Chapter Text
Luke Skywalker woke up. Which was odd because he didn’t remember going to sleep. He considered shrugging it off and dozing off again. But then his observation skills finally caught up with his eyes and gave them a hearty smack. He was not in his hut on Ach-To. His gaze swept over the room, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. This was not the first time in his life that he had woken up in a strange and unfamiliar place, not knowing how he had gotten there.
The only difference was this place was not unfamiliar or strange. In fact, Luke knew it too well. It was a place he would see in his dreams of a happier time. He had spent his childhood here and knew every inch intimately. He could see some of the mechanics he had been tinkering with. The model toy spaceship Old Ben had given him. There was also an assortment of data readers Aunt Beru made him study.
Am I dreaming? the old jedi wondered. He closed his eyes for a minute before opening them again, expecting to see the stone walls of his hut. No, he was still here. Perhaps he had gone crazy and was hallucinating.
Luke pushed the covers aside, getting out of the bed slowly. He didn’t fail to notice that he had none of those aches and pains he usually had. He glanced down at his trembling hands and saw that they were unwrinkled. He rubbed his face and discovered a lack of a beard.
Hallucination or really intense vision, Luke decided. He could swear he almost heard Force sigh as though exasperated. But that was ridiculous. What next? The ghost of Yoda showed up to whack him with his cane.
There was a third option just as absurd. He had somehow traveled through time and was now inside his younger self’s body.
Just the wistful thinking of a sad old hermit, Luke thought pitifully. I wonder if Old Ben ever had visions like this. Although he had always felt sorry for Kenobi and what he went through, he had never truly empathized with him until…
“Ben,” Luke whispered, the familiar sense of loss and self-loathing coursing through him. His nephew. His troubled nephew. He had failed him, allowed him to fall. The images of his nephew’s rage at his betrayal and of how the temple burned flickered in his mind.
The pain came rushing back like a physical blow that sent him to his knees. Water dripped down his cheeks and it took him a moment to realize he was crying. He thought he had no more tears to shed after all this time.
Everything he built had been destroyed all because of him.
Don’t give yourself all the credit.
Luke’s head snapped up, trying to find the source of the bitter and disgusted voice. But he was alone, no one else was there. Not even a force ghost. Had he really gone crazy or was someone reaching out to him?
He didn’t have long to investigate because he heard hurried footsteps thudding outside. He climbed to his feet, wondering what ghost he was about to see. Perhaps that was it. It was a vision from the force where he would meet all his failures, starting with his aunt and uncle.
The door slid open, and Aunt Beru did enter with Uncle Owen on her heels. But something was wrong. They didn’t look concerned or surprised. Instead, their eyes were wild with fear and disbelief. The three of them stared at each other, mouths opening and closing as they struggled to find the words. Their expressions morphed into relief as realization dawned on them.
This was not a dream, a vision nor a hallucination. This was real. Somehow time had gone backwards. They were home, safe and sound. Alive and well. And most importantly they were together again.
Beru moved first, her shaking hands touching Luke’s face. Owen was only a step behind, unshed tears shining in his eyes.
“Did you survive?” his uncle demanded, grasping Luke’s shoulder as if he needed to be sure that he was flesh and bones, not a ghost.
“Did you live?” his aunt inquired, kissing his forehead, stroking his cheek.
Leia Organa woke up and she knew immediately something was off. Running a rebellion meant she had gotten used to sleeping on a lumpy mattress with coarse coverings. Instead, she felt as though she was swimming in silk and velvet. Worse, her blaster was not under her pillow.
The general rose from her bed, not even truly looking at her surroundings. Because she knew, she knew where she was. Despite it being decades, Leia still moved automatically, her hands pushing the glass doors open. She stepped out onto her balcony and collapsed to her knees.
It was nighttime, but the glittering lights illuminated the tall buildings and the trees that lined the streets. She could make out the shape of the snow caped mountain.
Aldera. The capital city of Alderaan. The planet Tarkin reduced to rubble. Billions of people, innocent lives, snuffed out for nothing but a sadistic power play. And yet here she stood, looking out at the splendor of her home world.
Am I dreaming? Leia wondered, as she ran her fingers over the chipped stone. It wouldn’t be the first time she dreamt of Alderaan. Sometimes she was a child, carefree and innocent. Sometimes she was a teenager, basking in the pride of her parents as she worked tirelessly as a senator/rebel. A few times, she was an adult, enjoying some blissful moments with her parents, her brother, her husband, and her son. Her sweet little boy who loved and admired his grandfather so much, he wanted to be a senator just like him.
But then she woke up and would stamp down her grief so she could get to work. She closed her eyes, letting the cool breeze flow through her hair, inhaling the familiar scents, listening to the familiar sounds.
It’s not a dream. I sent you home. A soft whisper echoed in her ears.
“Who?” Leia asked out loud, rising to her feet, glancing around, trying to pinpoint the source. But she was alone. A quick glance at her room, showed her only the familiar form of TooVee rolling towards her.
“Your Highness, what is the matter? Should I fetch Her Majesty and the Viceroy?” she quizzed.
Tears splashed down Leia’s cheeks and she hurled herself at the droid, hugging her fiercely.
“This is real,” she decided, a hysterical laugh bubbled up in her throat. Her world was whole. The people she loved were alive. Han and Luke were alive. She could save them all.
“Should I fetch the medical droid?” TooVee questioned, her voice laced with concern. “You haven’t hit your head, have you?”
Leia wasn’t sure how to answer, she wasn’t sure where to begin. A part of her wanted to find the nearest ship, fly to Tatooine, grab her brother and Han and…well was pretty much as far as she thought it through.
Before the princess could come up with a more coherent plan that would ultimately end with the emperor being destroyed with no chance of him coming back, the doors to her room were thrust open. Queen Breha Organa and her consort, Senator Bail burst inside, both of them disheveled and panting heavily.
The three of them stared at each other. Eyes wide, faces ashen as they comprehended the situation. This wasn’t a vision, a hallucination, or a dream. This was real. Somehow time had turned back. They were alive and well. Safe and sound. And most importantly, they were together again.
If Leia had hurled herself at her attendance droid, she practically flew into her parents’ arms, allowing herself to sob in relief and joy. She could smell the Alderaan fire-roses her mother liked to keep by her bedside. Her father’s hug was so tight and warm.
“Did you survive?” Breha inquired, scrutinizing her daughter’s face, making sure she was unharmed.
“Did you live?” Bail’s tone was soft as he clutched her tighter, never wanting to let her go again.
Before Leia could answer, there were sounds of a commotion outside.
Han Solo had about three minutes to register that one: he was not dead, two: his son was no longer in front of him, and three: he was in the Millennial Falcon. But before he could really appreciate it, he was immediately tackled and almost crushed in a death bear hug.
“Chewie, I need to breathe,” he managed to choke out.
Chewbacca let out a mournful howl as he let go. <He killed you!>.
Han could almost feel the crimson lightsaber blade being thrust right through him. The pain was excruciating, but the knowledge that it had been his son who killed him was even worse. The boy who had big brown eyes like his mother. The boy who proclaimed that Chewie gave the best hugs. The boy who had told his dad that he wanted to be just like him when he was older.
He had almost reached him. He could see it in Ben’s face, but he hadn’t been enough. Not enough to pull Ben back from the Dark Side. He failed. He failed the kids. He failed Luke. He failed Leia. He failed Ben.
<Cub?> The wookie was studying him intently, trying to ascertain his state of mind.
“Where the kriff are we?” Han wondered as he glanced out the viewport, seeing endless stars.
<A better question is when are we?> Chewie remarked. He added, <You’re not an old man anymore.>
“Oh like you’re one to talk,” Han snapped. He ignored Chewie's indignant woof that he was middle aged. He brought up the galactic standard date and let out a groan. “Time travel. We kriffing time traveled.”
It was something he wouldn’t have accepted a decade ago. Hell, he would have assumed that Lando and Chewie were playing a joke on him. The fact that he could still feel the burning pain, see the face of his son, hear Chewie’s scream was enough to convince him that this was real.
But why? Why send them back?
To give you a second chance.
Han shot up, grabbing his blaster. “Who’s there?”
Chewie sniffed the air and then gave his copilot a questioning look. <I don’t smell anyone, cub. I don’t hear anything either.>
Han blinked, he must have been imagining things. Or perhaps the force was talking to him. Because that might actually be a thing. He sat back down, swallowing thickly. Paranoia wasn’t going to help them.
“So what do we do?” Han questioned, going through scenarios in his mind. He didn’t know where the rebellion was currently based and had no idea how he would be able to convince them of anything really. They would think he was crazy or a spy.
Deep down, he wanted to go to Alderaan, grab Leia and run. They could stop at Tatooine and pick up Luke on the way. Even if he could pull that off without getting killed by the Alderaan royal navy, there was a possibility that Luke and Leia wouldn’t remember, and they would not take too kindly to being kidnapped.
“Maybe we should fly to Coruscant and drop our ship on Emperor,” he suggested. It wouldn’t solve all problems but at least it would end the root cause for all their issues. “I don’t think even a Sith Lord can survive that.”
Something dark flashed across Chewbacca’s face. <We need to go to Mustafar.>
Han scowled at the mention of the lava planet, knowing who was currently there. “As much as I would love to drop a ship on him, that’s for Leia or for Luke to decide, not us.”
<We’re not going there for Vader, cub.> Chewbacca bared his teeth. <We’re looking for his wayfinder so we can destroy Snoke before he ever exists.>
Before he gets his claws in my son, Han realized inwardly, suddenly overcome with a primal urge to rip that creature limb from limb. He remembered his last words to his wife. I told you I’d bring him back, Leia. But if I can’t do that, this is the next best thing.
He wondered what had happened to her after his death. What had happened to kids and Chewie after he died? Just before the Millennial Falcon jumped to hyperdrive, he turned to his friend. “Did you survive? Did you live?”
Emperor Palpatine had seen him coming. Either with foresight or just because he had been anticipating that one day Vader would turn on him. After all, that was the way of the Sith. Either the master killed the apprentice, or the apprentice killed the master.
Sidious taunted Vader as they dueled, effortlessly blocking his blows, matching them with his own. He was gleeful. He was arrogant, so confident in his victory just as he had the last time.
But just like the last time, the emperor overlooked something. And that was his downfall.
Ahsoka pulled her twin white blades out of the Emperor’s back, a vindictive smile playing across her face. The Sith Lord’s expression had lost his mockery and had morphed into one of shock. He then hit the floor dead.
“Well done.”
“Thanks. So we killed the emperor. Now what, Skyguy?” Ahsoka inquired. She could feel a tiny spark of delight coming from the cyborg.
“First we destroy the Death Star, then we’re going to Tatoonie to get my son,” he replied. Let the empire tear itself apart. He had far more important matters to attend to. “And then together we will find my daughter.”
“We should stop at Lothal as well,” Ashoka insisted. “I have some unfinished business there.” There was an odd note in her voice.
Anakin studied the Togruta for a few moments, wondering what he had missed. “Did you survive?”
“Yes.”
“Did you live?”
Ashoka closed her eyes for a moment, getting lost in her memories. “More or less.”