"Clary."

She can't breathe. She feels tied to the ground, as if she's suffocating. She looks around frantically, chest heaving, as if trying to grasp the last amount of breath it can scavenge. The whisper grows louder, more intense, and the pressure on Clary's body only seems to increase. She feels overwhelmed and empty at the same time.

"Clary."

Clary struggles against the invisible bonds that seem to hold her down. She doesn't know if she's lying on the ground or if she's standing upright or lying on her side—she tries not to feel frightened but her panicked pulse isn't slowing down. She can't see yet she feels as if everything she needs to view is there. It's pitch black but it isn't. It's suffocating but it's empty.

She feels cold and warm at the same time. She's trembling but at the same time she feels stiff. She cringes when the voice intensifies—she thinks it's a woman. She doesn't recognize the speaker, yet they're familiar, as if she's known them her entire life.

"Clary."

Suddenly the pressure she's felt throughout her entire body is focused only on her chest. She no longer feels empty. Clary coughs suddenly and blinks rapidly, trying to make out some figure that could be standing over her. She's suffocating in the blackness—she's drowning in the darkness. She tries to cry out in alarm but her voice catches in her throat, causing her to sputter. The pressure intensifies and her lungs feel as if they're on fire. She wants to cry but she feels nothing.

"Clary!"

The voice has become more urgent. Clary reaches forward, trying to grab at whatever has their grip on her chest but the pressure moves suddenly, finding its way around her neck. Clary gasps, reaching up, attempting to pull the hands away from her neck but she finds nothing. She feels nothing. She can't even feel herself.

"Clary—!"

Clary continues to struggle. She feels vulnerable. She wants to breathe yet at the same time she feels as if she doesn't need to at all. The pressure tightens around her neck and she manages to choke out a cry, still writhing against their grip. Clary hates being vulnerable.

Let me go, is all Clary can think. She finds it weird, how her thoughts have been subdued like this. She's never had only one thought in her mind—usually they're racing, the different ideas colliding, fighting, as if they're competing for what Clary should act on. She feels vulnerable and scared—how is it that she can feel this suffocating against her neck, yet not feel anything at all? She reaches up again yet her hands touch nothing.

"Clary—!"

Her airway is cut off. Clary's chest heaves for a final breath and her lungs seem to be screaming inside her. Her heart is beating so loudly that it's the only other sound in the darkness.

"I hope you'll be a fool."

The pressure is lifted. Clary gasps, sitting upright. She's still in the blackness. Shivers tickle her spine and she looks around frantically. Had she been lying down this whole time? Clary struggles to rise to her feet but she feels tied to her spot. She can't move her legs. She can't cry out for help. She's vulnerable. And she hates that.

"Clary, I hope you'll be a fool..."

The voice whispers in her ear. Clary tries to turn her head but it's as if she's stuck in her spot. She shakes as she suddenly feels a figure behind her, resting a hand on Clary's shoulder. It snakes its way up before resting against her cheek. It grips her tightly, suddenly, and forces her head to turn the other way—Clary feels the rest of her body move as she's faced with darkness. Clary feels empty and vulnerable as the hand grips her tighter. She sees two eyes staring into hers—dark and gleaming. They're familiar. She's seen them before. Ever since she was little, she's seen them. A hooded cloak darkens the rest of their face; she is the darkness.

"Clary—!"

Clary lurches upright, gasping for breath. Her face feels wet and her body is damp. She looks around fervently. She's in the room given to her by the Rebel Alliance at their station. Looking around, she notices the lights are dim in her room—she must have fallen asleep without meaning to. She hears silence in the hallways and concludes that it's early and everyone must still be asleep. She finds it odd, seeing as how the Rebels have been working day and night in attempting to strengthen their resources, but she finds it hard to think.

Her mind is in overdrive—she feels her head pounding from the multiple thoughts that race frantically and she tries to remember what happened. She doesn't realize she's shaking until she reaches her hand up to wipe at her face. She swallows, attempting to calm herself down, before reaching forward, grabbing the small bounded book beside her bed. She opens it and lands on the first page—it's completely colored in, a dark charcoal black; no sign of the familiar ivory, yellowing decay of the old pages is seen. It's the first drawing of her nightmares.

Quickly, Clary flips through the rest of the pages of her drawings. Following the darkness is more blackened pages (with a spare few drawings of Chewbacca, Han and the galaxy) and a pair of gleaming eyes. Clary now knows why she found them familiar. She has dreamed of them before. She flips to the next page and finds more drawings of Han and Chewbacca and the galaxy, this time more colorful and matured.

Staring blankly, Clary realizes that they're drawings from when she was older, when she had tried to stop sleeping. She flips through a few more pages of black nights and glittering stars and variously colored planets and creatures before Clary reaches the last few pages. She stares at the blank page, feeling empty, before she reaches towards the desk, grabbing the blackened charcoal before scribbling angrily. The residue stains the tips of her fingers dark and she makes room for two gleaming eyes. To the right of the page, she quickly writes the whispers she has heard: she's never heard the voice sound so prominent before. She doesn't know why, but she feels a growing premonition that makes her heart sink heavy in her chest.

Not being able to find herself to go to sleep again, Clary rises to her feet, slipping a dressing robe over herself before opening the door, entering the hallway. She looks around before turning left, on the way to the weapon room; it wasn't necessarily a weapon room, but Clary recalls Luke and the other Rebels stashing various blasters into it, along with Luke's lightsaber.

Clary doesn't know why she feels the need to see the glowing hum of the lightsaber, but she can't sleep and she already finds herself standing in front of the door. She glances towards the keypad, typing the code in quickly before slipping into the room. It's dark but the lights turn on immediately when Clary enters the room—she assumes they're motion sensitive and hopes that no other Rebel will walk past and find out where she is.

Luke's lightsaber is lying on a counter table, beside Han's blaster. Clary recalls the few months that had passed and remembers how they had valiantly fought against the Death Star and won. The celebration that was held nearly feels as if it had occurred forever ago, when in reality, three months had passed.

Clary reaches forward, grasping the lightsaber in her hand. Something is familiar about it, as if she's needed to do this her entire life, and she raises it—the blue light emits suddenly and the familiar hum echoes in the room. Clary feels entranced by the blue light—it's familiar and comforting at the same time. She feels at ease holding the Jedi weapon. She feels peaceful.

"Clary?"

Clary jumps at the sudden noise and scrambles fervently to regain hold of the lightsaber. She stumbles forward and the blue light slices at the edge of the table—the small piece of its edge falls to the ground and Clary presses the button on the lightsaber's handle. The blue light disappears and its calming hum is gone with it. She turns, meeting the glittering eyes of Luke Skywalker. They're narrowed as he watches her curiously.

"What are you doing?" He eyes his lightsaber warily and Clary feels her face flush. She can't think of anything more suspicious than this.

"I..." She glances at the lightsaber in her hand and looks back at Luke. He's waiting for her response, blue eyes searching her. Her gaze flickers back to the lightsaber and she glares at the weapon accusingly. What had she been doing? She sets it quickly on the table, pushing the blaster nearly off its edge as she starts forward. "I don't know...I just—"

"Clary, wait." Luke reaches forward and grabs a hold of her wrist, preventing her from exiting the room. Clary feels her heart race from his warm and gentle touch. She meets his gaze yet he says nothing. They haven't talked since the ceremony—what with the Rebel Alliance attempting to find a new planet for its base and many of the troops preparing for the Imperial Empire to send another army, they haven't had the time to interact. Clary's spent most of her days aiding Leia and the other Senators, while Han and Chewbacca have helped the pilots get the armored speeders and X-fliers ready (along with fixing the Millennium Falcon as well). She's barely seen Luke these past months. She's missed him.

Luke lets go of her wrist and Clary blinks, pulled out of her thoughts. He clears his throat and an awkward silence follows as he tears his gaze away from hers. Clary notices his cheeks reddening.

"I can't sleep," Clary admits suddenly. She doesn't know why she says this, but she feels the need to say something. Perhaps it will add to the reason as to why she's in the weapon room in the first place and playing around with the lightsaber.

He meets her gaze and gives a small smile. Clary's missed his smile most of all.

"Me neither."

Another silence follows but not as tense as before. Luke turns, making his way towards his lightsaber before picking it up. He doesn't use it, however, and stares at it, almost lost in his thoughts. Watching him, Clary remembers how Leia has told her Luke has been trying to train himself in the ways of a Jedi. She finds him remarkable.

He looks up, glittering eyes meeting hers in the bleak silence. He gestures to the lightsaber.

"Do you want to learn?"

Clary frowns. "What?"

"How to use this." Luke steps forward, his familiar, naïve grin now tugging at the ends of his lips. "I can teach you," he offers, standing beside her once again. Clary's gaze flickers from Luke's glittering blue eyes and tender smile to the lightsaber grasped tightly in his hand.

She remembers the epidemic that had occurred when she stumbled with the weapon and shakes her head—she's not a Jedi, nor is a Jedi-in-training like Luke; there's not reason why she should know how to wield a lightsaber. Luke laughs, clearly remembering it as well as he grabs a hold of her hand, giving her the lightsaber. He meets her gaze again and now he's beaming.

"You can be my Padawan."

"Excuse me?"

Luke laughs at the look on Clary's face as he explains, "They're apprentices to Jedi Masters."

Clary smirks. "Are you even a Jedi, yet?"

He laughs again and Clary feels warm, elated by his smile. He's standing behind her now, reaching with his arms to rest on both her hands as they grip onto the lightsaber.

"Relax your shoulders," he instructs, "but stand up straight."

Clary tries to refrain from giggling as she follows his commands—she already feels as if she knows how to hold the lightsaber, yet she listens to Luke's instructions. His hands are warm as they cover Clary's as he helps guide her in aiming the weapon. It flickers on at the sudden movement its hum echoes throughout the room. Clary feels her heart racing.

"You have to angle it diagonally," Luke continues. "And make sure you balance or else you'll probably slice more than just a table."

Clary laughs under her breath, feeling her cheeks redden. She follows his instructions, though, and finds herself falling in a trance with the lightsaber once again: she finds the familiarity with it unnatural, yet another part of her feels rejected, as if the lightsaber isn't fully connected with her. A few moments pass before Clary glances over her shoulder.

"What next, Master Skywalker?"

She watches as Luke blushes and laughs, avoiding her gaze. His grip on her hands loosens slightly yet he doesn't pull his hands away. He looks lost for words when he meets Clary's gaze once more. She can hear him breathing and she feels calm. She no longer feels sad looking at him.

"Next, uh...you concentrate on the enemy."

Clary laughs, turning away. She looks around. "But there's no enemy to—" She cuts off when Luke pulls away, heading towards some shelves. He retrieves a seeker ball, the familiar robot igniting memories in Clary's mind as he nods to her.

"You ready?"

Clary meets his gaze evenly, gripping onto the lightsaber tightly.

"I always am."

Luke throws the seeker up and it comes to life. Clary steps back, wielding the lightsaber and it gives a startling hum at her sudden movements. The seeker buzzes around Clary and sharp red lasers shoot out from it. She manages to deflect all four before it spins around quickly, aiming another at her shoulder. Clary attempts to raise her weapon to deflect that as well, but the lightsaber gives a jerk and nearly slips out of her hands. The seeker manages to hit Clary in the shoulder and she lets out a cry of alarm, dropping the lightsaber. Its blue light disappears before it hits the ground with a clatter.

"Oh, droyk!" Clary curses, her shoulder stinging. She's grateful the lightsaber had shut off before hitting the ground but she feels embarrassed, nonetheless. Luke, however, holds a look of concern as he makes his way towards her.

"Are you all right?"

Clary brings a hand up to her shoulder, pressing against it. The seeker ball has turned off and lies on the floor beside the lightsaber. She meets Luke's gaze, nodding.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?" he presses, blue eyes shining with concern. Clary lowers her hand as she nods again, unsure of what to do now. Luke reaches forward, however, and his hand replaces the spot where Clary's own had been resting. His touch ignites a familiar feeling within her as she meets his gaze.

"That was good," he finally says. Clary scoffs, rolling her eyes. "It was," he insists, his tone becoming a familiar whine that Clary has heard before. "You deflected four of the shots on your first try. I couldn't even block any when I first started."

"I know, I was there," Clary smirks at Luke's flushing cheeks as he laughs again. He doesn't remove his hand from her shoulder, though, and their eyes meet. His blue eyes seem to search her before they look down, resting on her lips. Clary feels her heart pounding loudly in her chest; there is no one else but her and Luke in that room.

They jump away suddenly at the sound of the door opening. Clary turns and spots the familiar bronze droid of C-3P0 making his way into the room, followed by R2-D2 wheeling in after, giving a familiar beep at the sight of Clary and Luke.

"Oh, Master Luke, there you are!" C-3P0 lifts his hands up as he makes his way closer to the two. Clary clears her throat awkwardly as she steps away from the blond. He meets her gaze before looking at 3P0, a look of annoyance crossing his face. "R2 and I have been looking everywhere for you!"

"What is it?" he questions. R2-D2 gives a few beeps in reply as C-3P0 translates:

"Captain Antilles has been requesting you to meet him at the main hangar. The Alliance has found a new station on the planet of Hoth and they're planning to evacuate today."

Clary has heard of the planet Hoth when she had been smuggling with Han before the events of the Rebellion. They've never stopped by there for smuggling reasons, but they had flown by—she can recall Han saying how it was the coldest planet there is, and no reason for smuggling. Clary didn't disagree; she wasn't dressed for the cold.

"All right," Luke says, "tell him I'll be there soon."

C-3P0 nods. As if barely noticing Clary has been present, he looks her way.

"Hello, Miss Clary," he says. Clary forces a smile.

"Hello, 3P0." She exchanges a look with Luke and R2-D2 lets out a string of beeps, pointed at C-3P0.

"What do you mean I 'intruded on something'?" he demands, glancing the droid's way. R2-D2's head spins as it beeps another reply, sounding exasperated. C-3P0 shakes his head before nodding back to Luke and Clary. "I haven't the faintest clue of what he's talking about. Goodbye, Master Luke. Goodbye, Miss Clary." He then turns, exiting the room, followed by R2-D2 beeping after him. The door shuts and Clary glances Luke's way once again. He meets her gaze and she gives a small smile.

"Better go see what Wedge wants," she says. Luke lets out a sigh before nodding, reluctantly exiting the room. He glances back at Clary before giving her a small smile, and then disappearing past the doors. They close once again and Clary sighs loudly, her gaze diverting towards the seeker ball and lightsaber lying on the floor. She makes her way towards them, picking up the seeker ball before placing it back in its original spot before picking up the lightsaber. She stares at it, rising to her feet. She's suddenly reminded of her dream and her head pinches.

She curses under her breath again before turning, making her way towards the table. She sets the lightsaber down, staring at it blankly. She wonders why she feels drawn to it, yet disconnected at the same time, and the gleaming dark eyes from her dream burn in her mind, disconcerting her.

I hope you'll be a fool.

Clary wonders why that is the whisper she had been faintly hearing throughout her life, but pushes the thought away as her mind threatens to spin into overdrive with thousands of possibilities. It was just a dream. It had to be just a dream. She glances back at the lightsaber once more before turning around and exiting the room, the doors shutting behind her.

and that is the end of part one!! i'd like to thank you all SO much for reading & commenting. ofc, there's two more parts to go, so this story isnt over yet!! again, thank you all for voting & commenting, & i'd love to hear your opinions about this chapter/the end of part one(-: (i updated sooner than i wanted to as well bc i was just too excited for this chapter & i hope you all enjoyed the clarke moments just as much as i did writing them) xx