One moment, Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker was meditating in his room, very calm and relaxed. The next, he was on his feet, screaming in surprised pain. Ben was gone. Just gone, with not even a trace of him left in the Force.

Time seemed to crawl by very slowly; seconds felt like minutes, minutes could have been hours. A hand gently touched his forearm, a calming presence in the room. Leia was there, watching him with concern written all over her face. "Luke," she said softly, knowingly. "Luke."

Luke dimly heard Han ask, "What's wrong?" Han's blaster was in hand as he surveyed the room with a confused look on his face. "What happened?"

"It's Ben," she replied quietly. "He's . . . he's gone." Tears were snaking freely down her face as she shared her twin's horrible pain. "I'm sorry," she told Luke, knowing that the words did little to heal his pain.

His mouth worked as he tried to answer, but not a sound came out, except a soft keening sound. Part of his mind didn't even register where the sound was coming from, or why his sister looked so sad, so sorry.

But the other part of him just knew. His son was gone, had left him all alone. "No," he muttered, a sudden wave of anger rising up inside of him. Anger at himself, for sending his son to Corscant, at Jacen for turning to Darth Caedus and killing his wife and Ben, even at Leia and Han for not raising Jacen right. "No, no, no."

A reckless urge born from anger told him to chase down the Sith Lord who had caused all of this and kill him. Even though it would not bring back Mara and Ben, at least he could properly avenge their deaths.

Setting his jaw, he again focused outward, still hearing the sad keening sound. Opening his mouth to ask what it was, he heard the depressing sound stop. The sound had come from him.

"Oh, Luke," Leia said knowingly, her brown eyes sad. "I'm so sorry."

"Not . . . your . . . f . . . fault," he managed. "I . . . it's mine." Admitting that he, himself, was to blame for his son's own death made the hurt and anger intensify that much more.

Leia recoiled from the coldness she felt radiating from Luke's presence in the Force. "It's not your fault, either," she said emphatically. "You couldn't have known."

"I should have seen it," he replied in a somewhat calmer voice. The coldness, anger, and sadness was still there, but was drawn into a tight bundle that was held together by a new sense of resolution and decision.

"Luke, what can we do for you?" Han's voice asked from near the foot of his bed. "What do you need?"

"Leave me alone." Luke's voice shook slightly and tears still streamed freely down his face. "Please. I need to d . . . deal with this."

"You can't stay angry," Leia insisted, clutching tighter to his arm. "Anger leads to the Dark Side and the Dark Side is what caused the trouble the G.A. is having now."

"It wasn't just the Dark Side," Luke growled, losing control of his anger. "It was your son, the Sith, who killed my son, and you made him that way."

This was the first time Luke had ever even mentioned blaming the Solo's for how their boy had turned out, that they had had some influence on how Jacen had become a Dark Lord of the Sith.

It hurt Han intensely, cutting deep into his heart, and he saw his own pain reflected in his wife's eyes. His heart ached almost as intensely as it had following his younger son Anakin's death.

"You don't mean that," Leia said quickly, tears again filling her eyes.

"Yeah, he does," Han corrected gently and quietly. "Just let him deal with his pain his way." He pulled her away from her brother, away from his angry yet sad stare and blaming words.

"He didn't mean it, Han," she repeated. "It was the pain speaking . . ." But he could tell his wife didn't believe what she was saying, and again she began to sob. "Just the pain . . ."

Han gathered her in a warm embrace and gently led her down the corridor to their own quarters, his brother-in-law's angry words echoing on in his mind.