For a long, drawn out moment of silence that seemed like a life time; Anakin Skywalker’s pale blue eyes held his son’s stare. 

The shade of Luke’s irises may have matched his own in his youth - before they were scorched by flames, faded with age, and jaded by endless sorrows of his own making - but the fierce, inherent relentlessness in them was all Padmé. 

The defiant upwards tilt of their son’s chin, the graceful motion as he tilted his head to the side; the way he pursed his lips as he patiently awaited the response Anakin had so long held out on, the response he had been denied time and time again.

There was so much Anakin should tell him. 

He should tell Luke how he saw Padmé’s courage in his fearless defiance of the Emperor; how Padmé’s belief in what was right and just had followed her to the grave, much as her son had been willing to die for his own convictions.

He should reveal that it was Padmé that had chosen his name; that she had been convinced her child was a boy as she caressed her belly. He should tell Luke how she had sung to him while he was still in utero, when she thought no one could hear her. He should profess to his son that he was his mother incarnate, down to the very core of his being.

Instead, Anakin could not bear to voice any of it. 

Luke knew this, but the disappointment he must have felt was not visible on his face - neither was it tangible in his Force signature. His features remained patient, and supportive. Full of compassion; a compassion Anakin himself had never had the selflessness necessary to tap into.

“I can’t.”

Luke nodded, understanding the gravitas behind the memories his father was still struggling to unlock without buckling under the weight of the guilt and shame they carried with them.

“When?” he asked, not out of frustration but sympathy as he reached for Anakin’s prosthetic hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Luke would wait. 

He would always wait, until the time was right - and if that day never came, he would neither complain nor grieve for it.

Again, the son tilted his head; eyes conveying a sense of other worldly serenity and peace. Padmé had possessed the same emotional control, the same inner strength. 

Anakin remembered the same somber, comforting expression on her face as she soothed him in the wake of his mother’s passing. He remembered her resolve, and there was something oddly poignant about her son inheriting that, too.

In the end, Anakin broke under the weight of Luke’s endlessly forgiving gaze; and turned away with remorse clouding his judgment as he was bombarded with the pure, unconditional love they seemed to radiate. 

If he had possessed the ability, Anakin would have sighed in exasperation. He was disappointing himself, in denying Luke the truths and revelations he deserved. Perhaps he might have cried, but his eyes would produce no more than a glassy film to further distort an already skewed world.

Instead, he settled for shaking his head as he placed his free hand atop Luke’s, and returned the squeeze with the greatest amount of affection he could muster.

“Do not ask me,” he whispered, tone apologetic.

Luke didn’t, he simply offered a weak smile as he leaned in to press his forehead against his father’s scarred, pasty brow.

She’d waited too long to approach, long enough to make the encounter more awkward than it had to be. He didn’t know her, and she technically didn’t know him either. But she had to know, she had so many questions. She had to speak to him, to confirm the rumors, to put a face to the name that had haunted her so. She hadn’t given the kid much thought when mentioned in passing, had simply celebrated the fact that another talented young pilot had joined the ranks of the Rebellion. She’d already mostly phased out of the Alliance’s radar at that point. Then, she’d caught wind of his last name.

A Jedi, they said. Rebuilding the order, walking in his father’s footsteps. A kind, good hearted, brave young man. The phrasing sounded eerily close to the way in which she had once heard his father described. His father, the only thing they had in common. As she resolutely strode up to the boy, standing not much taller than herself - a slight build, much like his petite mother - she braced herself. All she saw was the back of a black cloak with its hood down, revealing an unruly mop of dark blonde hair. That, too, brought back memories. She took a deep breath, and opened her mouth.

“Are you Luke Skywalker?”

Ahsoka’s tone was a bit harsher than she would have liked, mostly due to a hoarse nervousness. It spurred a reaction though, as the man immediately turned to face her. Her eyes widened, as a familiar shade of blue stared back at her. The man bore a few distinct battle scars, but his face was youthful, his jaw square, his chin dimpled. His expression was surprised but gentle, sweet in its polite greeting. He raised his eyebrows for a split second, before responding with a shy smile and a nod.

“I am. Can I help you, ma’am?”

His voice was soft, and warm, and welcoming. He spoke with an inherent dignity, carried himself with grace, words slow and deliberate and neatly aligned as he spoke. But all Ahsoka could pay attention to was the fact that he had his father’s features. Anakin Skywalker’s features. Blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, boyishly handsome. Clad in black, muted colours.

But Anakin’s son, Luke, had a sweeter disposition. Luke may look like the splitting image of Anakin, but he bore his mother’s fierce, yet restrained edge. The glow in his eyes was hers, the tilt of his chin. Luke was calm, collected, and his small half smile gave off a curious, yet knowing impression. It suited him, and Ahsoka realized she was blatantly staring. She realized she hadn’t even answered his question in turn.

“No. I mean, yes. It’s complicated. I only wanted to see you in person,” she finally said, her sincere tone earning her a perplexed pout.

“See me? Well, I’m afraid I’m not much to look at,” said Luke, another genuine smile gracing his features and Ahsoka recognized Anakin’s sarcasm, his rambunctious sense of humor in the boy - although Luke’s sarcasm was much more mellow and humble than overtly smarmy.

“You look so much like Anakin,” she blurted out without thinking.

Ahsoka had initially wanted to ease Luke into breaching the subject of his paternal legacy, but found it impossible to restrain herself. His expression conveyed some shock, followed by a forlorn sadness as a sombre sense of understanding came over him. Ahsoka gave him an apologetic look, but sensed no emotional discomfort from the boy. It gave her enough courage to continue.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you.”

Luke shook his head, still clearly taken aback but his posture was just as inviting as before.

“It’s alright. I’m kind of used to it,” he shrugged and grimaced a bit, then the prevalent curiosity Ahsoka had noticed previously bubbled back up to the surface. “You knew my father?”

“I did, many years ago.”

Ahsoka hoped it came off right. She’d sometimes found herself questioning whether she ever truly knew Anakin at all. The man she had looked up to and admired as an older brother had been jovial, carefree, easy going. Not the sort of man who would fall to the Dark Side, not the sort of man who would committ genocide and murder children. None of the brooding, budding darkness within Anakin that she had come to realize must always have lay dormant.

Anakin had been a perpetual optimist, in her eyes. The Anakin she had seen, the Anakin she had felt but refused to acknowledge until the truth was staring in her right in the face was anything but. Luke had gone to face him and Palpatine alone, how had he lived to tell the tale? Luke seemed so pure and innocent, incorruptible even - but so had Anakin.

“He was my master,” Ahsoka added after some deliberation.

Luke nodded, sharing her grieved expression.

“You’re Ahsoka Tano, aren’t you?”

This time it was Ahsoka’s turn to be surprised, and she tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing the boy’s friendly disposition.

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Just a bit. Father has… spoken of you. Not much, but enough for me to know who you are and what you meant to him,” Luke admitted, and his expression mirrored the apologetic look Ahsoka had shot him earlier. “You and Obi-Wan were such important parts of his life.”

Still visibly sad, there was a jagged edge to Luke’s Force signature upon being reminded of his father’s legacy and the monster he had become - the monster who was thankfully remembered as a separate entity in the wake of his death. Ahsoka furrowed her brow, not understanding what Luke was hinting at, but she accepted it for now. Somewhere deep inside, the knowledge that Anakin had spoken fondly of her and Obi-Wan even whilst overtaken by darkness soothed her. In her youth, Ahsoka may have found it impossible to bide her time and patiently wait for Luke to open up, but now, a kinship needed to be established first hand. She wanted to learn more about Luke, where he had been all this time, and she could sense he wanted to find out what her past held as well.

“I… have so many questions for you, Luke. And hopefully some answers to the questions you wish to ask me, in turn,” she said, almost amused by how similar to Obi-Wan her phrasing came off.

Luke appeared to catch the same vibe, as the corner of his lips twisted slightly upwards. He looked bashful, almost, like a small child. Then again, he was barely more than a child. When Ahsoka was his age, she had already seen war and death for one lifetime - and it was only the beginning. It pained her to know Luke may be dealing with a similarly difficult burden.

“I’m certain you’re right, Ahsoka. Can I call you that?”

Luke’s eyes were questioning her with a hopeful yet timid reverence.

“Yes, of course,” was all she could reply, offering him a warm smile as she reached out by habit and squeezed his shoulder for encouragement.

“In that case, let us talk about it,” Luke said as soon as he was given the go ahead, and Ahsoka could do nothing but agree with the statement.

---------------

Because we all want this to happen in canon, and I can't wait for the moment when it eventually does. I imagine it might go a bit like this, when Ahsoka and Luke finally do get to share the screen together and discuss Anakin's impact on their lives past and present.

Ao3 link below:

09.01.2026 | Crespo en Madrid