Okay, I'm back. With more fic.

Freetrader: Thank you. Here's more.

Part VIII

I woke up to brilliant green orbs boring into mine, and curls of such a fiery red that it hurt my eyes. Confusion settled in my mind. Who the hell are you? What is this place? What am I doing here? Why do I feel like a Hutt ran over me? What did it matter? And what do I have to complain about? Here I was, with the most beautiful woman alive…and…A jolt of adrenaline coursed through me as I shook myself awake. And then everything came back to me.

Everything. Everything was wrong…everything was so messed up. I highly doubted that I had ever been in a worse predicament. My father was dead – It was true. Ben hadn't lied, though at the time I had vehemently thought otherwise. And I would soon be dead…I fervently hoped. If not, I would be condemned to a fate endlessly worse than death and be utterly unaware of it, thinking that I had found my purpose in life, to hunt and destroy anything and everything. Somehow I knew, deep down in my core, that the Emperor had no intention whatsoever to let me die, let alone end my life himself.

I refocused my gaze on the tigress of a woman before me. I could have easily forgotten all of my troubles and simply drunk in the sight of her, salivated as I stared at her, starry-eyed, but any illusions I might have had were dispersed when she drew out a blaster and pointed it at my temple. Go on. Pull the trigger. She didn't. Pull the damn trigger! No such luck.

"Up. The Emperor demands to see you right away," She said briskly. I rolled my eyes, tempted not to make a move. Maybe then she'd give up and pull the trigger.

"Tell him to shove his Dark Side up his—" If it were possible to shoot laser bolts from one's eyes, she undoubtedly would have done so.

"One more such comment, and I'll make you wish you were dead, " She snapped. Then I have nothing to lose, do I? I was sorely tempted to snort at the irony of it all, but thought better of it and decided to humor her. I picked myself off the floor and took in my surroundings. I was in a bare, dark, dank cell. Could be worse. At least there's no Emperor here. Unfortunately, I was on my way to see that same withered old corpse. The fool was deluded enough to believe that he could convert me.

One week, five days and eight hours later, Luke Skywalker is beginning to have doubts. To say so would be the understatement of understatements, as life has never been so terribly, cruelly hopeless. The black hole in the Force that is Palpatine pulls everything down. It sucks everything away. Even light dies in its infinite darkness. But he holds on, if only by the skin of his teeth. The sheer evil oppresses him. He can almost feel it burning the remnants of his soul as the harsh, glaring, blazing light of the cell sets his skin afire.

Oh, what a fool he's been, to think himself a match for the power of the dark. In the end, it turns out that his long-dead, dark father has been right all along. He knows he must stay strong until death comes upon him, for it cannot be held back forever. He finds comfort in the fact – lie? – that it will come and save him from this wretched hell he lives, in those four little words that he repeats in his now otherwise blank mind. I will die soon.

He knows that he is the one responsible for his predicament. He had been adamant that he would never turn. The shadow's patience had grown thin, and it had resorted to drastic methods. If it has to break its new if unwilling apprentice, it will, for there is no room for mercy in its raven heart. He has sworn that he will take anything over the Dark side, so he endures it as best as he can.

I will die soon. I will die soon. I will die soon. There is something soothing in mindlessly repeating that phrase until it loses meaning, becoming but a random string of words. It is the pulsing rhythm that lets him know that he is still alive. He will die soon. I will die soon. I will die soon. I will die… Oh please let me die soon! With his last vestiges of strength, he screams the silent prayer to the air, but there is nothing and no one. No one but himself and the throbbing, searing blood that oozes from the wounds and pools on the blinding white floor.

The glaring white door hisses open and the shadow enters. He raises his gaze and blankly stares at it through feverish, bloodshot eyes. He knows hate is of the Dark, and that he is falling at this very moment, but he can no longer subdue it. His defiance returns. He will not be destroyed by the thing as his dead father had been. The shadow meets his eyes with frigid amber chips of steel. It knows he cannot hold on for much longer. They both know it.

"Then why do you resist? Why do you persist? Do you not know that there is no escape, Young Skywalker?"

"I know that the Dark Side is evil," He growls as fiercely as he can. The shadow cackles at that, amused at what it believes is blind naïveté.

"Do you believe yourself to be evil?" His addled mind is confused at the irrelevance of this. Shaking his head, he vainly attempts to hide this fact.

"Yet you say the Dark Side is evil. Then you must be mistaken, no?" He offers no answer, staring blankly into nothingness.

"Yes, my young apprentice, you know it to be true. You know you are the darkness. You can be nothing other than just that, for you, Young Jedi, were spawned from it." The words feel like vile, filthy black oil, and he frantically searches for a response.

"I am no apprentice of yours, you slime," He grits out.

"Then you admit to being nothing but darkness." It is not a question. It is a statement. He intensely denies the statement.

"Oh yes, my young dark Jedi. You, like your father, are part of the Dark Side, as it is part of you. And, you, like your father, will remain part of it…forever," It hisses, ending it in a cold, harsh whisper. He denies again, as desperately as a dying man clings to life, as desperately as an irredeemable being clings to absolution. He wildly searches for a way out, finding none. He cannot be saved…Can he? Can he? A glimmer of hope appears within him. Maybe, just maybe…

/Father…/

He calls him, oh so desperately, only to be greeted by emptiness. Help me, Father. Save me.

"He won't hear you."

/Father/

Nothing. His father is dead. He knows it; he knew it even before reaching out. All he has done is given himself false hope, hope bearing the sole purpose of being crushed underfoot.

"Scream, Young One, scream all you want, but he will not hear you. Had he wanted to, he would have answered. The sad truth, Young Skywalker, is that he does not possess the will to do so."

"You are alone…so very alone," It whispers softly in false sympathy.

"But you could change that. I could give you power of a magnitude well beyond anything your dark little mind can conceive," It hisses seductively. And Force, it is tempting, so very tempting. So dreadfully, wretchedly, darkly tempting.

"Leia, this can't go on much longer." Leia scowled at that. Who was he to order her around?

"It can go on for as long as I please, thank you very much."

"Nerf," She muttered under her breath. Han only looked more outraged.

"Leia, just take a look at yourself. Take a look at what this is doing to us – you're letting our relationship be destroyed over some petty grudge of yours!" Leia was fuming.

"Petty grudge? Petty grudge? Don't you remember what he's done to you? Don't you remember what he's done to us?" Han sighed in frustration. She had been so difficult lately. Sometimes it was just so damn hard to bear…

"Sure, Vader's done terrible things, but does that really give you an excuse to hate your friend? Damnit, he was like a brother to you, and you just want to throw everything the two of you have been through to the sarlacc?"

"Well…yes!" Han's temper grew short.

"The kid went to face Vader – he's almost certainly dead now…Luke died, and you can't even try to forgive him for something he's never done in the first place? If that's the case, Leia, you obviously aren't the person I thought you were!" Leia was trembling in anger.

"Why you…ARRGH!" Unable to take it any longer, she stormed out of the room.

History had repeated itself. For the second time in his life, Obi-Wan Kenobi had lost an apprentice to the Dark Side. His presence had been tainted for a while, but he had not expected it to simply wink out, then be replaced by utter darkness only split seconds later. So unlike Anakin's. Obi-Wan had helplessly watched his slow transformation from good to bad. He had seen it coming. Luke's turning, however, was most peculiar. It was greatly unsettling how he had switched from one side to the other within the blink of an eye.

But the way one turned did not change the horrible truth that they'd turned. It was his own, and only his own failure. Once again, he was the one responsible. He had once again failed his apprentice. All because of one precaution too much – had Luke known the truth, perhaps he would not have carelessly rushed to face Vader, and the duel would never have occurred. His twin would have remained blissfully ignorant.

His twin – Leia – was now the only hope for the Jedi. Her father and brother could never be redeemed, which left only Leia. Angry and hateful as she was, she was their only option. Training her would be a great risk, as, apparently, she had been the one to inherit Anakin's anger. It was a gamble if he had ever seen one – all or nothing. Extinction of the Sith Order or that of the Jedi. If it meant salvation, he was willing to take that risk.

Obi-Wan made himself visible, and Leia's liquid brown eyes widened at the apparition. She trembled as she recognized him.

"Y-You're…General Kenobi…?" Kenobi only nodded.

"Leia – you will go to the Dagobah system. There you will learn from Yoda, the Jedi Master who instructed me."

A/N: Do you hate me yet?