#“oh is the last jedi master too good to save enough kaf for me in the morning?”

[froglover7789]

luke and hans friendship is so fun to me and i wish it was explored a little more in canon. like they absolutely yap about their mutual fear of leia and argue about ships and han teaches luke sabaac and luke teaches han some awful tatooinian game that is like horrifying (still workshopping this part) and they go drinking and are stupid and i wish we got to see more of that.

like anh they were so fun.... yap city.... and in esb they cared about each other but also gave each other shit like true friends... i wouldve liked to see that return more post hans carbonite incident bc lets face it. he would give luke so much shit for being a jedi

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: burn bright until we’re not Fandom: Star Wars Ship: Biggs/Luke AN: Remember how I complained about the lack of fanfic? Yeah.

Read on AO3!

— first

Luke Skywalker was not the first person Biggs had a crush on, but perhaps he was the first he fell in love with. The day he realized how much he adored his best friend wasn’t really different from any other day on Tatooine. There wasn’t much to do on their homeworld but to laze around, work on the farm, get drunk, repair a speeder and go racing. They had been done with their chores already.

Well, Biggs who had many siblings and less to do in general had been finished.

He’d gone over to the Skywalker homestead after to help Luke so that they could go racing after. Luke had been busy repairing droids, grease smeared over his clothes and face while he frowned at five different wires, only to lighten up as soon as he spotted his best friend. Biggs fell in love with the way Luke smiled at him.

— kiss

More often than not, kissing Luke meant tasting dust and oil. Biggs didn’t mind too much, even made fun of his boyfriend for being made out of storms and machines. Luke tackled him in retribution, they fell down into the sand, complained and laughed. They kissed the day Biggs left for the Academy, for the Rebellion, and there was nothing sweet about it. They clung to each other in desperation, torn between dreams and hopes and promises of coming back.

— final

The fighting stopped, the second Death Star had been taken out and with it the Emperor. But still, there was no sign of Luke. Biggs hadn’t been there when he decided to leave, surrender to Darth Vader so they wouldn’t have to deal with a Sith Lord killing their already few numbers. This was the final day of an era of tyranny, and Luke might be-

— numb

No, I am your father.

Luke had been desperate at first, then panicked and scared and finally angry. Now he only felt numb. When his world had been falling apart, the stories about his father had been something to cling to. He had been a good man, a hero, and Luke had wanted to be just like him.

He didn’t know who was supposed to be now.

— broken

When Luke returned from Bespin, he wasn’t the same. He was missing his friend, his lightsaber and his right hand, but something in him had broken and Biggs didn’t know how to fix it.

“He survived Vader,” Wedge assured him. “He will pull through.”

— wings

“So, uh, does everything around Commander Skywalker usually grow wings?”

Rogue Squadron’s newest recruit was short, and she doesn’t look like much, but her turns were so sharp that Luke wanted to hand her his lightsaber just to see if she’d know what to do.

“You get used to it,” Wedge sighed. “Our dear leader usually goes outside to meditate, but Biggs forbid him after he caught a cold last time.”

Luke dropped one of the floating tools on Wedge’s head.

— melody

Luke was humming. Biggs was fairly sure he didn’t even notice it, but since they had taken off, flying in the direction of the Death Star, Luke had been humming. He only really stopped when he was calling in and giving a status update. Biggs knew the song from Luke. It wasn’t a nursery rhyme, but Aunt Beru used to sing it as one. Luke always muttered it when he was trying to calm down, except for that one time he had shouted it when they’d been flying away from Tuskens in Beggar’s Canyon.

“Oh, You're never gonna be closer to the Great Water,” Biggs whispered to himself. “Than when the Master sends you into the desert, don’t cry, don’t cry…”

They’d make it out. They would survive this suicide run against the Empire and utterly destroy their weapon of mass destruction.

— rules

Luke watched Biggs leave, the japor snippet he’d been given burning warmly in his hand. Biggs had promised that he’d return in three years time, come pick Luke up and they’d be free to travel wherever they wanted. It was a nice dream and Luke wanted to chase after it, but nobody who had made it off Tatooine ever came back, such were the rules of their life. Luke felt like everything inside him was screaming at him to tell him he’d see Biggs again. Well, that could only mean that it would be Luke chasing after Biggs, so that for once in their lives their roles were reversed.

—     chocolate

Introducing his new wingman to sweets was Wedge’s new hobby. Biggs Darklighter, Outer Rim pilot, was a terror on the field. You almost wouldn’t assume he was nineteen, looking and acting much older. Right now though, his face utterly stuffed with fine Alderaanian chocolate, he actually seemed like the inexperienced young man he was.

“I have to show Luke this,” Biggs muttered.

“Who’s Luke?” Wedge asked.

Biggs smiled softly and oh- well, if that wasn’t a love-struck expression.

—     nostalgia

“I missed this,” Han said. “You, me, people shooting at us while we’re saving the day.”

“This is not the right place for nostalgia, Han!” Leia shouted at him and leaped over their cover, her lightsaber ignited.

“You’re right,” Han agreed, watching her tear her way through their attackers like an angry war goddess. This was way better.

—     heartbeat

“We’re losing him! I need a medic over here, now!”

This wasn’t their childhood adventure, this was war. It meant burying and burning their dead, staining their dirty flight suits with the blood of the people they couldn’t help, those they reached too late.

“Quick, someone, his heartbeat is weak, hurry up-“

“He’s gone, Biggs,” Luke said, his voice sounded far away. “We have to keep moving. C’mon, the imps aren’t far behind us.”

—     stranger

They hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Luke had been tracking down Jedi artifacts on his own and Biggs had been busy flying transports.

“Hey, there stranger,” Biggs greeted Luke from behind.

Luke didn’t even twitch, it was getting near impossible to surprise him nowadays. He turned around quickly and pulled at Biggs’ collar so he could kiss him. Around them, their friends shout and whistle.

“Idiots, all of them,” Biggs laughed and went in for a second kiss. He tangled his fingers in Luke’s hair. It was darker than it had ever been on Tatooine, and longer too.

“You need a haircut.”

“I need a shower,” Luke replied. “Care to join me?”

—     confusion

Han didn’t know what he was supposed to make of the kid, the old man, and the two droids. Chewie liked them, especially the old man. He’d introduced himself as Ben Kenobi and the kid as Luke Skywalker. Han had been a brat himself during the Clone Wars, but even he recognized those two last names. The Jedi magic business he was less sold on – it made no sense and it was confusing as hell, alright? – but back in the war, the Jedi had been Generals. Military titles Han could work with. Either way, the kid and the old man didn’t look like much, but perhaps they’d prove him wrong.

— bitter

The alcohol tasted bitter on Luke’s tongue, but it wasn’t the worst drink he'd ever had.

“Passable,” he judged and handed his bottle over to Wes who promptly choked on it.

“The heck, Skywalker! This tastes like the stuff I put in my tanks! This isn’t drinkable.”

Luke frowned and took back the bottle to hand it to Biggs, who also had no problems drinking it. They shared a look, then grinned.

“You should taste the stuff we drunk back home.”

“No, thank you.”

—     afterlife

Biggs stared at Luke, then at the empty space beside Luke where apparently Anakin Skywalker’s ghost was lurking, and finally back again at Luke.

“No,” he said, pulled their blanket over his head again and dropped back on their bed. “It’s too early for funky Jedi business. I can meet him later when I’m awake and coherent enough to understand dead people coming back. The world of the living is closed for any afterlife dwellers until I’ve had my kaf.”

Biggs slowly fell asleep again to the sound of twin laughter.

—     daybreak

Biggs had spent the whole day over at the Lars homestead until it had been so dark, Aunt Beru hadn’t wanted him to go home by himself. Luke and he had squeezed together in Luke’s bed, which was much too small for two teenagers, even if Luke was short for his age. They stayed up way to too late and got up before the first sun rose.

“C’mon,” Luke whispered and dragged Biggs with him outside. They climbed up the dome of the homestead and huddled together, watched the sunrise. At daybreak, Biggs decided he’d follow Luke everywhere, he’d only need to ask.

—     audience

They had an audience.

“Didn’t you say he was your boyfriend?” Wes asked. Next to him, the pilot Luke had arrived with – Han Solo or so? – looked just as flabbergasted as the rest of the team. He kept looking at Luke, as if to check that they weren’t playing a prank on them.

“You talked about me?”

Now Luke was looking up at Biggs with his big blue eyes flickering mischievously and Biggs could feel his cheeks heating up.

“Well, yes. I mean, it’s not like this is Tatooine, but I figured I should still, ah, stick to the oath, so boyfriend-“

Luke finally had enough torturing Biggs. “Yes, you did fine. And yes, we are married.”

“When did that happen?” Solo asked, throwing his hands in the air. “We arrived not even a week ago!”

Now it was Luke’s turn to blush, rightly so. “Uh, before Biggs left Tatooine, so three years ago…?”

— endless

Sometimes it felt like the fighting never stopped. They came back from patrol, someone slapped a few bacta patches on them if they could afford any, they ate if they could keep the ration bars down, went to sleep if they didn’t wake up screaming and got sent off for another run. There were moments where Biggs thought it didn’t get any better, the Alliance just tried to avoid the worst of the punches. He hated this endless fighting, the thought that this might be it for the rest of his life.

He always got back up again either way.

—     fireworks

The first time they kiss, it wasn't so much a kiss as Biggs being stupid and getting lost in his thoughts. Luke couldn’t sit still and he was always making sounds, whether he was humming or talking. Luke had turned to Biggs, asking him to hand him a tool and all Biggs could think of at that moment, was how nice it would be to kiss Luke.

So he did.

As soon as his lips touched Luke’s, he realized what he was doing and pulled back. He expected Luke to start shouting maybe, not to flush bright red, stammer and abandon all attempts at communication to dive in for a second, clumsy and awkward kiss. They made up inexperience with enthusiasm and nothing, not even the drought season fireworks, could compare.

— wishing

“So you what? Rub a lamp and get three wishes?” Leia asked skeptically.

Han groaned. “Yes, it’s an old Corellian story. Can I go on now?”

“But, Dad, aren’t there any rules about the wishes?”

“Yes, Han. There must be rules.”

There probably were, but Han couldn’t recall them. He only vaguely remembered the story from his childhood. Maybe his mother had told it to him or he had just put it together from the many stories the fellow orphans used to tell at night, he wouldn’t know.

He did know that his wife and son shared the same inquiring look that looked utterly adorable on Ben’s small round face.

“You make up some rules then,” Han decided and as expected, Ben and Leia immediately began discussion.

So much for bedtime stories.

—     birthday

Leia’s birthdays had always been overshadowed by the much more important Empire Day, a festive no planet of the Empire could escape. Her parents used to sit down with her for an hour at least, both making time in their busy schedules to have sweets with her and give Leia their presents. After Alderaan’s destruction, Leia had never stopped to think about her birthdays. She’d forgotten it twice and only remembered it when Luke mentioned offhandedly that it was his birthday while they were stuck together hiding from bounty hunters.

The war wasn’t over now, far from it, but a year after the Emperor’s death, Leia could celebrate, wanted to celebrate her birth and that of her twin’s. She’d missed enough years with him, she didn't want to miss another.

—     tomorrow

Today they partied. They cheered and danced and got so blackout drunk they wouldn’t be able to hear the desperate screams of their friends’ dying breaths. Tomorrow they would burn flags for their dead. They would pack up their base and rush to a new system to hide in.

—     oppression

Biggs could have had a comfortable life on Tatooine. His family was well-established and he’d earn enough money to live a good life, but Biggs had always dreamed of the stars. But even more than that, he’d yearned for a free galaxy. The Darklighters had kept their last name when they became free, Biggs great-grandmother hadn’t ever wanted to pretend she came from somewhere that was not oppression, but the people around them had forgotten it more and more with each year that passed.

Skywalker, on the other hand, was so glaringly a slave name, people took notice.

Tatooine bred two kinds of people, those who resisted and those who sought to establish their cruel system.  If they had just one or two pilots more, a chance to get off this planet, the rebels would be overrun with help from the Hutt space.

— agony

Leia stared at the people in front of her, wondering whether they were serious pilots or a bunch of teenagers.

“You don’t understand,” Hobbie insisted. “It’s agony. You’re our only hope, Senator.”

“I’m busy,” Leia said and walked past them. Honestly, Luke and Biggs were adults, they could solve their fight on their own. Interfering would only make it worse.

“Please! They won’t even talk to each other!”

Leia rolled her eyes. If they already weren’t talking anymore, they were already done fighting and just trying to figure out who needed to apologize first.

“Busy!”

— return

Luke wondered what it said about himself that he’d been so reluctant to return to Tatooine, even when he knew that Han was here and they had to free him. Perhaps it was because he could still smell the ashes of his burned childhood home. Or maybe because he could hear the desert scream at him, beg him to save their children.

But he couldn’t. Not today.

He’d be back again, he knew then. Free the remaining slaves as the Jedi had ought to do decades ago, teardown the makeshift grave he’d made for his parents, and maybe watch in amusement as Biggs’ mother would be forced to treat him politely as her son-in-law.

—     protection

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Wedge shouted, as always the loudest of the Rogues.

Right beside him, Hobbie laughed. “And close the doors if you’re busy!”

Wes, the last remaining member of the original Death Star Red Squadron only snorted and shook his head.  “They’re going on a mission, guys.”

“Undercover!”

“Without supervision!”

“Left alone for the first time in- uck.”

Biggs had thrown a pillow at Wedge, while Luke hadn’t even bothered to turn around. No, he had a husband to protect his honor.

— boxes

They exchanged gifts near midnight while the party showed no sign of ending, but the day was almost over.

“What is this?” Luke asked and for a split-second, Leia was angry at her parents. How could her father let them be split up? Luke should have grown up together with her on Alderaan, known their customs as well as she did.

“They’re marriage cords,” Leia explained. “Siblings make them for each other when they get married. I’m…” Leia quickly counted the years. “Nine years late, but I wanted you to have one. We usually put them in our hair during the wedding and keep them as necklaces or bracelets after.”

“Oh.” Luke examined the sky blue cords Leia had spent weeks fussing over. “Can you help me put them in? I don’t know how exactly.”

“Of course. Do I get to open my present before?”

“Yes!”

Luke eagerly pushed a small box into her hands. Leia opened it carefully and took out the bright purple crystal out of the box. Her brother looked a little sheepish, but there was an edge to his expression of which Leia knew that it meant that this was important to him.

“I know you said you prefer blasters and would leave the Jedi-ing to me, but the galaxy’s better off when we’re together.”

She grinned and elbowed Luke. “Don’t start complaining when I kick your ass, little brother.”

“I have it on good authority that I’m actually the older one-“

— hope

When Biggs finally returned to Yavin IV, he was exhausted. It was daytime on the moon, everyone seemed to be outside, running around, but all he really wanted to do was drop in his bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

“Good morning, Commander Darklighter!”

The young boy who had greeted Biggs was dressed in loose tonics, looking much happier and comfortable than he had half a year ago when they’d found him and another two dozen children in an imperial training facility. He hadn’t gotten out of his habit of calling people by their titles yet, but his night terrors had lessened considerably and Biggs counted it as a win.

“Morning, Finn,” Biggs greeted. “And who is this little lady?”

The little girl hiding behind Finn mustered him curiously. She couldn’t be much older than four if Biggs were to guess.

“This is Rey Skywalker,” Finn said. “She’s new. Master Luke found her on Jakku. He’s training with the Padawans right now, do you want me to take you?”

Skywalker, she was another one of their many nameless and abandoned children then.

“I’d like that,” Biggs said and crouched down. “It’s nice to meet you Rey. My name is Biggs. I’m usually in charge of making sure our Jedi Master is behaving.”

He held out his hand and little Rey, new hope for a new age, took it.

—     preparation

There were four of them, five if you counted Luke. Out of thirty, five had made it back from the Death Star. The other squadrons weren’t faring much better, there was a lot of reshuffling to be done.

“We need a name,” Hobbie decided, the oldest of them all at twenty-six. It seemed a little bit like a macabre joke.

“Five rogue pilots? We’re not gonna be a new squadron. They’ll split us up,” Wes tossed in, anger coloring his voice. He’d been with the Red Squadron the longest, lost the most friends. Despite his words, he had marched with the rest of them to the first empty room near the hangers, not awaiting room assignment. None of them were really preparing to be split up.

“So we tell them we’re a team,” Luke said, shrugging. “They can’t do anything about it then.”

Biggs wanted to protest. That really wasn’t how the Alliance worked, and yet when he opened his mouth, the words were lost to him. Luke got this air about him sometimes, like he knew whatever was saying was the truth and nothing but the truth.

“Rogue Squadron,” Wedge decided. “We should be the Rogue Squadron. We made the Death Star shot, we finished what they started, we’ll take their name. I’ll be Rogue Two.”

Wedge hadn’t been at Scarif, he’d been in medical at the time, but Tellem had been and they had died there. Biggs had never known what exactly their relationship was, and now it was too late.

“Rogue Three,” Biggs said instead.

“Four,” Wes added, while Hobbie claimed Rogue Five for himself.

That only left Luke and it seemed obvious now where he belonged.

—     beautiful

“You’re beautiful.”

Biggs snorted.

“I’m old and gray and no, I’m not going to go pick up the Padawans in the jungle with you. Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Skywalker.”

Luke laughed and sat up. “Oh, I’m pretty sure it’ll get me everywhere.”

After all these years, Biggs still felt like that clumsy sixteen-year-old with a crush on the loveliest person he knew. He’d thought of himself as so grown up then already, but looking back, he knew they had been children still, much too young for the decisions they would make.

“If we pick the kids up with a ship, how much longer can we stay in bed?”

Going by the speed at which Luke made himself comfortable next to Biggs again, he assumed they could stay like this at least another hour.

— lies

“He’s my father!” Luke finally shouted, cut off from the rest of their squadron, stuck in a jungle on some Force-forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere.

In the desert, you learned how to be silent, least of all you attract womp rats or raiders or even more dangerous beings. Luke rarely raised his voice but now, admitting the truth, he was shouting at the storm inside his mind.

“Darth Vader is your father,” Biggs repeated.

He wanted to tell him to stop lying, except it made terribly sense. Luke’s wanted posters never named him as the Death Star Shot, and they demanded that he was to be brought in not only alive, but unharmed.

“But you’re still Luke Skywalker,” Biggs continued.

He pulled Luke back into his arms and, as so often in the last months, hoped they’d get a break from fighting the Empire, fighting for Justice.

—     underneath

Han opened the secret compartment of the Falcon, hoping everybody would be alright. Three bright-eyed kids looked back up at him and not for the first time, did Han wonder why he of all people always ended up smuggling Jedi brats through the galaxy. He was married to Leia, Senator of New Alderaan and Jedi Knight, and he was a pretty well-known figure as well. He really shouldn’t be cut out for undercover work still after so many years.

“Thank you, General Organa,” the oldest of the brats said and climbed out of the hatch.

“Don’t sweat it.”

— hide

Watching the tiny Skywalker and Darklighter interact was one of Rex’s favorite past times. They were so much like General Skywalker and Senator Amidala, it was almost funny. Always searching for the other when they were in the same room, making eye-contact, the cheesy flirting toned down to keep an air of professionalism – Rex could go on and on.

The only difference was that they didn’t have to hide.

Commander Skywalker rushed past Darklighter and gave him a quick peck on the lips before chasing after some new recruits. Rex wondered if perhaps his parents would be here now too, fighting alongside them, if they hadn’t been forced to keep their relationship a secret.

— diary

“He knew, you know,” Luke told Leia. “Ben- Obi-Wan. He knew about our parents’ relationship, but he kept it a secret anyway because Father would have been thrown out of the Order and Mother would have lost her seat in the Senate. He wrote about it in his journal.”

Leia had wanted to get her hands on Obi-Wan Kenobi’s journal ever since her brother had given her the purple kyber crystal that accompanied Leia everywhere. It was difficult to figure out how to construct a lightsaber without any reference texts, but Luke had been busy.

“So all of this could have been avoided with a few changed laws?” Leia asked, already knowing the answer.

Of course, it wasn’t this easy. Tracking down how deep Palpatine’s machinations had ran took up most of her time. Leia still resented Vader and she didn’t think she’d ever care for him the way Luke did, but there was something horrifying about reading through a Sith Lord’s observations of a bright twelve-year-old child meant for greatness. Leia could never mourn Vader, but in the quiet presence of her brother she allowed herself to mourn Anakin Skywalker.

—     unforeseen

Biggs didn’t believe it when he saw a tuft of blonde hair, the color of spun gold, during the meeting. Wedge had mentioned that the princess had been returned by a farm boy and a smuggler, but he didn’t think of Luke. He was still back on Tatooine, waiting for Biggs to come pick him up. He’d been meaning to go a few weeks ago, but the Alliance had needed him more. Now Luke was within reach, and yet, even when Biggs could clearly see his face, just across the hall, he couldn’t believe it.

—     conditional

“These terms are non-negotiable, Skywalker,” Fett said.

His blaster was still pointed at Biggs’ temple. The bounty hunter would kill him before either could move.

“Fine.” Luke threw away his lightsaber. “I come with you, but he stays alive. Those are my conditions.”

Fett agreed and tossed a pair of handcuffs at Luke, shooting Biggs’ leg in the same motion. Biggs shouted and dropped to his knees.

“He’s alive, now come on, Jedi.”

— gone

He had missed twenty years, two decades, too much time his son should have been at his side. Padmé was gone, Vader had returned to Naboo to examine her grave, to ensure that this hadn’t been yet another trick played on him, that she hadn’t betrayed him once more.

Vader had always thought their child would be a girl with Padmé’s coloring and maybe his blue eyes. She had been fond of them. He wondered what Luke looked like beyond the red haze of Vader’s vision.

— clear

“Are you threatening me?” Biggs asked, trying to figure out why Han Solo was metaphorically waving his blaster in Biggs’ face.

Han nodded and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The two of them were almost the same height, but Biggs was tired and slouching while Han was standing with his back straight.

“Yes, it’s tradition. Luke is my friend. I figured nobody else had done it on his behalf. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Biggs replied.

—     heartache

“He’s stupid!” Leia ranted. “And ignorant and arrogant and petulant and-“

“Important to you?” Luke interrupted her.

Leia glared at him, then dropped face-first onto her bed and groaned. It was strange seeing her so childish. Around everyone else, she acted much more serious, never said a word about how she was feeling. Luke thought it might be because everyone called her “Princess” first and by her rank second, making it easier for themselves to talk over her.

But the two of them clicked well. Sometimes it surprised Luke that they hadn’t been friends since childhood, teasing each other about their crushes and heartache.

“One day I’m going to kiss Han to shut him up,” Leia vowed.

— wired

There were always a lot of droids on their bases, especially around the hanger where most of the repairs took place and the pilots kept their astromechs, except Luke’s of course. Artoo always followed his Master or, in his absence, his Master’s companion.

“Your droid has some loose wiring,” one of their mechanics said.

Artoo had left one Master once, he wouldn’t leave a second.

—     insanity

Watching Luke train was fascinating. He was right in his element, all the habits that made Luke a little strange fit so suddenly. You couldn’t spent half your life in love with Luke Skywalker and end up thinking he was normal. Biggs recalled the stories the Clone Wars’ veterans on base told of the leaders they always called their Jedi, loyal to the end. They sounded like ethereal warriors with too bright eyes, always a little too aware of their surroundings. It was almost too easy to picture Luke as one of them. It wasn’t insane to imagine him bringing back the Order he belonged to now.

Biggs wouldn’t mind. Hell, he’d be right out there with him helping. If Luke set his mind on something, he could do it.

— foolish

“Marry me,” Biggs said.

“What?” Luke thought he had misheard Biggs.

“Let’s get married,” his boyfriend repeated, grinning like a love-sick fool. “So you’ll always know I’m going to come back for you.”

“We can’t. My uncle-“

“So we’ll do it in secret,” Biggs argued. “No one but us has to know.”

Marrying in secret was nothing unusual on Tatooine. It was often enough that couples couldn’t be together openly, Hutt rule prevented that kind of freedom. Luke had always thought his wedding would be different.

“We’re not slaves,” Luke said stubbornly. They shouldn’t have to do anything in secret, they were free people and few things had ever been as important to Luke as reminding others of it.

“I know. I know Luke Skywalker, freeborn child of Anakin, child of Shmi, child of the desert. I know you and I want to marry you.”

Luke stared at him in disbelief, giving Biggs a chance to take back his words, but his best friend was still serious, unwilling to budge. Luke was strong, stubborn too, but not enough to deny himself this.

“We don’t have any water!” He finally blurted out. “We need water. And japor pieces.”

“Is that a yes?”

Luke leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Biggs’. “Of course, I’m saying yes.”

— words

He was silent at his father’s funeral. He could hear the people celebrating in the distance, but right in front of the funeral pyre where Anakin Skywalker’s prison laid burning, Luke couldn’t say a word.

— study

“Master Yoda told me to pass on what I’ve learned,” Luke said and dropped the datapads in frustration. “But there’s so much I don’t know! How am I supposed to bring back the Jedi if I don’t even know half of what their Padawans had to know?”

He’d spent hours upon hours reading through his Father’s archive. He barely managed to get through one text without having to look up another and another- A lot of it didn’t make sense to him and half of it he didn’t even understand.

Whenever he told one of the others, they just said he’d manage with some more studying, but Luke was starting to lose faith. Where did one start to study without a teacher?

Master Yoda had called him a Jedi Knight, Luke wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

— love

Luke didn’t know how to love gradually. Unlike his Father, as he’d later learn, Luke’s love wasn’t all-consuming, going further than it should. He cared for his pilots, for his friends, his sister, and his father. Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader, but Darth Vader was also Anakin Skywalker or he wouldn’t have chased after his son for years. Once that knowledge settled in his mind, Luke loved his father. It gave him the strength to throw away his lightsaber, to come in peace instead of war. He’d never excuse Vader’s actions and he’d never give more than he could, but Luke loved and the galaxy was a better place for it.

— skies

“Rogue Squadron reporting for duty, Sir,” Luke said.

He knew that the rest of High Command didn’t really know what to make of him. He was young, he was short and he had a lightsaber he was only just now figuring out how to use. The sky, though? That Luke knew. He didn’t know how to be a Jedi, but he knew how to fly and soar through the sky.

He could be a pilot.

He would be.

— stars

“I want to see the stars, all of them,” Luke said, proud that his voice didn’t crack even once. It had started breaking a while ago, much to everyone’s amusement.

“All of them? That will take a while.” Biggs was teasing him, but Luke knew his friend yearned for the stars just as much as he did.

“A whole lifetime!”

Luke couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do.

— lucky

Luke closed his eyes. He had to make this shot. Failure was not an option. What was, was.

Back on Tatooine, people always said Luke was a lucky one. He may not have had the most money, but he always managed to pick the best droids and ship parts for the few credits he did have. Shooting womp rats half-blind with sand making his eyes tear wasn’t more difficult than this.

He just had to focus.

— shake

“This is Rogue Three, I’ve picked up some annoying imps and I can’t shake them.”

“Rogue Twelve here. I’m helping you out. Where’s your wingman?”

“Busy getting shot at- I just got that wing repaired, don’t aim at it, you stupid-“

“Rogue Six, has anybody got their eyes on our fearless leader?”

“Rogue Two, I’m still following Luke- kriff, shit, oh, no, no-“

“What’s going on there? Wedge, what the heck’s going on?”

“TIE fighters, three of them- fuck, that’s Death Squadron! Everybody retreat! Get out! Hail command and tell them we need back up! Now!”

—     punctual

Biggs pulled up, just in time to avoid the shot from the TIE fighter behind him and spun, just like he used to back home, causing the enemy pilot to crash into the wall. Biggs resumed his position as Luke’s guard, sure that once more he wouldn’t be able to make it. Instead of falling into a panic, remembering the names and faces of the decimated Red Squadron, Biggs forced himself to look ahead. They’d make it, he told himself. There was no fear. The winds of Tatooine carried them forward and Biggs watched as Luke made his shot. Even before the hit landed, he was already pulling up, ready to give Luke cover so they could escape in time before the Death Star blew them up as well.

Biggs knew Luke had done the impossible.

They escaped the Death Star as fast as they could, passing the wreckage of a bloodless battlefield.

“Red three, are you with me?” Luke’s voice echoed over the comms.

“Yeah,” Biggs replied. “Like I’d ever leave you alone. I promised, remember?”

They were both laughing and crying when they got out of their ships. Biggs pulled Luke into a hug, desperation and utter joy overwhelming him, so very similar to that last night on Tatooine.

They had survived.