There would be no great deeds on this trip, no wicked wizards or dark shadows to fight, only the balm of old friends long unmet, and the sea, as timeless and unchanging as it ever was.
"I'm in charge of security, Your Highness," Vader said, haughty and automatic, and had to shove away a sudden onslaught of memories. It was this building, he thought, and the presence of a small brunette senator with a smart mouth. That was all.
If he reaches out, he can feel each drop of rain as it falls, and the movements of the plants and animals in response, the greedy slurp of tree roots, the unthinking satiation of tiny frogs, and a million other points of life flickering beyond his normal senses.
Steve loves it when Bucky's rough with him, when the finger-shaped bruises on his hips don't fade in minutes and he can still feel every inch of Bucky inside him for hours.
Chewie howls something that translates to, "Just throw her in and hope she floats," and Artoo trills in disapproval of that strategy. "She's a Jedi," Chewie replies. "She'll be fine."
"A Jedi doesn't dwell on the past or fret about the future. A Jedi is present in the moment, in each moment, as it happens. But there's nothing wrong with occasionally reminding ourselves where we come from, and keeping our eyes open to where we're going."