1
It was an order of contradictions from the beginning, Luke thought, musing on the dark side nexus lying deep underneath the first Jedi Temple. Of course they were corrupted. And corrupted, of course they became hypocrites.
He scowled. The dark side nexus had been growing on his mind recently. It hadn't crawled inside of him - not yet. The only things that lived there were regret, fallen pride, and a guilty sort of nostalgia. He missed Luke Skywalker, Hero of the Rebellion. He missed being that young, that confident, that firm in his convictions. His sense of right and wrong, of light and dark. And he knew - who knew better than Luke Skywalker, Failed Jedi Grand Master - that it was folly to long for such things.
Returning to his meditations, he inhaled deeply through his nose on a slow count of four, then exhaled through his mouth on a count of eight. As he did, he sought out the Living Force, seeking to embed himself in the moment once more. He felt the life of the island: the grasses and moss, the Lanai Caretakers and the porgs. He felt the potential energy in the long-dormant systems of his X-Wing.
The more the Force filled him, the more the Dark called to him. He'd heard its call for over half his life, its whispers no less powerful than in the cave on Dagobah and no more successful than in the throne room on the Death Star. I will not turn. Maybe the only point of similarity between Luke the Jedi Hero and Luke the Jedi Failure.
The Force stirred as new life entered the web surrounding the erstwhile Master. A ship? Sithspit. What possible reason would anyone but a Force-user have to visit Ahch-To, home of the first Jedi Temple and also literally nothing else of interest? As he swiftly made his way to his hut, Luke closed down his presence in the Force. This blinded him to the life signatures entering the atmosphere; he wouldn't sense them again until his physical senses would pick them up as effectively as his threadbare remaining connection to the Force. If the approaching vessel did indeed contain Force-users, they would almost certainly not detect him, either; on the off chance those Force-users were coming in search of Luke Skywalker, the trade-off was worth it.
Shortly, he heard the screaming of a vessel's engines nearing his island. The Tatooine desert-bound dreamer in his subconscious, the remainder of the boy who spent whole hours just watching ships enter and leave Anchorhead, automatically identified the sound. Freighter. Corellian.
Ordinarily, this would describe over half the civilian-operated ships in the known galaxy. Luke scowled. There was a low, bass thrum underneath the usual YT-type shriek that told of idiosyncratic modifications to the engines. Familiar modifications. Luke sighed. He'd been found.
Resigning himself to interruption and preparing himself to dismiss whichever old friend had jumped through the hoops it would have taken to locate him, he left the hut and traveled the path down to the only area flat enough to land a ship.
Seeing the freighter settle next to his X-Wing blew dust off of thirty-four-year-old memories of Massassi temples and youthful exuberance. The high of having struck the first major blow against the Empire. The low of realizing, belatedly, that with two proton torpedoes he had taken over one million lives - and that surely most of those were not sociopathic villains. He had slain janitors, food technicians, conscripts who loathed the Empire as much as or more than any die-hard Rebel.
Putting aside maudlin thoughts and ancient guilt, Luke reached the bottom of the Falcon's ramp as it finished descending, belatedly deciding that it was safe enough to open himself to the Force.
He received the shock of his middle life. The Force presence he recognized even as its accompanying corporeal form strode down to meet him was not one he'd ever expected to encounter again.
Bantha-hide boots rode up the calves of long legs that he knew, beneath the loose-fitting cargo pants, to be lean and muscular. The holstered BlasTech DL-18 rode at mid-thigh; a lightsaber hilt, all chromium save for the black plastoid ridges between the emitter and the switch, swung from her hip as she sauntered toward him. Luke knew there would be further arsenal concealed within the beaten leather bomber jacket she wore over a forest-green, low-necked blousy tunic. Long, wavy, titian hair framed a deceptively cute face, with high cheekbones, full lips, and green eyes that were, typically, unreadable. One thin eyebrow was cocked high, and those full lips arranged themselves in a familiar smirk, as Mara Jade reached the bottom of the ramp and addressed the self-exiled Jedi.
"Shake the moss off, Farmboy. Time to save the galaxy again."
AN: Thanks for reading the first chapter of my first-ever fanfic! All constructive feedback is welcome. I have a longer story in mind taking place after this series of confrontations between Luke and Mara, spanning thirty years of galactic history, blending Legends and canon with a sprinkling here and there of my own homegrown spice of AU.