Things were almost okay again, for a while. The war was escalating, and with Leia pregnant, that really worried me. I also couldn't deny that I'd lost some amount of trust in her. But we were back together, Leia and Ben and I. So everything was, in essence, perfect.
Though maybe not, because I think perfect never existed in our family, and it certainly hadn't since I'd found than Ben and I were brothers and that Han wasn't really a friend at all.
Ben was ecstatic at the prospect of having a little brother. He talked to Leia's stomach and made up nonsensical names and said, "That's what we're going to name our baby." He was painfully cute. I didn't know how something so angelic could come from something so evil. But I suppose that's the story of my life.
Things weren't the same between Leia and I anymore, though I would have given anything for them to be, especially with a baby on the way. My love for her never diminished, but neither of us really knew the other anymore. We were both scared.
We got Han back from Boba Fett with Lando's help within three months of his being taken. Leia avoided him, and he understood, I think. I wasn't speaking to him, either, but out of hurt. He apologized, and I said I forgave him. But I still don't think I really have.
I went back to Dagoba only to watch Yoda die. That was bad enough, but as he slipped away, he whispered, "Luke, there is another Skywalker...."
I was puzzled, but then I reasoned with myself, probably out of the inexplicable fear that was rising inside of me, that he must mean Ben. Ben really was a Skywalker–I hadn't told Yoda that Vader had sired him, and Yoda might not know who his visions or whatever were referring to. Of course he meant Ben. He had to.
I went outside and sat on a log, mourning Yoda and trying to push away the foreboding feeling that refused to go away. I sensed something ominous, something my psyche told me I'd been sensing for years. It wasn't Ben that Yoda meant. Someone else. Someone I knew. It started to rain.
"What am I going to do now?" I wondered out loud.
As an answer to my prayers, and also akin to an angel of death, Obi-Wan appeared to me. We talked for some time, and at last, trembling, I mentioned Yoda's last words.
"I should have told you when you met her, Luke," he said carefully, with a slight sigh. "But you would have had more questions then, and I would have told you about your parents, which you weren't ready for. Besides, you were happy, and doing more good for her and Ben than harm...."
Oh, Gods....
I don't remember what happened next. I was in shock. I know I asked the horrible question, "Leia?"
"Your twin sister."
He tried to explain why we had to be separated, why I had to be hidden on Tatooine while Leia stayed with her–our–mother, but I hardly listened. After a few moments of this, I stood and lashed out at Obi-Wan. "So what if I wasn't ready?!" I yelled. "Gods, Ben! You should have told me! She's pregnant. You know that?! Now what the fuck am I going to do?" It was the first time I'd cursed, the first time I let may hate make me powerful, though I didn't do any physical harm.
"I'm sorry, Luke," he said.
I glared at him, to angry to cry. "I don't ever what to see you again, Ben. And I'm NOT a Jedi anymore."
----
I never did see him again.
I feel a little guilty for not continuing the tradition of the Jedi, but whenever I touch the Force, I'm reminded of my teacher, and all that he could have prevented. The Jedi turned me into what I am. They turned my father into what he was, as well, and if it wasn't for what he did to Leia, I probably never would have married her.
I've disconnected my comm temporarily. I don't want to talk to Han or Leia, not at least until I get my bearings, figure out what to say to them. I don't want to yell at her like last time, but it's so satisfying–which is why I have to be on my guard. I remind myself that it's not her fault that everything happened the way it did. She's the last one I should blame. But she's the one who brings out parts of me that shouldn't exist. Anger, hate, fear–and love. I was supposed to be a beacon of light, the last resort of an extinct religion, but we all messed up.
After three days, I think about reconnecting my comm. I need to talk to her. It's about time I did.