There was a planet, so she'd been told, with a night so dark that it seemed to swallow up any light burning on the surface. It was cold and quiet, the inhabitants shuttering their homes buried deep in the side of the mountains that littered the snow-covered grounds. It lasted, dragging on and on for several standard months, to the point that a person might start to believe that the night would never end. The near-endless darkness weighed on the soul, destroying all hope as it dragged on and on and on. But then - so the story went - just before it became impossible to bear, dawn broke and the light was never brighter than that first day after the endless night.

Mon Mothma was not Force sensitive, but she could have sworn she felt Bail Organa's death when the Empire attacked and destroyed Alderaan. He'd been a mentor and her ally, and with one devastating blow the Empire had stolen him, his family, and the Rebellion's hope away with the very weapon that they sought to destroy.

Or she thought they had. Leia Organa's appearance had been one of those rays of light echoing up from the horizon after the darkness when the princess had appeared along with that little R2 unit. Hope wasn't gone, only quiet in the long night, and with hope came the organized chaos of a battle closing in. They had the plans and the Empire would do anything they could to stop them. They had to act and they had to act fast. There wasn't time to delay.

She was moving through the throngs of people and a voice stood out from the rest. Commander Vanden Willard. Good. Just the man she'd been looking for. She followed the voice back to find him standing with a young man - barely more than a boy - that looked vaguely familiar, but Mon Mothma couldn't quite place how she knew him. Whoever he was, he and Willard weren't seeing eye-to-eye.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, son," Willard stressed for what didn't sound like the first time, "but this isn't a mission to cut your teeth on. Every pilot up there needs to know that the rest of the squad has his back."

"I'll have my squad's back!" the young man answered, his voice pitching up in desperation. "I know you don't know me, sir, but I threaded the Stone Needle in Beggar's Canyon back home. I could bulls-eye a womp rat. They're the same size as the target! I can do this!"

Willard's gaze flickering to Mon Mothma as she approached and hardened as it returned to the would-be pilot. "Right now, I don't care how much you think you can. You're new and you're untested. I can't can't risk it. You're sitting this one out…."

"Skywalker," he offered the forgotten name and for just a moment Mon Mothma felt like she'd been slapped. Of course. That's who he looked like. Of course. She strode forward with her gaze fixed on him.

"Skywalker?"

The blond's head swiveled over, blue eyes fixed on her and damn it all if he didn't look just like the general. Not much younger than he had been when he'd been cut down either. "Yes?"

"Your name is Skywalker?" Mon Mothma clarified.

"Yes sir," Skywalker answered, nodding emphatically. "My name's Luke. Luke Skywalker."

She could feel Willard's eyes on her, but her own were focused on the young pilot. "Was your father Anakin Skywalker?"

"He was, yeah."

A twinge of pain blossomed inside of her chest as she thought of the young hero general who had seemed ready and willing to take on the entire Sperateist movement to protect their Republic. The scars left by what had sometimes felt as the never-ending war doing nothing to hinder his amusement as he had walked with Mon Mothma's own colleague down the senate halls, Padme unable to keep a straight face in light of whatever tease he'd dealt her, the two close. Perhaps closer than anyone had ever been certain of. There had been rumours, even if she'd never given them credence at the time.

"I knew your father during the Clone Wars," she said, opting for the safest option in case she might be wrong.

"You did?" he asked, his interest now fully focused on her. "What was he like?"

"A hero, and a damn good pilot. Are you your father's son, Luke Skywalker?"

"I am," Skywalker answered without hesitation and Mon Mothma looked back to Willard.

"He's Anakin Skywalker's son. We're going to need him."

"Yes sir," Willard answered with a sharp nod and motioned. "C'mon, Skywalker. Let's get you a flight suit."

The realization of what that meant seemed to dawn slowly. Gradually. "Thank you. Thank you! I won't let you down!" He turned towards Mon Mothma. "I won't let either of you down!"

She could see his father in that smile, the crinkles around his eyes and the bounce in his step as he followed Willard, utterly unafraid of the horrors of war that he was about to leap into. "May the Force be with you, Luke Skywalker," she whispered and prayed she wasn't sending him to the same death his father must have met nearly twenty years before. That boy was hope, just as Leia had been when she appeared. Two rays of light that they desperately needed after an endless night.

End.


Notes: After watching The Clone Wars and the deleted scenes from RotS, I had a thought: Mon Mothma clearly knew Padme and so I have to imagine she at least knew of Anakin as a hero of the Clone Wars. What if she recognized Luke's name and that's how a kid from the Outer Rim was able to join what was, arguably, the most important mission the Rebellion had taken on up until that point without any real training? She knew the stories, maybe had even seen Anakin in action... I was all in on the idea.

Then I realized, maybe a third of the way through this, that I couldn't actually recall where Mon Mothma was in ANH. I went back and looked only to realize that she wasn't actually there. So yeah... I'm still fond of the idea, so here we are. There's nothing saying she wasn't there, right? The wonders of fanfiction.

Hope you enjoyed!