Picture : Concept art for Star Wars: Episode VI Return of the Jedi, by Ralph McQuarrie, in The Art of Ralph McQuarrie. More details on the Star Wars wiki where I took it. I don't own the picture nor make any profit from its use.
The entirety of the Star Wars (c) license is sole and exclusive property of Lucasfilm Ltd., itself property of The Walt Disney Company. I have no right on the Star Wars license, and make no lucrative nor commercial use of my writings in relationship with the Star Wars license.
I originally published the second of those two one-shots in French a little while ago, under the title Réflexions nocturnes. English is not my mother tongue, so I hesitated a lot to upload this version as well, then inspiration struck again, and, well... voilà. Two small pieces about a defining moment in the saga. I'm not quite sure what to make of them, but there they are.
This was not beta-read, so I apologize in advance for the possible mistakes. I thank you for stopping by, and hope you will enjoy.
Your pace is steady and careful, neither slow nor quick, as you walk between the trees. There is no path ahead of you, and your whole concentration goes on the movements of your feet, so that you won't trip and fall.
An eerie quietness reigns all around you. The only sounds you hear are the soft rustle of the branches, murmuring things no one can understand, and your steps muffled by the carpet of dead leaves. The canopy is so thick, here, you can't even see the stars above your head. Obscurity envelops you, and you rely on the Force more than on your eyes to go forward. It is as though the entire moon was holding its breath, waiting to see destiny unfold.
You don't dwell on these thoughts, though, letting them fly away from you as you repeatedly put one foot in front of the other. Your heart is beating loud and fast in your ears. You try your best not to think, to connect with the life around you and stay in the present. Your peace is fragile, a facade you feel could be shattered by the simple brush of an unwelcome idea against your mind. I have to do this, you tell yourself as a mantra, to keep you going. There is no other way. I must save him.
A face lingers in your memories, of a young woman holding her tears. Her pleas to make you stay haunt you, so does the feeling of your hand slipping from hers despite both of your wills. You nearly wish you'd listened to her. You didn't want to let go, to leave your sister and her duty for what could turn out to be a suicide mission. But you know your fate doesn't lie with her, nor with the Alliance's impeding attack. Tonight your task requires a different kind of bravery.
A dark presence hovers at the edge of your senses, the same that has been pursuing you relentlessly since your arrival. Your father... it is still strange to call him that way, but you must embrace the notion completely if you are to succeed. He is expecting you, you can feel anticipation swirl in him. And you have no other choice than to grant him his wish. He would burn down the entire forest to lay his hands on you, knowing you are there, just out of his grasp. Such is his obsession with you...
A shiver runs through your spine. Despite your best efforts, you are frightened by the intensity with which he wants you. You know there can be no escape from that single-mindedness, and it makes you feel trapped, small and helpless.
You remember what you told Leia, earlier in the evening. There is still good in him. I know I can bring him back. There wasn't any hesitation in your words then, nor when you confronted Ben about it on Dagobah. Ever since you have been able to consider the events of Bespin without wincing in pain or in shame, you have recalled the flicker of light that sparked when he begged you not to make him destroy you, when he extended his hand to you.
Now though, in the darkest of night, your certainty begins to falter. Fear is slowly gripping at your heart, as you wonder what will happen if you are wrong. You still know what you felt then, you still believe what you glimpsed through his armor was genuine, but you can no longer ignore the fact that it could just as well be mere wishful fantasies, created by your tormented mind to help you cope with the truth of a horrific heritage. Ben told you there was nothing left of Anakin Skywalker, Leia looked at you as though you were mad; you are the only one who hopes.
After all, you don't really know anything about your father. You are convinced he doesn't desire your death, but nothing else. And he did such terrible things in the past, it would be foolish to think he won't harm you anymore. How far will he be willing to go to convince you to join him? How much torment will he subject you to, to bring you where he wants? And, if the Emperor orders him to finish you off, when you reject the dark side once and for all, how can you be so sure he won't obey? Your overactive imagination conjures a hundred dreadful images you cannot shake.
Yet you know you won't be able to strike him down.
You stumble on a root, nearly avoid to fall, and you are forced to stop, your tight composure slipping away. All your cautious efforts to keep your breathing slow and deep vanish into the wind, and your guts constrict painfully as your nervousness rises unhindered. You cannot face him like that, not when your doubts are taking the better of you, not when you are questioning everything you are doing. You cannot afford to be unsure or you will be swallowed whole.
But how do you stay calm, when you are about to leave everything behind and abandon yourself to the enemy's clutches, to face your possible death, or worse?
Waves of terror and despair overwhelm you. I can't do it, you think. You are just a little farmboy from a backwater planet. You are no match for a Dark Lord of the Sith who has done that kind of thing since before you were born, you aren't fitted to take that pressure and that strain, to bear that burden thrown on you by surprise.
Life is whirling and rippling in your surroundings, but you have never felt so alone, so scared.
You try to regain the Jedi serenity you have managed to display until now, but it is of no use. Your hands won't stop shaking. There is so much at stake and you don't feel ready. You are making the riskiest bet of your existence. You are blindly throwing yourself to the wolves, with your faith and hope as only protection, and you aren't even sure it is the right thing to do. You feel the weight of the future on your shoulders, see a thousand possibilities flow around your senses. You are more conscious than ever of your lungs filling up with air before emptying themselves, of the grass' and the plants' smell, of the Force swirling in your surroundings. You take it all in, reveling in it, for tonight may be the last time.
Desperately, you reach out to the Force, begging it to help you, to show you another way, to keep you safe and away from everything. You want nothing more than to forget and escape the trials set before you, so close and menacing. But inside, you know this is not to be, and it only confirms it to you. You have to continue, whatever destiny has in store for you. It is too late to go back now.
Again, you slightly touch your father's presence. Its darkness is warm and alluring, it whispers compellingly to your mind, waiting for you. Come to me.
And his eagerness to possess you at last reminds you of your goal. Your determination strengthens again. If someone can free him from his prison of blackness, then you are the one with this power. You may not be the more skilled Jedi ever trained, you may have cracks and weaknesses in every corner of your being, but you are his son, and that is your greatest asset. You are possibly the very last person he cares for, the only one capable to see through him, to reach for him, to mend his ravaged soul. You have to do this for him, and you promise you won't fail him.
The vow gives you the confidence you needed. Supported by the gentle and peaceful murmur of the Force, you begin to walk again.
Too soon, you see the lights of an Imperial garrison in front of you. For a tiny moment more, you hesitate, reluctant to give up your freedom. You have been evading capture for so long now that surrender goes against your every instinct. A last sparkle of fear flares in you, quickly stifled.
You won't run away. You won't stray from your purpose. You know what you must do.
Tonight, you will hand yourself over to your father. You will bring him back to you, or die in the attempt.