"Moon sure is bright tonight," Han said quietly, staring up at the sky. Luke glanced over at his friend, his eyes lined from aging and exhaustion. Stars and faraway galaxies sparkled like diamonds in the black abyss above, and the moon illuminated the pair's faces in the dark. Han looked tired, too. The Jedi gave a small "hmm" in agreement, turning back to the beautiful sight overhead.

The friends were both laying on the top of the Falcon, facing the sky and arms crossed across their chests. Luke's head rested a few feet away, his body flipped vertically from Han's. They both sat in silence, unable to do anything but feel each other's presence and their own heartache. A shooting star bolted by among the other specks, which made a light shine in Han's hazel orbs and in Luke's blue ones. It did nothing to light up their hearts, however.

Nothing could do that anymore.

Both men had felt nothing but pain since the Dark Side had come to power once again. The entire galaxy felt their ache, too. Freedom had only been gained a little over two decades ago, and now it was being stolen once again. Of course, there was hope. A resistance was being formed as they breathed. Leia was in charge of bringing it together. Most people viewed this as an act of bravery. An act of intolerance for this darkness to return. Luke and Han knew the real reason she was doing it, though.

Yes, Leia wanted freedom. She was brave, kind, and sought justice and peace for the galaxy. However, the main reason she acted so quickly to uprise was to help her ignore the unbearable grief she felt. Her brother and husband understood. It had been hard for all of them, and not just because of the First Order.

Ever since Ben had turned—No, not turned; this wasn't his choice. Ever since Ben had been corrupted by the Dark Side, none of the Skywalker-Solo family had felt anything other than heartbreak. Han constantly looked emotionless. His face was that of a painting that only bore one expression. Luke had never seen his brother-in-law so depressed. Han had loved his son and family more than anything in the galaxy. It was no wonder he was so upset.

Leia loved her son just as much as her husband did. She worked herself to death nowadays. Why wouldn't she? It kept her from thinking about things. If she had something else to focus all of her attention on, she didn't have to remember who had caused the rise of the Dark Side again. It was a logical form of coping. Luke, on the other hand, did not have much of a coping system.

He constantly felt the pain within himself.

His heart always ached with an agonizing guilt now. He cried far too much for a grown man. When he was little, Luke always thought that adults were unable to cry. Adults were supposed to be strong, mature people. They didn't fear anything! Heh… If only. How naive he had been! How foolish! A child knew nothing of the real world. Yes, adults cried. They were afraid, and they made mistakes.

Luke understood that more than ever, now. He knew better than just about anyone. Why? Because he had failed.

Luke had failed at restoring peace to the galaxy. He was supposed to train a new generation of Jedi. He would take in a bunch of younglings, including his nephew, and train them to protect the galaxy. He did train them. He trained them for several years. Until one day… One terrible, unexpected day, Luke saw his nephew storm into the Jedi temple and brutally murder every single padawan.

And he had done nothing. The Jedi could only watch in horror as these young men and women were slaughtered by his own flesh and blood. Luke had tried to fight Ben—No, it wasn't Ben. It was Kylo Ren. Luke had tried to fight Kylo, but he couldn't do it. He could not kill his nephew. He couldn't even hurt him. So Ren had escaped, a trail of death close behind.

And with Ben's turn, Luke's heart had shattered into tiny fragments of glass; bleeding every second of every single day.

Luke felt moisture welling in his eyes. A silent tear rolled down his cheek as he sighed shakily. Skywalker was certain that he should be out of tears. The number of times he had cried the past few weeks was uncountable, and now he was crying again.

As the aged blond wondered if it were possible to become dehydrated from crying, he suddenly heard the graying brunet beside him whisper, "Hey, kid?" Luke turned his head slightly, looking over at the Corellian. Han was staring up at the sky, still wearing that broken expression. Something was different, though. He had an odd look in his eyes.

"Yes?" Luke replied half-heartedly. His throat was sore from the times he had cried, so he spoke quietly. Han shifted his head where he could look over at Luke.

"Do you think there's still a chance?" he asked, his hazel eyes tired and sad... But curious. Han thought that if anyone in the galaxy could find a glimmer of hope for their son, it was Luke Skywalker. Luke raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised by his friend's question. He stared back up at the sky, watching the stars sparkle. A cloud was moving slowly across the atmosphere, covering some of the lights and nearing the moon. The Jedi sighed, something boiling in his chest.

Should he tell Han that everything would be fine? Should he say that they would save Ben and bring him back to the light? Maybe he should have… After all, Vader had returned to the light. It was possible. However, something was different this time. Luke felt something he hadn't felt before, and he suddenly understood why Obi-Wan was so set on the idea that it was too late for Anakin.

Because it was his fault.

Luke knew that. He hadn't been a good enough teacher, and therefore, Ben had fallen to the Dark Side. Honestly, did he really think he could be a great Jedi like Yoda? No… He had failed, and now everyone was suffering because of him. Luke couldn't think of anything but that one thought. That it was his fault.

The Jedi sat up rather quickly, causing Han to jump slightly in surprise. He looked up at his brother-in-law, confused. Luke shook his head, tears running down his face. "No," he answered, staring ahead with a blank look. Han raised his eyebrows, propping himself up on his elbows.

"What?" he said, looking startled. Luke's hands were clenched into fists and trembling, and a scowl found its way to his brow. For some reason, all of his hurt, guilt, and grief was like water in a pot. A flame had flicked on beneath it, and the water was boiling into anger. Anger at himself, anger at Snoke… Just pure, uncontainable rage.

Luke shook his head. "Don't you understand, Han? There is no hope! It's hopeless." Han sat up now, looking concerned. It was unlike Luke to be so pessimistic.

"Kid, what—" the smuggler began to speak, but Luke cut him off.

"No, Han," he said angrily as he stood to his feet, "I'm sorry, but it's over. Ben's gone. He's gone and it's my fault!" The Jedi practically yelled the last part, causing Han to flinch. Luke's words sent a stab of pain through Han's heart. The kid didn't mean that, right? Ben could be saved… Right?

Han shook his head, sitting up and draping an arm over one knee. He frowned. "Luke, this ain't your fault. We just have to find Ben and maybe we can—"

"Why even bother? It is my fault, and I told you, there's nothing we can do!" Luke yelled, throwing his face in his hands. "Just accept it, Han! He's gone! All because of me! A-And I'm s-s-sorry… I didn't want this to happen." More tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke, shaking his head the entire time. Han stood, too, walking over to the younger man.

"Kid…" He said, going to place a hand on his friend's shoulder. Luke pulled away, though. He looked up at Han, eyes blue pools of sadness and moist from tears. He looked back down, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, opening his eyes again. He was walking backward slowly. "I have to go." Han raised his eyebrows, suddenly worried for Luke. What was he doing?

"What? Where will you go?" Han stepped toward Luke, and when the man didn't answer, he asked again, "Luke." Luke was climbing down the side of the Falcon, still shaking his head sadly.

"Goodbye, Han," he called, voice sounding heartbroken. With that, Luke ran off into the night, disappearing from Han's view. He never suspected that this would be his last meeting with his brother-in-law; his best friend besides Chewie. Had he known, he might have run after Luke. Had Luke known this would be his last time seeing Han, he might not have left.

As Han Solo stared after Luke Skywalker, the cloud previously drifting across the sky covered the moon above. Darkness settled over Han and the Falcon, and for the first time in forever, things really did feel hopeless. The old man sighed, falling back onto the roof. He stared at the hidden sky.

If Luke thought there was no hope, then maybe there really wasn't...


A/N: Okay, I can explain. I swear there is a perfectly logical reason behind me writing another sad fanfiction. U-Uh... Uh, I swear there's a reason. Um, that's an awfully sharp knife. O-Oh, is that a lightsaber? *nervous laughter* Guys listen, I can explain *being murdered by fellow Star Wars fans*