Day 5 and therefore the final day of my Midterm Marathon! Luke wanders into a very familiar cave. . . (Drumroll please!)

Chapter Twenty-Three

~ Luke Skywalker ~
I seized the vine and began the slow climb, aware of every painful twinge of burning in my muscles and every shift of the small Jedi Master on back. However, I was doing better than I had fared last time; last time, at this part of the exercise, I had become so tired I had let go and nearly fallen if it hadn't been for Ben, who had sprang forward to slow my fall with the Force. It was an improvement at least, and a small one – but all the improvements I had been making here felt like small ones, so I took a moment to rejoice in it all the same.

It was only a few hours after dawn, but this had become a daily regime.

Wake up before the sun rose to meditate outside until breakfast. Ben usually joined me, although sometimes he stayed behind to confer with Master Yoda.

Then eat quickly, and try to avoid getting hit by Master Yoda. I learned the reason why the hard way.

Then run through warm-up exercises. Ben would usually practice the katas, as he called them, next to me, and his easy movements made me almost jealous; especially since Master Yoda always oversaw the exercises and was quick to correct a flaw with one solid smack.

Then go on a run through Dagobah, wherever Master Yoda wished me to run. Sometimes Ben came; sometimes he stayed behind to practice with his lightsaber in the katas; and sometimes Master Yoda had him ambush me at random times to teach me to be on my guard and so I'd learn more about dueling.

Today, no ambush yet, at least. I'd had three yesterday, and I'd lost all of them. I still had the bruises.

I reached the end of the vine and glanced around warily as I set off again to jump over some roots – here was a perfect ambush spot.

But nothing came.

As a matter of fact, I couldn't even sense Ben. Master Yoda had taught me how to sense other life-presences in the Force on my second day, and since then, Ben and Master Yoda had been shining beacons whenever I reached out in practice. But now. . .

He's shielding. I withheld a groan. Whenever Ben shielded, he was either meditating, sleeping, or getting ready to ambush me.

I knew which was more likely.

"Run!" Master Yoda encouraged, drawing me out of my somber thoughts as he croaked in my ear words of wisdom. "Yes. A Jedi's strength flows from the Force." That was typical him; he'd done this ever since the start. Ben had said that it was because Jedi Masters prefered an empty and clean mind from exhaustion, as it was the best way to have a lesson sink in. I still didn't get why, or how.

I increased my speed, calling on the Force to fight back my fatigue. Whenever Master Yoda said something like that, it was because he noticed I was getting tired.

"But beware of the dark side. Anger . . . fear . . . aggression. The dark side of the Force are they. Easily they flow, quick to join you in a fight."

I started to slow as my mind thought over the words. Anger, fear, aggression? All part of the dark side? I mean, when I had fought at the Battle of Yavin, I had felt all of them – fear for myself and my friends; anger over those who died during the fights, especially those I had failed to get there in time to save; aggression towards those I did manage to catch shooting at my friends. Did that make me a follower of the dark side?

But Master Yoda wasn't finished.

"If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny," he warned. "Consume you it will, as it did Obi-Wan's apprentice."

His words stopped me cold.

Without thinking, I knew exactly who he was talking about, even though no one had ever told me outright.

"Vader," I breathed.

Then I looked at Master Yoda and asked something I'd been wondering about since . . . well, since I'd realized that there was a dark side of the Force as well as a light side, and champions of both to fight for those sides.

"Is the dark side stronger?"

Master Yoda didn't even blink. "No," he said sharply, " . . . no . . . no. Quicker, easier, more seductive."

I frowned. Quicker? Easier? More seductive? "But how am I to know the good side from the bad?" I asked. After all, on Tatooine, you learned quickly that if one way was quicker and easier than the other, you used that way and ditched the old way. It was sometimes the only to survive, and that way of thinking was ingrained in me.

"You will know," Master Yoda said calmly, "when you are calm, at peace. Passive. A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack."

I waved all that aside. I had heard the same exact stuff from Obi-Wan, and Ben, and Kya.

"But tell me why I can't – "

"No, no, there is no why," Master Yoda interrupted, looking and sounding wearier than I felt, and he had been riding on my shoulders the entire time. "Nothing more will I teach you today. Clear your mind of questions."

With a sigh, I set Master Yoda on the ground and reached for my shirt.

And suddenly found myself rolling in the dirt.

When I stood back up, Ben was standing in my spot, lightsaber ignited and in hand, looking as calm as ever while I tried to stand without falling or groaning and spat dirt and mud out of my mouth.

I wanted to yell, No fair!

I wanted to say, I'm not a landing cushion!

And I definitely wanted to say, You'll pay for that, Master Kenobi!

And then proceed to kick his butt and actually live up to whichever threat I used.

What did I say?

"Oh, not again," I grumbled.

Ben grinned, flicking his lightsaber into the opening salute. "You need to pay more attention, Luke," he chided. "If you'd turned your head about . . . ten degrees up and to the right, you would have seen me coming. Once I jumped, I committed; you would have had ample time to turn and use the Force or a kick to send me off course."

"Well, now I know what to do to you later," I muttered, hauling myself out of the dirt. I raised a hand, and my lightsaber zipped into it. I flourished my own blade in the responding salute they had taught me, already gauging how best to keep up that promise.

"You can try," Ben replied.

"Yep. And win."

With that, I hurtled across the space between us, blade aimed straight for his face, a victory cry on my lips –

And suddenly he wasn't there anymore, and space was empty.

With a yelp, I frantically called on the Force to help me flip over and land on my feet instead of crashing into the tree face first, slicing myself open with my own lightsaber, and having a broken nose to top off my already severely bruised ego.

I heard Master Yoda sigh. "Focus, Luke," he called. "Let the Force flow, you must."

Getting to it, getting to it. . .

I charged again, but this time, I ran instead of jumping. And this time, Ben didn't vanish like before.

He met my charge, blade to blade, and the impact nearly sent the both of us off balance.

I recovered first, and immediately went on the offensive.

He countered easily, as if he was simply taking a stroll along the forest, as he always did. Even since the first duel, I had learned that I could never beat Ben in defense. He was a master of defense. And I was less of a master at offense, so that didn't always go well for me whenever he ambushed me and we dueled.

But even though I wasn't a master, dueling still came well to me. The katas were getting more familiar to me, the movements coming faster and easier, and sometimes even my own instincts surprised me.

Like now.

Ben parried my downward thrust, twirled, and leapt over my head, turning over as he went and jabbing down at my own.

The Force whispered.

And I somehow managed to block his jab and shove it back hard enough that Ben's jump was so disrupted that he had to roll out back to his feet instead of landing on his feet as he'd planned. A few more inches higher, and I would have sliced him open from kidneys to shoulder blades before finally spitting his head on my blade.

I stared.

And Ben stared back.

It was the first time I had disrupted any of his maneuvers, especially ones so flawlessly executed.

Then, quite suddenly, Ben grinned. "Excellent," he praised. "That's a weakness of Ataru as well as its strengths, Luke, all the acrobatics. Remember that."

I blinked. "What?"

"Ataru. Form IV. I learned it as a Padawan, and Darth Vader knows many of its moves. But always remember, Luke, that each form's greatest strength is also sometimes its weakness." He switched his lightsaber to his other hand, gesturing at me. "Like your own form, Djem So, Form V. Its strength is its power, in terms of how quickly and how strongly you wield the blade. But that means great commitment, and therefore, lesser mobility."

I understood the words. Perhaps a few days ago, I would not have, but now I did. I was sure he'd told me before, or old Obi-Wan had, but . . .

But this was one of those things where you needed to do it to understand completely.

Ben turned slightly. "Master Yoda?"

Master Yoda grunted. "Down for today, you are. Fought well, you have, my Padawan," he added, his tone a little softer. "But more practice you need."

"Of course, Master Yoda."

Ben shut off his lightsaber and inclined his head; I copied his movement. It was part of the ritual end of the duel. And even though I knew I would not observe such formalities if – no, when I fought Darth Vader, I knew it was important that I learn them for whenever he was gone and the Order was begun anew.

Ben leaned against a tree as I went to retrieve my shirt.

As I did, the dark side rippled.

I turned slowly, suddenly afraid without understanding why. After all, if there was danger, certainty Ben or Master Yoda would have noticed, would have spoken, would have done something. . .

It was a tree. A huge dead tree, blackened by age and . . . well, something that didn't smell natural. The water kept well away from it, with only a few inches of shallow water as a moat around its base. The roots were giant and twisted, telling me that it had been old, very old – perhaps because it had been old before it died or, even scarier, because of whatever had made it so . . . repulsive, creepy, and just plain dark. However, the roots did form a sort of . . . opening. And the Force was whispering again, only the voice was sweeter, much sweeter, like honey so charged with sugar that you cry more over its sweetness than over an acid's sourness, and it whispered of things high and grand and . . . well, wizard. Things greater than even Master Yoda and Ben and Obi-Wan and Kya could teach or help me do.

"There's something not right here."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. I wasn't sure where they came from, or why they came, or even how they formed. . . But I knew they were right.

"I feel cold, death," I murmured, turning to Master Yoda and Ben.

For a long moment, neither met my eye.

Then, Master Yoda said quietly, "That place . . . is strong with the dark side of the Force. A domain of evil it is." He paused, and finally looked up to meet my gaze with sorrowful, weary green eyes. "In you must go."

"What's in there?" I asked warily.

"Only what you take with you," he replied cryptically.

I reached for my weapon belt and started to buckle it on. I wanted my lightsaber or at least my blaster if something went wrong in the "domain of evil".

But then Master Yoda sighed, and shook his head, and told me, "Your weapons . . . you will not need them."

I strapped the belt on anyways.

"Be careful, Luke," Ben said. "Things . . . are not always as they . . . appear."

I groaned inwardly. More cryptic words. Just what I need, heading into the famed domain of evil with creepy roots and who-knows-what-else in there. Just great. Yep, definitely taking the weapons in here, because think I'll really need them.

And not for defending against ambushes.

~ Ben Kenobi ~
"Worry, a Jedi lets go. Like fear. Like anger. Like hatred."

I sighed. "Yes, Master Yoda," I answered automatically. Then I sat down and forced myself to try to calm down. Luke would be fine. There was little in that cave that could harm Luke that I could prevent or should prevent; he needed this chance. All Jedi embarked on a quest like this, and now it was Luke's turn, and that was fair and proper.

And yet I was worried. Even more worried than when my daughter had faced herself in the mirror.

Luke certainly has ways of attaching himself to us, I thought wryly.

I would never have thought I'd be able to banish the images of three-year-old Luke and Leia, from my home universe, so sweet and naive and young. And yet, somehow, this Luke had driven that image right out, and won affection and a position granted for being him and not for being Anakin's son.
I was sure that Kya felt similarly. Except perhaps she felt also sympathy and empathy for the pain and the hardships he would face that she knew about but could not change without making things worse.

For the first time, I thought I was having a true glimpse into her world. . .

And I wasn't sure I liked it.

"Obey you do, yet worry also you do," Master Yoda rebuked me. "Worry not just for young Skywalker, you do, but your wife."

I stiffened slightly at his words, knowing what was coming before he said it. Master Yoda and I had had been having plenty of debates about this topic – and for good reason.

I refused to give Kya up. I had lost her once, after all, and I had no qualms about holding on this time. I was her mate, a protector and a lover in one. I could not abandon her and leave her adrift without anyone else to turn to, to trust, to love. I loved her. And I was breaking the Code by loving her, not to mention by marrying her and having a child with her – although I didn't think Master Yoda knew about that last bit. Yet.

Master Yoda, unfortunately, still didn't believe it was possible to love and carry out my duty as I had before I had fallen in love. Oh, I could see his point of view. And on some things he was actually correct.

But I could not entirely, fully, and completely agree with him.

And therein lay our argument.

"I worry for Kya about as much as you worry about Luke," I replied, as impassively as I could. "I feel it, but I can push it aside when duty calls. But I cannot, as you wish, destroy it entirely. I am her husband; it is my duty to protect her. And when I cannot, to worry about her."

Master Yoda blinked. "Husband, yes. Babysitter, no."

Now it was my turn to start in surprise. Then I recovered in time to counter, "I do not babysit Kya, Master Yoda. She is my partner, in the field and in marriage terms. My equal partner. Sometimes, she is wiser than even I am, and stronger, and better. I worry for her because I love her. That is all. There is no . . . "babysitting", no jealousy, no possession. She is not mine, and I am not hers. She is just as free as I am to walk away from this whenever she wishes."

His eyes narrowed, and I knew he could sense my lie as easily as I had said it.

But it wasn't like I could tell him the truth. As Kya's mate, I had to protect her, even from my own allies. He would learn of the truth only if she told him.

Because I couldn't walk away from Kya anymore than she could walk away from me. Our hearts, minds, and souls were bound together. We could not escape it, even if we wished to – which we did not. I loved her, and I would never stop loving her, and therefore, I would never stop worrying about her.

But before he could say anything else, Luke stumbled out of the cave, his blue eyes vacant and open, his body trembling, his mind raw.

"Luke!"

I sprang to his side. "Luke, are you all right?" I demanded.

It took him a moment to understand me, which deeply worried me. Then, very slowly, he looked at me, and in the depths of his eyes I read what had happened, and knew the truth.

"Luke – "

"I need some sleep," he interrupted, turning to leave.

I watched him trundle off into the distance and be swallowed up by the fog. Instinctively, I reached out to the Force, monitoring his progress and ensuring he reached the hut and had a long, if not fitful, sleep. He was obviously tired and troubled, but there was little I could do right now to help him. Like all Jedi before him, he would have to learn to deal with the visions on his own.

Master Yoda sighed and rose. "Where your worry shall lead you, that is," he said simply.

There was no need for any other words.