Chapter Text
The jungle was still dripping when Y/N unclipped the lightsaber from her belt and set it on the stone between them. A year of sunrises on this temple roof, and she'd never once seen the mist burn off, just cling, cling, until the day felt like breathing soup.
Luke didn't reach for the hilt. He only folded his arms, black cloak still dark with dew. "You're sure you're done?"
"I'm not sure I trust my own mind." Her voice sounded smaller than she wanted. “Last week I sparred Kyp. He slipped, disarmed. The blade was right at his throat and I thought: I could make him stay down. I liked thinking it."
He waited, the way he did when he wanted the silence to answer back.
She rubbed her thumb over the edge of the stone. "I keep replaying it in my mind over and over. If I stay, if I keep learning tricks to make people do what I want, eventually I'll use them."
Luke crouched, one knee on the lichen. "Fear is a door. You're choosing not to kick it open. That's different from slamming it." He nudged the saber back toward her with one finger. "Take it."
"I can't. That's the point."
"You can't unmake what you know." He stood, brushing his hands on his trousers. "I'm not sending my almost-Jedi into the galaxy unarmed because she's afraid of herself. That's how you get dead, Y/N. Take the kriffing saber."
She laughed despite herself. "You never swore before you had students."
"I have four of you. I swear constantly, just not where you can hear me." He smiled, the tired kind that had become familiar since Endor. "Keep it buried. Keep it hidden. But if something comes for you, I want you to have the choice."
She clipped it back to her belt. The weight felt different now, less like a promise and more like a door she was choosing to keep closed.
"You know where to find me," he said. "The door's never locked."
“Luke, there are no doors here.”
“Exactly.”
She left with a smile before the sun cleared the treeline.
The Falcon smelled like home and bad decisions. Oil, ozone, and something sweet Chewbacca was definitely fermenting in the galley that he insisted was "traditional."
Y/N sat in the jump seat, her pack between her knees, her lightsaber buried inside under a layer of clothes she'd never wear again. Han kept glancing back at her while he ran pre-flight checks, which meant he was worried and pretending not to be.
"Arvala-7," he said for the third time. "Population, barely. Exports, sand. Entertainment, also sand."
"Sounds perfect."
"You could stay with us. Leia's been nesting like a crazed mynock, she could use someone sane to talk to."
"Han." She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hands. "The last time I stayed with you, we got chased by three bounty hunters and you 'borrowed' a speeder that belonged to a Hutt's cousin."
"First, it was two bounty hunters. Second, Tendau was a distant cousin, and he was boring."
"You're a terrible influence."
"I'm your terrible influence. There's a difference." He finally turned in his seat, serious in a way he rarely let himself be. "Luke sent me a message. Said you're running from yourself."
"Luke needs to mind his own business."
"He's worried. I'm worried." Han reached out, flicked her ear the way he had when she was twelve and he'd been sixteen and convinced he was already the galaxy's greatest pilot. "You're the smart one, kid. Always were. Don't go dumb on me now."
She swatted his hand away. "I'm not going dumb. I'm going quiet. There's a difference."
Leia appeared in the cockpit doorway, one hand resting on the swell of her stomach. She looked tired in the way everyone did since Endor, like victory had taken more out of them than the war ever had.
"Your brother's an idiot," Leia said, settling into the co-pilot's seat, "but he's right about one thing. You don't have to do this alone."
"I'm not alone. I've got you idiots." Y/N stood, stretching out the stiffness from two days of hyperspace travel. "And I've got a planet full of nobody to bother me. No Imperials, no Rebellion, no Lukes making me train. Just sand and silence and maybe a decent meal that isn't military rations."
"You'll hate it within a month," Han predicted.
"I'll hate you within a month if you don't shut up and fly."
He grinned at that, the real one that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
The landing platform at Arvala-7 was dusty, poorly maintained, and exactly what she'd been looking for. Y/N shouldered her pack and walked down the ramp without looking back at the Falcon settling behind her.
Han caught her at the bottom. For a moment he just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking like the scrawny kid from Corellia who'd taught her to pick locks and fly straight when the authorities were chasing you.
"You get in trouble," he said, "you call. I don't care if it's the middle of a diplomatic summit or a firefight. You call."
"I'll be fine."
"Yeah. You will be." He pulled her into a hug, quick and fierce, the way Solos did affection. "Because you're too stubborn to be anything else."
Leia joined them, pressing a kiss to Y/N's cheek. "The baby's going to need an aunt who actually visits."
"I'll visit. Eventually." She stepped back, forcing a smile. "Go. Be important. Save the galaxy. Again."
Chewbacca roared a farewell from the hatch. She waved once, then turned and walked into the settlement before they could see her face.
Two years was long enough to learn the names of every moisture farmer in the region. Long enough to stop jumping at shadows, to stop expecting Imperial ships in the sky, to stop reaching for the Force every time something creaked in the night.
She'd built a life of small things. A dwelling with a door that locked. A routine. A reputation as the quiet human who fixed droids and didn't ask questions about where they'd come from.
The green lightsaber stayed buried in a chest under her bed. She didn't touch it. Didn't need to. The weight of it was enough, a reminder of the door she'd chosen to keep closed.
Until the morning she woke with her heart hammering against her ribs, the desert air suddenly too thin, too charged. Something brushed against her awareness, something small and frightened and impossibly bright.
Y/N sat up in the dark, breathing hard, the old familiar pull waking up in her chest like a muscle she'd forgotten she had. Something was out there. Something that shone in the Force like a star had fallen to the dirt.
She didn't reach for the chest under her bed. Not yet. But she got dressed, strapped on her boots, and went to find her blurrg.
The presence tugged at her like a hook in her ribs, pulling her toward the horizon.