Okay, here we are. I can't age them so fast as the movie TFA had to, because forty years really had passed, and I don't want to. Let Luke, Han and Leia enjoy youth a little longer. This epilogue takes us ten years past Return of the Jedi.

ABY- After Battle of Yavin

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He was Ancestor Luke; that's what he had become, separate and apart. He saw himself as a kind of vapor, something that spread across the galaxy, agent of the Force. That's all he was. And those little descendants at his feet weren't really his. They were the Force.

He watched everyone. Data boards were tucked under sides, holocamera lights flashed. Shuttle traffic between Endor and Home One was continuous, meetings begun and ended. Whether they were working or leaving- like Rieekan, who had accepted a faculty position at the Coruscant Military Academy- they were building; constructing a future out of the last few days.

And Luke was already ancient history. He was so long ago he had no idea what the future would look like, only that he was at its beginning.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

General Carlist Rieekan, Ret., Military Historian, in an address to the first graduating class of the New Republic Military Academy, 7 ABY

... Once, in the center of the galaxy, a shared sun saw life evolve on a number of systems. These were the Core Worlds, and from the moment that first being successfully rocketed himself offworld, a complex system of economy, politics and society spread. It took many hundreds and thousands of years, but eventually it saw the development of the Old Republic.

Membership was not exclusive. The desire for trade, knowledge, peace, and interaction was all that was required. Look at our galaxy! The sheer scope and size of her! The diversity of life within her is a miracle of Time. It is a testament to every being in this galaxy that the Republic peaceably resolved conflicts for a thousand years. At the core of government was that all life deserved to be treated with tolerance, respect, and dignity.

It took one man to bring about its end. In the span of just two generations, Sheev Palpatine secretly manipulated events and carefully whittled away at public perceptions until the Republic was no longer recognizable. In such an atmosphere, few were chilled when the title Supreme Chancellor became Emperor, and some were even grateful. Yet a closet few deplored the loss of liberty, and here we are today.

I do not need to remind you your childhoods began as Imperial citizens, and you leave these halls as members of a New Republic. The fact you must remember in this time of rebuilding, in this time of peace, is that no matter how we may wish to go back to the Old Republic after the Empire, it still fell. Fault does not lie with one man. It is our responsibility to see the past for what it was. Do not glorify it. Do not wish for it. But make the future better because of it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three days after the Battle of Endor

"Where will you go?"

It was old Ben who asked him. Even in the shimmering blue light of the Force it was clear he was wearing the brown robes he'd died in. But of course it wasn't Ben; Ben was a mortal being, and Ben was dead. Luke had- it was funny, to think of it like this, like a kid playing with dolls- Luke had dressed the Force.

"Who says I have to go anywhere?" Luke challenged in answer, and Ben smiled, that same pensive, patient smile that waited for Luke to answer his own question.

Three days after the victory, and Luke had taken to making slow laps around the celebratory bonfire, the only one General Solo allowed the Alliance to light. It was huge, built where three trees had fallen together in battle. It was considered bad luck to let it go out, so pilots, techs, and soldiers of all species spent hours off-duty time around it, throwing branches on the flames and heating ready meal kits, talking. It was a gathering spot, but Luke stayed outside its circle, talking to the Force.

He couldn't bring himself to join the revelry. Neither did Leia, who had retreated to Home One above atmosphere, a ready rationale on her tongue, there's so much to oversee, the entire moon held in her gaze. She might be running from Luke, he thought, or herself, but he let her. It was always good to apply oneself, and the more the New Republic took shape the more Leia could settle Darth Vader's paternity in her mind. He was the reason she was here; Bail Organa was the reason she was Leia.

Victory, Luke thought, was complicated. "Messed up," was how Han summed it. The New Republic was here- complete with insignia, seals, banners and flags. It was remarkable, yet eerie, that all this was ready so soon. "You can't be at war and not prepare to win," Leia had chided him.

Luke said, "I was too busy trying to stay alive. But someone had this as a- a mission? - order fireworks display for the triumph?"

"Transition between governments can be a very chaotic time," Leia lectured. "Think about banks, just for one example, where credits were insured and money safe one day but you wake up the next and those fail safes are gone. And you're broke."

He couldn't shake a feeling of regret, a ruefulness. Maybe he still needed to recover from the Emperor's lightning, for he felt as if he'd lost something of himself.

"Yoda said the Force was his ally," he told Ben now. "But I feel like it's more of a demanding partner."

Ben chuckled sadly. "You have freed it. Much as the galaxy has been released from the clutches of one man, so has the Force."

"I found a Force-sensitive tree here."

"You will find instances like that all over the galaxy."

"Mm." That didn't help narrow Luke's decision. "I suppose I could travel to- where was Palpatine from again? Naboo? I should see if I can learn what makes evil."

"Do you believe place matters?"

"Leia is Alderaanian, through and through, don't you think? And she was brought there." Luke shrugged unenthusiastically. "It's just a thought. I don't want the galaxy to see another one like him. Or Vader." He turned his face toward Ben, to remind his mentor of his own role in the failure of the Force.

"Would Tatooine tell you of your father?"

Luke nodded. "I believe it has." He was silent a moment, thinking. "Or I could go with Leia, to Coruscant. She'll be there two years, serving on the Pentumvirate. The Jedi Temple is there."

"Yes," Ben sounded doubtful. "Tell me again what you know of the Force?"

"That's it's life," Luke answered swiftly.

"There is no life at the Temple," Ben said. "It is a ruin."

Luke already knew he wasn't going to Coruscant. He saw himself tagging after Leia, drifting. She would be busy with her Pentumvirate duties, building a government and advising Interim Chancellor Mon Mothma. She was embarking on her own life, and it didn't feel right to shove his own alongside hers just because his was clueless.

"I'd like to learn who our mother was," Luke proposed. "You know, don't you? Was it so wrong, to love her?"

"It was against the Code," Ben said carefully. "Just that. I thought he understood that, and had made his choice. I didn't realize how much- how afraid he was."

Luke shook his head. There was no point, anymore, in arguing. The Code, in Luke's interpretation, had lost relevancy. If Anakin had been free to love, free to fear even, without shame... He sighed. Palpatine would have found another. Another with a weakness; another who lacked something of the Force, of the simple beauty of life, some kind of love gone wrong. Too much, or too little, or misdirected. In a perfect world, his mother had once said. But there would never be such a thing. "Will you tell me who she was?"

"Does the Force insist you know?"

Luke growled softly. "Deflection is your specialty, isn't it?" But he had an answer. "I'm not going to find out without Leia."

"Then it can wait."

The Force danced around Luke's feet, weaving through trees, and the air smelled of burning wood. It was fragrant, and sad. Beautiful, like care for the dead.

"Move forward," the Force urged in Ben's voice.

"I'm the beginning," Luke realized. "Again. Who was the first, all those thousands of years ago?"

"It was too long ago to know for sure," Ben answered. "There are stories. Scholars can point to a few worlds, a few beings, where it may have risen independently. Or maybe it was shared."

"I'll be like-" Luke hesitated, his voice rising. The Force, in all its Maybes, streamed from his feet. "- a prophet?" It was incredible, wrong. Impossible.

Ben smiled. "You are Luke Skywalker."

"But I don't know anything. "

"You are just starting," Ben said gently. "It looks different when you turn around."

"But-"

"Would they know any more?"

Resigned, Luke shook his head. "Probably not. But how can you master something that's bigger than you?"

Ben placed his hand on Luke's shoulder. "That, right there, is one of the wisest questions I've heard asked."

Encouraged by the praise, Luke turned his gaze to the bonfire. In its flickering flames he saw himself, the old Luke. The one who crawled after his aunt into the courtyard at suns set, and when he was older he trailed after his uncle in the condenser fields. Then he'd followed a Princess through a war, with a smuggler watching his back. There was no one ahead of him now, no one to chase. He was alone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Excerpt from the autobiography of Luke Skywalker, The Farmer and the Force, page 87 chapter 4. Publication date 52 ABY.

The Force is almost comprehended, even by someone like me. But it is never completely, for just when you think you understand, it jumps playfully out of reach.

You are alive, because of the Force, and it continues because of you. It is only life. Waking, eating. Hearing the idle hum from a being next to you. A shared look, a touch.

Do not think of yourself as non-Force sensitive, for you are not. You feel, you decide, you live; therefore, you have the Force.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

3.5 ABY

One of the first things Leia did upon reaching Coruscant was not for the New Republic, but for her father. Palpatine had seized the property of those he labeled enemies or traitors, and Leia petitioned to reclaim it.

Luke arranged to meet her on the rooftop of her building, and he scanned the small scattering of humans up here, looking for his sister. He expected to find the One of Five, as the media referred to the members of the Pentumvirate. He'd seen her on the holonews, her hair always up and dressed plainly but voluminously, or simply and severe. Instead Leia was waving at him, showing lots of teeth in her smile, her hair taken by the wind. Her dress was colorful: navy blue background with some kind of floral print, dark orange and white. The full skirt stopped above her knees and played in the stiff breeze, showing flashes of thigh. Her sandals were cream, with a wedge heel, and he bumped his cheek on her head, not used to her coming past his chin.

She led him inside the building and they took stairs down a few levels. "It's a habit," she explained. "When I first got here, Coruscant wasn't exactly secure and the power kept going out. You don't want to be stuck in the elevator, trust me."

She opened the door. It smelled nice, Luke thought. The apartment had actually been unoccupied, Leia had learned; the Alderaan district on Coruscant became an unfavorable place to dwell. The Moff to whom the apartment had been awarded hadn't wanted it. Luke thought it might be musty, but it wasn't. The walls were a pale, buttery yellow. It occurred to Luke how few homes he'd been in, homes that were truly that; more than mere shelter. "Welcome," Leia smiled at him.

"How different was it?" Luke asked. "I mean, had the- whoever took it over, was it damaged much?"

Leia swept a hand over the hall table, which had spindly curved legs and delicate carvings. On it rested a blown bowl, holding the shooting stars set from the Falcon, missing a few pieces. Under the table were a pair of tall men's boots, black.

"This was ours," Leia explained of the table quietly. "After the Destruction, Palpatine ordered all Alderaani properties emptied and- you'd think it'd have more value, wouldn't you? Things were collected- for - for trash."

"I'm sorry, Leia."

"But Palpatine had detractors, even here in his Imperial City. Simple residents managed to record holos of items, or identification numbers, and the building they were removed from. Beings took them in their own homes, or antiques dealers stored them. I've managed to find a few pieces that belonged to my family. Underneath you can see where someone wrote 'Organa, Level 81-C'. I'm still looking for others."

They moved deeper into the apartment. Clear duroglass made up a wall, and the view was breathtaking. Luke stood before it a long while, taking in the buildings and air traffic and the sheer amount of life. Leia pulled him away, "you get used to it," more interested in showing him the things that were brought from Alderaan by her father years ago. There was a woven tapestry depicting the Twelve Goddesses on the wall, beautiful dots of color creating a scene of women engaged in dance and music with what might be woodland creatures; another table, wood again, a marble sphere.

Leia put a framed holopic of her parents in his hands. He had seen them before, of course; the images were easily obtained from the holoweb. But this picture belonged to her father, and therefore it had once held his gaze, and that made it the rarest of objects.

In her office across from her desk, on the wall, just like in all of her offices, was a picture of the planet Alderaan as viewed from space. The same one, he noted; one easily available to be printed off from the holoweb. She had this one on archival paper, under glass that filtered harsh light.

"Alderaan," Luke said. "Is it the same?" You're next to die, he remembered.

"A reminder," she said softly. "Of the work we're doing."

Hope, thought Luke. The last to die. "It's fitting," he decided.

She kept her bedroom private but down the hall the apartment opened up again into another set of doors and a sitting room. She watched his face expectantly.

"For Chewie," Luke realized with a happy grin. There was a huge hammock, and the rest of the room was fashioned into a kind of terrarium. Moss, and ferns, even a couple of young trees in earthen pots.

"He should be in tonight."

"I though the fleet wasn't due in for three more days."

"Han always returns in the Falcon with Chewie. He gets back faster, and he's there for Review when they land. And this is your room."

Luke wondered, is this me? The walls were a soft green, and the bed was very small. The design of the quilt looked like ripples in a stream. It had a window, and the floor conformed to his feet as he padded inside, and there was a pile of rocks- smooth and banded, lovely to the touch-

He was overwhelmed at the thought that went into it, the love. "It's perfect."

"You better come often. I mean it. None of this months at a time. You and I are fine; we use the Force. But Han doesn't get to see you as much." She scanned Luke. "You don't even have any bags to unpack."

Luke laughed dismissively. "No, I travel light."

She didn't want to go out to eat. Too many beings stopping her, she complained; some to snap a holo, others to lobby for their cause. She had gone shopping though, for them to prepare a meal together.

"I read your article," Leia said from the sink, where she was washing cinder fruit.

"Which one?"

"The one about how to identify Force talent in a being."

"Oh, that one," Luke was pleased. He rolled a head of greenleaf around, looking for bad spots. "On Chandrila, there's a school system developing a curriculum for the Force-sensitive in the classroom."

"You accomplished that in just a few months," Leia marveled.

"As much as Palpatine discredited the Jedi and tried to stamp out the Force, I don't think enough time passed. Just a generation," Luke said modestly, "so it's not just me they are listening to. Memories."

"But you don't recommend sending them somewhere, like to a special school?"

"Or a temple?" Luke peeled the outer layer of his leaf away and shot Leia a sharp glance. "Right now, we have to shift the perspective of the Force. For both users and non. That it's something latent in us all, but maybe more in others. That it's something we all can live with, together. Integrated. Users shouldn't be feared by others, and users shouldn't feel superior to others."

"You've become quite the writer," Leia said.

"It's the way I thought reaches the most fastest," Luke said modestly. "Actually, I'm thinking of writing a book," he declared.

She smiled at him encouragingly, but she was his twin and he noted the caution in her question. "What are you going to put in it?"

He made a few chops with the knife before he answered, enjoying the arcing pattern of the growth rings. "I see it as a cosmography of the Force," he said, and it was the truth.

Assured, Leia turned back to the cinder fruit, rolling them under her fingers. "Oh," she said, and turned the water off.

"It's never really clear," Luke said. "Except to the individual who really thinks about it. So, everything will be in it, without specifically mentioning it. You'd have to look."

He was answering her unspoken question, are you going to mention Vader? And me?

"Oh," Leia said again, the caution back.

"I haven't started it," Luke backtracked some. "And it won't be ready for a long, long time. I'm still learning." He was glad to see her smile. "Probably wait 'til I'm dead."

She smiled again. "Wait for me. Do you like fungal domes?"

They worked on the salad together. It would just be the two of them. But Leia had set the table nicely for Luke. There was a vase of fresh flowers, cloth napkins and place mats that matched. Luke chewed cinder fruit, staring at the mats, thinking a number of things. One, that he hadn't been at a table that used mats in... since Beru, on holidays. He and Leia had lived off crates on Tatooine. He thought too how easily he talked of his future death, and she as well; again, how matter-of-fact it was; something that couldn't be avoided, something to not fear. He had put Leia at ease about any contents of his book, and she chatted easily to him, excited about Han's homecoming, even gossiping about the members of the Pentumvirate.

Leia got up and donned handshields to remove a tray from the cooker. She sat back down, and pushed a tray of golden rolls toward Luke, who grabbed one eagerly. She tossed the shields overhand across the room, where they landed with a slap on the counter. Luke grinned; it was a gesture very like Han.

"Another year and a half," she said, her jaw in her hand.

"Can't wait for it to end?" Luke asked. "I'd have figured you'd love this."

"Kiranna has deeded its western sector- a territory of half a million acres, to the Survivors of Vrakith IV. When my term is up, I'll join them as Princess of Honorary Alderaan. And maybe represent them in the Republic Senate, if they'll elect me."

Leia watched Luke blow on his burnt fingertips. "And it's not a given," she reproached Luke's answering gaze that the answer was obvious. "Not all are with me. It's got to be hard for them," she mused objectively. "Some things, like slavery and democracy, we could fix. But there's nothing- at all, ever- that can change what happened to Alderaan. Some blame me." She put up a palm when Luke's mouth opened to object. "It's alright," she said, understanding but slightly dejected. "It's understandable. But even those that want the old ways know deep down inside we can't live the same."

"Would you want to?" Luke said.

Leia dropped her hands into her lap, and Luke feared his question had made Leia lose any appetite. "I've heard it said that from really awful things beauty follows. I would want to, but if it means I can't be with Han-" she paused, looking at her lap, "Is that greedy? To want both?"

"Desire," Luke stated. "We've seen that before."

"Yes." Leia nodded. "I'm not tempted; don't worry. I know what's real. I know I can't go back. Do you like you?" she asked. "I like me. Do you want to know what gets me beyond the negativity?"

"What?"

"I think of it from his point of view. That we are something wonderful to him, and I'm glad to be able to give him that."

"Because he never desired."

She smiled. "This," she swept her hand around her apartment, which was inviting and comfortable, "has surprised the hell out of him."

"And what about you? Are you surprised?"

"Are you?" Leia turned it on him.

Luke grabbed another roll, and tore it in half. He popped a piece in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, looking at her the whole time. "What is it now, four years?"

"Almost. Three and a half."

"If three years ago, or four, or whatever, if Ben Kenobi appeared to me in a snow storm and said, you'll be a scholar, and she'll be-"

"If he even said we win I'd have not believed him," Leia laughed.

Luke laughed along. "That's true. We had all that to do still. Really it was all consuming, wasn't it? The victory for you, the truth for me." He felt serious. "That Luke, the three and a half years ago Luke- he wouldn't have been surprised to learn you died. But this Luke," he touched his chest, "would. It would floor him. Me. This," and he swept his hand out, including the matching place mats, the comfortable sitting room, the hall table with a man's boots waiting for him to come home, "this seems like the most natural progression."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Excerpt from the autobiography of Luke Skywalker, The Farmer and the Force, page 3 chapter 4. Publication date 52 ABY.

I began this long ago. Actually, it began without me, so it doesn't really matter where you start reading. Who knows if it will even have any readers. A protocol droid I know tells me its style is unconventional and if he were the editor he'd have me organize it better, at least in chronological order, but that doesn't interest me. I have a lot of memories but it's not me I want to get across so much as it is the Force.

The Force had a beginning, too, and I'm fascinated by it, trying to pinpoint it. Over the years it too has struggled and grappled with how to be, just like all of us. I don't know where I was born, and it was years before I learned to whom, but those details aren't as important as the fact that I made it to Tatooine, just like the Force. Where did it start? Where was it born? And it spread, all over the galaxy. How?

I've been all over the galaxy too, seeking the Force; documenting its presence- sometimes those make for a good tale, a good chapter. And I'll share here the lessons it has taught me, even if you think they read more like a riddle. That's the one thing I can say definitely about the Force: you have to think. And it's not the same for every being.

I won't start with 'once upon a time'. Leia says I should; she says all life is fleeting and there will come a time when my life becomes merely a story.

She still thinks this of life, after all this time, and it breaks my heart.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

5 ABY

"Han," Luke began, walking next to him. Tall, thin stalks grabbed at him like greeting friends, their yellow flower heads swaying cheerfully. "There's something I've been trying to figure out."

He hadn't seen Han for a few months. Eight, maybe. He hadn't meant it to go that long. Time slipped away from him. From Malastare, where he threshed grain alongside Gann he left to crew on a freighter to Corellia, and departed only after his lightsaber put an end to a pirate attack. But on Eloja he'd learned of a hidden holocron, relic of the Jedi, and from there had traveled to the old Jedi Temple on Coruscant, back to Dagobah, for no reason really, then to Tatooine to sit in Ben's old hut for a while. It was there, sitting on a couch at the Darklighters, that he realized how overdue he was for a visit.

"I know all I need to about you, and yet I don't know the details," he finished.

Han snorted. He looked good, Luke had to admit. Probably really good. Healthy, or something. Familiar, with the blaster still holstered low on the thigh; rangy in movement as always. His hair was a little shorter, and it had a nice cut, so that Luke couldn't even see the cowlicks that used to rebel on Han's head. His face was leaner, and he was still out of uniform but he was off duty.

"Details are just filler," Han said.

It was typical Han; Luke was gratified he was still the same, though there was something different about him, and Luke kept staring at his hair, brushing his hand over his own, suddenly aware he must look fairly shabby.

"No," Luke argued calmly. "You know mine." He began to list them. "Orphaned and brought to Tatooine-"

"Raised by your aunt and uncle," Han recited impatiently, rolling his wrist. "Clumsy moisture farmer 'til a crazy old wizard-"

"Clumsy!" Luke protested, and they laughed.

They walked on a bit, and Luke enjoyed the yellow flowers, and the insects with four wings and long tails flitting about. Ahead, at the end of a path was a large stone building. Han said with a patient sigh, "Just ask already."

"Well, I ran into a group on Eloja-"

"Eloja? You sure like to punish yourself."

Luke nodded with a smile. "It's a tough place. Attrition is really high. And- I'm doing some of Leia's cosmography stuff, about the Force, though not all I meet are humans."

"Elojans aren't."

"No. Their thinking is- well, like you said. That life is punishing. That you're born to die-"

"True, I guess."

"- but they have this tremendous sense of beauty. Of wonder. Do you know what they call the sunrise? "The Gift.' Isn't that- it's revealing, isn't it? They wake up, and just that they get to see the sunrise makes their lives, however brief, special."

"You should be doing human relations; not 3PO. Maybe you'd actually get paid."

Luke fingered the credit chips Han had given him earlier. The money would come in handy, if anything just to get Luke to the next place. He knew Han didn't understand, but it was alright; he understood Han. During the war, action held them in common. Han was still a doer, but it came with a price, and it had a goal. Luke cared for neither.

Han opened the door to the building. Dust flitted upward from the dirt floor into the shaft of sunlight created by the open door. Luke let his eyes adjust. The ceiling was very high, the floor lined with huge vats, made of durosteel.

Han spread his arms wide. "Here you are," he announced. "Lando's newest venture." He strode over to the end wall, where there stood a tiny wooden table. Above it, on a shelf, were a half dozen glasses. Han took two down and they both moved to the nearest vat. "He's making wine. This stuff's been aging a year."

Luke acknowledged the information with a nod, and made sure Han saw he was taking it all in. But he doggedly kept to what he wanted to discuss. "I've always figured your life- your childhood-" Luke clarified, "was hard. You've never really said anything."

"Sure I've said something," Han said. He opened the valve on the vat and poured until a glass was half full.

"No," Luke shook his head, "not much at all."

"I know I told you I didn't play sports." Han held a glass out and just stood there, an expectant half smile on his face. Liar, Luke almost laughed to his face, but the nonsense words were Han's brand of affection. He was glad to see Luke.

Luke smiled and took the offered glass. The liquid contained inside was almost a deep chartreuse. He sniffed it. "Don't remember that. But I know you've had to fight."

Han's eyes were frank, daring. But not hostile. Because his hair was parted off-center? "How do you know?"

"I don't, really. You're just-" and it struck Luke what was different; it wasn't the hairstyle after all, and he had to change his tense. "You were- hard."

The cockiness was gone. None of that daring, defensive, irritating smugness. It had matured, like the wine, into a tailored confidence.

He still wasn't saying anything. Luke had tried in the past. During long flights he'd offer up tales of his own youth, hinting at Han and Leia to share one of their own, and always had been deftly sidetracked. Eventually, he had stopped asking, and he wasn't now. He had decided it never really mattered. "I was thinking about you, on Eloja," Luke continued. "And I wanted to know, was it always hard? Constantly hard? Or did it have moments?"

"Gifts?" Han said, and clinked his glass with Luke.

"Yeah." Luke took a sip. It tasted sweet, and fresh. The wine was chilled in the huge vats. "Mm," he said. "Those yellow flowers make this wine?"

"Alderaanian wine," Han said, leaning forward on his toes to emphasize the fact. "One of the Survivors from Vrakith IV was co-owner of a vineyard," Han told Luke. "He convinced Lando it could be done here. The fields are the wineflowers. This," he waved the glass in an arc, "is the fermenting house."

"Kiranna will be more than just an Alderaani refugee settlement if they can rebuild some industry," Luke observed. "This is pretty good."

"Not exactly the same, but close. These flowers are in the same botanic family as the ones they used for wine."

"What does Leia think about it?"

"She says the Survivors are beginning to emerge from their stupor."

Luke nodded. "I felt it. The air smells like healing."

"No, that would be the flowers. You know, you don't have to be a guru all the time."

"Yes, I do," Luke said sadly. He finished his glass and Han offered him more, but he declined. "Did you have to wait for your gifts?" he asked Han as Han shut up the fermenting house.

Han sighed. "I guess not. To always fight is hard. But you know that," he said, and stopped, looking fully into Luke's face. "Even he knew that. Your father. When you're exhausted, you still don't want to die. For some reason. You ever figure that out?"

Luke shook his head.

"Be a lot easier if you just gave in and died, don't you think?"

"That's what I'm trying to find an answer for," Luke said. "Why don't you think you did?"

Han lifted a shoulder. "Beats me. Does the Force evolve? You know- change; survival of the fittest, that kind of crap?"

"It is physical," Luke confirmed. "But it's also," he didn't want to use the word 'spiritual' but he couldn't think of a better one, "of the spirit. Could just be the Maybes."

Han shrugged again and took up off the path bordered on each side by the yellow flowers. "Yeah, so anyway, since you're alive you find things; you look for a reason to keep going. And sometimes it's just a breeze. But it's enough."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

To have an awareness of the Force, to feel it flowing through you, is a gift, not a power. Treat it as such.

- From the autobiography of Luke Skywalker, The Farmer and the Force, publication date 52 ABY.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

6 ABY

Another cosmography, about a place called The Opening, and surrounding it a ring of high peaks, fatal to most visitors. Some called it a plague but the Adlati claimed outsiders lacked worth. Luke went because it was either magic or it was organic, and surely it was the Force. He stayed in a barn before venturing in with a guide, and the shepherd told him, in broken Basic, that long ago, a Visitor had crashed from the sky and thrown up a great cloud, obliterating the sun and causing most of the world to die.

He took ill, as he knew he would. It was a Maybe, and he was willing to call the Force's bluff. It needed him still. He hadn't done enough.

He sorted through what he knew. All that he knew. When the fever struck, they stopped moving. Luke sat against a boulder, feeling the energy surround it. He pulled out his holocomm and called Leia.

"It was a meteorite," he moaned into the comm. "And it almost killed life. It almost killed the Force."

"Luke." Leia was blurred and blue in the holoimage, not a good connection or maybe it was his fever. "Luke? You're scaring me. Where are you?"

The answer was so simple. Life was almost extinguished here, a millennia ago. And so the Force almost died too. It struggled to regain itself, dark breaking from light, and parts were lonely, desperate; violent. And parts were- just were, as life should be; growing.

"I've got Han- send your coords. We're coming. Luke, keep talking. Stay with me."

Luke said the same thing to her he said on Bespin. Not out loud. With the Force. Hear me. He connected himself to her, to Han, thought of the man on his way who would do anything for her, for love, who would land on a world that was known to kill, for him. Never tell me the odds.

He stayed against the rock and sighed heavily to his guide.

"You are dying," his guide said.

Luke found it funny. "So certain are you?" he cackled. But the Force did not appreciate arrogance, that much he knew, so he sobered. "Just a couple more days. My friends are going to land. Right here, and they're going to pop out of the ship and grab me, and not give The Opening a chance to kill them. You can go if you want. Just leave me some water. "

"You paid," the guide said in his broken Basic. "I finish."

"It might be a plague," Luke said. "But it's love too, isn't it? The Visitor wants to leave, but he's stuck. He lashes out, like a scared, wounded animal. You and all the Adlati accept him, but newcomers see him as a challenge."

The charge on his comm died days ago, but Luke's smile, though feverish, was serene. Hear me, he kept on through the Force, and Leia came. It was a rock that alerted him, poking into his back as Han laid him on the ground. Leia's face hovered over his eyes.

"Hell of a vacation," Han was grumbling.

Luke smiled, "I want to marry you," he blurted to Leia.

Han sort of smiled. "Told you he had a thing for you."

Leia's voice was crisp. "It was never like that and you know it."

"And Han," Luke said.

"Apparently, he had a thing for you, hot shot."

Han laughed. "Come on, kid." Luke was pulled to his feet.

"Both of you," Luke said, trying to make it clear. "You two. Together. The Visitor told me. I'm a Jedi."

Han had his arm under Luke's shoulders. "When you want to be. Walk."

"I can marry you," he kept babbling to Han. Movement cleared Luke's head and his pulse receded, blood flowing again quietly along the network within his body. "The Jedi. They had that power. Because it's life. Love grows the Force. Right? Ask Leia. And the Order. They made it-"

"Careful, here. Terrain's kinda rocky."

The Falcon rested on a flat, elevated plateau. "They made it lawful, because the Force, and society... wow."

Luke had it all. He couldn't express it, but it was there in front of him, the intricate entangling of spiritual Force, of reproductive love, of laws binding lives in common.

Han ran a medscan over him. "How is he?" Leia asked.

"Crazy as always. Proposed to us."

"He did? What do you think of that?"

"I've never been able to refuse him much. What about you?"

"Oh, I have. But I like the idea."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Excerpt from the autobiography of Luke Skywalker, The Farmer and the Force, page 32, chapter 2. Publication date 52 ABY.

Really this story is about love.

Love for each other, for life. For peace. It expands ever outward.

And I'm afraid love can be lost again.

Han says that's just because I didn't have time to be afraid when I needed to, and now it's catching up with me. But I wonder if it's just me. If I didn't learn that early on, when my mother died after my birth and I cried the whole flight to my new home, never knowing if there would be love again.

He says I should get a pet.

And you know, as I wrote that, I smiled. Because- there might be truth in that. If you have love, you shouldn't fear losing it. It only changes. Physical love can die. As it should. But the spiritual love- the part that lives on in the Force- that's forever. And it changes you.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

7 ABY

Ritual was rigor. Once black and white, explainable, lost to time. Symbols and dictated behaviors was all that was left of the Order, like rubble. Large robes, lightsabers, solitude.

"It's identity," Luke's Twi'lek friend argued. Su-til was Force-sensitive, but very different than Luke. He sought patterns and solutions where Luke's Force was more free-form, process oriented. "It provides belonging. Everyone needs to know they have somewhere to go."

Leia saw Su-til's point. "It's continuity," she insisted. "It's home. And I don't have one anymore, and Han never really did either, and by becoming part of the ritual we therefore are granted a home."

So Luke relented, partly because he'd never be able to refuse Leia anything, partly because time was new again. He stood before Han and Leia, a fabric scroll in his hand- another ritual, though this one had words printed on it for him to read, his cheat sheet.

"Leia," he read, "daughter of Alderaan. And Han, son of Corellia."

This was one part of the ceremony where Leia had approved a change. Luke was supposed to state the parents' names.

The biological ones, for really it was a fertility rite for the twelve goddesses of Alderaan. They didn't know Leia's biological mother's name, and she refused to list her father's. She would have happily named Bail and Breha, but it seemed to be terribly lopsided when Han had no names at all.

"On Alderaan, if one grew up in an orphanage, they got the warden to stand up for them," Leia said kindly. "Maybe Chewie...?"

"Calida," Han said. "My mother's name was Calida."

Luke made a note of it, trying not to exclaim in any kind of gratitude or surprise that Han had shared something. "And your father?"

Han shrugged. Parenthood was itself a rite of passage, Luke saw, and he thought it gave credit to his side of the debate. Han suggested, half-humored, "Mistake?"

Leia was smiling, and she put her arms around Han's neck and kissed his cheek. "How do you say 'mistake' in Corellian?"

They laughed, steeped in sadness, and Leia said quietly how much wrong there had been in the galaxy, and might be still, if they didn't stand up for it. So they named themselves children of the galaxy, and it would be a new tradition.

Now Luke brought the stand where the thick velvet pillow rested before Han and Leia, and Han took a breath and picked up half the threads that lay over the pillow and looped them around Leia's neck. Han's hands were large and his fingers callused but to his credit they weren't shaking. Han had confessed to Luke and Chewie he had practiced some. Luke thought if it were him, he might not be able to hold the strands at all.

"With this one chain," Han recited to Leia, holding up the braid he'd made, "I link my life to yours."

Now it was Leia's turn to plait the strands. Brown for shelter, she had told Luke. Green for life, and gold for fortune. Those in attendance laughed sweetly as Han had to duck his head so Leia could swing the strands behind his neck. She was quicker than Han, and of course she was, Luke thought, look at her hair, look at-

"My life woven in yours," Leia said, her voice soft and awed.

Luke brought his palm roughly to his jaw, and he knew his eyes were moist when they met Leia's. Ritual, and meaning, and rigor. Braids.

He got Han alone during the reception. "Did you know that about the braids?" He had to raise his voice over the music.

"Yeah, I asked her after the Medal Ceremony why she took the buns out," Han said, looking across the room at his bride, radiantly guffawing with Wedge. Luke smiled. "She told me- her voice was kind of... flat. Stuck in my memory. The buns were for the mission. To remind her she was on her own. And the braids were lives intersecting, or something like that. And that it was a very deliberate choice."

"Whose lives? Alderaan's?"

Han shrugged, and was pulled by Chewie away towards the dance floor. "I thought ours."

Luke watched Han dance with Chewie, a statement of fun and friendship, arms and legs swinging arhythmically, and Leia was dancing with Wedge, both imitating the Wookiee, but Luke was seeing his sister at Yavin, transformed from filthy, scrappy Princess to elegant, transcendent woman. He had no idea where she'd gotten the gown. There was a necklace too, he dimly recalled.

He had figured the hair was just another part of the outfit, something to make her sophisticated and lovely. But no, while changing into the gown she had reached up and removed the hair pins, grieving that there was no one could see who would know, really know, and in her brilliance, in an attempt to take herself beyond survival, she had woven an intricate series of braids. How many threads, Luke wondered. One for the dead, one for the living, another for the war. For memory, for the future. For friends. And healing.

She wasn't thinking about that right now. It was still with her, he knew that; it always would be. But at times when she invited it. It wasn't that it was never welcome, but it seemed to know rather than she when was the right time. And right now wasn't.

Luke grabbed Su-til and they circled Chewie, stabbing their legs and arms into the air, gyrating in celebration and laughter. Han and Leia were mindless of the beat, swaying lightly, arms holding each other tight.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Excerpt from the autobiography of Luke Skywalker, The Farmer and the Force, page 163, chapter 7. Publication date 52 ABY.

The Force does not need to be served. It demands nothing from us except life. It's existence is contingent upon ours.

For those that wish to see an Order again, I direct you to heed these words. I have only been a farmer, as so should you. Sow the seeds of the Force; grow it, harvest it. Keep it in our lives, a friend, as family.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

10 ABY

Luke leaned forward from his seat to peer down the line of beings seated in a row on the stage. Veterans of the Rebellion had gathered on Coruscant to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the destruction of the first Death Star. There were so few, Luke was sad to note. General Dodonna died two years ago. General Rieekan, though retired, was quick to respond to the invitation. In addition to Wedge, and Han and Leia, there were some of the personnel Luke didn't get to know well, and of course Mon Mothma took center stage.

A gigantic crowd stretched before them. Military air ships flew in formation overhead. The crowd, comprised of dozens of life forms, waved flags and cheered. It was a marvel, Luke thought, that even after ten years the Galactic Civil War still shaped collective conscious.

The size of the crowd had Luke wonder of the number of beings who couldn't be here. Leia helped arrange that the Darklighters, Luke's old neighbors, were in attendance. Mrs. D had told him there was not a day when she didn't think of her son Biggs.

There was no one here from the former Empire. Which was odd, Luke thought; and wrong. He knew many of them were sentenced to death for war crimes, but there were a great many who defected in surrender. The defectors were here today, but as Luke recognized them he saw they were all in New Republic uniforms. He sought Leia, noting her serene expression. Next time, he thought he'd tell her, he'd like to hear from a former Imperial citizen; how the war impacted him. Was life- better? Did philosophies change with a government?

All trace of the Empire had been erased. Cities were renamed, maps redrawn. The Imperial Palace was now the Offices of the New Republic at Coruscant. Oner, it had been nicknamed. I'm going to Oner for my license.

Luke sat on the end, next to Han. He watched Han use a stylus and steadily color in his whole text screen so that it was black. He'd already spoken. His speech was really short, and Luke thought the crowd was grateful, for there were a good number of speakers lined up, plus bands.

Han didn't talk about the battle. He talked about the moment to decide to join the battle. And he told the crowd, "don't wait until it's too late to make a stand. Make noise." Rieekan and Leia shared a quiet laugh as the crowd applauded, and Luke figured they were probably joking how noisy Han was as a contract smuggler often threatening to leave.

Leia never liked to mark the anniversary of the Death Star. Three days ago they were on Kiranna for a much more somber ceremony, remembering the other part of that victory, the destruction of Alderaan. Luke didn't know which it was: whether it was the artifacts that furnished her residence, or her little daughter Han nicknamed Romps since she started walking, but it was true she talked of Alderaan more lately, and with an ease, like it didn't hurt.

He'd always known Alderaan was an enlightened society. And despite that, it did not save them. They were smart and wise and peaceful, and they were still gone.

When it was time for Luke to speak, he walked slowly to the podium. He thought of the size of the crowd, and how much hate could be in it. He hadn't prepared a speech, but Darth Vader weighed heavily on his mind. It had been a while since he thought of his father in that aspect. But today it was unavoidable.

"There are two sides," he began, "when there's a conflict. And both believe unflaggingly that theirs is the right one." He paused, for he found himself thinking of Owen, and the troopers that called him sand sucker before they killed him, and the limericks his squadron used to sing, rhyming words with Imp. "Even without weapons, they aim to hurt. How do we not hurt?" he asked the crowd.

"How do we not kill? How do we build understanding for the other's point of view?

"Ten years ago, I was Red Five. I was introduced today as Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. I'm not really a master but I do study the Force. I don't claim to know everything. But I do know there will be conflict. Again, and more. It is the nature of life. It is the nature of the Force. We must be ready." He paused, no longer sure of what he wanted to say. "But maybe we can do it better."

He had nothing more to add. He stood there as if lost in thought a few moments, and then headed back to his seat as hesitant, polite smatterings of applause sounded.

Han, who was not clapping, muttered out of the side of his mouth, "What the hells was that?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Excerpt from the autobiography of Luke Skywalker, The Farmer and the Force, page 1 chapter 1. Publication date 52 ABY.

It's time now, one of the last things I have left to me, to get this down, make it concrete; leave a path someone else can follow.

The bones of my one hand are swollen and stiff. Should I thank the Force, the circumstance of my history, that gave me a metal prosthetic that functions as well as it did so many years ago?

Beauty rises from tragedy. So Leia told me long ago. She certainly did.

I am glad for the name Skywalker in that I could show the galaxy what else a Skywalker could be. I feel, at this time in my life, that I have emerged through a curtain, and finally there I am, in a spotlight, on a stage: the Luke Skywalker I have tried so hard to become.

There I am. The end.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

My ode is complete.