A/N: This is the sequel to my other one-shot "We Walked This Way Before."
Only Forever
45 ABY, Hapes
Luke Skywalker watched tiredly as his son's limp body was lifted out of the bacta tank and positioned awkwardly onto one of the neatly made beds in the pristine white medward. Ben's entire body was covered with faint scars—although the scars were still red and angry compared to his pale skin, Ben looked far healthier than he had several days ago when they had first put him in the tank.
As the droids repositioned him, one of them taking out a scanner, Ben's eyes flickered open. Luke immediately caught a brief instant of pain through the Force, accompanied by a flash of light blue from Ben's eyes. At that brief instant, a hole opened up in Ben's emotional barriers, and Luke caught sight of a swirl of pain and regret, those sad emotions mingling in and out with various memories and encounters.
They were not the types of memories fondly cherished, and yet forgotten in all but their emotional content as time flew by. Instead, they were the memories that were replayed a thousand times in nightmares and dreams, the scenes coming back in vivid clarity day after day. Luke knew perfectly well from personal experience that those types of memories could only lead to two outcomes: acceptance or insanity.
Luke tried to move forward towards his son, but one of the droids put out a restraining hand.
"Master Skywalker, we must ask you to remain here for the time being. The patient must have a full scan and prognosis check before any visitors are permitted," it said in its gravely and mechanical voice.
Luke sighed in irritation, but nevertheless acquiesced, remaining at the open door of the medward. Frowning impatiently at the droid, he half-watched his son, contenting himself with a brush through the Force to assure himself that Ben was alright. While Ben's body seemed to be reasonably healthy, or at least getting there, was an aura of despair surrounding his Force-sense that suggested the physical injuries would hardly be the greatest of Ben's concerns once he woke up. Ben's body might be recovering from its wounds, but it felt as if his body was dragging his mind down the grueling path to good health, rather than the other way around.
"Prognosis?" Luke asked absently. In reality, he was looking for nothing more than an unbiased reassurance that Ben would be alright.
The droid's words suggested disapproval. "If you would only wait until we have finished our scan, we will be able to give you a more detailed report."
Luke merely waved a hand in dismissal. "That won't be necessary," he said. "What you have now would be fine."
"But Master Skywalker, I must inform you—" the droid began.
"Nevertheless," Luke said cutting the droid off. "Just tell me what you already know."
The medical droid hesitated for so long that Luke started to seriously consider using the Force on it.
"Very well, Master Skywalker," it finally said. "Your son came in with massive lacerations contouring his entire body. Most of these were shrapnel wounds. However, he also had several deep cuts across his chest, and lightsaber burns along his legs and back. He also had a bruised kidney and was suffering from internal bleeding as well as…" The droid continued to ramble on, listing out various medical conditions and injuries.
Luke finally had to cut it off again, if for no reason other than the fact that listening to a massive list of his son's injuries was not helping his mental state at the moment.
"Prognosis?" he asked again, hearing both irritability and anxiety in his voice—never a welcome combination.
The droid's head swiveled around to look at him again, and he got the sense it would have been glaring viciously had it been able to do so. "If you would be patient," it said in the same monotone voice, "the scan will be completed in exactly five minutes. Should you ask then, I will be able to give you a full report complete with instructions on treatments and expected recovery time. Since our initial concern when he was brought in was with keeping him alive, I do not currently have such information available."
At that moment, the droid shuffled off to deal with another patient, but Luke barely noticed the movement. The droid's last words had triggered yet another memory to come forth, and Luke was using all of his energy to keep his unconscious mind from taking over. This memory was not a relapse into the murky depths of his mind, a forced wandering back into events that had happened decades—lifetimes—ago. Instead, it was a more recent memory, although still as painful, that had floated back to the top of his mind.
Luke watched in horrified and painful fascination as several pilots carried in Ben's broken, burnt, and bruised body, lifting it between them. For a long moment, he thought that Ben was dead, as he could detect no trace of his son's Force-presence. Thankfully, as he saw the rise and fall of Ben's chest, he realized that it was only Ben shielding himself in the Force.
The thought that Ben had become so accustomed to using those shields, both to avoid capture and to keep his dealings invisible, that they had become a reflex even in sleep or unconsciousness tugged persistently at his mind, but he pushed the idea away, delegating it to that never-opened mental box of things he had told himself he would return to, but that he never had the strength to reopen. The process of healing Ben, both physically and emotionally, would be challenging enough without yet another cloud—especially an unnecessary one—hanging over both their heads.
In any case, Luke figured that it would come up sooner or later as Ben began to talk through what he had done, and what he had learned from Jacen. Even as he preferred that any knowledge about dark methods or the workings of the Sith remained unknown to prevent temptation, Luke realized that it would be important to be aware of the Sith's capabilities, just so they could be prepared to counter it. However, the realization did not make him look forward to the impending conversations in any way; whenever they finally broached the topic of Mara's death, it would not be a removal of the bandage over a festering wound, but the tearing apart of that same wound in order to remove the shrapnel within.
Even the thought of having to analyze Mara's death, the thought of having to pick through all his emotions and choice both leading up to and coming away from that pivotal point, gave Luke a queasy feeling. When he had thought about or meditated over Mara's death after Lumiya's death, there had always been an almost imperceptible tingling of wrongness surrounding it—a sense of a lack of fulfillment, of something still waiting to happen. Although the tingling had lessened severely after Luke had discovered Mara's true murderer, and almost disappeared after Jacen's death, it still remained, but now with an added sense of urgency surrounding it.
The droids had immediately rushed forward, pushing Luke out of the way. Still stunned and dazed, standing there in somewhat of a stupor, he had allowed them too, realizing only as the door to the medward was closing behind him that he should have stayed behind to help Ben. Figuring that trying to cut down the door with his lightsaber would distract the medical droids, thus doing more harm than good, he was reduced to sending waves of Force-energy in Ben's general direction. It was, at best, a futile gesture, done more for the sake of action than for any particular benefit the energy might impart; without being able to locate Ben's Force-presence, it would be nearly impossible to do any type of concentrated healing, and that had never been his area of expertise to begin with.
As the pilots who had brought Ben in filed out of the room behind him, they sent various murmurs of sympathy and apology in his direction. The last one placed a hand on his shoulder, and Luke looked into a tired and careworn face. It looked remarkably familiar but, in his present state, he was unable to match the face to an identity.
"I'm sorry," the nameless soldier said.
Luke merely nodded in reply, and that soldier slipped out of the room after the others. He then turned his attention back to Ben, watching through the transparisteel window with a remarkable sense of detachment as the droids operated on his son's body. After agonizing minutes, Ben's body was lowered into the bacta tank and the droids opened the door to let him in. Ignoring the droids trying to tell him about Ben's condition, he headed through the door—towards Ben.
"Master Skywalker! Where are you going? I am currently in the middle of telling you your son's prognosis." The droid sounded fairly annoyed.
Luke, still half-caught up in the memory, merely waved his hand, turning the droid off with the Force, and allowed his feet to continue carrying him to the bacta tank. He pressed his hands against the glass, searching for Ben's presence—and jerked sharply as a jolt ran through his leg.
"Master Skywalker, are you alright?" Luke turned to see the droid that he had just shut off putting an arc welder back into its compartment. "Your son has been removed from bacta and is currently in one of the beds."
Luke merely nodded. "Yes, yes," he said mildly, and started to walker over to Ben's bed when the droid shocked him for a second time, stopping him. He tried to turn the droid off for a second time, but the power going through it merely seemed to flicker for a moment before the droid was turned back on.
"Master Skywalker! That is very impolite of you! May I remind you that under Hapan Customary Law, Rule 78, Section 5A, it is considered very rude to interfere with a medical droid. Also, under the same rule, section 59C, it is considered a snub on your host should you interfere with any droids they might own." The droid tutted for a moment. "Thankfully," it said, sounding remarkably proud of itself, "I was programmed to care from the Queen when she was younger, and my programming makes it impossible to turn me off without the correct override codes."
Luke simply ignored it, continuing to move towards his son's bed.
"Master Skywalker!" The droid's tone was scandalized. "I must ask you to remain where you are and listen to the course of treatment for your son before you proceed any further!" This time, the arc welder disappeared to be replaced by a blaster.
Luke sighed, but gave in, stopping and turning around to face the droid. "Yes?" he prompted, when the droid did not immediately respond.
The droid's voice had returned to its normal monotone. "Your son suffered—"
Luke cut him off. "The prognosis only, if you please. You already told me that part." He had no desire to sit there for yet another half hour while the droid rambled off a list of incomprehensible medical terms.
"So sorry of me Master Skywalker! Of course, I will immediately tell you your son's prognosis. I am afraid that my circuits are starting to burn out in my old age. After all, it is a conceivable—"
"The prognosis now?" he asked wearily.
"Of course, Master Skywalker. We removed your son from the bacta in order to work on him and to get a full body scan. He is currently under a mild sedative we used to keep him from feeling the pain of movement, and should awaken shortly. We have several minor operations to be completed, and then your son will be returned to the bacta tank for a following three days beginning tomorrow." The droid's voice became very stern. "It is imperative that he rests for several weeks after his removal from bacta so that he is given adequate time to heal. That means no strenuous physical activity."
Luke chuckled. "I understand."
The droid's voice remained stern. "Please make sure that you do, Master Skywalker. Looking at your son's medical history, I am well aware of your family's disposition for ending up in various medwards. Your son must be given time to rest, or he may suffer permanent and crippling damage from his injuries."
"I'll try my best," Luke said, knowing full well that he no longer had any control over Ben's actions. Given the headstrong nature his son had inherited from both sides of the family, Ben would do whatever he felt was necessary, and nobody would be able to stop him. Luke could only hope that Ben had some shred of common sense and self-preservation that kept him from dashing off on some dangerous mission immediately after being released.
"You may see your son now. You have an hour before his operations begin," the droid said, and set off, leaving Luke and Ben alone in the medward.
Luke headed towards his son's bed, his feet making soft clicking noises against the stone floor. Staring at Ben's face, he barely realized it as his feet crossed the room of his own accord and he planted himself in the chair at Ben's bedside. Ben's face was no longer the innocent expression surrounded by a smooth, clean, visage. Rather, Ben's expression was weighted down with pain, his face lined with sorrow, and many little scars adorning his various features. Some of the lines would go away with rest and recovery. However, most, Luke suspected, would not.
Those scars would sit on Ben's face forever, a testament to what he had gone through—and a reminder of the dark path he had nearly taken. Unlike those such as Ganner, who chose to keep disfiguring scars a sign of maturity and a reminder of an important lesson learned, Luke couldn't help but believe that Ben might not be as accepting of those scars. After all, he reflected, he had spent many years avoiding the mirror after his fall to the dark side. Considering the role genetics and fate seemed to be playing in his family, it would hardly be surprising if Ben choose to do the same.
As he watched, Ben's eyes fluttered open, flickering briefly towards Luke before they returned to looking down towards his feet. Luke was immediately assaulted by a strong sense of guilt, pain, and regret through the Force. If it had been any other person in front of him, he would have closed himself off at least partially in order to prevent himself from breaking down. Instead, Luke opened himself up to his son, sending love, calm, and strength through their bond. He was not at all shocked when Ben refused the support, closing himself off entirely in the Force.
"Ben," he said sharply in reminder.
"Fine," Ben said, and stopped cloaking his Force-presence, although his emotions still remained as closed off as they had ever been.
The manner in which Ben had said that single world had been one of a perfectly petulant teenager—defiant and irritated; Luke could have even imagined a pout being added to the word. As it was, Ben's tone reminded Luke of how young his son really was. Still only in his mid-teens, Ben had already been forced to make decisions that would determine the path of the galaxy as a whole. Even though that seemed to be the age that all of the Skywalker and Solos reached their majority, it didn't mean that Luke couldn't hope that his son had avoided that particular curse.
However, he kept those thoughts out of the emotions he was projecting towards Ben.
"That's better," he said, allowing some of the warmth to creep back into his voice. "How are you feeling?"
"Healthier," Ben replied after a long pause, although he was still refusing to meet Luke's gaze.
That stung Luke. He could understand that it was out of shame and regret for Ben's actions—time and reconcilement would take care of that. But, as a father, Luke still wished that he could simply take away all of Ben's suffering and let his son lead a normal, happy life. No matter what everyone said, he still couldn't help blaming himself for putting Ben straight into Jacen's hands, despite Ben's willingness to go there. After all, he was Ben's father. He should have known.
"That's good," Luke said emptily, then realized that his words didn't really make too much sense, even to himself. "It's good to hear, I mean."
Ben snorted, and Luke was struck by how much that sound reminded him of Mara; Ben might have inherited his own eyes, but he had certainly inherited the Jade sense of humor.
"You don't sound very pleased," Ben said, still not looking up.
Luke wasn't quite sure how to respond to that statement. He was truly glad to hear that Ben was recovering physically; however, Ben's response to his question had been the type of safe answer a person might give to deceive without actually lying. That type of though, he knew, was a dangerous path to take, especially for a Jedi.
After a moment, he hedged a response. "Your answer didn't give me much to be pleased about."
Ben snorted once again. "What do you want, dad?" His tone was deeply bitter. "An essay on the philosophy of my own fall this time? With a full addendum about my mental status?"
Luke's eyes widened in shock. "Ben—" he began, but Ben was continuing.
"What do you want me to say?" Ben's voice was starting to rise, getting close to a scream, and Luke could hear the agony in it. "My head feels like it's falling off, I can barely twitch because I'm so sore, and I feel like somebody cut me up with a lightsaber and pieced me back together." His tone was deeply sarcastic, very similar to the caustic manner Mara had adopted when first Luke had met her.
Luke winced at the defensiveness Ben was displaying. His lack of faith—lack of trust—even in those closest to him stung, especially because Luke had been the one to insist on putting Ben under Jacen's tutelage. Now, it was becoming increasingly apparent that Jacen had taught Ben far more than how to tap into the Dark Side. Instead of acting as Ben's mentor, gently prodding and nurturing him into using the Force, Jacen had scarred him permanently with both physical and emotional wounds. That one decision had become one of Luke's greatest regrets.
"What do you want me to say?" Ben repeated again, softly and with a note of pleading in his voice.
He was staring down as his hands, and Luke immediately recognized the gesture. It was the empty look of a person who considered themselves to be nothing but a murderer—a person staring at the blood of many people covering their hands, and wondering just how much more was to join it. Luke had used that look himself in the past and, although he had since gotten over that feeling, he could still sympathize with the sentiment.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Luke was digging through his mind, trying to find some safe topic of conversation that wouldn't seem completely inane in the circumstances. He suspected that Ben was trying to do the same.
"Jaina came to visit me a few days ago," Ben said quietly, breaking the comfortable veil of silence that had fallen over them. Although he was still refusing to meet Luke's gaze, Luke was gratified to see that Ben was looking off into midair now, rather than at his hands.
Luke blinked, not expecting the comment. "She did?"
Ben nodded. "She came by for a few minutes and we talked."
Luke wrinkled his brow in confusion. "When—"
"I was still in bacta," Ben said, answering Luke's question before he was able to complete it. "She did most of the talking. I just sent a couple thoughts in her direction when I had something to say."
"Did it help?"
Although Luke would be grateful to Jaina for any help she could provide, especially towards Ben, he knew that he could not, in good faith, either ask it or expect it of her. He could already list off a large amount of personal demons that Jaina would have to face in order to get her life back together, and that didn't even include any he didn't know about, such as whatever happened at the final battle.
Ben paused for a moment, seeming to contemplate his answer. "Yes and no. It was nice to know that she still cares, and that she won't hate me for what I've done. Over the short term, it'll make it a lot easier to get my life back on track." Ben stopped.
"But?" Luke prompted.
Ben's words came out in a rush. "But that's just one more thing I'll have to repay and deal with later on. Everyone's being so nice to me, giving me time to get back to myself, but they don't realize that it just makes it harder over the long run."
"They do it because they care," Luke said gently, not wanting to push Ben too far.
"I know." Ben sighed. "And I appreciate it. I really do. It's just that, well—" Ben paused.
"—you don't think that you deserve it," Luke finished for him.
"Yeah. I know that they don't expect me to repay it or anything, but I want to, just for the sake of my on conscience."
Luke let out a quiet laugh. "I know the feeling," he said. "I'm not going to judge whether you deserve forgiveness or not—you know your own actions better than I do, and you can make your own call on that. I'm going to give it to you because you're my son, and because I love you."
For the first time that day, Ben intentionally looked up into Luke's eyes, and Luke was immediately astonished by the amount of pain those blue orbs seemed to convey, even as Ben was shielding it from the outside world. "I know, dad," he said. "I know."
Ben's eyes dropped back to his bed sheet, but Luke didn't push him on it. He was grateful for even that little bit of connection the brief moment of eye contact had allowed him, and he wasn't going to ruin that in an attempt to look for more. Most importantly, he trusted Ben, and he figured that Ben would make his own way to the right path. Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't offer up a few suggestions.
"I talked to mom," Ben said, letting a small smirk slip through his iron mask as Luke raised an eyebrow.
"When?" he asked, feeling curious.
"Yesterday night," Ben said. "Pretty late."
Luke noticed that he didn't mention Jacen's funeral but, once again, chose not to push the issue. He knew that Ben's apprenticeship with Jacen was still a sore topic for his son, and that Ben was still trying to deal with everything Jacen had put him through. What Luke really appreciated was the calmness, rather than anger and hatred, that Ben seemed to be portraying toward the situation. Considering the amount of teaching Jacen had managed to impart before his death, it would have been all too easy for Ben to turn to the dark side to help deal with the pain. That he had not showed Luke that he was really fighting.
"That's the same time she talked to me," Luke observed.
Ben snorted. "You should have heard her laughing. She thought it was hilarious to be able to show up in two places at once since she was dead." Luke caught a small, amused smile flit across Ben's face as he said that last statement.
"Anything in particular that she talked about?" Luke inquired mildly, not expecting a forthright answer.
He didn't get one. "This and that," Ben said. "She seemed to think it was her job to pound some sense into me."
"Same here." Luke chuckled softly. "She does it to us all."
Ben nodded in agreement. "She said that stupidity and self-sacrifice runs in the family."
Luke laughed again. "No question of where that came from," he said. "Anything else?"
This time, the brief grin crossing Ben's face was impossible to miss. "She told me who Jaina was leaning on for support yesterday. She said you were curious about it and," he said as Luke opened his mouth to ask, "she told me not to tell you. Said something about your actually needing to use your brain for a change."
"That's your mother, all right." Luke grew thoughtful. "Do you suppose that was why she didn't tell us that Jacen was the one who killed her?"
Ben shrugged. "She said something about the difference between knowing about a change and accepting it. Truth be told, I was too busy being surprised that she was actually talking philosophy to actually listen to what she was saying. After all, philosophical stuff's usually your department." He said that last sentence with a sly smile.
It was a long moment before either of them spoke again.
"I miss her," Ben said quietly, and Luke caught a glimpse of the young man behind the hardened mask. He was not the hardened warrior that so many people saw, but a child making the best of what he could, trying to dig his own path through snow higher than his head, but floundering.
"So do I," Luke said sadly. "But she mentioned once that she wished she could have gotten to know her parents."
Ben nodded. "Agreed. I think she'd like that."
"So do I. After all, we've only had her for forever. We can give her back to her parents for a few years."