I feel a little bit uneasy around the age-gap, but Ben is really very immature emotionally - and he's painfully aware of this. Thus, once he sees you-know-who, although he is inexplicably drawn to her, he expresses more brotherly than romantic feelings at first (and no, that doesn't mean she is Skywalker-Solo-Kenobi in this fanfiction - I am GoT fan, but not that sort of a fan). Other than that, Ben reminds me somewhat of wizard Ged from Earthsea. Needless to say, the whole Earthsea religion of bad vs. good magic is a parallel of Dark vs. Light Side of the Force.
In the ensuing days, he really tries to control the visions. He should talk to Luke about the meaning of his lucid dreaming, but is almost immediately discouraged. How on planet can he talk about something that the old veteran can discard as meaningless, as petty boyish twilight fantasies? Or even worse, what if he explicitly prohibits Ben from indulging in those dreams? It is a never-ending torment: on one hand, he has a burning desire not to fail. He takes great pride in his meticulousness and in his powers. Perhaps the dreams are just that - a perfunctory activity of his nerves and a convulsion of his body struggling against the vows of celibacy. But as soon as his rational mind starts deconstructing the thing as mere physiological deception, her radiant presence ignites in his memory and he surrenders again. His nights become a pendulum swinging between the intense yearning to see her once again and anxiety he will be rendered weak once more. It sparks bouts of insomnia which he tries to put under control by reading the Jedi texts and writing down detailed manuals on how to bleed the Dark Side from the blade. It is a fascinating lesson passed on from Luke, one he personally likes the most - although the chances for this to ever again become necessary are slim to none.
He sighs. The glorious days of the Jedi order are long gone. There is no remaining living Sith in the existence. The new Jedi order of his uncle wields much power and of diverse forms, but it's only mental acrobatics, nothing more. His boyish fantasies of fighting the Empire and defeating the most powerful Sith dissipate in the mundane routine.
One night, it dawns on him. He might find a middle way, a royal way so they say. He will find out whether the girl is real or not - he will meditate in the Force. He is quite capable of doing it - theoretically. It was prohibited to use it without Luke's approval and presence, but Ben has to know. And after all, he is his oldest and most powerful Force user - he feels sure enough about his powers and his knowledge. Ben sneaks out from his cabin and using the night and the exhaustion of his fellow students, he goes to the slick plinth stone, a convergence in the Force, to enhance his meditation. The night is old and unusually dark for the planet with two lunar type satellites, since both have already set behind the edge of the horizon.
Ben reaches out and focuses. He searches for her in the Light Side. Millions upon millions of Light Side users since time immemorial come his way like candles burning in the dark. He goes through all of them and his open mind wanders. The light representing his namesake, Ben Kenobi, grows before him and Ben tenses at this peculiar vision. In what way is she connected to the old Jedi master? "Her first steps", the distant voice murmurs. He frowns, unsure what to make of the vision, but is at the same time delighted. A powerful Light Side user, and a beautiful girl, all at the same time - a pupil Luke is yet unaware of. His heart swells with pride - he saw something his powerful Master didn't. Ha! He knew those dreams couldn't be just his synapses firing away randomly. He smiles, his eyes closed. The Force pulls him further, almost like he managed to zero in on her. There is a dim light now in the place of many brightly burning ones. And cold. His breath freezes in the air. Ben tenses and frowns. He almost thinks he did something essentially wrong, when something in that darkness moves.
Something human and familiar. A light, albeit a dim one. A glow rod.
An unruly bundle of brown hair and sun-kissed face of a girl, no more than 15 years of age. She looks into the darkness, visibly unsettled. Ben feels the old kind of familiarity again and is transfixed with her face. A wide face that inspires trust: prominent cheekbones, delicate nose and almond shaped eyes, brown irises with fireflies of gold and green. He finds that face so beautiful that he is at loss with words. The same girl from his vision, but by the looks of her, the visions are those of future: the girl of today is somewhat younger and instigates more tender and more brotherly feelings in him. The vision he had is set perhaps five years from this point – something has happened in between. Some kind of change. An awakening both in him and in her. But then he notices something else - trail of tears on both sides of her face. The poverty of her surroundings. The loneliness. Layers of old blankets around her, and she's still freezing. It's some sort of a desert. He accompanied his uncle to Tatooine more than once so he can unmistakably recognize that sort of cold.
"Where are you?" Her shaky voice breaks from the other side. "Why haven't you come for me?"
"I have come for you," he says way more ardently than he intended, but she doesn't seem to hear.
"I'm so alone," she whispers and her lower lip starts trembling uncontrollably. "I tried to stay brave, but I'm not. I miss you. Please, come back."
Her head falls on her chest. He can't see her tears, but her shoulders are shaking. A silent sob escapes her.
Her plea is so heart-wrenching that he feels tears rolling from his face as she speaks. He wants so badly to be that someone she's waiting for, but her glazed eyes tell him she looks through him and expects someone else entirely. His heart sinks. There is a pang of wounded ego deep inside his 23-years old heart, but he immediately reprimands himself over his vanity. She is just a young girl, a child, he thinks. You fool, can't expect for the whole world to love you! Even your own parents find you tiresome, a difficult child. Half of the Academy either mocks you or resents you. Luke tolerates you, but doesn't know what to make of you! But the old tempest waxing in his mind quickly wanes as he is once again drawn inexorably to her. She's untrained and completely unaware of the Force in her, lying dormant. Perhaps it's for the better, he thinks. He is weary of the Jedi academy. He was weary the moment he came in. This place felt like a prison, not like home. And homeward he couldn't go. The political intrigue made sure of it and his parents sealed the deal with their split.
He tried to communicate to Han that he was unjustly accused of that crime he didn't commit – but Solo was preoccupied running away from Kanjiklub. And even more unsettling – he was not running away from the smugglers, he was running away from facing him, his own son. He has already condemned him in his mind.
A long time ago.
His son's outbursts frightened him; he had no patience for them. And there was something ingrained in him that was essentially impossible for Han to comprehend - the ancient eyes on a round-cheeked, soft-haired young boy. His uncontrolled powers. His unpredictable temper, as he grew older. Indeed, he has given up on him a long time ago, finding his usual business and training young pilots a more rewarding and straightforward experience.
"I am lonely, too," he whispers to the wind. He would expect the Force to subside and leave them both to their own personal pain, but it doesn't. Something almost sadistic about it – he can still see her shaking miserably. And he himself is helpless. He'd like to put an arm around her shoulders, calm her down, wipe away her tears. Make her feel less alone. Teach her about the ways of the Force – or don't. No matter how cramped and poor her room looked, it still felt a lot more like home than his tidy Jedi cabin. Every segment of that image is filled with evidence of her quirky, restless spirit – numerous etchings on the rusted metal wall, signifying her days on whatever that desert hell-hole is; small pots with peculiar desert flowers; bits and pieces of metal and dismantled devices; a rag doll colored orange, representing a Resistance fighter. Ah, the little girl likes the Resistance. She'd probably be over the moon to meet the Resistance hero no. 1, his mother.
Ben frowns.
He has barely spoken to Leia since he came here and swore he will reduce the contact as years go by. The Jedi prohibited any personal attachment. And if he's dispatched here, he'll be the best Jedi the galaxy has ever witnessed. Even Luke couldn't hide the frightened gaze that permeated here and there under his usually composed and even slightly whimsical demeanor. It made him fill up with a sort of dark pride – but it was a weak substitute for the crushing loneliness he felt.
He is uprooted all of his life, feeling acutely he doesn't belong anywhere in particular. Not with his father's flamboyant company, not with his mother's politically convoluted social circles. Approaching 23, he is a man, but he feels so ill-prepared for what lies ahead that it makes his heart crumble. Han Solo was already an established pirate by now. Kicked out of the pilot academy. Brazen and full of swagger, already in and out of love for who knows how many times. Q'ira, that beautiful Resistance spy from Correllia whose beauty proves Solo had a definite physical type - a petite brunette with almond-shaped eyes, a point of some bitter arguing between him and Leia, who was very much capable of rage and jealousy (although she attributed all of these traits to his father's side of the family). Anakin Skywalker, practically a fully fledged Jedi by the tender age of 18. Reckless and brave. Already married. Leia – a cunning politician, a national leader and a Resistance hero. Luke - a living legend, the savior of the galaxy, that mighty Jedi. And here he is – an overgrown man-child playing Jedi, peeking through a key-hole formed by Force manipulation into this poor girl's world. How pathetic he is. It makes even tips of his earlobes burn with shame.
But it is so hard for him to break the bond, now it is formed. He didn't think it possible. He didn't even think it through. He only needed to see her once again before he goes completely berserk with all the anxiety and insomnia this on and off relation produced.
Her soft sobs cease eventually and he snaps out of his brooding thoughts. She did this more than once – exhausting herself with crying until she was tired enough to fall asleep. What a miserable existence, he thinks. So miserable, in fact, that he reaches out with his hand. No reason in particular – she can't see him, although obviously she felt at least some kind of disturbance in the air. The Force didn't connect them for any reason. The cold air surrounding Jedi temple leaves a trail of goose bumps on his arm. He tries to caress her cheek: that's how close she feels and how desperate he is to comfort her. Or to comfort himself – he doesn't know which and doesn't care.
He can pretend he can feel her inflamed skin. And he almost flinches, a shock-wave spreading through his hand. He can truly feel that feverish, dry skin. The curvature of her cheek. The dried out tears. He's now amazed, frightened and hypnotized all at the same time and can't seem to unglue his hand from her face.
And the girl feels it. Her eyes widen and lit up, and she rubs her face against his palm, absent-mindedly. She probably attributes the sensation to her exhaustion and nerves tensed to a breaking point. But she doesn't back away. Actually, she leans even further into the palm of his hand and smiles. A warm breath against his rough skin.
Ben swallows hard. May the Force be with me, he thinks. Is he doing something terribly wrong? And if he is, why doesn't the Force prevent it? Is it alright if she is unaware he's there?
The girl yawns, languidly. He can feel her sleepy weight pressing his palm down. He panics and retracts his hand, the pressure of her face still imprinted on it. She shudders – the air around her is cold again. But she's so exhausted she has no strength left to process all of this. She is fast asleep even before she hits the bed again.
Ben is left alone and this time, the loneliness at least feels familiar, dull and safe.