Work Text:
It’s not often Luke keeps a later hour than Mara. When he does, it is rarely alone.
Their heads turn at the sound of a shutting door.
Shmi rubs her drowsy eyes with a fist, “Daddy, who are you talking to?”
The ghost disappears, true to his word, but the damage is done. Shmi is transfixed by the spot the apparition just stood.
Taking her hand, Luke leads her back to bed.
Safe beneath the blankets, Shmi reaches up for him to come closer, “Who was it?”
She’s used to ghosts of past Jedi. They are the safeguards of the Temple; their presences loom all over, though they do not always take physical shape.
Luke considers the promise he made with Mara: when she’s old enough. It’s the same promise between Leia and Han; between brother and sister too. They weren’t counting on this.
“Daddy,” she prompts.
“It was your granddad, Shmi.”
----------
Something about that night sticks in Shmi’s mind and she can’t let it go.
The vacant expression on dad’s face as he sat on the edge of her bed, the reluctance in his voice, like he was ashamed of some dangerous secret; it was unsettling – it wasn’t dad.
The blue form stays with her too. She didn’t get a good enough look before it vanished, but she remembers the sadness felt she in him and how it didn’t go away when he did. Sometimes she passes the statue of Anakin Skywalker in the Temple and feels the same tug in her mind. (The Hero with No Fear wasn’t fearless then.)
Dad goes away for a few days, like he has to from time to time. He hugs her and kisses mom in the memorial hall before taking off. Mom gets back to training.
Shmi doesn’t ever come here alone. The memorial hall is a place to pass through, a place to chase and be chased in games with her cousins and other younglings; the stone effigies offer good hiding places.
She gets the creeping feeling someone is watching her now, but there’s nobody there – not even the ghosts.
Looking at each statue in turn, making sure they are the faces that have always been there, Shmi approaches Anakin Skywalker.
She cocks her head, curious.
She can’t make out the conflicting idea of her granddad: the one who is a hero (the statue who looks like dad) and the one her family refuses to talk about (the ghost vanishing before her eyes).
If he was a great hero like everyone says why doesn’t she know more about him? Why doesn’t Aunt Leia ever mention him? Why did dad sound so hollow that night?
Dad jokes she gets her stubborn streak from mom.
Shmi concentrates on the Force within herself. He isn’t as hard to find there as she thought he would be.
“Are you sure you’re ready for the truth?”
Her eyes snap open, but the ghost isn’t directly in front of her. It keeps to the shadowy parts of the hall.
Shmi swallows and nods. Dad’s not here to get mad with her. She wants to know why they don’t ever talk about him – why he isn’t one of the past Jedi masters who she’s met.
The hood is drawn back. It’s like she’s stepped into a nightmare.
The face which should be an older, more worn version of dad’s loving one is twisted and wrong.
Shmi screams at the same time mom comes back to find her. Her cry scares the ghost away (or maybe it’s the fury in mom’s eye).
Mom rushes toward her, wrapping her arms around Shmi’s shaking frame.
----------
There’s an awful lot of confusion when mom comes to get them from the Temple early. Pres is already with her.
“What’s going on?” Bee asks when she sees her cousin, pale and unblinking; Aunt Mara strokes her red curls trying to comfort Shmi.
Mom ignores the question. Talking to Aunt Mara instead, “I’ve contacted Luke. He’s on his way back.”
This really confuses Bee. She looks to Sam, but she’s equally bewildered.
What happened? Why is Uncle Luke coming home early? Why does Shmi look so sick?
She opens her mouth to ask again. Pres’s hand slips into hers; it stays her tongue. He doesn’t understand what’s happening any better than they do, but she feels steadier palm-in-palm.
They all go home.
Dad gives each of them a hug, then whispers something to Shmi Bee can’t hear.
Everything is out of order; this isn’t how they gather together as a family. They don’t avoid questions and keep secrets. They don’t hide away in broad daylight or act like there’s something broken in them.
Their cousin keeps her face buried in Aunt Mara’s chest until Uncle Luke arrives. She latches onto him, sniffling “I’m sorry” over and over.
The adults look to each other warily.
Mom indicates for the parents to move to the other room. Then she turns to them, “Can you do something for me and look after your cousin?”
Pres, Sam, and Bee all nod.
----------
“Sam, you’re going to get in trouble,” Bee hisses.
Sam ignores her sister and presses her ear closer to the door.
“If they wanted us to know, they would have told us already,” the waver in his voice says Pres isn’t totally sure if it’s true.
“Shh!”
Dad’s voice comes through the clearest, forcefully, “No, the girls are still too young.”
“Tell that to my daughter,” Aunt Mara is quick to growl back.
“We knew we were going to have to tell them eventually. Better to hear it together and all at once,” Uncle Luke sounds eerily like he speaks from experience.
Mom is too quiet to hear.
“Tell us what?” Sam asks under her breath.
The voices in the kitchen lower to inaudible levels and Sam gives up on eavesdropping.
Shmi’s been no help at all. She curled into a corner when the adults moved into the kitchen and hasn’t said a word since.
What are they too young to know?
Sam starts toward their cousin.
“Leave her alone.”
“But she knows what this is all about, Pres.”
“And mom said to look after her.” She wishes he wasn’t right, but if dad wins the argument (which he usually doesn’t) Pres will be the only one who gets told anything.
Sam hates being out of the loop. She puts her ear to the door again and startles backwards when it opens.
Mom and dad are grim-faced and resigned; Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara likewise.
What could possibly be so horrible?
----------
Sam and Bee have taken seats next to mom and dad. Shmi huddles between Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara.
Pres's feet dangle over the edge of the seat, not quite reaching the ground. Even though he’s the oldest, Pres wants nothing more than the same comfort of his parents. To feel their warmth and safety shielding him from what they were just told.
It sinks in slowly: their complicated family history.
He’s always known mom and Uncle Luke were twins, but it never occurred to him they were ‘Organa’ and ‘Skywalker.’ It was never strange mom considers she had different parents than her brother; it was just a part of how their family worked. It was – is – normal, only it all has a reason now.
“You were just a baby at the time, Pres, but this almost came out. People reacted badly; which is why we were hesitant to tell the four of you. We wanted to make sure you would all understand when we told you,” mom says as gently as she can.
But that decision was forced on them before they were ready to make it.
Now he knows Pres isn’t sure he’s ready. He can’t imagine how his sisters are faring, both overly eager and curious in their own ways. He hopes the explanation was some consolation to his horrorstruck cousin.
“Are you afraid we’ll turn out like him?” Sam’s usually loud voice has grown small.
“No.” There is no doubt in Uncle Luke, which fills Pres with confidence, “Anakin Skywalker was a troubled person. You’re not going to make his mistakes, I’m sure of it.”
“Are we going to meet him?”
Aunt Mara inhales sharply. Dad, equally unhappy, scowls.
Mom puts the option forward, “Only if you want to.”
----------
The decision was made to protect herself as much as it was to protect her children (and maybe even him, a little).
Pres, Sam, and Bee shouldn’t have been burdened with this so young; Han is right about that. But it’s not like she was any more ready for it at twenty-three, the shock of it only softened by the discovery of her brother. Their children have each other to take comfort in.
She wonders what Luke has told their father about her children. If he was hurt she honored the parents who raised her instead of the parents who bore her or if he understood.
Leia wraps her arms around Sam and Bee’s shoulders. Han absent from the room (he and Mara have no interest in dealing with Anakin Skywalker), Pres stands with Luke and Shmi. The little girl puts a brave face on for her father.
Leia puts one on too – for her children, for the ghost, for herself.
She squeezes her daughters’ shoulders reassuringly when he appears.
They don’t notice, entranced by the specter.
He doesn’t remove the hood, “You’ve all gotten so big. Your grandmom wishes she could be here too.” Directly to Leia and Luke, “We missed so much.”
He can’t hide the nostalgic longing to be with them. Leia’s feels a tug for the life she and Luke never had with them: Skywalkers together.