Time: Approximately three weeks after Han's rescue

Location: Dagobah

"Gosh, she was amazing. Absolutely amazing," Luke murmured, entranced by the holo he was watching of his mother as a fourteen year-old queen of Naboo.

After a hard day of training with Yoda, he should have fallen asleep right away, as the old Jedi master had. But while his body was aching and sore, his mind was racing - just as it had been since the night Ben and Yoda had revealed the identity of his mother and the fact he had a twin sister.

Shortly after that night, he'd learned that R2 had begun his droid life in service to Queen Padme Amidala, and still had many holos and other data about her and her life stored in his memory. Luke could not resist the pull of accessing a virtual library about his mother. Thus had begun his new nightly routine, much to the consternation of Yoda, who regularly huffed and muttered under his breath about stubborn Jedi students who didn't listen to their elders.

Yoda would work him to the bone during the day, and as the Jedi master drifted off to sleep at night, Luke would watch holos of Padme that R2 projected against the walls of Yoda's hut. With a cup of the root and bark tea in his hands, the young rebel watched the holos, a different one each night, with the sound turned down as low as possible so as not to wake Yoda. As if she was a test to take that he wanted to ace, Luke studied every flickering image of the woman who would become a famous Senator, fall in love with a rouge Jedi Anakin Skywalker, and pass away after birthing twin babies.

His mother.

Eventually he would fall asleep, and then the next thing he knew was Yoda's walking stick pressing into his ribs to wake him to do it all over again.

It was an incredible stroke of luck that R2's memory had not been totally wiped over the years. Luke had used his own data pad to try and find information on Padme Amidala, but there was very little out there accessible to the general public. Just a name, date of birth, date of death, and family information. There were some articles about her funeral that were very factual, with very little elaboration. And no pictures. Not a single one. R2's memory was a treasure trove for which Luke was extremely grateful.

He studied this holovid intently.

It looked to be a celebration happening in the central part of a city.

There were strange leathery looking creatures marching down an open street, some playing horns, others carrying drums. Crowds on the sidelines cheered and waved ribbons and flags, as what looked like confetti fell through the air.

"It must be a capital city of Naboo," Luke murmured to himself, examining the buildings in the holovid. Since leaving Tatootine and joining the rebellion, he'd been many places and seen architecture so different from his home planet. These structures reminded him of holos he'd seen of Alderaan, when he looked them up shortly after Yavin, wanting to know more about Leia and her destroyed home. The arches and structures were tall and graceful, with what looked like blue marble on the roof. Carvings and statues adorned many structures. Looking at the scene, he felt a sense of ancient history preserved and lovingly tended. "Someday I'll go there, to see what she saw and walk where she walked," he promised himself. "And I'll take Leia with me."

The angle of the holovid changed, and a female figure in a white dress was stepping forward to greet someone.

His mother.

Every time he saw her, it never failed to hit him hard to the gut, how much Leia looked like her.

They had the same shining brown hair, the same big brown eyes. He was sure that when they both smiled, their eyes crinkled up in the same way. They both had the same regal bearing, but he just knew by the look in Padme's eyes that she had the same ability as Leia did to give someone a verbal dressing down, should a person need it.

Based on what Obi-Wan had told him about Padme, and what he sensed himself, his sister and his mother had that similar spirit - determination, and a need to do what was right, no matter the cost.

He studied her more intently, the white makeup and the red dots on her check and lower lip. Getting involved in the rebellion had opened him up to cultures and worlds he'd never imagined, and Luke was curious about anything to do with his mother. "I'll have to ask Obi-Wan if he knows if there a meaning to those colors." The clothes she'd worn as queen were strange to him as well, the elaborate designs and fabrics and even the hairstyles.

No matter the clothing, his mother had been a beautiful young woman. Aunt Beru had been right, in the times she'd answered his questions about his mother. Beautiful, poised, smart, and kind were the words she'd used to desc ribe her. He could see the first two, and others had told him about the rest. Hearing those words about his mother from people he trusted gave him a much-needed sense of peace about his parentage. He did not need to feel conflicted about the kind of person his mother had been.

The angle of the holo changed yet again, and this time a young boy entered the frame. He had short, spiky blonde hair, and wore a light brown tunic and brown belt styled in a manner not unlike his own black Jedi clothes.

The boy was smiling at Padme, and she was smiling back.

As he studied the holo, a voice spoke in his head.

You can focus on her all you want, but you can't avoid him forever.

This was young Anakin Skywalker, ten or eleven years old and newly assigned to Obi-Wan as a padawan apprentice.

Father.

Luke ignored the twisting in his guts as he stared at the boy. He looked so young, so innocent and, in this particular moment, so carefree. How did life destroy this boy so that he felt his only option was to become dark?

No, that was not right. Anakin chose the dark side. He chose fear.

Luke turned off the holo, thinking about his father. He knew he would need to talk to Ben and Yoda again, about this, how his father came to be in the place he was to even make that choice. And to ask them a question he had been wondering about since the events of Bespin.

Could a person, so long embedded in the dark, ever choose the light again?