AN: I'd like to thank again those of you who have expressed your condolences.

All previous disclaimers apply.

Faith

There had to be faith.

Faith in the Force, that it would not fail him, that his powers would not diminish when he would need them so badly.

Faith that the Jedi Master was not yet dead, that the surging ebb he had felt all those months ago was not Yoda's death as he had feared.

Faith that the mind he had touched, the mind that had powerfully repelled him was indeed his ancient teacher's.

Faith in himself, that what he had once believed could still be true and that, like black marble, he still had some trace of white.

Hope

There had to be hope.

Hope that there was still some glimmer of Luke Skywalker in the approaching Sith. Hope that the feelings she had sensed before Yoda had intervened held true. Hope that compassion and love had not been wiped out by the Fuar Bas persona.

"Forever will darkness dominate his destiny."

Hope that she could stand strong should the man who now crashed through the jungle of Dagobah bear no resemblance to her brother.

"He did not choose Darkness, Master. It chose him."

Hope that she was right and Yoda wrong and that Luke could still be saved.

Absolution

Leia swallowed as the man stepped from the jungle. In her mind she had been expecting Luke – blue eyed, unruly hair grown collar length, an easy smile and a willing laugh. She had expected to feel his passion, his boisterous exuberance and his fervour for his cause.

What she saw was different creature; a thin, blackened figure. Scars criss-crossed his face, pulling at his lips, drawing them into a sneering smirk as he studied her. His eyes, his sky blue eyes, were now sickly yellow and red rimmed irises.

He did not give the appearance of a man seeking absolution.