Hello there. Thank you very much for clicking. This will be a three part ficlet, looking at one of the newest characters in the Star Wars Expanded Universe, the son of Luke Skywalker, Ben. I hope you enjoy. This is my first fic so please be as kind as possible. Feedback of any kind is much appreciated.
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, but to the Great Bearded One, George Lucas. Though a million fanboys and fangirls across the globe wish it were otherwise….
Namesake
"Ben Skywalker?"
"Hmmm?" I look up from my lunch and blink my eyes against the bright sunlight, barely able to keep them open. It seems as if these days it's getting harder and harder to get a good night's sleep. But sleep is overrated anyway. Probably. I hope.
A young girl, maybe ten or eleven, stands before me, watching me with gray eyes that betray her nervousness. Otherwise, she appears calm and collected, an impenetrable façade of Jedi perfection.
When she continues to stare at me without saying anything, I sigh inwardly and set my plate down. I run a hand through my hair and then decide it's up to me to get this conversation going and over with as quickly as possible. It is, after all, my lunch break. And Jedi need to eat too.
"What can I help you with?" I almost add "kid" at the end—a habit I picked up from my "disreputable" Uncle Han—but stop short, unsure of how she'll take that.
"Please sir," and I nearly crack up at the title, but manage to hold it in for her sake, "could you sign this?"
And she pulls a long rolled sheet out from behind her back, making me wonder how in the Force I missed that in the first place. I take it cautiously and open it slowly, glancing up at her for a moment in curiosity. I blink in surprise as I see an old Galactic Empire recruit poster staring up at me. Unlike most recruit posters of old however, this one has been thoroughly slashed over with a red marker and the tagline "THE EMPIRE WANTS YOU!" has its last two words crossed out. Written in their place, are the witty words, "IS DEAD".
As I continue to study the artifact, I notice that in addition to being defaced, pictures of different leaders are posted all around the Stormtrooper that is the poster's main graphic. They are the so-called "Heroes of Old". Rebel Alliance and New Republic leaders alike stare out, some grimly, some emotionlessly, and some courageously.
One of the pictures, I note ironically, is me. I try not to cringe when I see it's the one where my mother insisted I wear my Jedi dress robes and slick my hair back. My gaze betrays no cognizant thought and in fact, at best, could be described as "dead". Not one of my better ones, I have to admit.
I notice a black mark on my face and reach out to brush it off before I realize that it's writing. I blink and put the poster back at arms' length, noticing for the first time a handful of signatures scattered around the photographs. The scribbling includes autographs from Rogue Squadron, my twin cousins Jacen and Jaina Solo, my Uncle Han (well, that was no surprise), my "Uncle" Lando (even less of a surprise), each relatively next to their photos, respectively.
"What is this? What's it for?" I finally stammer out, astonished at the audacity, originality, and bizarreness of this project.
The girl blushes. "It's my brother's." She looks up at me from underneath her bangs and then gets the story out in one long breath. "Or at least, it's going to be. He's obsessed with the Jedi and all the heroes and stuff. He wanted to be a Jedi, but he can't."
I nod encouragingly. A jealous sibling. Boy can I sympathize with that.
"So when I left to become one, he got mad at me. So I'm getting this for him." She finishes and looks at me anxiously.
"Oh." I say, the wheels in my head turning. It's a sweet gift in a way. Her brother had probably dreamed his whole life of being able to wield the Force and fight off evil, only to find out he was ordinary, and that his sister would get a shot at glory, but he wouldn't.
"So…" I say, as my thoughts stop meandering and come back abruptly to the present situation. "You really want my signature?"
She nods eagerly, eyes shining. "Please?"
I blink yet again. "Okay," I say as I pull out a pen and start to sign my name back a picture that practically screams my ineptness.
"But I'm not really a hero." I add as I hand back the poster to her.
A huge smile breaks out on her face and she looks awestruck.
"You are too a hero!" She protests. "You're a Skywalker. Thank you so much!"
And she skips away, the happiest Jedi in the galaxy.