"I know," he says, with admirable patience. "But you don't control how people hear it, or what they're coming into it with, or how they react. You can only put it out there, as best you can. I don't expect everyone to understand why I saved Anakin Skywalker. Maybe they all should believe me, side with me, but that's just not how things work. People have to be allowed to think differently than you, or soon, you're back to lording over a domain of one. That's what I'm trying to get you to understand. This was never going to end in a parade with everyone thinking you were right. Even if you were."
"Oh, sure," Luke says, nodding. "Be mad. Okay. Just... try to understand why. Why you're mad, why they're mad. It doesn't make it right, but it helps me, anyway, to understand. I don't want you to admit they're right. I want you to... admit they have a right to an opinion."
Bill looks at the hand. Okay. Okay. He's trying. Communicate. Bill takes his fingertips briefly in his teeny little muppet hand, then lets go.
"NO. I'M FRUSTRATED. I DID THIS AS RIGHT AS I KNEW HOW TO DO IT, AND IT DIDN'T MATTER. THEY JUST TOOK IT ALL APART. THEY JUST KILLED YOU, AND HURT FORD, AND ARE TRYING TO GET YOU DEMOTED. AND SOMEONE SHOULD BE MAD ABOUT IT, SO IT HAS TO BE ME."
"Yeah," he agrees. "And that sucks. People aren't always going to understand. Sometimes it's because you're wrong, at least partly. Sometimes it's because they're not ready. Sometimes it's for a totally different reason. But what we have to do is try our best to figure it out. And do better next time."
What he's trying to say is, it does matter.
"Be mad," he says, though a voice whispers in his ear that anger is the path to the Dark Side, "but don't let it consume you. Don't let it guide your actions."
"I spent years fighting a rebellion," he says. "And I've spent a few years on this ship, convincing people you're worth it. And guess what?" He gestures up towards the Barge. "At least some of them agree with me, including the guy who decided I was worth bringing back. And you, too. So don't give me this 'nothing matters' crap. Don't make me have to argue that my dying actually meant something."
Luke has never had to ask himself that. He wonders if he should have, or what it means that he hasn't. He's not sure he has a good enough answer for Bill.
"I guess," he says after a long moment, "because, if I'm worth it, I have to believe other people are. I'm no different from them."
"That's not what I mean," Luke says, shaking his head. "Sure, I'm different. But I'm not better. I'm not worth more. Being different or better or worse at something doesn't change that equation. Because if it does, there's no place to stop. No balance you can possibly find, no math that makes sense."
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neverjoinyou) wrote2026-04-05 02:51 pm![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lastvoyages IC Inbox
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"I know," he says, with admirable patience. "But you don't control how people hear it, or what they're coming into it with, or how they react. You can only put it out there, as best you can. I don't expect everyone to understand why I saved Anakin Skywalker. Maybe they all should believe me, side with me, but that's just not how things work. People have to be allowed to think differently than you, or soon, you're back to lording over a domain of one. That's what I'm trying to get you to understand. This was never going to end in a parade with everyone thinking you were right. Even if you were."
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Grumble grumble. (Yes you do, Bill, don't fucking lie.)
Luke has a point.
"BUT I'M ALLOWED TO BE MAD AT THEM, TOO. AND I DON'T HAVE TO ADMIT THEY'RE RIGHT, EITHER, IF THEY'RE NOT GONNA DO THE SAME FOR ME."
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"FINE... FINE. SURE."
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"NO. I'M FRUSTRATED. I DID THIS AS RIGHT AS I KNEW HOW TO DO IT, AND IT DIDN'T MATTER. THEY JUST TOOK IT ALL APART. THEY JUST KILLED YOU, AND HURT FORD, AND ARE TRYING TO GET YOU DEMOTED. AND SOMEONE SHOULD BE MAD ABOUT IT, SO IT HAS TO BE ME."
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"Yeah," he agrees. "And that sucks. People aren't always going to understand. Sometimes it's because you're wrong, at least partly. Sometimes it's because they're not ready. Sometimes it's for a totally different reason. But what we have to do is try our best to figure it out. And do better next time."
What he's trying to say is, it does matter.
"Be mad," he says, though a voice whispers in his ear that anger is the path to the Dark Side, "but don't let it consume you. Don't let it guide your actions."
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"WHAT'S... THE POINT OF EVEN TRYING IF PEOPLE AREN'T GOING TO CARE EITHER WAY?"
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"I spent years fighting a rebellion," he says. "And I've spent a few years on this ship, convincing people you're worth it. And guess what?" He gestures up towards the Barge. "At least some of them agree with me, including the guy who decided I was worth bringing back. And you, too. So don't give me this 'nothing matters' crap. Don't make me have to argue that my dying actually meant something."
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Bill's grip on his own wrist tightens, and he stares back at the ship like he's trying to bore a hole in it.
"YOU DESERVE BETTER. YOU DESERVE PEOPLE TO TREAT YOU BETTER, BUT THEY WON'T."
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"I know," he says gently. "Doing what's right doesn't always make people like you. And that's okay. What matters to me is what you think."
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"WHY ARE PEOPLE EVEN WORTH IT, TO YOU?"
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"I guess," he says after a long moment, "because, if I'm worth it, I have to believe other people are. I'm no different from them."
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Bill drums his fingers.
"I'M NOT GOING TO TALK YOU INTO THIS, I KNOW."
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He stops, expression softening.
"But... thank you. I think."