In the kitchen, away from where Biggs sat, Padmé and I spoke in hushed tones. I was getting more blue milk for everybody, since the Jawa juice was now out. Padmé had introduced herself with grace as "Kyla," the daughter of one of Aunt Beru's old friends. She lied so coolly and easily. I was jealous of her skill, but also concerned.
Might she lie to me that way and I never know it?
Padmé demanded, "You know Admiral Darklighter?"
"Somewhat."
"That is a lie," Padmé retorted evenly, crossing her arms over her chest. "He came out here to visit you."
"So did you, honey," I returned with a smile.
"That was because—" She huffed, and actually stomped her foot on the ground. "He can't possibly be a—a—"
"No," I interrupted evenly. Biggs? An ally of the Rebellion? That'd be the day. I knew he was Imperial to the core, now. "He isn't. You know him?"
"Sure I do. Everyone does, now that he serves Lord Vader."
"I'm sure," I mused darkly. All waiting for the position to gain vacancy again. No. No. I couldn't think like that. I wouldn't. I'd make myself mad if I did…
"How do you know him?"
Since unlike her lies weren't my forte, I came out with the truth. "We used to be friends when we were kids. Didn't talk for a while. But we saw each other at the 33-year Imperial parade and started talking a little again."
"You're very lucky to be so familiar with someone of his rank," she said severely. Subtext: Don't screw it up.
I arched an eyebrow. "What should that matter?" I returned, "given your plans, Padmé?"
Her mouth opened, closed again, and her eyes grew shadowed. Guilt pierced me; pain, piercing her, radiating in the Force. But it needed to be said. She needed to understand. This wasn't some palace-sheltered game anymore. This was real, and raw, and her choice, her realization to come to.
I added, "I'd love to have you help us, you know. I think you'd be great."
"I don't think Mother and Dad would agree with that."
"Well, they don't have to," I returned with a wink.
OOO
Biggs admitted, "I was hoping to see you alone."
"You could come back another time," I offered, pleasantly enough, I hoped.
It was an hour or so after the kitchen conversation I'd had with Padmé. A lively conversationalist, the young princess had kept Biggs tied up with telling her many stories of his time in the fleet while she asked pointed and intelligent questions related to flight leadership and overall military strategy. She seemed quite capable in this sphere, and I wondered if it were Tarkin's influence. Or maybe this was one of the reasons he'd taken to her so. I was thankful that she kept the conversation going for the most part, since my stomach was a bundle of knots and nerves the whole time. Biggs looked handsome. And I felt… not so good being in his presence again.
It was hard to remember this man had just been in the presence of Darth Vader, my hunter. And that hard-to-rememberness was dangerous.
In the past few months of attempting to cobble together a reasonable rebel start, I'd had runs in with two more Inquisitors. Clearly, they were actively hunting me down now, and while both had ended up on the worse end of my lightsaber blade, I knew that Vader now had my scent, too. One body I hadn't been able to burn and hide, and so the char of the blue blade had been visible and clear, sending the message loudly:
Jedi.
The last Jedi.
Irresistible for Vader.
After tying up Biggs for a while so as to deflect any suspicion, Padmé, with all evidence of graciousness informed me that she should be getting back home. I knew that meant, Back to Alderaan. It might also mean, Turn you all in.
But I didn't sense that intention within her. I sensed thought, and tumult. But what could I do but wave her off anyway? Protesting would only make Biggs suspicious.
I had to trust her. I believed I could trust her. I chose to go with that.
If I was wrong… Well. I had decided I wouldn't be. I couldn't be.
"We're alone now, aren't we?" Biggs returned, brow arched.
That was… a fair point. "Right," I agreed, thinking fast, "but it's late. I wouldn't want you to be in danger. You know, the sand people have gotten real crazy around here lately."
"Really? I heard your farm is one of the safest zones. Apparently they're scared to come within twenty clicks—or so the kids say."
"You know how the younglings like legends."
"Yes. And it seems like you're their favorite one, around here."
"I'm hardly a legend." Like I could ever be a legend.
"I dunno about that," Biggs remarked lightly. "'Lucky Luke Skywalker: Legend.' You know it sounds good?"
I rolled my eyes, huffing out a laugh as I saw his lips twitch. "Why did you always have to tease me?"
"First it was because I was fond of you. Then it was because I was flirting with you." Obvious subtext: And that's what I'm doing now.
Biggs. Why do you have to do this? I thought in anguish. Why do you have to make me hurt you? Maybe that last thought verged on the dramatic. But maybe not entirely.
Hopefully I could do it with a soft touch, like with Camie. (I ignored the fact that Camie never seemed to get the message about my non-interest due to my so-called 'soft touch'.)
"Is that what you were doing?" I returned lightly. "Well, good to know I didn't entirely misread the situation that day at your going-away party."
"You didn't. I was just stupid, and scared."
I felt that. On Tatooine, very specific ideas were held by the majority of the locals. Namely that relationships were between men and women, and nothing else. In fact, during my and Biggs's childhood, there'd been a murder of two farmgirls who had secretly been together. Scared everyone pretty nicely—but a number of locals expressed open approval for whoever had done the job.
In the depths of my pain over Biggs's rejection, I had often thought of those two farmgirls, about whom a planetary myth had sprung up. It helped me lick my wounds, to believe he'd worried such a thing might happen to us. To me. It helped then.
It hurt now.
Attitudes had changed a little since the Empire blossomed into full power, but not much. Not out here.
"I understand why you were scared," I told him.
"I don't," Biggs returned. "Especially since you weren't. You were never afraid to be yourself, Luke. You still aren't. It's part of what I always admired about you. But I'm not afraid now."
I just… didn't know what to say to that. It was as good as a declaration of intent. And while his explicit, drunken 'mail had hinted, he'd never come right out and said…
"Luke, I want you. I've always wanted you. I was just too stupid… and then too embarrassed and scared… to ever face you again. I'm done with that now. And I know I said I wanted to be friends, but I was lying. I don't want to be your friend."
"Oh," I said, "thanks."
"You know that's not what I meant."
I shrugged, still hoping to deflect this. But it was impossible. The words had been spoken. They could never be taken back between us.
Did I want them taken back?
Biggs stepped closer. He took my hand. I… I let him. "I want to be so much more than your friend. And now that I'm in the position I am with my career—"
It was like walking through a sunlit meadow and then being thrust into an icy lake. I snapped out of it. "Oh," I said, "I see how it is. You think just because you serve Vader now I'll just fall into your arms thanking my lucky stars that you so much as ever looked my way."
The anger in my face when I yanked my hand from his wasn't wholly false.
Neither was the anger in Biggs's face. "Did I say that?"
"You didn't have to. Well, know this, Biggs," I told him quietly: "Vader's command is no picnic. If I were you… I'd be careful about thinking I'm all that."
Biggs flushed. "And what would you know about anything to do with Imperial command?" he retorted condescendingly, Coruscanti accent crisp.
"Nothing," I said simply.
His jaw dropped. His eyes widened in realization. He said, "Luke—I didn't mean it like that—"
"Oh, yes, you did. You know, lots of people seem to think I'm an ignorant little nobody farmer lately," I mused. "And you know, it's right? I'm just glad you finally admitted it. So why do you want me, Biggs? Because you don't know me. Not anymore. So you couldn't want me for me. Is it that I ended up handsome? Or you think I might be easy?
"Well, know this," I told him with deceptive gentleness: "I might be a nobody farmer on a desert world that nobody cares about, but I do matter. I matter the same as anybody and everybody else matters. I know my value. So I know my value far exceeds you coming here hoping to fulfill some childhood image of me that isn't reality. Sorry. I'm closed for business.
"Now, please, get off my property," I added sweetly, "or I just might have to show you why the sand people fear my perimeter."
OOO
I wish I could say I got up the next morning with verve and a clear, crystalline Jedi mind. Resolute. Determined. Free of the burdens of yesterday, ready to move forward in the now. But—
I'd be lying. And as was obvious from lately… lying wasn't my talent. Acting, apparently, was. I spent most of the morning moping around, feeling quite seriously sorry for myself, and even envying Leia her choices after all. For all their relational tumult, she and Han had spent many happy moments together. Why should I be deprived such happiness with the man who wanted me?
The man who wanted me. Biggs wanted me. He wanted me. Naturally, I'd suspected it, ever since the 'mail, but drunken ramblings could be excused for just that. This time, he'd come to my home and said it to my face, even patiently enduring Padmé's charismatic-but-demanding company while all he really wanted to do was to talk to me.
And then I crushed him. I crushed him because I had to. I crushed him because he was my enemy, and couldn't be more. I crushed him because I was a Jedi, and because he now served Vader…
But since when did I have to be so cruel to do the right thing? Because despite the little performance I'd put on, I knew Biggs had been entirely genuine in his sentiment. Yes. Maybe he did look down on me a little. That hurt. But what hurt much more was inflicting pain on a man who seemed genuinely to desire me and desire a relationship with me.
And I couldn't tell him why that wasn't possible at all. I couldn't tell him that I wasn't who he thought, and that he wasn't the person I'd kissed all those years ago, either. I couldn't tell him that I feared for him day and night, and sometimes frantically wanted to tell him the truth so that he could save himself from Vader. I went through my day listlessly, unsure what a farmer who just rejected someone he still cared about despite the man's Imperial service to his Sith Lord father would be doing right now.
Happy endings, I thought as I headed into Camie's store at long last, finally needing that part. I guess they aren't for Jedi. Like Yoda said, we must have the most serious minds, the truest dedication. We have to let go of attachments, because they're dangerous. I mean, doesn't all my worry about Biggs prove that? I can't control his life choices, or control Vader.
Life as a Jedi… well, despite the mythos on places like Gatalenta and the like, it's no fairytale.
It was then that I realized. I might not know what "Lucky Luke, farmer" would do right now. But I did know what a Jedi would be doing, and it wasn't moping around feeling sorry for himself. Time to take action. And I knew just what action to take.
OOO
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