intermediate ✰ luke skywalker

011

aboard the falcon...

"You're not sleeping."

Avery's voice pierced through his trance, his train of thought interrupted.

"Neither are you."

They hadn't spoken since he walked out of the main hold during her meeting with Leia. He was hoping that she didn't want to talk about it, for he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

"Why?" she asked, sitting down in the copilot's chair.

He stood motionless, his hands folded behind his back and his eyes fixed on the passing stars. He decided to answer her question honestly.

"Dreams. Why are you up?"

She had discovered that the chair could spin, and she lazily twisted her foot, allowing her to go around in small circles.

"I was playing with your devil remote. I found a fork to defend myself with. It was pretty fun."

He didn't say anything. At the moment, he just wanted to stare at the stars forever. No blowing up a space station, no having to build a lightsaber, no getting his arm severed, just this: a mind so busy it was empty, much like the black vacuum of space he was currently consumed by. It was peaceful for a moment, but then Avery had to open her mouth again.

"What kind of dreams? You're being weird right now, by the way."

He finally looked at her. There she was, in the very chair Chewie usually occupied, a small blanket around her shoulders. Where did she even find that? Luke had spent many nights on the Falcon, and it seemed he never had enough blankets to stop himself from freezing.

"Weird? What do you mean?" he asked, making eye contact with her for the first time since she had ruined his brief moment of tranquility.

"You're being dramatic. You're like, 'No, Avery! You can't do this job that you might actually be good at. Only I am strong enough to handle such a task,' and now you're looking at the stars with this pained expression on your face, as if you never wanted this sort of responsibility. Make up your mind, dude. It's weird."

He crossed his arms and pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously irritated. Was she really still bothered by this, or did she just want to get a reaction out of him? He sighed and sat down in the pilot's chair next to her.

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Avery."

"Really? Then what did you mean?"

She was pushing, pushing, and pushing, and it took everything within Luke not to take the bait. He closed his eyes and gave himself a moment to think of a reply, to somehow put these scattered thoughts he was having into words.

"I just feel responsible for you, that's all. I brought you into this on some strange inkling, you agreed to follow me on some strange impulse, and now we're here. If anything were to happen to you, it would be my fault. I don't want you getting hurt because of me."

The situation was familiar. He thought back to the incident with the train station. Seemingly surprised by his response, just as Luke figured she would be, she sat quietly.

"I thought you just didn't have any faith in me," she finally said with a sigh, looking up at him apologetically.

He felt his chest tighten at the look she was giving him, unsure of what he was feeling. He shook his head and leaned back in the chair.

Neither of them said anything for a while. She stared at him as he stared at the stars, finally breaking their heavy silence.

"I had bad dreams when I was sent to Maine," she offered quietly.