Disclaimer: I tried to think of something witty to put here but I couldn't. Sorry. All characters belong to George Lucas and Tim Zahn.
A/N: I was kind of in a depressed mood when wrote this, but after my previous fic, I wanted to do a darker peice from Luke's POV. Thanks to SailorLeia for being a great mentor and friend and for always somehow managing to cheer me up with her crazy and hilarious stories, and Broken-Tree for being the best sister in the entire world (rib...rib..wink). Please read and was originally going to be a Luke/Mara fic where she arrives on Yavin IV on a trading run and talkes (or beats ) some sense into him, but I liked this part better on its own. If you guys like it I can write that, but it will be a different story. Tell me what you think. Oh, and sorry about the repost, but I originally forgot the disclaimer.
The idea for this story came from the song Over the Edge by Akon.
BEEP BEEP BEEP…
Luke Skywalker rolled over in his bed at the Jedi Praxeum on Yavin IV. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the oppressive humidity, the norm on the jungle planet, was thankfully absent. It was one of the most beautiful days the Academy had seen in a while. And Luke was completely miserable.
BEEP BEEP BEEP…
She was gone. She was gone and she was not coming back. The realization hit him like a slab of duracrete falling from the top of the Senate building. She was gone. Forever.
BEEP BEEP BEEP…
In a wave of anger, Luke hurled the alarm clock against the wall. It punched through and landed intact on the other side. The anger disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving only a cold, empty ache in its path. Control, control, you must learn control…
BEEP BEEP BEEP…
Why did this always happen to him? Why was it that whenever he tried to find someone to be with, someone to love and love him in return, something always happened? Shira, Gaeriel, Callista…gone. Gone, and not coming back.
BEEP BEEP BEEP…
Happiness. Something that eluded him his entire life. On the farm, he was always restless, wanting to get out into the galaxy, never at peace. In the rebellion, he had friends, comrades, brothers-in-arms who would die for him, but it was always overshadowed by the guilt that some had not come back, that he had been unable to save everyone. Gradually, as he grew into his powers, even those few friends had gradually drifted away, wary of something, or, more appropriately, someone who they could not understand, and made friends with normal people. And now…
BEEP BEEP BEEP…
He had nobody. He slammed his head back into his pillow, banging his head on the beadboard in the process. The pain did nothing to quell his splitting headache, but he didn't care. He had nobody. Nobody at all. He was alone. A single tear escaped from a tightly-shut, bloodshot blue eye and traced its way down his grimy, unshaved cheek, falling from his haggard face and coming to rest on an empty liquor bottle before evaporating into oblivion.
Alone.