Continuity Note: Does not comply completely with Rogue One as some of it conflicts with A New Hope (I'm using the scripts on for reference). I also realized, after writing quite a bit, that the events on Tatooine take place over 3 days, but I'd assumed it was 2. So! I'm going to pretend Luke's actions speed events up.

-Luke-

Luke Skywalker tossed and turned, a strange but familiar smell assaulting his nose and filling his dreams. It was a comforting scent, bringing with it memories of a long-lost home, gone before he was ready. It also brought to mind a youthful rebelling against expectations / It was also the smell of youthful rebellion, of frustration, and restlessness. Now it held nothing but nostalgia for a much simpler time, with simpler worries.

"Luke! Breakfast is ready!"

The sound of Aunt Beru almost jolted him from his nostalgic musings. He groggily opened his eyes, a life on the run not allowing him to do anything else, and frowned. A strong sense of deja-vu washed over him at the familiar patterns of the compacted sand above his sleeping berth. Luke brushed his hands down the rough fabric of his bedding and quirked an eyebrow at the realism in his dream.

He didn't know how long he lay there, half awake and luxuriating in the comfort of a place almost long forgotten when Uncle Owen's voice forced him upright, his body reacting instinctively to the frustrated tone.

"Luke! Get moving boy!" His Uncle shouted down the hall. "Probably out late with his friends again, those kids are a bad…" He heard the man grumble to himself and fade in the direction of the kitchen.

Sighing to himself, Luke slowly stood and looked around blankly. Whatever this was, it sure was a vivid dream.

He absently got dressed in the loose white tunics common to the moisture farmers on Tatooine. So much less constricting than the clothes he had become used to wearing out in space. Their thin almost flowing nature brought back a host of memories working out under the heat of the twin suns.

Of course, you never worked at the height of their orbit. To do so was to invite a slow hallucination filled death by dehydration, if you didn't pass out from heat stroke first. Those had been more peaceful days, even if they hadn't felt that way at the time. Besides the heat, there was always one of the many inhabitants to look out for, desperate for a meal in the harsh climate. It was a common refrain that even the plants on Tatooine wanted to eat you.

Luke exited his room and made his way over to the kitchen, feet following a well-worn trail, and stopped dead at the entrance. There, sitting at the table as if this was just another morning breakfast together, was his Aunt and Uncle. Both were sitting down, Aunt Beru with a startling sympathetic smile and his Uncle with his habitual small scowl.

Luke stood there in a daze, not believing what he was seeing, hoping the dream would keep going, that he wouldn't wake up, that he could enjoy seeing the two of them one more time. He hadn't thought about them in months, besides in hurt filled moments when he wondered if they'd known, the whole time, and never told him.

Why hadn't they told him?

"Luke?" Aunt Beru asked, forcing his dazed eyes to sharpen on her concerned face, "Are you feeling alright?"

Luke nodded jerkily and moved to join them at the table, sliding into his seat with a hesitant air.

A gusty sigh sounded from his Uncle seated across from him, "Alright, what is it?"

Luke couldn't stop the confused, "Huh?" that came out, feeling like he really was his teenage self, and had just asked his uncle once again for something the man disapproved of and considered frivolous.

Owen pointed a utensil at him and admonished, "Whatever it is, it can wait until your chores are done. Then you can join your friends or whatever you have planned. I want your mind focused, we can't afford any more breakdowns this season, you know that."

Luke jerkily nodded his head when his Uncle looked at him expectantly, the refrain familiar, in the sense that he'd heard a version of it many times as a teenager, especially once he'd been old enough to pilot the land-speeder on his own.

The rest of the meal passed almost in a blur. His Aunt continued to give him concerned looks while his Uncle went through the list of chores that needed to be done and bemoaned the rise in attacks by the Sandpeople. It all seemed familiar, and he had a vague sense that he knew why, but his mind shied away from it, not wanting to ruin the moment and the privilege of seeing his Aunt and Uncle again.

He didn't ask any of the questions he'd once compiled in his mind. Questions he'd wished he'd been able to ask them, once he found out the truth. The bitterness he'd once felt at them keeping the fact that his Father was a hero and a Jedi Knight had long faded. Had they known who his Father had become? Was that why? He almost asked but… he didn't want to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

And besides, in a dream they'd only answer with what he expected them to say anyway.

-Leia-

Leia Organa was having an amazing dream. In it, her father (her real father) was alive and well. He'd just entrusted her with an important mission the likes of which she'd been begging for, for years. She could almost smell the comforting scents of Alderaan, long lost to her.

She didn't want to wake, but knew she would have to eventually. Usually she did not allow herself to indulge in such a manner, but a heavy weight had recently been lifted from her shoulders, so she allowed herself this moment.

She stretched, and ran her hand along the smooth silk of her bed. Softness she hadn't experienced in so long, not willing to indulge or abuse her position amongst the Rebellion to requisition. Some of the other high ranking Senators had indulged, unwilling to part with the last vestiges of their old life. But Leia had embraced the minimalist utilitarianism of the ground troops, disinclined to give herself any privilege they themselves did not also receive.

She slowly became aware of a soft beeping, the background noise loud enough to be heard over the soft hum of the Falcon's engines. Though the Falcon never ran so smoothly. It took her a moment to place it, but it sounded like the warning of hyperspace reversion.

She ignored it and took a deep breath instead, luxuriating in the flowery scent. It was her favourite. Whatever distraction the dream was trying to impose on her, she was determined to ignore it.

Whatever she'd drunk at the celebration, to give her such a relaxing dream, she's happy that she had. This memory of touch and scent was a balm that soothed her long frayed nerves. Everything was peaceful once more, it reminded her of a simpler time when her biggest concern was convincing her Father she was ready to help him in the Alliance. Of her desperate need to prove herself. When the lives of countless people, and the very fate of the Rebellion, did not feel as if they rested solely on her shoulders.

A fist banged on her door, startling her out of her hazy thoughts.

She blinked her eyes open and frowned. She was fully dressed and lying on a large berth, a size reserved for high ranking officials or those with the money for it. A quick glance showed her to be dressed in her old white senatorial outfit: flowing white dress, silver belt, white combat boots and all. The room looked vaguely familiar, as one she had spent some time in at one point but hadn't in years.

The banging fist switched to the irritating buzz of the intercom, demanding her attention.

Giving in, she swept to her feet and opened the door to her room, a scowl firmly in place.

Whoever was disturbing this dream was going to regret it.

"What is…it…" her demand died in her throat at the sight on the other side of her door.

It was an Officer in the uniform of the Royal Alderaanian Guard, specifically assigned to her during her term as Senator. She even recognized the officer as Lieutenant Ress Batten.

The long dead Lieutenant Batten.

"Your Highness." The Lieutenant saluted, "You're needed on the bridge." A tightness entered her voice, "We are approaching Tatooine and…"

Horror at the direction this frighteningly real dream was taking welled up in Leia. Was it possible this wasn't a dream? It had stared so innocently!

The Lieutenant finished, "A Stardestroyer was just reported dropping out of Hyperspace."

Her horror must have been showing on her face as the officer hurried to add, "We are transmitting diplomatic codes, they won't dare board us. But the Captain requested you on the bridge. Shall I escort you?"

Leia wiped her face of emotion and managed to nod, mind racing. Had her dream truly taken her to this place and time? Why, of all the dreams she could be experiencing did it have to be now. Why did it have to be so vivid?

Was this because of what had happened, before she'd gone to sleep? Because of the revelation Luke had dropped on her, which she hadn't had time, and didn't want to take the time, to process?

Why? She thought, letting none of her distress show, Why does it have to be now?

This wasn't a dream, she was certain.

It was a nightmare.

Authors Note: So I started writing this with no clear end in mind last year. It was supposed to mostly be an exploration of how much the characters changed from the first movie to the last. I just wrote with the flow and didn't sweat the details. But then I really enjoyed writing from different perspectives, and this kinda ballooned.

I'm leaving how this ends mostly up to how the characters act when I write their perspectives, which has caused a few re-writes of earlier chapters to make it all fit. Do not expect events to play out like the movie (except events Luke and Leia have no influence over). I really struggled with what would happen to Leia, I didn't want to just forget about her while all the action happened on Tatooine, and I'm quite pleased with the result! :)