This isn't exactly Tosche Station, huh?

"Yes, really," Luke was saying to his father over the comlink. "Leia and the babies are both doing fine, according to the meddroid, and they'll be born in a few months."

There was a pause.

"No, I'm not going to tell Han you said that."

Another pause.

"Or that."

And another pause.

"And that's not even physically possible--" he went pale as the voice on the other end continued, "all right, so it is, but you're not going to do that to your son-in-law."

He smiled. "No, no one thinks you're old." Mostly because they thought Anakin was dead, but details. "You're just going to be a grandfather. Okay, okay. Give Juliet and Rory my love. Bye, Dad."

Luke disconnected the call and shook his head, Surprisingly, that had gone better than he'd expected.

[OOC: Open for calls, sure.]

Luke had arrived at Leia's wedding an hour early, in part because he had this niggling fear he'd be dropped off at the Aldereenian consulate or something equally insane (he blamed that on pre-wedding jitters) and in part because he was afraid his father would do something stupid reckless and actually try to show up at this event today.

And an event it was. Thousands of people were jammed into the largest room the consulate possessed--Luke counted himself fortunate to recognize more than fifty of the faces--and the entire ceremony was being broadcast live across the galaxy.

Luke was serving as best man, Threepio as the ringbearer (because Leia had a sense of humor), and the entire ceremony was presided over by Mon Mothma herself. Luke had kept his lightsaber strapped securely to his belt--he'd half-expected someone to do something stupid--but the entire ceremony went off without a hitch, and Leia looked radiantly happy (or at least the portions of her Luke could see through her elaborate headdress).

And Anakin hadn't been there. Luke reminded himself to send Rory something nice. He was sure she'd talked him out of being stupid.

Luke had been late to his final training session with his father: setting up logistics with Leia for his trip back home had taken longer than he thought.

Any doubts he might've had about Anakin understanding the importance of the day were erased when his father began talking immediately and babbled through a lifetime of Jedi teachings for four straight hours.

Luke had never heard Anakin talk so much.

"The comm will work, you know," he'd said gently.

"It didn't when I went back," Anakin had replied. "I don't want you to be unprepared."

Then he'd lectured for another hour about meditation techniques, and using the Force to fly, and hibernation, and healing, and places to look for Force-sensitive beings. It would have been funny if Anakin hadn't been so deadly serious about the entire thing.

After a lightsaber practice session that'd lasted far too long--neither had been willing to think about last times, and they'd always been more at their best when facing each other with blades instead--Anakin had told Luke to meet him on the roof of MCA.

So that's where Luke was, breeze shifting his robe around him as he waited for his father to reappear.

[OOC: For the other Skywalker.]

Luke tossed his bag onto his bed as Artoo made concerned little noises and circled around him.

"I'm fine," Luke told him for the hundredth time. "The med droid wouldn't have let me go otherwise." He smiled. "And neither would Jo or Leia. It's just a little scrape."

Artoo let out a low whistle that showed Luke how unconvinced he was about that.

Luke peeked into the mirror. "You can hardly tell," he said, running his finger down the new scars on his face.

Stupid wampa.

He flopped down onto the bed and started catching up on the holodramas Leia had loaned him. The door was open.

Blood Brothers - Color Green