I'm more offended than afraid to die. I may be doing better, but I still have days when I think of reopening my wrists. Not seriously, but the compulsion is still there. And, true to my psychological profile, I'm aware of bizarre fantasies in which I get sick or die in an accident, absolving me of the responsibility of taking my own life, but having the same outcome. It's comforting.

So when I think of the charges, it's not the possible outcome that upsets me, but the accusations. I'm absolutely and utterly insulted. Beyond insulted. I'm pissed off and hurt so deeply I feel like punching the walls of my cell. But I don't. I sit on the bed and wish I had spice, and I clench my teeth, and I wait.

And I wonder if I'm so upset because I'm worried that they're, in some weird way they can't possibly be aware of, right.

Did I somehow give something away to Vader or the Emperor? Subconsciously? Was it my fault that Endor was a trap?

But we won, I argue to myself. Who cares if it was a set-up, and even if that was my fault? We won.

We could easily have lost. I'm still not sure exactly how we didn't. We probably should have, and if we had, I wouldn't have waited three months after the battle to slit my wrists. I would have killed myself on the Death Star, if I had been alive to see the defeat.

Deep down, I know the reason I feel so angry. I know the reason I think they're right. Because the real reason I went to see Vader, though it certainly wasn't to aid him, is a thousand times worse than the suspected reason. I'm Vader's son. I'm a part of him, body and soul. How would they react if they knew?

The worst part is, the only way to absolve myself of the allegations is by telling them the truth, and, if they believe me, which they might not, it will undoubtedly make the entire situation even more adverse, and it will bring my family into it.

Leia, president of the New Republic, would be the ex-wife of the son of Darth Vader. Even worse, my sons would be known to the whole Galaxy as the grandchildren of Darth Vader. I shut my eyes and try to convince myself not to feel nauseous.

The implications are horrifying. Not only would Leia's career likely be destroyed, not only would the boys be heartbroken themselves and stigmatized for the rest of their lives by those around them, but their very lives might be put in danger. And this is all my fault.

But what else am I supposed to do?

Leia and a lawyer come to see me. I'm feeling distant and resigned. I'm having trouble focusing on the conversation, and I finally ask, as Leia and the lawyer speak to each other, interrupting them, "You have to keep quiet about things that you don't think will help the case, right? I mean, you're defending me."

The Mon Calamari lawyer, who's name I didn't bother listening to, nods, blinking.

Leia wets her lips and looks worried. I ignore her.

"I did go to see Vader," I admit, sitting back, still not really looking at them. "I had to. It was the only way to win the war."

"Why's that?" asks the lawyer.

"He and the Emperor thought that…I don't know, that they could convince me to help them. They didn't, but I was endangering the fleet by being with it as long as they were looking for me. Besides, I had to just confront them and have it over with."

"I don't understand."

"I was trained as a Jedi during the war-"

"The Jedi are all dead."

"Yeah, now. But Vader and the Emperor were both…you know. Like Jedi. They could feel my presence."

She's clearly not following me, and I'm not sure how to explain it. So I blurt out, "Vader's my father." She's the third person I've ever told.

"Luke-!" gasps Leia.

I glance at her, then away.

"What?" asks the lawyer.

"I didn't know until he told me himself."

"How do you know he wasn't lying to manipulate you?"

"I know."

"So…let me get this straight…." attempts the bewildered lawyer.

"Luke," interrupts Leia, sitting beside me, "We can't use that."

"I know. The boys."

"More than that! There are already people in the government who are afraid of you, who think there's something weird about you. We can't give them more reason."

The lawyer folds her arms against her chest. "You see a psychiatrist, right?"

"Yeah…." I say.

"What's your diagnosis?"

I snort. "I don't even know anymore."

"Are you…delusional…?"

"What? No!" I rise. "No, nothing like that. I have a mood disorder, not psychosis."

She looks to Leia for confirmation. The latter hesitates. I hate it when she does that, chooses her words so carefully when talking about me. I'm not a ticking bomb. "He…is clinically depressed, and one doctor said he has an anxiety disorder and the other said he has…Borderline Personality Disorder. It and his spice addiction fueled one another, I think. He does…take things a little to extremes. But I don't think he made this up about Vader, no. It's true."

"I don't just…create events and facts that aren't real," I insist.

"Is he on medication?" she's asking Leia, not me. Probably doesn't trust my answers.

She shakes her head. I don't argue with her. I'm not sure why. "He refuses."

"I really think an insanity plead is your best bet," she offers.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because…that's not what happened."

"Commander, if you get up there and say you went to see Darth Vader because he's your father, they're going to think you're crazy, anyway."

"I think if they just understood the situation, it would clear my name. Besides, if we plead insanity, I'm going back to the clinic where I was after I overdosed, aren't I? Maybe forever."

"Well, It's better than execution, and you always have a chance of being 'cured,' and then released. And your kids can come see you."

"I don't like them being there," I grumble. I sigh and lean against the wall. I wish I had those pills in here. I wonder if the ones from this morning have worn off or if I'm just having a terrible, horrible day. I think about telling Leia so that she'll bring them to me, but I decide against it.

"I think she's right…." Leia says delicately, blinking her big dark eyes up at me.

I sigh. "I dunno, Leia."

"It wouldn't really be a lie, not really."

"I didn't do anything wrong!"

"I know! I know that, Luke." She pauses, then rises and says pleasantly and diplomatically to the lawyer. "Could we have a moment alone, if you don't mind?"

"Of course." She leaves the cell.

When the door is closed, Leia closes her eyes tightly. "Luke, you know I try, against my nature sometimes, to be gentile with you, because I know you're fragile. And because I care about you. But you can be so…so stubborn!" She puts her hands on her hips. "You need to work with me. This is a big deal, and it doesn't only effect you!"

I clench my teeth and shake my head. "Leia, do whatever you want. I don't care. But I'm not going to lie about this. I don't have the energy."

"You're actually going to get up in front of the High Court and tell them you went to see Vader because he was your father?"

"I guess."

"And what if they…what if they find out about…me?"

I laugh ironically and shake my head. "Leia…how would they do that?"

"They're going to dig to try to back up your claim-if they don't dismiss it as disturbed rantings from a drug-addled brain to begin with-and we don't know what they'll find. Have you done the research? There could be…birth certificates, medical records, all kinds of things we don't know about."

Maybe. "Did the Organas name you Leia?"

She shakes her head helplessly and shrugs.

"I'm sure they did. Why would Bail have kept your birth name, if you had one? Besides, Vader didn't know about you. I'm sure of that. If he didn't know, maybe no one else did, either. Maybe only…she did. And Obi-Wan. That there were two, I mean."

Leia sighs heavily.

"Princess," I say tenderly, stepping towards her. "I promise, they won't find out about you. That's the last thing I'd want."

She almost looks like she's going to agree, but then, looking genuinely hurt, she says, "You know, sometimes I think you're glad. That in your own screwed up way, you're proud of being his son. Like it gives you some sort of nobility. Or maybe not proud, maybe just happy that it gives you something to torture yourself over. Vader's dead, Luke. You killed him. When are you going to let him rest?"

She turns to go, and I call after her, "When he stops haunting me! I didn't ask for this!" She doesn't respond.

I make the decision as soon as she's gone, but like other drastic, insane things I've done in my life, I'm not really sure I'm going to do it until I find myself in the middle of it, no longer able to turn back.

Waiting for the guard to change, I meditate like Yoda taught me so many years ago, sensing the presence of everyone else in the cellblock. I wait for a moment when enough people are distracted, then I convince the door to unlock as if with its proper electronic key. I close it silently, and I slink down the corridor, confusing the minds of the few guards and would-be witnesses who remain, making sure they don't see me. It is almost too easy. Once out of the cell block, I take a strange path out of the building, lurking in alleys and obscure walkways, but I get straight home as soon as I can.

I have time. I just need to grab some things before I blast out of here.