A/N: I have a few warnings for anyone about to read this fanfiction. First of all, there ARE spoilers for The Last Jedi in here, so if you don't want the movie ruined for you, I wouldn't recommend reading. Second of all, this is a serious fanfic (If you would've thought it possible) that addresses serious issues. This is a personal headcanon based on things I picked up from the movie. This Author Note acts as a sort of Trigger Warning, I suppose. Don't read if any of the following make you uncomfortable or upset: Trauma; Depression; Self-loathing; Self-harm (Sort of); Suicidal Thoughts; Suicidal Tendencies; Attempt of Suicide.

I don't want anyone to be upset by reading this story! Please proceed with caution. Many thanks for reading from RainingStarWars!

The wall looked incredibly fascinating today.

Luke didn't quite understand why. It was just an old pile of rocks; dirty, filthy bricks stacked up to build a small hut. There was nothing particularly special about the wall, or the hut, or even the island with its ancient Jedi Temple and mysterious old books. It was just an island with a few odd abilities. Nothing exciting, nothing helpful. Just dull and old. Much like Luke, to be quite honest.

Skywalker's faded blue eyes scrolled slowly across the jagged cracks and pebbles crumbling from his "home." His strength was nonexistent as he laid on a makeshift bunk, having woken up well over a half hour ago yet still being unable to force himself out of bed. It took all of Luke's energy to blink, and even more of his energy to breathe. There were rocks crushing him with their weight. The boulders situated themselves on his chest, creating a hollow sensation that then spread throughout his arms, legs, and the rest of his being.

Sometimes, it was just this all day long. Luke would lay there, unmoving, eyes dead and lifeless. He wouldn't eat anything until hunger knawed away at his stomach, leaving him with pangs that eventually forced him to have to get up and eat something. Sometimes he just let the hunger eat away at him, especially if he still felt too miserable to get up. Every now and then, he would fall asleep in that state, imagining his stomach acid eating through his organs, burning him up from the inside. Every now and then, Luke hoped that would happen.

Matter of fact, to hell with "every now and then." He wanted it every. Single. Time.

Some days, Luke was restless and had to pace around, walk across the island, do something. He would circle around Anch-To Island until his legs nearly buckled beneath him, and sometimes, he would keep going after that. Anything to keep his mind from wandering on those days. The worn-away soles of the feet would crack and bleed inside Luke's shoes, leaving small pools of blood and stains on his socks when he would go to remove his boots at the end of the day. Despite the pain that caused, it was bearable compared to the constant, horrible ache in the last Jedi's heart.

But some of the worst days were the ones where Luke could bring himself to do nothing at all. On those days, he felt like a heavy weight that no one could move. He felt like a corpse more than a living, breathing man. He would stare at the wall, the ceiling, or the floor for hours and hours, his heart beating slow and with no motivation, and his entire mind, heart, and soul were simply numb. Luke felt nothing, he cared to do nothing.

Luke Skywalker was nothing.

No. Actually, he took that back. There were a few things that he most certainly was. A failure, a mistake, a disaster. All he ever did was cause trouble, and all he ever did was fail. He failed his friends, he failed his family, and he even failed the entire galaxy. Luke always seemed to make things worse no matter how good his intentions were.

Leia insisted that the reason Ben fell to the Dark Side was Snoke. Please. If only it were so. No, Luke knew this was all of his fault. He knew that he had been the one who created Kylo Ren, not Snoke. Sure, Snoke needed to be taken out of this galaxy, but so did Luke. He deserved to hurt. He deserved to die. Luke deserved all of the suffering, the pain, and the agony he was feeling. Ben didn't deserve any of this.

It was just one fleeting moment of temptation that made the whole world crumble around him. One moment of ignoring the thought of mercy. He could remember everything that had happened so clearly. A sleeping young man. A concerned, anxious uncle. A dark room. Unfathomable strength in the Force. A desire to just talk; to help. But then...

Darkness.

Mind consuming darkness. Not just in Ben, but in Luke, too. His mind fogged, his thoughts distorted. Kill him! Something screamed within Luke. The darkness is too strong. It's too late. He'll kill the others. You have to protect them. His lightsaber activated, green illuminating the room out of reflex. Luke's heart raced. He was ready to kill—To protect, in his mind.

But then, he saw Ben's face. His eyes still closed, his mouth slightly agape as he slept soundly. Luke sighed shakily, his thoughts clearing, and he was filled with disgust. Disgust and complete, utter horror. How could he? How could he even consider hurting Ben, his dear nephew? Luke stared at his trembling hands and shimmering lightsaber, reminded of a scene from years before. A moment when he stood over Darth Vader, his father, with a very similar fury and desire to protect those whom he cared about.

But Luke cared about Anakin, and he couldn't kill him. Just like he loved Ben.

But it was too late.

Frightened, young eyes stared up at the Jedi. They were afraid, confused, and heartbroken. And Luke was ashamed. Ashamed and disgusted and revolted by himself. Ben automatically threw up his lightsaber in defense, and before Luke could explain himself, it was too late. The walls caved in, he flew back, and it all went black.

"Ben, no!"

When he came to, a handful of his students were gone. But left behind... Were the corpses of several young men and women he had come to love like children. Luke had never really married, but he did have kids. His children were the students he had taken in and trained. He had watched them grow, taught him all that he knew, and he had loved them like his own. He helped them when they felt weak, he stood up for them when they were pushed down, and he comforted them when they were hurting.

And because of Luke, they were all gone. And so was Han and Leia's son.

All because of him.

Suddenly, the numb sensation in Luke's chest shifted into a deep, terrible ache. Tears welled up in his eyes as the memories flooded his mind, and he began to dig his long, untrimmed nails into his arm out of habit. He clawed at his skin like he was covered in grime and filthy and he was trying desperately to cleanse himself. But even when blood caked on his cuticles and trickled down his arm, Luke still felt disgusting. He still felt like a failure.

Useless. An old, familiar voice whispered in Luke's mind. Completely and utterly useless.

You couldn't train one group of students. You couldn't even properly take care of your own nephew. How pathetic.

Even after cutting himself off from the Force for all those years, there was yet another darkness that lurked nearby. It wasn't the same kind that had consumed Anakin Skywalker, but it was so similar as it consumed one's very soul, wrapping around a person and strangling them until all ability to breathe was taken away. It controlled your thoughts, it haunted you at night, and sometimes, it even controlled your actions.

Luke recalled a late afternoon sun, a cliff with waves crashing into jagged rocks at its feet, and steps taken that were not his own. Most of all, he remembered a small but powerful voice whispering into his ear. Just step and— Skywalker quickly sat up, cutting off the voice as his body lost a great deal of strength just by that one action. He couldn't just sit there anymore, though. He couldn't be alone with his thoughts in that hut. He knew that if he did, they would consume his heart and soul until he could no longer outrun the inevitable.

Slowly and weakly, Luke climbed out of bed to change into his robes. It took a few minutes at his sluggish pace, but it wasn't long before he was walking out the door. The old caretakers were tending to the temple grounds already, walking around with their wagons and other items. Very few of them ever spoke to Luke. They simply acted as if he wasn't there, their only greetings being a rare nod or hello. The lack of conversation only attributed to his crippling loneliness and heartache.

Even though he didn't want to be found, Luke had to admit that he missed human conversation. Not many days passed where he didn't long to sit and talk with Leia, cut up and joke with Han, or even to pat the top of R2-D2's dome. At this point, he even missed C-3PO'S annoying worrying. Luke just wanted to hear somebody talk to him, because as long as he didn't, he was forced to listen to the voices in his head.

Ben's gone. One spoke up. All because of you.

Honestly, did you really think you'd ever bring any good into this galaxy? Look at what you've done. Did you see the complete terror in his eyes? Did you see the fear? And you caused that fear. You made him the way he is now. Even if you really tried, you couldn't save him. He would never come back to the man who tried to kill him.

Luke walked on, up the mountain and higher and higher into the sky. The air grew slightly cooler towards the top, but the late morning sun kept him equally warm as he walked. He passed the old tree where the Jedi books rested, he passed the dark, twisted hole in the rocks where the Dark Side was dominant... But he never stopped walking. He had to keep moving, or else he would begin to think again. The physical pain in his sore feet was much more bearable than any form of emotional agony.

You know, Han and Leia probably don't even miss you. They're probably glad you ran away like a coward. That is what you are, remember? Just a coward. Running from your past mistakes, repetitively making pathetic mistakes. Have you ever met someone who made so many mistakes? No. You are an absolute failure. You should have known you could be a great Jedi. You should have known you couldn't create a new order to defend the galaxy.

What's the point of living on this island? Hell, you aren't even living. You're just existing, continuing to breathe. There's no life in you. You're no better than the stones that crumble and fall into the ocean.

You've already crumbled, maybe you should fall into the ocean.

And there it was. That age-old suggestion. The one that, no matter how hard Luke tried to ignore it, always came back in the end. It wasn't a push, it wasn't a command. It was merely a thought; an idea. An idea that Luke couldn't help but consider with a fair amount of longing. Once the idea was offered, he would arrive at a two-way street. He could either push away the thoughts, which was rather hard to do, or he could follow the pattern of thinking into the pitch black. That one was quite easy to do.

He was too weak to follow the difficult trail.

Luke's mind wandered into oblivion. It's funny how easy it is to die. Life is fragile, delicate. One wrong move, and it can be ripped from your very fingers. For some reason, this all fascinated him. There were so many opportunities. So many outlets.

That steep cliff to the left? Luke could easily stride over and throw himself to his own end. What about the ocean itself? All he had to do was walk down into the water and open up his mouth. The water would fill his lungs until every ounce of oxygen left his body. And then, there was his lightsaber. If he activated it towards his heart, it would all be over in just a moment. The lightsaber actually offered several ways out. More than Luke could imagine.

But the simplest route was the cliff. They were all around—All varying in height. All he'd have to do is take one step too many and it would all be over...

You've been here before.

Luke didn't even realize his own location. When he looked down, his toes were just along the edge of the cliff, firmly planted in the grass. He breathed shakily, but he made no effort to step back. Waves roared as they slammed into the rocks below, a porg squealed in the distance, and the air tasted salty like the sea. Luke looked up. Despite the time of day being different, everything was the same as that day.

The graying-blond couldn't quite remember how long ago it was. Maybe a few weeks, maybe over a month, but he could still remember the scene as clear as day. The suns were setting, the sky was red, the grass was green... But nature was silent other than the occasional animal sound and the howling wind. Luke had been practically zoned out when it had happened. The voices were loud; they overpowered his own thinking. The darkness directed his steps and whispered in his ear, telling him it would all be okay if he just listened to them.

He had almost done it. One more step, and Luke Skywalker would have lived no more. If it hadn't been for one of the caretakers that had passed by and shouted at him about being careful, he probably would have jumped. It would have been so easy if she hadn't interrupted. Maybe he could've still jumped despite her yelling at him. Either way, he hadn't done it then.

Maybe he should do it now.

Wouldn't it be nice? A voice questioned into his ear. No more pain... No more guilt... No more loneliness. You don't deserve to be free of your pain, sure, but you take what you can get. At the same time, you don't even deserve to live. Why not just do it? You'd be freeing the galaxy of an absolute burden, after all. You'd be doing Han, Leia, and Ben all a wonderful favor.

You couldn't ruin anything else.

You could stop breathing. It's so hard to do anymore, isn't it? So much effort into such a minimal task. And such an easy escape... Why not?

Luke trembled as he stared over the ocean below. Why not... He couldn't think of a why not. Because Han and Leia might miss him? Please. They would probably rejoice if he did jump. Because he was "The Last Jedi"? The Jedi hadn't done any good for the galaxy in years! Suddenly, Luke felt anger well up inside him. Anger at himself. He was pathetic. Truly pathetic.

Look at everything he had done. He had failed so miserably at every good intention he had. He had failed his family and friends. He had failed the galaxy. He had failed.

I deserve to die, he thought bitterly, hands trembling. And Luke really believed that he did. Why wouldn't he? After everything that had happened because of him... Luke Skywalker truly believed that the galaxy and everyone he loved would be better off dead.

Just one more step... The voices said soothingly. One more step, and it'll all be over.

Luke lifted his foot, leaving it suspended in midair. It hovered over the ledge. All he had to do was move his other foot. His opposite leg twitched. The last Jedi shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Ben..." he whispered, even though he was sure no one could hear. "I'm sorry, Han... I'm sorry, Leia." Tears welled in Luke's eyes. One more...

Instead of taking another step, however, Luke stumbled back and fell to his knees. He couldn't do it... No matter how much he wanted to practically throw himself from the top of this cliff, he couldn't bring himself to take the final step. He really was a coward... He was such a coward that he couldn't even kill the one who deserved it the most. Tears slipped down Skywalker's old, wrinkled cheeks and rested in his beard.

Luke Skywalker would suffer another day for his cowardice.