It falls to you, now . It was all I could think. My thoughts formed a repetitious, disheartening cycle, and I felt as if all strength had left my body. With Han and Leia out—because surely they would make that choice—, with Padmé never in, it would be left on my shoulders. My shoulders were strong, able to carry many burdens, as proven throughout my not-exactly-easy life. But did they have the strength to carry this load?
No. Not alone. I knew that fact as instantly as I'd known the fact that I must relieve my sister and her family of their rebellion-related burdens.
I sat down in the grass at the edge of Aldera. Here, sheltered, I couldn't be seen. I couldn't be heard. I couldn't be interrupted. All of which was important, given what I was about to attempt.
Calling on a Force ghost wasn't exactly easy . Mostly, they appeared when they would. Occasionally over the years, I'd seen Obi-Wan, Yoda, or even Qui-Gon Jinn, my former master's master. In the past couple years, though, their appearances had been sparse, coming far and few between. From what I understood, their path to appearance wasn't linear: sometimes it lay open, and other times it didn't. It seemed like the darkness in the Force sometimes precluded their coming, like some great veil almost impossible to penetrate.
Given the subtle lightful piercing of this dark veil lately, I held out hope I might succeed this time.
And the hope gave way to reality, when a shimmering spectre appeared before me.
"Luke," said Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"Master."
Obi-Wan smiled. "You have done very well."
And it all poured out, all of my confessions—save only one. "Master—I don't feel like I've done very well. The rebellion—it's so underfunded and we have no ways to get resources. And now, with Han and Leia leaving it… I don't know how to go on…"
Being the last Jedi was an honor, but a lonely road indeed.
OOO
Talking with Obi-Wan again had strengthened me. Had helped my mind to clear. My chest felt far less tight, and peace suffused me as it hadn't in a while outside of meditation. Seeing my old master again had been a balm on my wounds and a shot of strength straight through me. Now, I even had an idea on the rebellion's supply problems—though it wasn't something Obi-Wan suggested. Instead, it had been something he'd mentioned …
Han's past as a smuggler. And how he had enterprisingly switched to racing. Enterprising smugglers . That idea nagged at me until it took hold, and a very dangerous but very possible idea indeed was now forming inside my mind.
My comm chimed. Confused, I answered, "Yes?"
"Meet me by the River Wuitho," said Padmé simply. Not a request. An order from the princess of the planet I currently walked on.
"What is it?" I wanted to ask, What's wrong? But I kept my calm. No Death Star in the sky. So nothing could be completely and totally awful.
Hopefully.
"Just meet me."
"Alright."
Twenty minutes later, I waited by said river for her. It was a beautiful, sparkling waterway that reflected your face like glass. Fascinated, I drew my hands through the water several times, taking immense pleasure in doing so. Alderaan was so full of crystal lakes and scenic rivers and overflowing plenty. It was called the planet of beauty for a reason.
And maybe that was part of the reason they disliked their princess—though I would never say so to her. Padmé's distinct lack of prettiness. Maybe it, stupidly, offended Alderaanians, who believed that their leaders should reflect the beauty of their world. However, though in this moment, as she strode determinedly toward me, her head high and her shoulders thrown back, she didn't look pretty, she did look like a storm. A powerful and dangerous storm you didn't want to mess with.
I ventured, "Hi."
"I'll never love again!" was the only declaration I got before she burst into tears.
Uhm—? Numbly I gathered her into my arms, wondering what could've occurred in the past two hours since she'd seemed calm and collected with her parents by her side, the revelation of Leia's pregnancy glowing from within all of them, providing a way to unite them all again.
But later, after having heard the whole story, I uttered of Lord Lute Lortie, "The son of a motherless bantha."
She laughed, a distinctly cruel edge within it. "Yeah."
The way I understood it, it went like this: extremely happy due to the news of her mother's pregnancy, Padmé went to visit her boyfriend, said Lord Lute. Well, on reaching his rooms, she overheard a certain conversation thanks to the ajar-door. From it—Lute speaking to his mother over call—she learned that his whole romance with her had been a plot to advance the family. They'd placed him at the palace for this reason, this hope, alone.
And then she'd come to me. Not to Han. Again. I seemed to have supplanted her father's advice and counsel, even comfort. I wondered when that had been. Too bad I had no good ideas for advice. It wasn't like I had much experience in the relationship area, and what experience I had wasn't exactly interacting with it all with skill.
I thought of Obi-Wan, and my recent conversation, and how he expressed his pride in my success. A stab of guilt like being run through with my own lightsaber fissured through me, making me shiver and think of hazel eyes and hot lips.
But I couldn't think of that now. I had to focus on this moment, and come up with some advice or comfort for her.
Then Padmé randomly diverted, "Was Grandfather really a Jedi? Killed by Vader?"
I recognized her eagerness for the distraction, but that was reason enough to go on. "Is that what your mother told you?"
"Is it not true?"
Not exactly. And I think Leia should be telling you the truth, not more half-truths after sixteen years of lying to you… I said, "Vader killed your Grandmother."
"Too? That bastard," she breathed, hand to her heart. "So… we're in hiding, then. Out in the open."
I admitted, "Yes."
"And you… you've been in hiding on Tatooine."
"Yes."
"And that's why they didn't tell me you were my uncle. That's why… But why, then? Why let me believe in the Empire? What did it do?"
"I believe your mother thought that it would protect you."
"Surely she must have realized such 'protection' could never last."
"I think she was desperate, Padmé. And when you're desperate, you can believe a lot that you want to."
She was silent for a time after that. I knew we wouldn't discuss Lord Lute again, probably ever. She seemed determined to pretend the dalliance has never existed at all. I wanted to tell her that she deserved better, that someday the right man who appreciated her would come into her life; I wanted to tell her, Kriff him. But I couldn't do any of that, not only because it sounded trite. If she didn't want to discuss it, then I would honor that.
"And my grandfather? My real grandfather? Who was he?"
"His name was Anakin Skywalker," I said, "and I've been told that he was a great pilot, a cunning warrior, and a very good friend."
"And a Jedi."
"And a Jedi," I agreed.
Padmé picked at the grass. "Could I be a Jedi? I mean, if I wanted to be?"
"You could," I replied, trying not to get excited. After all, she didn't understand what that meant. "But… the life of a Jedi is no fairytale, despite what the Gatalentans might tell you."
"Oh, Adalyse has been insufferable ever since I learned about you."
"You mean Holdo's daughter?" I'd seen her around base a few times, with her ever-color-changing hair and obsession with the snow owls she raised (and often showed holo images of to anyone who would look—the babies were admittedly adorable fluff balls). It was hard to believe anyone as serious as Holdo could have a daughter so… uhm… well…
Airy .
"Yes. 'Master Skywalker! He's incredible! Everything he can do—it's just like all the stories I've heard.'" She rolled her eyes. But then, she burst out, "I think I'd like to be—if I could. Because… Mother and Dad might want to quit—but I…" Her voice turned quietly determined, her eyes narrowed on me. "I want to help. I've seen too much. I know too much. There's no going back for me now."
That sounded distinctly ominous, rather than hopeful. But I understood why. For her, these past many months, she'd lost all of what she'd once believed to be true. Now she had to rebuild her beliefs and even herself according to her new realizations and comprehensions.
I told her, "Being a Jedi… is a difficult life. We shirk all attachment, so as to join with the flow of the Force undeterred. We follow the Jedi Code—a set of rules governing our lives—, living by it until our last breaths in this life. Then we join with the Force for all eternity."
Then I added the second: "And you can't join just because of thwarted love, Mé."
She flushed, and spoke in her cold sharp way. "That is not why I—"
"No. Listen," I urged gently. "That was half the reason I did. I didn't deal with my feelings for someone, and now it's coming back to haunt me." Bite me in the ass was more like it. But it felt good to finally admit some measure of it—to myself and to her. "I'm having to recommit myself now, when I ought to have been of the firmest foundations long ago. You should grow beyond me in that respect."
"…Biggs Darklighter," she said. Not a question.
"Yes."
"They don't know, do they? Neither of them?" (Han or Leia).
I wasn't sure which she meant: the feelings for men part or the feelings for Biggs the Imperial Admiral part. "No," I said.
"I won't tell anyone," she avowed. "They won't get anything from me, Uncle Luke."
And, oh, Force, if only I'd known how deep that promise would end up running. How far we would all fall for its repercussions. But I didn't. I didn't at all.
So I was able to enjoy this moment, taking her hand in mine and kissing the back even as I had done those many months ago on seeing her again after three years. The sun shone. Her eyes remained determined, but unhaunted. The river softly flowed. It was a golden day.
Our last golden day.
"You have my deepest gratitude, my lady. And, please, think about what I said. If you decide that you ready to make that commitment, then please know that I would be honored to train you."
She vowed, "I will."
OOO
Bastatha was a planet full of dark caverns. In these caverns dwelled the cesspool of the galaxy: struggling smugglers, thieves, and a few more-than-slightly shady entrepreneurs looking to make it big. Maybe even looking to capitalize on the Hutts' falling power. It was this last type for which I, myself, was looking. I wasn't even sure what or who to look for, but I trusted the Force to light my way.
Amidst the dark.
Walking through the world, I knew I was in the deepest of shadows now.
Soon enough, a tug in my gut. A whisper in the Force. I looked on the leathery-skinned reddish Nikto, dressed in a fine linen suit, and knew I'd found my target.
"You know," I remarked, heading over, "I've been to Tatooine. If you ask me, the Hutts need some healthy competition."
Her yellow eyes, so like a Sith's, swiped to meet mine. Something unholy gleamed in them on hearing the name of the Hutts. Something furious. Something useful. "What would you know of healthy competition?" she asked in a deep, resounding voice.
"A few things. But mostly… I know about credits. Maybe we might make a team."
