Luke and Ben
(Synopsis: from now on, it only goes downhill. And fast.)
Luke finds him through the Force some 3 miles away from the place. Ben was running like possessed and Luke feels, for the first time, the burdening weight of his biological age. Ben's presence in the Force, that strong lighthouse lost in tempestuous sea, is now darkened.
He always felt that by destruction of the Emperor and by the turning to the Light of the last remaining Sith, Lord Vader, he bought this galaxy more time.
Obviously, he was so gravely mistaken.
The Jedi master sighs.
He tried, frantically, to find out more about this mysterious Dark Side user, but his own meticulousness in exterminating every single remnant of the Sith now stood in the way – the resources were scarce, even in the vast libraries of the long abandoned Sith academy on Korriban. His father's castle on Mustafar was turned to rubbles and barricaded under his own instructions. The dead Sith were mockingly and defiantly silent to him, of course.
So here he is, little more than 20 years later, chasing the same shadow all over again.
And now it is even more painful than the first time - even though he trembled over Han and Leia, he was so young and so reckless then. He wonders if the majority of his legendary bravery was nothing more than youthful unawareness. His bones ache. His knees crackle in the morning. His bionic hand hurts at the junction with his flesh and bones, and that's not the only joint that suffers early rheumatism.
In those days, he was responsible only for himself, more or less. But now, he has this child - his sister's child - under his care. He practically had to convince the ever skeptical Leia the boy will do good if he gets trained in the ways of the Force, if he learns how to control that power he was born with.
Reluctantly, she accepted his ardent arguments.
But was he speaking out of good intentions alone? Or was there a pang of vanity as well? They feared Ben had too much of Vader's heart in him, but what if he, the mighty Luke Skywalker, was every bit as guilty of this like Ben was? What a terrible expression, Luke thinks. Guilt. The boy was not guilty of anything. He didn't choose this. Sometimes, during his schooling, he'd sense Ben's weariness and loneliness, too. His burning sense of unworthiness. He'd try to spare him on those days, but as soon as he'd been relieved of his duties, the old shadow would creep in. Ben thought Luke was unaware - reckless, vain, impulsive youth - but he was aware. Oh, how aware he was of his exchanges with the Dark Side.
He could've let Tekka teach the boy to become a Force soother. That way, Ben would not become a Jedi, but he'd learn to subdue and control his powers. He thought Ben was too hot-headed and impetuous for that sort of a quiet, simple life, and Tekka too lenient. But was he deceiving himself only so he could continue that powerful Skywalker bloodline?
All these thoughts come rushing in as he chases after Ben.
When he found him, Ben is standing at the edge of a channel filled with murky waters under a low bridge, his face expressionless. Empty. His feet, parted shoulder wide, anticipate a combat stance. But he doesn't move and doesn't acknowledge Luke's presence.
"Ben", Luke says.
The young man turns, albeit slowly, his mind distant.
"It doesn't matter, Master," Ben utters.
It all makes perfect sense now. His mother's objection to the Jedi ways. His father's open irony. His own ill-temper and the powerful allure the Dark Side has on him ever since he can remember. The fact that he felt so out of place all of his life, an over-privileged outcast.
It was prohibited to the younglings to use Force manipulation to read other people's minds and he never dared do it to Leia, but now he bitterly regrets his sheepish obedience.
How could they? Why couldn't they trust him? Why have they procreated if the burden of the past felt so heavy and so shameful? How didn't they realize it was he who paid the ultimate price, an innocent child unaware of his heritage, both over-protected and bitterly thrust into the world without warning?
His thoughts are tumultuous and Luke doesn't need telepathy to see it.
He always knew his nephew was very sensitive and very emotional. After all, although he'd never admit it to the boy, it was also Leia's and his own state of mind. But they managed to channel this intense sensitivity into something good and constructive while Ben remained… unbalanced.
"Ben," he tries to resume the conversation in the X-wing, on their way back to the temple, but Ben shrugs off his attempt.
"It is unimportant," he squeezes through his clenched teeth.
Stubborn - another family trait.
But he has to be not only wiser, but truly wise - he'll not press the matter any further until the boy cools down a bit and starts hearing their side of the story.
Boy - he should really stop calling him that, because one he certainly isn't. Luke feels a tone of regret setting on his heart, and makes every effort to discard it as a useless emotion. They did nothing wrong. They acted in boy's best interest. They tried to protect him from dangerous knowledge until the time was right for him to accept.
But even as they reach the temple he cannot exorcise the overwhelming feeling they - him, Leia and Han - have failed Ben miserably.
Schimbie waits especially for him, with Ceth and Kora approaching Luke first. Their reports are good. They worked as a team and no excess happened. They're proud at their accomplishments and Luke commends them on their team effort.
They do not know of the truth that is his identity - yet. The whole planet is shielded with ancient sources of the Force as it helps the padawans to concentrate.
Ben feels a sort of weak gratitude for the obliviousness of this place he considered cumbersome only yesterday. This is the closest thing to home he'll ever experience.
And even that will soon come to its end.
Schimbie's warm short-sighted eyes blink at him. He'd sneer at her foolish infatuation - he envies her for her unpolluted mind - but can't bring himself to do it.
He makes a weak attempt to smile at her and she is over the moon with joy.
Poor kid, he thinks. She doesn't know whom she is in love with.
He glances at his master and uncle. His face is shaded with concern that he's not even trying to conceal.
He calculates, Ben thinks. After what has happened in Hosnian Prime, after that revelation, the voice of the Dark Side echoes in his mind: He doesn't trust you. He's afraid of you. Every time you grow beyond his expectations, he fears you even more.
"Ben," Luke interrupts on his troubled thoughts. His voice is gentler than ever before. He looks at him with that same gaze he had the first time he brought the boy into the temple.
"We'll tell them when you're ready," he says, and tries to put his hand on Ben's shoulder in reassurance.
But Ben steps back, almost instinctively.
"It is all the same to me, Master," he replies in a flat tone.
I am who I am. Before, now and forever more.
His silent hut made of wood and of stone, once a sort of welcoming shelter, now feels like a grave. The whole island feels like a tomb, its stone walls threatening to crash around him.
Exhausted, he falls asleep fully clothed, and dreams of nothing. It is profound sleep of a man slain.
In the months that ensue, that voice doesn't come back but in a way, Ben doesn't care. The galaxy around him is a deafening silence. Some weeks after the Hosnian incident, Luke gathers his pupils in the Temple to tell them news of Ben's and his heritage.
"Nothing changes," he speaks to them all. "There is light and there is darkness in each and every one of us, and I, your master, am no exception."
He glances at Ben with understanding and compassion, but the young man stays frozen like a statue, looking in some undefined point before him, eyes lowered.
Luke has his reputation to hide behind – no one dares to look at the old, simple, quaint Jedi as some sort of phantasm of the past. But it's different for Ben – it always was. His hopes that at last he would find a kindred spirit, a friend and a companion at the Academy quickly dissipated at the very beginning. One half of them are practically delinquents, the other half comes with another sort of burden of life behind them – everyone trapped within their own selfish needs, pain, troubles and agendas. Perhaps it's his natural timidity, often mistaken for arrogance; perhaps it's his awkward silence, mistaken for disdain; perhaps it's his powers, the ones he never asked for in the first place, that instigate fear and envy; or perhaps it's just the simple human need to vilify someone – a proclivity even these Jedi students aren't resistant to.
After the truth is revealed, there is a definite segregation within the small school community – those who shun him, and those who inspect him with inquisitiveness. And in between them all is Schimbie; the only one so infatuated that she doesn't even care and tells him explicitly so. But he doesn't care, either. Not enough to pack up and leave the island, disappearing somewhere in the Unknown Regions; not enough to kill himself, remnants of the Jedi religion prohibiting any sort of violence, especially that over oneself; not enough to raise an army against the Jedi. Why should he? It is all so meaningless and banal.
His mother tries to contact him through Luke: through Force, and then via a hologram projector, the only one active on the entire island – but he rejects all contact. It pains and frustrates Luke, but what can he do? What sort of punishment can he reinforce to break his resolve?
It is too late, mother.
His days become even more mundane than before – not so long ago, he ached for the excitement, for the mystery of the unexplored planets, for the joy of the battle, for the old glory of the Jedi to return. Now, he has all of this and so much more than he ever bargained for and his own stupidity that laughs right at his face. Stupid, weak boy. He just goes through the motions in his training, neglects his books and his manuscripts that now lie about, scattered, dust forming layer upon layer over his most cherished possessions; even Anakin's saber becomes languid and distant like a stranger. It once chose him – now they are as alien to each other as any other dead object without personal value and its unwilling owner.
Until, one day, the old voice is back again. Only, this time it's strengthened – it is clearer.
It comes with a plan and a proposition – with purpose, promise and an agenda – something his parents and the Jedi never had.
The matrix within the saber makes a low, nervous buzz to the point Ben has to press it with his hand to stop it from moving spastically on his low wooden table.
And then, he stops and listens: to the voice, and to the new language of his saber.