DISCLAIMER: Wizards of Waverly Place, Star Wars, and the characters portrayed herein are owned by other people, who would probably roll their eyes at what I'm doing with them here. Cornell University likely wouldn't be thrilled about its inclusion in this, either, but what can you do?

SUMMARY: Everything Justin Russo ever needed to know about life, he learned from watching Star Wars. The experience of seeing it again with Alex teaches both of them a few new things. Very much inspired by the beautiful song Tatooine by Jeremy Messersmith, which I've been listening to on repeat for days, and strikes me as something Justin would put on a mix tape for Alex.

Justin was only six when Star Wars taught him everything he needed to know.

It taught him that that the good guys won, and the bad guys lost, eventually. That the quick and easy path led to the dark side. That all it took to be a hero was a good heart, and noble intentions, and the belief in something greater than yourself. That there was no try, only do or do not. That robots were cool. That being reckless could cost you a hand. That even a whiny, friendless nerd could grow up to become a badass Jedi if he trained hard enough, then save the galaxy and rescue the princess.

That, sometimes, it was OK to want to kiss your sister.

Alex, on the other hand, seemed to have taken different lessons from their oft-repeated childhood viewings of the Holy Trilogy, back when she was four and they were still best friends, before she started school and everything he said, did and was became stupid, dorky and pointless in her eyes.

She'd learned that authority was something to be flaunted, and rebellion was where it was at. That being the only girl stuck between two boys didn't mean you had to let yourself get pushed around, you just had to push them harder. That hokey religions and ancient weapons were no match for common freaking sense, which meant sometimes you shot first and apologized for the mess later. That using your powers to be a guardian of peace and justice was seriously for suckers, since you just wound up getting cut in half by the third act. That no matter how bad or far gone you were, it was always possible to be forgiven, as long as you tried to make up for it in the end. That the sarcastic bad boy was who the princess was supposed to wind up with. That the right answer to 'I love you' was always 'I know.'

That, even when all looked lost, you could always count on your brother to save the day in the end.

They hadn't watched the movies together in years. Alex had skipped out on the prequels altogether, had actually laughed in his face when he'd asked if she'd wanted to camp out with him in front of the theatre the night before Episode I was released. (And yeah, so maybe in hindsight she'd been right, even if it had taken him twenty-three viewings to finally admit it to himself. Stupid Jar-Jar.) And though he'd watched them dozens of times since, he couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic for the days when she'd curl up next to him on the couch in her pajamas, steal his popcorn when she thought he wasn't looking, and duck her head under the blanket during the trash compactor scene, or when Han was dropped into the carbon freezing chamber. Even if he was doing a marathon with Zeke, or the other guys from Alien Language League, or even a theatre full of fellow geeks at a convention, it always made him feel kind of…lonely…to watch them without her.

It was stupid, he knew. He doubted she'd ever even given it a second thought. Because as fond and important a memory it was for him, it's one he was certain she'd be embarrassed by, if she'd even bothered to remember at all.

|-o-|

His first month away at Cornell isn't all it's cracked up to be. His roommate is a humorless, Type-A pre-law student who's wound so tight that he makes Justin seem positively laid back and carefree by comparison. The workload is so intense that even with his patented mnemonic devices and endless drilling, he's still barely managing to keep up, leaving him with little time and energy to go out and make new friends. He gets his first Intro to Modern Lit paper back at the end of September, and is stunned to see a grade less than 95% for the first time in his student career. At the beginning of October, his T.A. hands back his second paper with a 43 circled on it in red, and suggests he might want to hire a tutor. And that's all it takes to put Justin on a bus Friday morning for an unannounced weekend visit home.

Several hours and a cab ride he can't afford later, he lets himself in through the door from the street rather than going through the Sub Station, not feeling up to facing his parents right away. Alex and Max will still be at school—well, Max will be, anyway, and wherever Alex is, she won't be home until well after four, so she isn't caught ditching—which should give him a few hours in the loft to himself. To unwind, to decompress, to just be. And to try and figure out what the hell he's doing with his life.

And so he's stunned when he unlocks the yellow door and pushes it open, to find his sister staring up at him from where she lies on the couch in her pajamas, wearing an equally stunned expression on her face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" they ask each other in the same breath. Then, after a beat, they both add: "I asked you first!"

Justin rolls his eyes as he drops his bags to the floor and kicks the door closed behind him, then holds up one fist. Alex narrows her gaze at him and holds up a fist of her own. Silently, they pump their fists at each other three times in unison, before Justin sticks out two fingers and Alex holds her palm out flat.

"Ha!" Justin grins, because scissors beat paper.

"Whatever," Alex grunts in a bored tone. She drops her head back down to the arm of the couch and lolls her head towards the TV. "I have the flu, or food poisoning, or something. I spent all night puking my guts out. Mom made me stay home."

"Ew, sorry," Justin says as he takes off his jacket and throws it over the back of the chair. "Wait, 'made you'? The perfect excuse to ditch on a Friday and spend the day watching TV, and you didn't jump at the chance?"

"Tsk, oh ye of little faith," Alex grunts, without looking up at him. "Not that you'd know, but as the eldest sibling in the house, now, I've become very responsible in your absence."

Justin says nothing, but cocks an eyebrow at her from the doorway.

"Yeah OK, so there was a Crazy Ten-Minute Sale on today, and I wanted to ditch fifth period so I could go," Alex shrugs, without taking her eyes off the television. "It wouldn't have been any fun, anyway. It's always such a bitch to talk Harper into cutting, and I feel like ten pounds of crap stuffed into a five pound bag right now. Why are you ditching?"

"Because my roommate's a dick, and Modern Lit is kicking my ass back to the Renaissance," Justin sighs as he walks over to the couch. "I just needed to get away. What are you watching? Oprah, or Days of Our Lives?"

"Nothing special," Alex shrugs again. "Whatever's on."

"Mind if I watch it with you? I could use a little mindless daytime tele—"

He breaks off in mid-sentence as he gets his first good look at the screen, then glances back at his sister in surprise.

"Alex, are you really watching The Empire Strikes Back of your own free will?"

"I dunno, is that what this is?" she asks, frowning at the screen as she scratches her nose. "Honestly, I'm not even paying attention, I'm so bored. I keep drifting in and out…"

Justin scowls at her in annoyance, ready to call her out for blasphemy, but restrains himself. He grabs her Uggs by the ankles and lifts her feet up off the couch to take a seat beneath them, then settles them back in his lap. He's about to ask her what station is showing Empire in the middle of the day on a Friday in October when he notices three DVD cases spread across the coffee table, two closed and one open.

"Alex, this wasn't just on," he says, frowning at them. "You put this on."

Alex stiffens a little, and doesn't answer right away.

"Uh, maybe Max…?" she begins lamely, then trails off.

"You're watching Star Wars on purpose," Justin says slowly, as if he's trying to wrap his head around a particularly foreign concept. Then, as another piece falls into place: "And this is the second one! Ohmigosh, you're doing a Star Wars marathon on purpose!"

"Justin, shut up!" Alex whines, kicking him with the heel of her boot. "Somebody else might hear."

"But this is so awesome!" Justin grins excitedly, even as he rubs the tender spot on his ribs. "Have you seriously been sitting here watching these all day?"

"Um, maybe?" she says in a small voice, then heaves a sigh of annoyance. "Look, it's not a big deal, OK? I always watch them when I'm sick. Could we not make a federal case out of it, or whatever?"

"When you're sick? But why? You hate these movies!"

"I dunno, they just make me feel better, all right?" she grunts, bringing her hands up to her face and pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. "Like when we were little, I guess! Jesus!"

"Oh wow, that's right!" Justin blinks at the sudden memory that comes rushing back to him. "You came down with some kind of magical fever…some freak allergic reaction to Undo Dust, or something…man, and you were so sick for that entire summer…holy God, I can't believe I forgot about that!"

"And you stayed inside with me the whole summer to keep me company," she says, smiling ever so slightly at the memory, "and you made me watch Star Wars over, and over, and over again. Christ, I think I can still recite all three movies from memory. Remember, we even used to act it out with your little dolls?"

"Action figures," Justin corrects her automatically.

"And you'd get so mad at me if I got something wrong," Alex chuckles weakly.

"Well, you were always trying to make Luke and Leia kiss all the time! It only happens once in the movies!"

Then Justin sits bolt upright and stares at his sister, his eyes wide as another hazy memory suddenly snaps back into focus. "Ohmigod, you shipped Luke and Leia!"

"Shut up, I did not," Alex groans. She doesn't look away from the TV, but from where he sits watching her, he can tell her cheeks are flushed.

"You did too! You so totally did! You were always making them kiss, and hold hands, and…oh wow, you even had Obi-Wan Kenobi marry them…and Han was the best man, and Darth Vader gave the bride away, and Artoo-Deetoo was the flower droid…oh, and then the Jawas and Ewoks were their babies, remember?"

"OK, so what if I did? Gimmie a break, Justin. I was, like, four years old. I didn't know any better!"

"Yeah, no, I know," Justin says, his smile fading a little. "It's just funny, that's all."

"Mmm," Alex mutters, noncommittally.

They lapse into a comfortable silence together, watching as Luke slices the wampa's arm off with his lightsaber and escapes from its cave, Alex with her feet propped up in his lap, Justin with his hand resting gently on her ankles. Gradually, her breathing grows deep and even, and Justin begins to wonder if she was telling the truth about it putting her to sleep.

"This part always used to bug you so much," she giggles then, startling him.

"What, you mean where Han stuffs him into the tauntaun? Yeah, it's pretty gross."

"No, I mean Han using Luke's lightsaber to cut it open," Alex says. "You were always so offended by the idea, like Han had no business even touching it."

"Well, yeah!" Justin frowns. "Han's not a Jedi! It'd be like a mortal using a wizard's wand to, I dunno, poke holes in something! It's just…disrespectful…you know?"

"He's doing it to save his friend's life, you elitist prick!" Alex snaps. "You're telling me if, say, Max were to get a plastic bag tied around his head, or whatever, you'd actually be upset if Harper used his wand to poke holes in it so he wouldn't suffocate?"

"OK, first of all, how on earth would Max even get a plastic bag tied around his—?" Justin breaks off, then frowns as he thinks about that. "Yeah, so maybe that's not such a far-fetched scenario, after all…"

"Sadly, no," Alex agrees.

They lapse into silence again, but this time, for Justin, not so comfortably. As kids, when they'd watch this, he'd shush her whenever there was dialogue happening on-screen, not wanting to miss a single word even though he could recite the entire trilogy verbatim from memory, backwards and forwards. Now, though, he wants nothing more than to keep her talking, listen to her observations, share her memories. Just bask in the sound of her voice. And how weird is that?

"So you're really telling me you still watch this every time you're sick?" he prompts, desperate to keep the conversation going. "Even though I'm not here to force you, anymore?"

Alex sighs, then picks her head up off the arm of the couch to look at him.

"I'm watching it because you're not here to force me, anymore," she says. And maybe it's just because she's sick, but she actually looks a little sad when she says it.

He blinks at this, surprised. And all he can manage to say in response is "Oh."

Alex holds his gaze for a moment, without speaking, long enough for Justin to feel self-conscious. Then, apparently having come to a decision, she swings her feet off his lap, tucks them underneath her, then scootches over towards him until she's close enough to lay her head on his shoulder.

"I've really missed you, egghead," she says, her voice just above a whisper. "I know it's been just a little over a month, but—"

"I know," Justin says, reaching up to wrap his arm around her, holding her close. "I've missed you, too. So much."

"Wouldn't know it," she pouts. "You haven't called or texted me even once."

"To say what?" he sighs, leaning his head down against the top of hers. "Having a horrible time, worried I may flunk for the first time in my life, wish you were here?"

She swivels her chocolate brown eyes up towards his face, filled with concern. "Is it really all that bad?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" he scoffs. "Have you ever known me to cut school?"

"Hmm," she says, then wraps her arms around his chest and snuggles against him. "Here I thought maybe I'd just finally succeeded in turning you to the dark side."

"Well…maybe a little," he laughs. "It is good to see you."

"Good," she says happily, tucking her head into his chest. "Then everything is proceeding as I have foreseen."

"Oh wow, seriously? Alex Russo quoting Emperor Palpatine? Either you're so sick that you're actually delirious with fever, or I've died and gone to geek heaven."

Alex grins at this, then sighs and glances up at him again. "Justin, has it occurred to you that flunking for once in your life might not be the worst thing that could happen to you?"

Justin looks at her as though she's speaking a foreign language. "Come again?"

"I'm just saying, you might learn more about yourself if you failed for a change, than you would if you just wound up with straight A's again," Alex says. "I mean, you'd be surprised. I've flunked plenty, and I've learned something from it every single time. Granted, usually it's been things like 'OK, taking Spanish again was a bad idea', but…"

"What could I possibly learn by failing Modern Lit?" Justin asks, incredulous.

Alex shrugs against him. "Maybe that the world won't end if you do? You won't spontaneously combust, Justin, I promise. You're allowed to not be 100% perfect all the time. I mean, look, even Darth Vader got a second chance, and he blew up a whole freaking planet…"

"Huh," Justin says, mulling this over. "You know, that may be the single most insightful thing that you've ever said to me…which, of course, only confirms that you are, in fact, delirious with fever."

Alex narrows her eyes at him, and elbows him in the ribs. "Jackass."

Justin grins down at her, already feeling worlds better just for having spent twenty minutes with her. She returns the smile, then settles her head back down against his shoulder, turning her attention back to the movie. On the screen, Leia takes Luke's face in her hands and kisses him passionately, as Han Solo looks on in jealous disbelief.

"You do have to admit," Alex says quietly, "it is a pretty hot kiss. Even at four years old, I knew that."

Justin hestitates a second, then nods in agreement. "I've always thought so."

Alex glances up at him for a second in surprise. "It always did bother me that they made them into brother and sister in the third one, like, totally out of nowhere. It always struck me as being so…so…"

"Arbitrary?" Justin finishes for her. "Unnecessary?"

"Unfair," Alex finally decides, after a beat, then rolls her eyes at herself. "OK, so maybe I did ship them, a bit. I mean, yeah, Han's the hot, bad boy loner character, but…it always struck me that maybe Luke needed her more, y'know? I mean, he just seems so lonely at the end. It always made me a little sad that they couldn't wind up together."

"Yeah," Justin says quietly, tightening his arm around her ever so slightly. "Me too."

Alex pulls her head away from his shoulder to look up at him, and Justin turns his face away from the TV to look at her. They hold each other's gaze for a long moment, staring deeply into each other's eyes. And he's not sure who moves first—whether she tilts her chin up towards him, or he drops his forehead down to rest against hers—but either way, their lips wind up pressed against each other in a soft, chaste kiss that seems to go on for ages, at least up until Imperial troops have entered the base.

Her breath is hot on his cheek as she stares up at him, afterwards, her eyes dancing, searching his face for a reaction. And he smiles.

"I really hope you've brushed your teeth since last night," he says.

"Ugh, don't be gross," she groans, swatting him in the arm before she pillows her head back on his shoulder and wraps her arms around him. "Although, um, now that you mention it…"

"Y'know, I think I'll make myself some popcorn," he says, apropos of nothing. "It doesn't seem right, somehow, watching this without it."

"Mmm, knock yourself out," she says absently. "I don't want any."

The Millennium Falcon roars into space, then, pursued by Imperial Star Destroyers, and in the sudden darkness of the screen, Justin catches the reflection of his sister's devious grin. He pretends not to notice, because he knows how much better popcorn tastes for her if she's sneaking it out of his bowl whenever she thinks he's not looking.

By the time the credits have rolled on Return of the Jedi, there's nothing left in the bowl but a few unpopped kernels, and Alex is asleep with her head in his lap, her tiny hand tucked into his. He smiles down at her, stroking her dark hair away from her face, marveling at how deceptively innocent she looks when she's sleeping. This is something else he'd forgotten, that she never manages to make it all the way through, and he wonders if she's ever actually seen the Ewok village celebration scene.

Eh, whatever. It's not like she's missing anything, anyway.

That night, after his parents have discovered him and explanations have been made, and Theresa makes a Ten Cheese Enchilada Surprise for dinner to cheer him up, Justin gets horrifically sick. Having caught whatever bug Alex has, he spends half the night on his knees in the bathroom, hugging the toilet. At some point, Alex appears behind him, rubbing his back between his shoulder blades and whispering soothingly in his ear, the way their mom used to when they were little, and stays with him until dawn. And it's almost enough to turn Justin around on this whole stomach flu thing.

"Well, that's what you get for kissing your sister," Jerry jokes the next day. And although Alex stiffens beneath the blanket when he says it, Justin never once complains.

They wind up spending the weekend curled up on the couch together, watching the Holy Trilogy over and over again, whispering, laughing, holding one another, just like they used to. Occasionally, whenever they're alone and the mood strikes them, they kiss each other, which is…new. But then, something had to take the place of the action figure re-enactments, right? As trade-offs go, it's not bad.

By the time Sunday night rolls around, and his bags are packed and waiting by the spiral stairs that lead down into the Sub Station, Justin is even more horribly behind than he was when he got here. He hasn't done any of the reading he'd planned, and he has a paper due Tuesday that he hasn't even started. But none of it matters. He feels refreshed, energized. Like he could take on the whole Empire himself. This weekend was exactly what he needed.

"You'll call this time?" she pouts, her arms crossed under her breasts at the top of the stairs. "You promise?"

"I'll call," he nods, holding his arms out and drawing her into a hug. She wraps her arms around his waist and tucks her head under his chin, sighing contentedly. Then, looking back over her left shoulder, then her right, she grabs the front of his jacket in both fists and lifts herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him one last time. It takes him by surprise, their not being on the couch and cuddling in their pajamas, and all. And gradually it begins to dawn on him that maybe this wasn't just a temporary, weekend nostalgia thing, after all. And, huh, isn't that something?

"Uh, yeah…I'll definitely call," he promises, brushing a stray lock of curly dark hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. Then, impulsively, he adds: "I love you."

She beams up at him, her brown eyes glittering, her smile wide. "I know."

|-o-|

Justin was nineteen when Star Wars taught him everything there was to know.

It taught him that sometimes a single, momentary failure can teach you more about yourself than weeks of rigorous training. That many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view. That robots are still cool. That, while being reckless could cost you a hand, it could also get you the girl. That, even when all looks lost, and you don't think you can hold on anymore, you can always count on your sister to catch you right when you fall. That the right answer to 'I love you' is always 'I know.'

And that, sometimes, it's OK to kiss your sister.

-30-