Beyond - Legends Saga - ST An Awakening (Disney/EU Cross)

I should have died. I did die, by the hand of my own sister, no less. Could I have defeated her, even then? Perhaps. Yet I allowed her to kill me. For my daughter. Everything for my daughter. If that included my own life, then so be it. I had given that up long before then. Even in the heart of darkness, I knew that much. The darkness blinds, but some things are impossible to forget. Or, maybe, I just see better now than I ever did before, no matter how many powers I learned. No matter how many groups I visited. Regardless. I died as I lived, protecting what mattered to me.

Or so I had thought. I felt her blade pierce me. I felt my life fade away. I felt the Force come and take me. And yet, I am not dead. Perhaps this is a punishment for my sins, too great to list. Had I perished that day, I may yet have seen my family again. I even hold a vain hope they may have forgiven me, even as I could not forgive myself.

Instead, I linger. In a world not my own. A time not my own, a place where I should not be.

Poetic justice, I'm sure, for all my sins against the Galaxy.

---

​

It was a scene familiar to anyone who roamed the Galaxy for a living. A shantytown filled with every imaginable species, roaming about and shopping for random wares. Beggars standing in the shade of tents, hoping for scraps. Merchants hawking their wares to those who had the money to spare. And drunks stumbling from impromptu bars, knocking around anyone who got in their way. The kind of scene that played out on hundreds, thousands, of worlds. The details changed. Yet the overall feeling did not.

With a hood hiding his face, a young human sighed softly, as he observed it all.

If I needed any proof that I am still alive, this would be it. I can hardly imagine an afterlife that is so...dreary.

Brown eyes looked out over the sandy tents, before trailing up into the sky, honestly surprised at the lack of the familiar twin suns. When he had first awoken upon this dustball of a planet, he had thought he was on Tatooine. It was true enough that desert planets were common in the Galaxy, but it somehow seemed...wrong that he was not on that specific world. His family had strong ties to Tatooine, after all. From his Grandfather to his Uncle to his Mother and Father.

"Hey, you want---" A merchant tried to get his attention, before a young woman walked between them, distracted and not watching where she was going. "Hey! Get out of the way, you little runt! Can't you see I'm tryi---wait! Don't just---"

Without paying the merchant more than a quick look of distaste, the man instead followed along with the woman. Perhaps it was her superficial resemblance to his sister, or perhaps it was the sense of her in the Force, but he felt it was where he needed to be. The strange little droid by her side was too familiar of a coincidence in its own right.

"One wonders what it is about deserts and young women with droids," a raspy chuckle escaped chapped lips, as the man shook his head. If this is the same situation as it was for Mom, I feel like this truly is my own personal purgatory. Forcing me to relive what Uncle Luke did. It would be fitting, I suppose.

Still, he kept a respectable distance from the young woman. He could be wrong, after all. He didn't think he was. He was wrong about very few things.

"Let go! Stop it!" the woman suddenly cried out, struggling as someone threw a bag over the droid, and another tried to tug her arms behind her back. "Get away from him!"

And that is what I expected.

Indeed, as he sighed bemusedly, the man picked up his pace and set out to intervene. Even after what he was sure was his own death, he still found himself stepping in to protect those who needed it. Evidently, some of his Uncle's training still stuck with him, even now.

"Let her go," his voice spoke with all the authority it could muster. And for a man who once held the Galaxy itself in his hands, that was quite a lot. "You do not want to test my patience, I assure you. Unhand her and return the droid."

The thug by the droid laughed, clearly unaware of exactly who he was looking at. Even then, he did also flinch back at the tone of voice. The other thug couldn't even do that. For the momentary flinch he gave at the commanding tone was enough for the woman to break free, and bring her quarterstaff into his face. He fell back with a grunt of pain, as the woman swung it into him more and more, pushing him to the ground.

When his comrade attempted to hit her from behind, he found himself laid out on the ground, faster than he could blink.

"I never was a fan of such crude methods, but if they work..." for the hooded man had moved faster than any man should be capable of, stepping in front of the thug and laying him out with a single punch to the chest. Shaking his hand, the man sighed heavily. "Then again, I don't have much room to talk, with the things I've done..."

When he felt the quarterstaff tap him on the shoulder, the man didn't even react, outwardly. He just looked over his shoulder and gave a small smile, as his hood fell away from the movement. Brown eyes were completely visible, looking at the woman, as the thugs groaned on the ground. Above those eyes, dirty brown hair fell just below the man's ears, surrounding a pale face that had clearly never seen the sun of this world for any period of time. A face that looked far younger than the man's actual age, as the rest of his body did, beneath the robe.

Younger. Refreshed and free of the lingering scars of decades of conflict.

"Not that I'm ungrateful for the help, but who are you?" The woman asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. This was a woman who was far from used to someone helping her. "No one helps anyone on Jakku without a reason. So what's yours?"

Jakku. I've never heard of it. Not showing even the slightest hint of confusion on his face, the man gave a disarming smile more befitting of his father than of himself. "Do I need a reason to help someone who is being mugged? I could hardly stand aside and ignore that."

The woman gave him a dry look, though she at least had the grace to remove the staff. "Fine, you're just a fool then. I don't have anything to give you. Hard enough making a living here as it is..."

She trailed off, sighing again and pulling the sack off her droid. Her accent, very Coruscanti for someone living on what had to be an Outer Rim dustheap rivaling Tatooine, marked her as no more native to this planet than the hooded man was. His suspicions of this being his own purgatory seemed to be confirmed by that fact. All he needed now was to see his younger brother mocking him for his Fall. That would complete the illusion.

Chuckling in spite of himself, the man leaned down next to the droid and woman, looking the former over for any signs of damage. "My brother was the one who was good with machines, but I learned a few things. Mind if I look your friend over?"

"That won't be necessary," the woman shook her head. Her hazel eyes were still suspicious, when they met his brown. "Unless...are you with the Resistance?"

She whispered the last word, as if it were a curse, her eyes snapping around to look for any sign of someone hearing her. The man raised an eyebrow, filing that away for future reference. Resistance? Is that supposed to be the Rebellion?

"If I were, what would you say to that?" Instead, he turned the question back on her, his smile remaining firmly in place.

The woman laughed softly, "I would ask why you're here, other than for our mutual friend here." With those words, she idly tapped the ball droid with her foot.

A series of dubious beeps came from the droid, that had the man chuckling. It was a good thing he spoke droid, though he imagined it was for the best to keep that secret for now. Droids tended to assume no one understood them, and may or may not let something out they didn't want to. For now, though, it seemed as if the droid had noticed something else, anyway. The dubious beeps turned into frantic demands, as it rolled around anxiously.

"What's wrong, BB-8?" The woman asked, looking down in confusion, before following where the droids round head was looking. "What do you mean, he's a...that's your master's jacket...?"

Turning his own head, the young man frowned in unison with the woman. A dark-skinned man, probably around the woman's age, stood in the distance. He wore a dirty jacket, covered in sand and dirt, as he stared at them with wide eyes. At the droid with wide eyes. Ah. There never was a dull moment, was there?

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Having let the woman handle her own problem, the hooded man frowned in confusion as he watched the black man talk to the woman. He hadn't paid too much attention, only filing away details like the name of the droid- BB-8's -former owner. Not that this Poe Dameron would matter, if he was dead, but old habits died hard.

No.

He hadn't felt the need to pay attention until, with a wary look at him, the other man had explained what made BB-8 special. A map. A map to Luke Skywalker.

"A map to Luke Skywalker," the hooded man, his hood once more atop his head, frowned deeply. "I...haven't been out in the galaxy for a long time, but why would someone need a map to find Skywalker?" That's a lie. Unless I have, somehow, moved through time as well as through space. "He's the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, surely finding him on Coruscant should be a simple matter. Unless he is still hiding in Hapan space..."

Even as he wished forgiveness from his family, some bitterness remained for his dear Uncle. That would fade only with time, as all wounds inevitably did. He knew wounds, of the body and soul, better than anyone ever should.

The woman frowned, though she couldn't hide the excitement in her eyes, as she looked between the two men. "I though that Luke Skywalker was just a myth."

A startled laugh escaped the hooded man's lips, as he just stared. "Luke Skywalker, a myth? He's saved the Galaxy several times over. I wouldn't ever call him a myth."

"Well, he's sure as hell not saving the Galaxy right now. No one's seen him in years." The black man shook his head, bitterness clear in his expression, before he sighed deeply. "Look, I don't know what to believe, but that's what Poe told me. That his droid has a map to Luke Skywalker and it has to get to the Resistance."

There's that again. The Resistance. Resistance to what? The Galactic Alliance? The Imperial Remnant? Something else entirely? With a heartfelt sigh of his own, the hooded man frowned. "Well, if that's the case, we should find a way off this world. I have no issues with helping you on this. If only because I want to find Skywalker, myself."

To do what, he didn't know. Talk? Fight? He still had his own issues to work out with his Uncle Luke, and this may be the best way to do so. At the least, his Uncle would probably have answers that his new...friends...didn't. Few things escaped Luke Skywalker's eyes. Though...though, a traitorous part of his mind did whisper that his own Fall had escaped his Uncle's eyes.

"No offense, but how can you---" the other man was cut off, as BB-8 came rolling over, beeping frantically in an apparent panic.

A panic that had the hooded man frowning, as he followed where the droid lead. So, he hadn't misheard.

For, in the distance, stood the thugs from earlier with two Stormtroopers. Their armor was...subtly different. Wrong. Curved differently and with helmets that were at once familiar, and yet, utterly alien. Even so, Stormtroopers they remained. And, as the two of them began to rapidly approach the little group, clearly still hostile. As much as things changed...the hooded man's mind raced a kilometer a second. He would have to think about what to do. He could fight. Or he could run, as the other man seemed intent on doing, as he tugged on both his hood and the woman's hand.

No. Running would only delay the situation.

"There's no need to run, I can handle a couple of Stormtroopers." Without another word, the man stepped forward, even as the Stormtroopers raised their rifles. He could feel the woman rooted to her spot, preventing the other man from dragging her away, even as he tried his hardest. I don't blame him. He has no weapon. Of course, what use is a weapon when one has the Force?

Or so he would have said in other circumstances, the man hiding a smirk, as the first red blaster bolts raced from the Stormtroopers and in his direction.

His hand snapped down to his hip, throwing his cloak aside, as his hand came up with a cylindrical object in his palm. With contemptuous ease, his thumb depressed an activation switch. Green fire- and hadn't that been a surprise -coming to life from the hilt of the revealed lightsaber. Moving without conscious thought, the man easily caught each red bolt on his emerald saber, reflecting two into the ground before the stunned Stormtroopers could cease fire. Not that it helped them.

Their last two bolts were easily batted right back into them, throwing both to the ground, dead before they even realized what had happened.

No matter the world, it never changes. No one knows how to handle a Jedi. Or, I suppose, a man who once was a Jedi.

"What was that?!" That shout came from the black man, who had run up with the woman in tow, though the latter was protesting his grip on her hand. "You're a...that's a lightsaber! Why didn't you say you were a Jedi?"

A snort answered that question, "I'm no Jedi. Not anymore. Now," turning to look at the pair, the hooded man deactivated his blade and returned it to his hip. "We should leave this planet. The Imperials aren't the kind to ignore a lightsaber. They'll send in fighters."

"...yeah, they will." The other man winced, even as the woman pulled her hand away from his.

Her face was filled with annoyance, and awe, in equal measure. "Follow me! I know where we can get a ride out of here!"

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The 'ride out of there' had seemed a cruel twist of fate, even with everything else the man had faced since he arrived. As they had dodged TIE fighters- fighters that seemed strangely outdated, compared to the fighters he knew -they had exited the settlement and moved towards a pair of ships. A 'quad jumper' that he didn't recognize, and assumed was some sort of hacked together Ugly. That ship had been quickly destroyed by the fighters, leaving them with only one option.

An option that made his heart swell and ache in equal measure.

"Let me handle this," he said, as they ran up the ramp, into halls that the man knew like the back of his own hand.

"The gunner position is down---what?!" The woman stared at him, even as the other man climbed down towards the lower gunner position. "I can fly this! I told you already, we have a pilot!"

Not bothering to reply to that, the hooded man ran towards the cockpit. He moved with the casual familiarity that could only come from someone who had been aboard a ship many, many times. "I don't doubt your abilities. However, I know this ship better than you ever will. I spent my childhood here."

"What are you talking about? This ship's been here for years!" The woman followed behind him, only sparing a moment to tell BB-8 to hold on. "I haven't even taken her up!"

Knowing it would take far too long to explain, the man sighed and sat down in the pilot seat. A seat he had seen his father in, many times. A seat that he and his sister had both shared, once upon a time, joyriding through the Galaxy. Their father had punished them so hard for that, too...

No. Not the time to think about that. That can wait.

Shaking his head, he began flicking switches and pressing controls, bringing the engines to life with a sharp 'thunk' of activation, "It would take too long to explain. Trust me, I know the Falcon like the back of my hand. If you want to help, take the copilot seat!"

"Fine, but I'm not just sitting here!" The woman bit her lip, as she plopped down into the copilot seat, the Falcon roaring to life as the TIEs fired all around her.

With blue thrusters glowing bright, the old freighter climbed into the sky, tarps discarded like so much trash. Smiling despite the situation, the man's hands easily moved over the controls, spinning the ship around as the TIEs fired green blaster bolts all around. Not one hit. None even came particularly close, the pilots clearly shocked at how such an old ship could turn so quickly and easily. Did they not know the Falcon either?

"Hey, listen up there! Take us down low!" The other man's voice echoed from the gunner station, as he fired a brace of red blaster fire from the turret. "It'll confuse their targeting!"

"Got it," the hooded man shrugged, as he pulled the Falcon around into a tight turn, diving down towards the sand dunes below. His brown eyes shifted over to the woman, who was watching him with wide-eyed shock. "Get the shields up, will you? I don't want a lucky shot to take us down."

"Ah--r-right!" The woman shook off her stupor, her own hands moving with a practiced familiarity. She activated the shields, and put her own hands on controls, channeling and rerouting power so that the man could focus on flying.

She's good, I'll give her that. A natural even. His heart twinged, just slightly, as the woman's face overlapped with that of his sister. I need to know her name. We may be...no. That's impossible.

Forcing his mind back on track, he spun the Falcon away from the TIEs, biting his lip as the blasts fired by their erstwhile gunner went wide. The green bolts were growing ever closer, as the fighters began to adapt to the surprising agility of the antique freighter. His sister always was the better pilot...

"Is there anywhere we can find co---"

"We need to find cover! I can't hit them like this!"

The two men spoke, almost in unison, as the hooded man did his best to shake the Imperials from his tail. As a blast scorched the shields, he grunted in annoyance. It had been too long since he flew anything but an X-Wing and he wasn't exactly expecting to fly the Falcon like this. Or ever again, for that matter.

Beside him, the woman placed her hands on the copilot controls, tugging the old bird around a dune. "Head this way! There's wreckage ahead we can use for cover!" At the dubious look, she glared at the hooded man and spat out, "Trust me! I know this planet better than you do!"

Deciding it wasn't worth arguing, the man took full control again, and pulled his father's ship around the dune, only for his eyes to widen. Ahead of him, as far as the eye could see, were Imperial Star Destroyers. Burnt and ruined hulks, stripped of parts and rusting in the desert sands. There were dozens of them, stretched out like beached whales, a macabre testament to some forgotten battle. He'd never seen so many wrecked starships in one place...at least, not since the worst of the Vong War.

Though, in spite of that, a smirk crossed his lips.

This...this I can work with. I may not be my sister, but I'm not about to be shot down by two TIEs.

Spinning the Falcon past the crumbling bridge tower of one of the Star Destroyers, the man watched his scopes, as the TIEs followed along. They couldn't resist, even as they were forced to dodge around rubble. Some that almost scraped the shields of the freighter, when the ship flew too close. The man at her helm knew what he was doing, though, and never once hit anything. His fancy maneuvers, in and around the wreckage, only forced the TIEs to come ever closer, unable to fire from their preferred distance. Perfect.

Assuming that their gunner knew what he was doing.

"Hit them, now!" The hooded man called out, as he tugged the Falcon just slightly to the side, the two TIEs coming close as they tried to pincer the freighter between them.

Deep down at the bottom of the ship, the other man bit his lip, watching as the old-fashioned gunner scope chimed at him. The TIEs were in his crosshair! He didn't hesitate. His hands clasped down on the triggers, firing a barrage of red blaster bolts that stitched across the panels on one TIE, before continuing on to blast out the 'ball' of the other. Both fighters went down in flames, scavengers already swarming the wreckage, even as the Falcon boosted away from them.

"Hah! I'm getting pretty good at this thing!" A cheer of success came from the man, as the other two passengers slumped in their seats.

"That was...exciting!" The woman sent a wide grin at the hooded man, who smiled back.

His smile didn't fade, as he put the Falcon towards orbit and engaged the autopilot. "It's been a...long time since I flew the Falcon like that. I didn't realize how much I missed it."

Ignoring the curious look that got him, the man climbed to his feet and moved into the hall. The woman followed along, both of them soon greeted by their third member, who had a wide grin on his own face. "That was some fancy flying! How'd you do that, anyway?"

"Long experience and a touch of the Force," was the dry response, as he stepped aside and let the woman hug the other man.

"What about you? Where'd you learn how to shoot like that?" The woman asked, as she pulled away.

With his dark face turning a touch darker from a blush, the man coughed lightly, "Ah...that was just a lot of luck, really. So." Looking down at BB-8, who had rolled up and beeped at them, the man sighed softly. "What are we going to do now?"

"I don't know about you two," the hooded man spoke, as he leaned against the curved hall of the Falcon, "but I want to get back to the Resistance. I need to find Skywalker and get some answers from him. You?"

"...yeah, the Resistance. Need to get BB-8 back to them, since Poe can't." The black man looked uncomfortably at his feet, as BB-8 sent him the most dubious look a droid could muster.

In the sudden silence, the three humans stared at one another. Each lost in their own thoughts. One of the men clearly wanted to be anywhere but there. The other wanted to find his Uncle. The woman? Whatever she was thinking was impossible to read, as she looked back towards the distant Jakku.

The silence was only broken, when the woman sighed a little, and shook her head. She forced a smile and held her hand out, reaching towards both of the men, "We haven't introduced ourselves yet, have we? I'm Rey."

"I'm...Finn." The newly named Finn replied, taking the equally-newly-named Rey's hand. His hesitation on his name went unnoticed. "Thanks for helping me out back there, I couldn't have gotten us out on my own."

"No problem!" Rey gave him a smile, before pulling her hand back and handing it out to the one person who hadn't shared his name yet, "What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?"

Staring at the hand, the hooded man sighed and took it. His grip was firm, as he gave it a shake and smiled slightly. What was his name, indeed? He had given up his original name long ago. Yet he didn't feel the title he had taken when he ruled fit, either. That name reflected a part of him he preferred to not think about. A part that had lost him everything. Had nearly cost him the only things that truly mattered to him.

It wasn't him, anymore. Could he go back to who he was?

No, I can never 'go back'. But I can move forward.

"My name is..." he let his hand fall, next to his lightsaber, as he gave a weak smile. "Jacen. Jacen Solo."

---

Soooo, this. This is just a random idea that's come up on Discord a few times. Suffice it to say that it's been a very long time since reading LOTF, so Jacen here probably doesn't have an entirely accurate character voice. Hopefully still good even with that.

Main reason that there was never a story written for this was waiting to see how the ST went and how 'Jacen being there' could actually change things. Considering how those movies actually went...well.

It's just a snip for now, but hey, enough interest...maybe worth a continuation. We'll see

 

I like so far. Curious to see where this goes.