driftfleet | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Luke Skywalker
Action: Planetside;
When: December 27th

[He's spent three days lurking on the Marsiva, acquainting himself with the network, with the chatter and the confusion, learning all he can, hiding himself away from anyone else on there. Foolish, perhaps, when the others on here are likely fellow captives-- but better to be too cautious right now than too reckless. Better to assume he has no allies than bank on the wrong people.

There's been no word on the network on Leia or Han, but it would be too much to expect a neon sign pointing towards his friends. It might be too much to expect they're here at all, but he won't give up hope til the Fleet outright leaves this system.

But so: it's long past time to end this charade. The Marsiva has given him all it can, and now it's time to begin making himself known. Luke walks openly along the streets of the planet, unassuming and barely noticeable. With all the training he's had, he has little to fear-- but still, his face is drawn. Occasionally he'll speak to this person or that, asking a few questions-- but moving, always moving, quite clearly intent on finding something.

Someone. There are Force-sensitive people here, probing gently at the edges of his mind; he doesn't know who or why, but he's intent on finding them.

Even beyond them, though, he's asking questions-- mostly of people who look like they don't belong, who might be fellow Fleeters. Questions about their world, their homes, their experiences here.]

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[ His frown deepens. He feels it. The connection in the Force - their connection. It seeks each other, as warm as the waters on Naboo on in its summer rotation and as familiar as a Padme's smile. He knows what Luke is saying is true, he can't deny that it is as much as he wants to.

Jedi General Anakin Skywalker has a son and a daughter. Will have a son and daughter.

But when he close his eyes and reach into the Force, he can't see them. He can't see small hands curled in his. Try as he might all, he senses is anger and pain and the orange glow of lava pools.

That makes him recoil, mentally. His walls are up tighter than ever, in an effort to completely shut Luke out. ]

I see.

I'd appreciate it if you don't... [ He pause. ] If you can just call me Anakin.

What happened to Owen?

[It isn't as if he had any other plans, frankly. Father, he'd called Vader, too eager for an attachment he'd never gotten to have, but this man is not Vader. Vader had been just as eager to connect, calling him son-- but Anakin is not Vader, and Anakin is not ready for that yet. It's fine. It's absolutely understandable; who can go from knowing about their adult son to accepting him all in one short conversation?

But it still hurts. Stupid, but it does. Luke shoves that emotion away, walling it off, sealing it from Anakin just as Anakin seals his own emotions away. Another hurt buried, pushed aside, forced away; he's getting quite good at this.]

A fire on the farm. He and Beru suffocated.

[True, all true, though their charred bodies had told of a fate worse than suffocation.

Luke leans against the wall, glances out towards the passing people. It's far easier to look at them than his-- than Anakin.]

[ His frown deepens. He's trying to connect the dots but there's so much that Luke isn't saying, that Anakin himself doesn't know if he wants to know. Owen and Beru were good people, they were good to his mother - though none of that mattered at the time, nothing mattered except that his mother was in pain. Now he's regretting that in his own grief, he had never thanked them for what they did. That kindness had fell on Padme.

His wife.

He had assumed that they sent Luke and Leia off world to live outside the politics and danger of the Core worlds but Tatooine? ]

And your mother?

[ The Hero with no Fear whispers those words with such caution and hesitation - with such fear - that it makes his title laughable. ]

Padme.

[He knows the name, at least, if not the woman herself. What little information he could find on their mother was clinical in nature, informative but ultimately useless. She had been first a queen, then a senator on Naboo. She had died, though the article hadn't said how, and was buried on her home planet, who mourned the passing of their beloved figure. There had been only a single picture-- a formal one, of her dressed in her formal robes and facepaint, staring coolly at the camera.

She'd been so distant. Kind, that was the impression Leia had given, but Luke was unable to fathom a connection with the woman in the picture. Perhaps if he'd known her . . . if he had even a scrap of memory, an impression, something to base it all on--

Pointless. Luke struggles to think of how to frame this-- he can't lie, not to Anakin, not on something so large. They're too closely connected, and his father is powerful-- he'll be able to sense it.]

I never knew her.

[Which will surely lead to more questions, but sooner or later he's going to have to deny his father information.]

[ Anakin leans forward Luke. He nearly grabs his arm again but his composure remains, slipping by as seconds pass. His hands ball into fists instead, by his side, tense.

There's something bright that pulses from him, and he can't hide it, he has never been able to hide his emotions well enough. He wears it on his face as much as he broadcasts it in the Force. It is a split between joy and sadness, with one threatening to take over the other at a moment's turn.

Where could she be, if not with her children? Why would she not visit them, how could she not? It doesn't seem like her at all. She is caring and loving, and she would never let her children go without letting them know that they are loved.

He would never either. He would never give them up as orphans. He would sooner quit the Order and go into exile with them. On Tatooine, on Teth, on the most remote planet in the galaxy. All that would have mattered is that they were together.

But Luke lived with Owen and Beru.

Anakin gives in. He grabs Luke's arms again. His grip is steel tight and he looks at Luke wildly for an explanation. ]

What happened to her?

I don't know.

[That's the truth, too. Luke had only recently learned her name; perhaps further research-- or communication within the Force-- would have revealed her fate, but Luke hadn't had the time. He looks back at his father-- he's not as anguished as Anakin, his emotions more easily concealed, but there's a hint of helplessness there.]

And if I did, I couldn't tell you. I can't reveal the future, not without endangering it.

[ His stomach sinks. He feels a cold dread in the face of all those uncertainties. He breathes hard, tries to find comfort in the Force as he's been taught. But when he does, the familiar pain and suffering forces its way through. It doesn't help. His emotions are clouding his judgement and this - none of this - is the Jedi way. But he knows one thing. ]

Luke, I love your mother. I love her with everything I am. And I would never let anything happen to her.

[ His his grip loosens on Luke. He adds, hesitantly, softly: ]

Or you.

[There's too much hope in his face as he stares at Anakin, too much hunger-- it's stupid to be so needy, to want that affection with every fiber of his being. The things Anakin will do, the countless people he will murder, torture, the families he will tear apart-- Luke has forgotten none of it. How could he? He tortured Leia, he tortured Han--

And yet Luke stares back at his father, blue eyes darting around his face.]

Tell me about her.

[A beat. More quietly:]

Please.

[ It stings him deeply that his son would have to ask about his mother. A thought that reminds him of his own mother; her caring warmth as she hugs him and her gentle touch on his brow, her kind voice turned harsh by sand, he remembers all these things know even if it's blurry.

He can't imagine Luke not being with his mother and he sympathize with his need to know more about her. But- ]

Luke...

[ His mouth presses into a thin line. Anakin raises his hand as if to pat Luke on the shoulder, but it doesn't come. ]

I will. I'll tell you everything you want to know. Just... not now. I need some time away from this. [ He looks at Luke, apologetically. ] Some time to meditate on this.

Of course.

[That hungry expression is gone, replaced by Jedi blankness. Luke ducks his head in an acknowledging nod; he can appreciate the logic of Anakin's request. It's a lot of information to handle all at once, and he can appreciate that. Even beyond his own desire to know his father, to talk to him and listen to him and simply be with him, he can appreciate that.

(It will hurt less in the future, when Anakin has grown used to this. He focuses on that).]

I've been assigned to the Red Fish. And I'll be around, if-- I'll be on planet, for most of our stay.

[ Anakin nods curtly. If he pretends that this young man before him is no more than another officer of the GAR, things would be so much easier. But he can't.

Luke stares back at him with eyes that are too similar to his own. But there is a kindness there that comes from Padme. And he wonders how they could have been raised without her. ]

We'll talk soon.

[ He turns to walk away. Force, it feels like his legs have been strapped on with weights. ]

You're... a lot like her.

[He freezes at that, stricken by that. How, he wants to ask, in what way? It pleases him more than it should, to know that he's like her-- but it's an awfully little amount of information. Luke inhales and then bites his bottom lip, keeping the questions back.

Later. They'll talk later. Luke nods sharply, once, and does not look at Anakin as he leaves.]

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