A/N whew! finally!!! sorry about the wait people but i've just got over the worst case of writers block! plus all the college work, too! anyway, i'm gonna try and write more chapters before i flop again! the next ones already of to be betaed!

hope you enjoy

Chapter 6 - Proof of downfall.

He couldn't sleep. The atmosphere on the ship was thick. Where people should have been celebrating a victory, they were grieving. The slaves should have been happy now that they were free. Instead they crept about the ship fearful of another attack or someone else blaming them for the loss of the Princess. The crew were angry, mainly at Luke for reacting the way he did. For not being the perfect Jedi. It made Wedge sick.

He hadn't been able to stand the way those on the ship were acting at the merest whisper of his friend, so he'd stayed by the man's side along with Solo. He'd been shocked at the other Corellian's devotion to Luke. He had known they were close, had grown even closer after they had become brother-in-laws, but hadn't registered just how much they cared for each other. And Han had been the only one to get through to Luke when he'd gone for the slave.

He knew what was happening to Luke. He'd talked to him many times about the Force, the Jedi telling him about its effects on the surroundings, its different sides, Light and Dark. His friend had told him about the Dark Side, alright, and right now he saw it all in Luke.

Sighing, Wedge kicked off the covers and sat up. He might as well go and check on Luke. Hopefully Han would have had the sense to go to sleep, but it wasn't likely. The old smuggler was using his Farmboy as a life line to sanity. Wedge held nothing against that, but if the man didn't rest it put Luke at risk and that was something he wouldn't take.

Getting dressed, he left the room, heading for the quarters he seemed to spend so much time in lately

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The room was quiet, the lighting down to its lowest. Wedge smiled as he noticed Han curled up on the bed. Treading carefully he quietly made his way around the room, wanting to just check on the men before he left again. Solo seemed fine, deeply asleep and Luke...

"Sith!" rushing over to the fresher praying the Jedi was there, Wedge cursed again when he found it empty. He was back at the bed in seconds.

"Solo?...Solo?! Wake up!"

"Huh? What'd'ya want?"

"Where's Luke???"

"Ah Hell!!!"

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It wouldn't stop! It kept dripping onto his hands, onto the floor. He hadn't meant to do it. When the door had opened it had startled him. The cut wasn't that deep anyway... but when he looked up, the fear in the eyes he met told him otherwise.

A whimper escaped him as the cloth on the wound turned red. Desperately he looked at the slave again, begging him not to die. He knew, even as he denied it, what he'd done. He'd taken the revenge he'd wanted.

No! It had been an accident! It was the slave's fault! Damn it, I didn't mean it.

A strange, wet, rattling sound caused Luke to open his eyes again, staring at the slave. The man was jerking slightly, choking as blood trickled down his chin. The hand that held the bandage to his stomach went weak, dropping the cloth.

With a gasp, Luke shot over to him, desperately trying to keep him holding the cloth over the wound. He jumped back in shock as the slave coughed up more blood, spraying it over his hand. Gagging, he scuttled away as the slave continued to watch him. Fear closed his throat and he scrambled out the lounge door, slamming it behind him. Sobbing, clutching his stomach, he followed his instincts and ran to somewhere, to anywhere he could try and hide from himself.

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The strangled cry that came from along the hall did nothing to comfort Han's nerves. Neither did the fact that Wedge instantly threw up as soon as he left the room he'd been checking.

He tried to go in but the pilot stopped him, straightening up. Relief flooded into him, mixing violently with a new fear at the muttered words.

"It's not Luke."

Cautiously he stepped through the door, blocking out the murmurs of others who had arrived, hearing Wedge's cry. He couldn't see anything. He turned back to Antilles but the man was blocking the door, stopping the others coming in. Moving around the corner, he almost fell as his foot slid across the floor. Looking down he felt bile rise to his throat as he followed the pool of red back to the corpse of the slave. The one Luke had attacked before. Had killed now?

He began to shake as he lowered himself onto one of the many chairs. He couldn't take his eyes off the body, even as he held his face in his hands. It was proof that not only had he lost Leia, her brother had followed her, into a totally different darkness.

"Oh, Luke. What have you done?"