Chapter 20

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"You call this a ship?" Luke asks, scrunching his nose up at the sight of the Millennium Falcon. "I'm not sure I'd trust it to get off the ground, let alone all the way to Alderaan!"

Sitting in the centre of Docking Bay Ninety-Four is the ship Y/N trusted with her life. This is the ship that managed to fly her away from impulsive bounty hunters and poorly-trained Imperial pilots. It is the ship that kept Y/N and her brother, Fives, safe.

When among the dirt and scrap cluttered through the docking bay, the Falcon looks like nothing more than a large, round, beat-up, pieced-together hunk of junk that one could only loosely describe as a starship. It has seen better days.

Arthree beeps sassily, calling it a piece of junk. Artoo, unsurprisingly, whirs in agreement while Threepio complains about how they are all doomed. Y/N can already see shades of Artoo's original programming returning, and by the sound of it, Threepio has not changed.

"They may be onto something," Obi-Wan strokes his beard. "Leora, are you sure we can trust this pilot?"

Y/N surveys the ship, searching for any sign of extreme damage that would have the capacity to cause substantial damage to the internal systems. She begins to feel overwhelmed, knowing she must rely on this ship to keep her son safe.

She trusts in her abilities - not only as a pilot but also as a mechanic. The problem is, a lot of lives are relying on her skills. Desperate to calm her racing mind, she reflects on a lesson taught to her by the one she loved most...

Y/N lay on the ground of the Republic's main hangar beneath her hoisted Jedi starship. Most Jedi left their damaged starships to their clone mechanics, but not the Skywalker's.

Anakin always saw himself as an expert on ships, and as someone who believed they were an expert pilot, Y/N thought it was important to teach herself a thing or two.

After their most recent battle, her blue Jedi starfighter was in bad shape. That was the galaxy's way of punishing her for stupidly disobeying a direct order and following her reckless husband through an asteroid field. Needless to say, it was not the first, nor the last, time it had happened.

While trying to refit her starfighter's hyperdrive, Y/N managed to knock the entire mechanism off her ship. The deafening sound it made after hitting the concrete hangar floor certainly would have notified anyone nearby. This was the last thing she needed.

"Kriff," she groaned.

Y/N pulled herself from beneath the ship and noticed a figure leaning on the wing. This was none other than her husband, Anakin Skywalker - the one person she did not want to see.  She wanted Anakin to believe she was independent, not incapable.

"Need a hand?" He asked.

In truth, she needed a dozen hands to repair the damage. As someone who hated asking for help, especially after boasting about their capabilities, Y/N refused to put her pride aside.

"I have it under control," she asserted.

Within a second of those words leaving her mouth, the weapon system connected to the right wing detached from her ship, landing on the floor beside her hyperdrive. Anakin stifled a laugh, although he was not subtle about it.

"I dunno, Lady Skywalker," he smirked innocently, somewhat enjoying this, "maybe I need to give you a crash course on ship maintenance."

"Crash course," she repeated, "you certainly could teach me how to crash a ship."

He scrunched up his nose innocently. This was a trait of his she always loved. His ability to display a childlike innocence in a galaxy ravaged by war was always comforting; it was a distraction from the guilt developing as a result of the countless innocent lives lost.

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