
"Mother, we can't stay here much longer, can we?" Luke cut in quickly, turning around to face her. "I'm almost twenty years old, all my friends have already left, there's almost nothing else for me to do on the farm, the Rebellion's getting more and more active…"
"When the time is right—" Zelina started to say tiredly.
"You keep saying that, but I don't think that's what you mean anymore," Luke challenged, standing straight even as part of him shrunk inwardly to be challenging his mother on something she felt so strongly about. "I'm ready to go out there, I'm ready to join the fight, to do something. Why aren't you?"
Zelina said nothing, simply gazing at him in steady silence as she pulled more bottles out of the crate. "Luke, we're not like everyone else. As soon as we step into the conflict, nothing you've ever known is going to be the same. Everything is going to change, and not just for us," she finally said in a soft voice, still remaining perfectly calm even as Luke's frustration bubbled.
"Obi-Wan, Satine, and Pria have been in the fight for years, why are we still hiding?" Luke asked pointedly. Two of them were Jedi, so things had already changed for the Rebellion when they joined the fight. How much more could things change if he and his mother joined? Why was she so resistant?
Zelina's voice and hands remained perfectly steady—she didn't even halt what she was doing. "They were smoked out of their hiding place a long time ago, they didn't have a choice. You know that—its the same reason they stopped making those already rare visits. Its for our sake they haven't even called, you know, so we can stay safe a little longer."
Having reached the counter by now as he subconsciously moved closer, Luke leaned against the counter, nearly desperate. "But Mother, I don't want to spend my whole life hiding on this rock—"
"And you won't."
"But at this rate, I will. This isn't about joining the fight at the right time anymore, its about joining the fight when you're ready to admit I'm old enough, that I'm perfectly capable of getting involved."
A sharp knock on the back door echoed towards them, accompanied by a friendly Wookiee roar. Luke leaned back, and his mother sat one more bottle on the counter before making her way towards the back.
"We'll finish this conversation later," his mother told him seriously before she disappeared into the back.
Luke sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration as he looked back at the cleared space he now had to drag new furniture into and weld down—after Han left, if he couldn't find the proper tools.
"Kid! Good, go grab a crate and help lug these in."
Luke looked up as Han appeared from the back, one rather large crate in hand he was carrying towards the bar. Chewbacca was right behind him, giving a warm Wookiee growl in greetings. A smile flickered across Luke's face at the sight of the smuggler, and he made his way over.
"Sure. Good to see you again, Han."
Han rolled his eyes, scoffing as Luke approached. "Please—you only like me for all the stories I bring."
"That's not true," Luke protested. "Not to prove your point, but do you have any news?"
Han hummed. "You know, you'd probably be a lot more satisfied if you went out and saw the galaxy yourself."
Luke groaned, about to start on his well-rehearsed 'I'm stuck on this rock' complaint routine when his mother's voice interrupted.
"That's already a hot topic, Solo, don't encourage it—at least not tonight," she said in a warning tone, handing the crate she was carrying off to Chewbacca, who easily deposited it in her storage space in the floor behind the cantina bar. Han looked warily between Luke and his mother, a light going in his mind. The smuggler had witnessed varying degrees of this argument before.
"Right…didn't mean to step into the middle of family drama," Han said carefully. Luke scowled.
"I'm never getting out of here," he said bitterly. Han turned partially towards Luke, a sympathetic look flickering across his face.
"I mean, I don't blame you, kid, this place is a wasteland." He turned towards Luke's mother, who was watching the conversation calmly from where she still stood by the cantina bar. "Why you're so intent on keeping him here is beyond me."
Zelina's gaze was level on Luke. "I have my reasons."
Luke turned to Han. "But you're on my side about all this, right?"
Chewbacca chuffed softly in the background as Han raised his hand in a 'Who, me?' gesture. "Yeah, I've seen what your mother can do when you're involved, I'm not about to get in the middle of this."
"Listen boys, as fun as it is to go through these circular conversations over and over again, we do have a deadline, so how about we get back to packing things in. Chewie, do you think you could help Luke move a few tables into place, if it's not too much of a problem?" Zelina asked the Wookiee politely. Chewbacca growled an affirmative, and Luke started towards the back to get the spares, sighing and hanging his head. Han thumped him briefly on the back as he passed.
"You'll get out there some day, kid, don't worry," the smuggler said quietly before he went back outside with Luke's mother to continue carrying in crates.
Sure, someday. But how much longer did he have to wait?
Step, step, parry.
Low guard, shift, step, slash.
Again, this time one handed.
The twin suns had set long ago, the heat of the desert cooling with their descent and making for an ideal temperature to do some lightsaber drills. After yet another clash, however brief it was, with his mother over the one topic they had any form of serious arguments over, Luke figured he needed to take the time before she came home to try and cool down and work out some of his renewed frustrations. Besides, she'd started him on the challenge of doing lightsaber forms as physical instinct, not Force assisted instinct, so his lightsaber combat instincts were ingrained in more than one way. It was a little difficult to try and do the forms without thinking about it and without relying on the Force, but he felt he was starting to get the hang of it.
His father's lightsaber hadn't been heavy to him for years now, as it had been that first day he'd held it. Now, it was almost a perfect extension of himself, though his mother had informed him that some day, if he made his own, they would be an even better fit. Part of him liked the thought, but the other part didn't want to relinquish one of the two physical links he had to his father.
His mother had meant it when she said his training would be hard work. It wasn't just training with the Force and lightsabers—she also put him through the wringer with physical training, some mental training, taught him about handling blasters and other weapons, using his environment to his benefit, observations, hand to hand—she wanted to make him as knowledgeable as possible before sending him out into the galaxy, it seemed. Though most of her focus was on the Jedi part of things, and even then, she wasn't always…the clearest.
Do as I say, not as I do didn't even begin to cover it. Trying to figure out where the line was had been a difficult task he'd eventually realized he was going to have to decide for himself.
Conflicting philosophies at work aside, he felt she'd trained him rather well. He did feel ready to join the fight against the Empire. Why she didn't agree, why she kept them here when they could be out there making a difference, that was another matter.
Step, shift, raise, sharp turn—
Resistance met his lightsaber as he turned, and he had to work hard not to show his surprise lest he quickly receive a reprimand about not paying attention to his surroundings. He'd been more focused on trying to get his lightsaber to move more instinctual without having to rely on the Force than he had been on his surroundings.
His mothers deep violet blade hummed against his father's clear blue, a stark contrast. On instinct, Luke used a simple maneuver that would have disarmed someone who wasn't holding their lightsaber properly or firmly, but simply batted aside his mother's blade.
"I thought you were going to be at the cantina longer?" he asked, keeping his lightsaber on but humming at his side. His mother had a history of ambush teaching him with lightsabers, so he'd learned to keep his guard up. He knew she had enough control she would never actually hurt him, but he still liked to be ready for sudden advances she made.
"I was only there long enough to make sure the night shift had everything handled and things were going smoothly." She nodded towards his lightsaber. "Show me what you've got."
Luke held back a sigh, dropping into a defensive stance. He knew what was coming. Part of him had only wanted to do some drills to let out frustration. Now she was giving him a quick skills test. And considering she'd been paying particular attention to his footwork in their training sessions, he was already dividing his attention to pay more attention to his footwork than anything else.
Whether she sensed his reluctance or not, his mother's lips twitched towards a smile before she jumped forward, violet blade slicing swiftly through the air. Luke turned to stop it's arc with his own blade, coming in to try and get closer in an attempt to knock her off balance as his blade slid along the length of hers, pushing back. Zelina side stepped him, pulling back for a split second with a suddenness that almost had him losing his footing before he re-found it, twisting to stop her blade as it came at him again. Back and forth they went, a dance of sidestepping and finding and keeping footwork, with Luke focused far more on how well he was planting his feet than the actual technique of his lightsaber attacks.
Suddenly, her blade deactivated and reactivated inside his defenses, something he almost missed because he'd been too focused on his blasted footwork. She stopped just short of his neck, but the suddenness of the attack drew his attention away from his steps, and she managed to get a foot behind him, sweeping his legs out from underneath him in one quick motion, deactivating her blade so he didn't get hurt on the way down.
Luke landed on his back with a thud and a soft groan, his mother looming over him.
"Much better than last time," she quipped. "You're getting better at this non-Force reliant combat thing. You're still doing that thing were your stance goes wide, and you need to work on splitting your attention so you're not focusing on just footwork or just the forms…but you're doing much better," his mother said patiently, holding out a hand and pulling Luke to his feet once he'd accepted it.
"Thanks," he grunted. "But did you really just come out here to knock me on my back?"
Zelina chuckled softly. "No…no, I didn't. I said we were going to finish our conversation at the cantina, didn't I?"
Luke felt his spirits drop considerably. "I thought you'd made it pretty clear you didn't have anything more to say about it."
Zelina inclined her head towards an outcrop of rock that was near their home as an indicator he should follow her, hooking her lightsaber on her belt. Luke frowned slightly as he followed her, wondering if she'd had the lightsaber on her when they'd gone to the cantina, or even earlier than that. Did she have her second one on her, too? And why had she worn it today? Normally she only brought her lightsabers with her when she knew she might need it, so that she didn't have the temptation of drawing it on instinct and giving them away.
That wasn't a conversation for right now, though. She wanted to talk about how badly he wanted to leave the planet, and if she was going to give him a chance to properly argue his case, he wanted to be prepared.
His mother sat down on the rock's smooth surface right by the edge, legs curled and tucked to the side, one hand propping her up as she looked out over the expanse of Tatooine's desert, waiting for him to join her. They came up here to talk a lot, especially about the serious stuff.
In fact, this was where she'd told him the full story of what happened to his father.
His mother started speaking before he even finished sitting down. "Luke, my not wanting us to leave the planet has nothing to do with whether or not I think you're ready," she said softly. "In fact, I think you are ready. I've taught you all I can without you getting any real hands on experience. You need to get out there and learn for yourself if you're going to grow, or if I'm going to see what you need to work on. There's only so much you can learn from the safety of the home before you have to get out into the thick of it. Experience trumps everything."
"Then why are we still here?" Luke asked desperately. It was his constant question, one that her statement only made stronger. If even she thought they were ready to leave…
"Because it's not the same thing. Luke…this isn't going to be a small choice. I know you're eager to jump into the fray, but once you get there…trust me, that novelty shine wears off really fast, and you're going to want to be getting back out, wondering when it will be over. Try and enjoy a simpler life while you've got it. As much as you want to go now, the Force hasn't told me it's time yet. So we wait. I'll keep training you in what I can, and one day it will happen."
"Have you ever thought that maybe we're not supposed to wait? Maybe we're supposed to go out ourselves instead of hiding here doing nothing?"
"It has crossed my mind. I've never been one for inaction. But I trust the Force, and I know we're supposed to wait. Just…please, trust me on that, Luke?"
His mother looked at him, her gaze full of sincerity and a tiredness he was growing far too used to seeing in her gaze. It had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the kind of life she'd lived. He learned the toll it had taken on her a long time ago, even if she didn't know it.
Slowly, Luke nodded, and Zelina looked back out over the desert. A comfortable silence fell between them for several long minutes where Luke briefly wondered how long this answer to his question would keep him satisfied before it returned with a vengeance and he had to ask again.
"You know, I've been wearing my lightsaber every day recently."
Luke glanced at his mother. He wasn't going to bring it up, so he certainly hadn't expected her to mention it. "Why?"
"A feeling," she said softly, looking up at the stars above for several long moments, taking a deep breath of the air before she looked over at Luke. "Be patient, Luke…you'll know it's time when you see it. Right now, you just want it."
With that, his mother rose to his feet, brushed the sand from her pants, and headed back inside, leaving Luke alone on the rock to mull over her words.