Subject:[OTL]: (alt. Betsy/Star Wars) Fanged Butterfly 2: Knightcross 48/? (R) From: Phil Hartman Date: Mon, 26 May 2008 04:48:16 +0000 will1@earthling.net Fanged Butterfly Vol. 2: Knightcross Chapter 48 by Phil Hartman DISCLAIMER: Marvel’s are Marvel’s. LFL’s are LFL’s. Any original characters are mine. The rest belong to their owners/creators. No money is being made off of this. Please don’t sue. ----------------------------------------------------------- 5/11/08, Terran Standard Calendar: Xavier Academy, Salem Center, New York: 08:05 hrs Eastern Daylight Time: ----------------------------------------------------------- Ben was grateful for not being treated any differently than any other student ... but the words “Danger Room” WERE a little ... troubling. It wasn’t as scary as he’d thought, he soon learned; the room was basically a big holochamber, but repulsorlike force fields created opponents beneath the holos for students (and the X-Men) to fight against. For today, though, all Ben had to do was get across the room. “Feel free to use whatever means are at your disposal. Limiting yourself is the last thing we want you to do, so long as your efforts bring no harm, of course,” Professor Xavier encouraged from the control booth, and Ben nodded while he looked up at the audience. It was almost Jedi-like advice. Except that Jedi were usually expected to be ... quieter. And to use a minimum of Force effort. #So, unlearn what you’ve learned, ranatbrain,# Ben challenged himself, tensing ... His danger sense was going off at a low level all the time, so it wasn’t helping. But Ben had learned not to rely just on the Force ... The slight gust of air from a trapdoor opening just ahead of his first step made Ben Force jump; he had his Mom’s lightsaber off of his belt as he landed, and a rush of tentacles from two poles rising from the floor stank of seared metal as Ben slashed them. Then the beanbags started flying from the walls, and Ben studied the pattern, smiling, before Force speeding through. This was FUN ... ----------------------------------------------------------- “Oh, my stars and garters,” Hank breathed, rechecking the scan data as Ben DODGED the beanbag cannons, moving at high speed. “He’s making excellent time,” Charles said, but Jean just nodded; she was happy for Ben to want to learn about his telepathy, but she was terribly torn, also. On the one hand, he was Ben SKYWALKER. The sociological impact of his very existence was overwhelming and potentially world changing. Part of Jean thought Ben might be safer leaving immediately. On the other, he was her nephew, her kids’ cousin ... and a victim of much the same kind of abuse she had fought against most of her life. Ben had survived genemodding, emotional manipulation, and cultlike attempts to desensitize him to a truly DISTURBING social system. The Shaped Ones were effectively enslaved in a massmind that threatened to devour humanity ... and their controller was a Sith. Mercifully, Ben wouldn’t revert to being Shaped. “The changes to his DNA were almost entirely limited to his Grey genes. It’s as if ... Darth Caedus ... needed to preserve Ben’s Skywalker DNA as much as possible. And since we know Grey DNA inside and out, we can be sure Ben’s maternally inherited genes are back to normal,” Hank had assured Jean and Scott. At least Ben was free of that horror show. He was even surprisingly well-adjusted, although he’d cried on her shoulder after a nightmare, the night before. Ben might be a tough kid, but at least he wasn’t TOO macho. He should never have been a soldier ... at least not so young. Jean was still aghast at how ... CORRUPTED Jacen Solo, Caedus, must be. And the Jedi, she felt, weren’t necessarily innocent either. Training children to control their potentially dangerous powers was essential, but emotional repression as a way of life? Diminishing ALL attachments, especially healthy family bonds? No. Just ... NO. From what she’d seen in Ben’s memories of her older sister, Mara, Jean knew Mara wasn’t the repressed one in the Skywalker family. But was Luke (and the idea of Luke Skywalker as Jean’s brother in law WAS remarkable) necessarily manipulating his family and friends on purpose? Jean doubted Luke had even realized the problem. He apparently knew now ... poor Ben had seen Caedus torment Luke in that dungeon. Part of Jean wanted to ... *adopt* Ben? Except how was that any better for him than what Caedus did? Keeping him on a world where he could never entirely be comfortable? Thousands of LIGHT YEARS away from his birth family and friends? #Focus, Grey. This isn’t about you. If you really want to be a good aunt, help Ben,# Jean thought. Ben’d handled the beanbags, but now the padded ramwalls were trying to capture him ... and his telekinesis, which FELT similar to her psionic manipulation of kinetic force, but was somehow more ... raw? ... pushed the rams back. Ben was working up a sweat, but he reached the off switch in respectable time, and ended the test by pressing the button. “Top 10th percentile. Granted, he was using the Force, but we were testing his power skill suite,” Hank said, returning Jean’s smile - and then trouble walked into the Danger Room. -------------------------------------------------------------- Ben had been so focused on getting through the obstacle course that he hadn’t tapped his telepathy. So when the six slightly older teens walked in, mostly wearing skintight purple and pink bodygloves, he was surprised, but just nodded as he worked on getting his breath. “Hey. You’re the new kid. You’re really named Skywalker?” the brashest one of the newcomers - a boy with black hair, blue eyes and a sneer Ben KNEW meant trouble - teased. “Lay off, Julian. We’re going to get in trouble, the Professor AND Mrs. Summers AND Dr. McCoy are up there!” a girl, who looked like she was made of ... liquid metal? ... said, her metallic red hair glinting in the fluorescent lights. “I’ll just leave. Excuse me, please,” Ben asked; even IF this guy was a jerk, there was no reason to stoop to his level. That was when the giant stone looking guy got in Ben’s face and snorted, “MAKE us, Jerkei.” “Hellions, you are to stand down at ONCE,” Professor Xavier called. Julian, though, laughed, and pointed when Artoo - who’d been watching Ben from the ready room entrance - rolled out, whistling angrily. “The geek’s even got a toy junkheap! Leave your playthings at home, nerdboy!” he spat, shoving Artoo with a telekinetic thrust - Ben’s heart plunged when his friend, his ... brother ... was SLAMMED against a far wall, hatches opening and sparking. Artoo whimpered, “Owoo” ... and his lights went out. And Ben saw only RED - ARTOO, he’d just tried to protect Ben - He barely remembered to throw Mom’s lightsaber away before he lunged. “*MURDERER!!!* MOTHERKRIFFING SCHUTTA LICKER!” Ben SCREAMED, landing a SERIOUS right hook across Julian’s jaw and making the telekine fly backwards into a girl wearing a hooded black robe, knocking her down - Stone Guy LAUNCHED a hand at Ben, but Ben teked the hand at a darkskinned boy with dreadlocks; the stone boy suddenly started running, and the dreadlocked boy was pinned by the hand - Metal ooze tried to cocoon Ben, but he spat something that a worried, disconnected part of his mind recognized as a Vong swear word, and his green lightning forced the metal girl to back off, twitching - That left the black haired girl wearing skintight black pants and a sleeveless top, and boots that could’ve been GAG issue. She was like ice to Ben’s telepathy and Force sense, but weirdly familiar - #Wolverine. Relative ... littermate,# the tactical part of Ben’s brain assessed; he was calming down, feeling ashamed of his overreaction. But WAS Artoo OK? Then the girl popped TWO METAL CLAWS from the back of each of her hands, and lunged, cold intent in her eyes, and Ben instinctively summoned his mother’s lightsaber, blocking the blades - cortosis? Adamantium. Ben knew he was in DEEP, but if she went for Artoo - They spun apart, the girl backflipping - Ben BARELY dodged the FOOT BLADES the girl popped - and it became a dance, neither giving ground, energy versus unbreakable metal ... She yielded, and Ben shut off his mom’s lightsaber, returning the girl’s bow. He would honor a stalemate; he had to calm down, go help - “The machine. He is ... adopted? Not blood, but family?” the girl said, and Ben nodded, risking a glance at Artoo ... The little droid warbled, and Ben cried in relief, before nodding. “I’m sorry about your friends, but that karkbrain could’ve KILLED Artoo!” he snapped, glaring at Julian as Frank, Rachel and a woman wearing ... not much ... teleported in. “Ith a THOGHAMMTH WOBOT!” Julian mumbled; his jaw was probably broken, and Ben felt ... well, he HAD overreacted. But still - “He’s a PERSON! Maybe he’s not flesh and blood enough for you, but he’s STILL real, with feelings, and he’s the one person who’s always BEEN there for me! How’d you feel if I teke slammed YOUR brother?!” Ben yelled, running to check on Artoo - the poor little guy wasn’t moving, although his dome was turning and his lights were on ... Ben hugged Artoo, and watched as Frank knelt beside the droid, worry evident from the blond boy’s face and mental signature. “Ben ... I might be able to do SOMETHING, but I’d be working off of instinct. If I mess up - I don’t want to hurt him worse,” Frank said, his sympathy helping a little. “’Ben,’ Master Richards, has larger problems than a damaged droid,” a voice like ice on razors scraped across the room - Ben stood, refusing to flinch at the sound, or the cold disdain behind its source. A blonde woman about Aunt Jean’s age, wearing ... strategically placed white leather, holding a riding crop, stood from where she’d helped Julian up, then looked at the other “Hellions” before staring vibroshivs at Ben with blue eyes like a rare clear Hoth sky. She radiated ... Imperial level arrogance, but Ben refused to back down, while Aunt Jean and Doctor McCoy ran in. “Back off, Emma! Your punk protege started it, and Ben COULD have slaughtered your squad! You should be grateful he showed restraint, given Keller’s brutality!” Aunt Jean yelled - “KUELLER!?” Ben exclaimed - no, that Sithspawn was dead; and this scumbag wasn’t Force sensitive. Emma - Frost, Ben remembered now, from one of Aunt Betsy’s stories - frowned, every movement precise ... crafted. Ben knew the type; she was nobleborn, or had ... pretentions? he thought the word fit, as Dr. McCoy helped the Hellions. Rachel snickered, sending, ~That’s Emma. She’s jumped up genetrash. Her family has money, so she acts like she’s got class. But her big break was as a poledancer ...~ She yelped when SOMETHING like a telepathic whip cracked near her, and Frost replied, ice dripping from her mental voice, ~Watch your tongue, Miss First Daughter of the X-Men. Your continued insults are wearing even my patience.~ Rachel blushed, Frank sighed and put a hand on her shoulder, and Aunt Jean growled, ~LEAVE. MY. FAMILY. ALONE. EMMA.~ “When the children learn some manners, Jean, then I shall. Your continued grudge over decade-plus-old grievances has been passed on to your offspring, and it grates like a badly tuned violin. I find the hypocrisy of so called ’heroes’ always holding me to a different standard than their own tiresome, and to be held in contempt by ill behaved, foul tempered children is unamusing,” Frost said. “Then keep your tuk’ata pup on a better leash, Sith-schutta!” Ben shot back - OH, was that a mistake; Frost SMILED. Ben had seen safer, warmer smiles from holos of Sidious. ~Your ... Force ... and combat skills have been tested, young ... Jedi. Let us see what you know of telepathy,~ she taunted, a queen voxyn pinning a ysalamir - but Ben shielded, deflecting what felt like a dozen strikes at once at his mindshield, and he knew he had maybe instants before Frost found an opening - so he gave her one. Straight into his memory of being Shaped, and its agony. A - strangled gasp - made Ben open his eyes as Frost left his mind, and she recoiled, looking ... shocked for just a second. “How ... no child could have survived such modification ... unbroken,” Frost whispered, but Ben just frowned as he turned back to Artoo. Over his shoulder, Ben said, trying not to spit, “Guess I’m just too ill behaved and foul tempered to quit, Your Pretentiousness.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ After a quick shower, and a change into clean clothes - Joe had been nice enough to give Ben some stuff he’d outgrown, so Ben was wearing boxer shorts, “blue jeans,” and a shortsleeved shirt - Ben followed Frank to a small, well-equipped workshop, where a small crowd had gathered. “Sir, I -” Ben began to try and apologize to the Professor, but the bald man just smiled and shook his head. “Ben, you’re not in trouble. While I prefer students work out their differences through communication, you were both provoked and protecting a dear friend. And you DID avoid lethal force. Now, let’s focus on helping Artoo. These gentlemen are experts in robotics; this is Reed Richards, Franklin’s father; Anthony Stark, an armor wearing crimefighter and technological genius; and Forge, our own intuitive mechanical expert,” the Professor said, and Ben returned the men’s polite nods, seeing Artoo standing on a table. Stark looked - and felt, in the Force - amused, almost annoying, while Frank’s dad was digging around in Artoo making amazed sounds. Forge was ... quieter, more intent, and Artoo warbled when the ponytailed man pulled a crushed piece of metal out of the droid. “So. The Star Wars saga ... real. Never thought I’d see it. And a real Jedi, huh?” Stark said, chuckling when he shook Ben’s hand ... #Jerk,# Ben thought sourly; Stark thought this was a JOKE. “Uncle Tony, Artoo IS an artificial intelligence. We’ve analyzed his CPU waveform, and it’s consistent with quantum processing, similar to human neuron firing patterns. The good news is, his personality and memory centers are intact. The only problem is that damaged power motivator,” a brown haired boy with blue eyes called, from where he was ... projecting? ... a holoscan of Artoo’s insides. “Tom Maximoff, one of the twin sons of the Scarlet Witch and the Vision. Tom’s a cyberpath, able to mentally link with and control electronics, and an electrokinetic. He’s a pal of mine from way back,” Frank assured Ben, who shook Tom’s hand before looking at Artoo. “Hang in there, buddy, OK? Mr. Richards, Mr. ... Forge, can you help Artoo? Please?” Ben asked, rubbing Artoo’s dome. “Wroo bwoodloot?” Artoo blurped, sounding hopeful. “We’ll do everything we can, Ben. Like Tom said, it’s a simple problem; the tech is the difficult part. Your friend here is VERY advanced. It’s as if he was manufactured by a civilization that hadn’t suffered the Dark Ages,” Forge said, a little awed, as he turned his attention to the damaged motivator. “Woo woo VwOOoOOT!!” Artoo toodled, a little proudly, and Ben, Frank and Tom laughed. “Silly droid. You gonna be OK here by yourself?” Ben asked, and Artoo chirped as Ben hugged him. “I’ll stay with him. Been meaning to see Ororo anyhow ...” Forge said, smiling a little, and Ben decided against asking whatever happened to that Slipstream guy, Davis Cameron, Aunt Betsy had said was dating Storm ... ~Breakup. Bad one, about six months after Betsy vanished. Davis wasn’t able to handle all the jokes about how young he was compared to Ororo. He left, and just does teleportation runs for the team now,~ Frank explained as the boys left, with the Professor, Mr. Richards and Stark chatting behind them in the hall. “Ben, a moment? I don’t know how much Frank has told you about the Fantastic Four, but we do a great deal of interplanetary exploration. Admittedly, we have been more extragalactially and extradimensionally focused, but it seems ... odd that we haven’t encountered your civilization before now,” Mr. Richards asked. Stark coughed, then whispered in Mr. Richards’ ear, as Frank sighed. ~He’s reminding Dad about the deal the Empire cut with SHIELD; it’s probably all black ops top secret rated,~ the blond boy grumbled. ~How’s Stark know, then? He doesn’t seem competent enough to be trusted,~ Ben asked, making Frank snicker. ~Stark’s the director of SHIELD. He replaced Betsy after she vanished because he sold out to his big business friends. He supports making all superhumans register with the federal government. It’s really about keeping superbeings under control. There was a HUGE fight about it right after Betsy disappeared, and Stark’s bunch lost when a supervillain, the Red Skull, was exposed as authoring a registration law,~ Frank explained. Stark frowned briefly, and Mr. Richards said, “Never mind. Son, we’ll see you soon; I’m sorry that hyperdrive test run series failed.” “Not your fault, Dad. Thanks for checking. We’ll keep working on a way to get Ben home. Tell Mom, Uncle John and Uncle Ben hi,” Frank said, as Mr. Richards and Stark teleported away. #Guess powered people everywhere have government problems,# Ben figured. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The next week was one of the most different Ben had ever faced. Focused telepathy, Ben quickly learned, wasn’t as intuitive as Force powers. Both needed focus, but thoughts were more complicated, more difficult to decipher, than emotions. And THOSE weren’t simple in the first place. “Think of telepathy as looking for a ... well, to use a metaphor from your family, hitting an exhaust port on a moon sized space station. Given six billion plus sentient minds on Earth, narrowing down one specific mental signature is hard enough,” Professor Xavier said one day in the psi-shielded Z’noxx Chamber. “Then, getting past that mind’s inherent defenses - willpower in the non-telepathic, trained psi-screens in those who have access to such training, and mindshields in other psis - and communicating with, or affecting, that particular mind, is another effort entirely. On top of all THAT, we must shield ourselves from stray thoughts.” Fortunately, Ben had an idea of the basics already, and smiled when the Professor approved of what Aunt Betsy had taught Ben. It was like learning lightsaber drill; the lessons built on each other ... Shielding wasn’t that hard. Layering the shields was trickier, but after Ben’s crash course in holding back a groupmind, he was a pretty quick study. What was tough was shielding AND scanning. The balance of concentration was close in difficulty to levitating more than one rock ... or, levitating a newly repaired Artoo unit while scanning telepathically for Mr. Logan in the woods. Ben made sure to coordinate his telepathy with his Force powers. Ben baked a fairly authentic ryshcate to thank Forge for repairing Artoo. It didn’t hit Ben until after he’d given the dessert to Forge that ryshcate was a Corellian baked good, and not really patriotic for a Galactic Alliance citizen. But, Ben wasn’t really a GAG officer, GA citizen, or even a Jedi, anymore. He mentioned the ... movement of his viewpoint to Aunt Jean one evening after dinner, as she rocked Siri on her and Uncle Scott’s backporch swing. Aunt Jean just smiled and said, “Isn’t it more important to just be Ben Skywalker, good guy, first, then figure out the rest?” “But good is so ... relative. The GA has one idea of good; the Corellians, another. I mean, shouldn’t we help people, and not hurt them in the process?” Ben asked. Aunt Jean nodded, kissing Siri’s red fuzzed head as she burped the little girl. “Exactly. If the Jedi just loosened up and remembered compassion, tempered by SOME analysis, they’ll go a lot farther,” she said. “Love, Ben, is the first thing. Wisdom is earned, usually by pain. Pain and love clash, fighting for predominance. Some pain is part of life, but pain for its own sake is dangerous. Love can blind, too; we can’t eliminate all pain, or we risk stagnation and inaction. “You still love, Ben, even if it risks pain. And THAT, kiddo, is walking the light side.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- During the week, Ben realized a few more things: 1. He often had an ... audience, when he was practicing lightsaber drill on the lawn. Sometimes, it was girls and guys; more usually, girls. Ben didn’t mind. (And if he wore more sleeveless T-shirts ... well, he was working out, he rationalized.) 2. Mutants were a LOT less likely to have body shame than unpowered humans. The skintight uniforms were part of it, and it *was* warming up, so shorts and T-shirts and sleeveless shirts were just as common. But the swimwear was tighter, and sometimes smaller, than Ben was used to - for girls and guys. “Most guys won’t wear a swimbrief, but knee length swimshorts are ... less weird, even if they drag. I swam competitively, so I stuck with a brief,” Frank said, one day by the pool as they helped lifeguard the younger Summers kids. Nate preferred baggy shorts, but the younger boys wore swimbriefs. Ben opted for a modestly cut black swimbrief. It felt right ... and it made Ben think. He was glad his hair had grown back in ... where it needed to be, and he didn’t miss that stupid groin pouch. He was glad to NEED a swimsuit again. #Maybe it’s ... just being comfortable ... BEING?# Ben wondered. 3. Wolverine wasn’t THAT scary. Ben got used to predawn jogs around the estate perimeter. Part of getting up so early was habit from GAG. Part was to avoid the dreams. Artoo watched over Ben, who had been given a guest room in the boathouse, and Ben talked to the droid. And to Aunt Jean, Uncle Scott, Rachel, or Marrissa. But sometimes, Ben just needed to burn off the sleepiness and NOT dream. He was running in shorts and sneakers, lightsaber bouncing at his hip, savoring the coolness of the predawn, when he saw Logan ... stalking an herbivore. Logan spared it, then nodded at Ben and asked, “Nightmares?” Ben nodded, sensing Logan’s understanding, and asked, “You?” Logan nodded back. And they started jogging together. Usually not talking. It didn’t always take telepathy or the Force to share a burden. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- By the sixth day, Ben could walk across campus at lunchtime, when everyone’s thoughts were usually loudest. And he was comfortable. Ben ... felt OK being a KID, again. He laughed at silly stuff, like Brian slurping his milk at breakfast, and played kickball with the little kids as easily as he practiced his saber technique or telepathy. Ben even kept up with Joe, Frank, and their New Mutants classmates at a pretty violent game called touch football. (It wasn’t Mando meshgroya, but Ben wasn’t complaining, either.) Telekinesing little things didn’t make Ben feel guilty, and he didn’t say “sir” or “ma’am” QUITE so often, or snap to attention when Jake’s soldiers barked orders at each other. The soldiers were nice enough ... but Ben didn’t hang around their encampment, either. He even let his hair grow a little. He was just living, being Ben Skywalker, 13 years old ... and on the seventh day, Ben awoke, gasping: He was *14*. Ben cried a little; it hurt, not being with Mom, Dad and the rest, but he stopped pretty quickly. He might not be with THAT part of his family, but he wasn’t alone. And if Artoo let a certain date slip ... well, Ben ACTED surprised at lunch when Gram and Gran showed up with a cake with an X-Wing on it. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- “Harry’s Hideaway” SOUNDED like fun, but Ben wasn’t sure. It was a dance night at the restaurant, and ... well, he had two left feet. “RELAX, Ben. You don’t have to,” Rachel - who had brought Ben with her, Frank, Tom, Joe, Gail, Tom’s blonde cousin Luna, Artoo, and an Adumari-sounding blond boy named Lewis Guthrie - to the club. They were stopped at the door, though, by a HUGE guy who pointed at Artoo and growled, “We don’t serve their kind here.” The mutants ducked into an alley, and Frank said, “Disguise.” “Wrooo?” Artoo asked, and Ben wondered how they were gonna do THIS. A minute later, the bouncer gasped, as the eight mutants walked by ... and he apologized to their guest, wearing a fedora, leather jacket and whip. “Wroot doo doo DOO, doo doo doo,” the “actor” whistled. ----------------------------------------------------------------- For mindless fun, it wasn’t bad, Ben thought. The lights were low, or neon; the music was loud, almost growling with a transparently primal beat; the dance floor was full of sweaty people dancing badly, trying to attract the opposite gender ... Ben was maintaining his shields, at least. Not a bad test. They found a table, where a brown haired boy who looked like Tom was sitting with a dangerous looking blonde girl. She arched an eyebrow at Ben, and let Rachel introduce them, “Ben, Bill and Illyana. Bill Maximoff and Illyana Rasputin, Ben.” Ben nodded; Bill grunted, focusing instead on Gailyn, as Joe looked grumpy. Illyana POURED dark side from herself, but she just smiled and said, “So, IS that a lightsaber in your pocket?” That was when the - DJ? - called, “Entries in the dance contest?” “OOH! C’mon, Lew, PLEEEASEEE???” Luna wheedled, and she succeeded in pulling the plant controlling boy behind her, a small cloud over her head; Ben remembered Luna controlled weather ... The speakers started booming, “It’s Raining Men,” and Luna FLOATED, grinning as she whirled Lew around. Lew forced a smile and mouthed, “HELP?” “As perversely amusing as it is to watch a Guthrie get embarrassed for the sake of love, we might want to address the question of Ben’s birthday present. You said you couldn’t reach Lila?” Illyana asked, and Rachel nodded. “Lila Cheney. She’s an interstellar range teleporter, even across galaxies, but she’s also a musician, so her tour dates make her hard to reach,” Rachel explained. “OK. So how can Illyana help? No offense,” Ben said to Illyana. She grinned wickedly and said, “None taken. I’m an even more POWERFUL teleporter than Lila. Question is, can I get you home?” “Or, wht will it cost me, right?” Ben asked; he still had a GAG interrogator’s sense for motive, and ... well, Illyana was radiating ... oh. She laughed, as Ben turned as red as his hair, and shook her head. “Flattering, Jedi. But even I’ve got limits to naughtiness,” Illyana said. She purred, winking, and added, “I want bigger game.” ----------------------------------------------------------------- Honestly, Ben thought Illyana’s request WAS a little absurd. But - after he’d pulled Artoo away from a couple of fawning women - compared to the chance to get home? Ben’d find a way. The big guy would understand. Probably. What DID surprise him was that Grandpa John, Grandma Elaine and Mr. Worthington were waiting for them in the boathouse living room after Illyana teleported the New Mutants from Harry’s. With *suitcases.* “Mom, Dad, this is CRAZY! Warren’s an X-Man, but you -” Aunt Jean insisted, and Ben gasped, realizing: He and Artoo weren’t going back alone. “Jean, we’re retired. Besides, Sara can get our mail, and we are NOT passing up a chance to meet Mara. And, Ben and Artoo shouldn’t be all alone on some planet,” Grandma insisted, as Ben hugged or kissed his cousins farewell. “And someone has to knock some sense into the Jedi Order. Sending children into live fire? No attachments? HMPH,” Grandpa snorted. “And ... well, I’m just being selfish and going for Betsy,” Mr. Worthington said, giving Ben a weak smile. “Gather round, folks ...” Illyana called, and Ben hugged Aunt Jean one more time before he joined the others. “Remember: LIVE,” Aunt Jean called, and Ben smiled. “I will. I’ll visit!” Ben promised - and then, they were on Endor, and Ben laughed as he returned Aunt Leia and Uncle Han’s surprised, joyful hugs, as the other Jedi looked on. “BEN!! How - who - ?!” Aunt Leia asked, as Ben waved at Chewie. “Just a second, Aunt Leia, OK? Chewie ...” Ben asked, stretching to whisper at the Wookie, who shrugged. He leaned down, as Illyana KISSED him, and she vanished, laughing: “Roberto never thought I could complete our scavenger hunt, huh? HAH!”