Awakening

I'm alive. There must still be some purpose for me in this force-forsaken galaxy. I was rescued, returned to my friends, but so much has changed. I have never felt so alone. Sitting there in the entirely white room, I flex my hand, hearing gears and motors. It's not my hand. It's just a machine.

I'm onboard a rebel medical frigate, floating somewhere in space. It's been a standard week since Bespin and I'm still not ready to remember all that happened. I've succeeded in pushing the truth far from my mind. I'm Luke Skywalker I tell myself. I will become a Jedi . . . like my father.

There is a gentle hum and wisp of air as the door slides open. Soft footsteps move toward me, but I don't get up. Sitting on the floor, I look up at her, Princess Leia. Other than the medical droids, she's been my only company. I notice that she looks tired, yet she's still holding her usual stern expression. Her brown hair is tied back, and she's wearing a simple gray dress. When she looks at me, her eyes soften, and she smiles slightly.

"Are you all right?" she asks. She has asked me this same question every day for the past week.

"Yeah," I say, giving her a brave smile. I don't feel like talking about me, or what happened on Bespin, so I change the subject. "Has Lando found Han?"

Leia shakes her head, "No."

Another pang of guilt hits me, Han is yet another person that I have failed. Obi-Wan, Yoda, Leia, hell, I don't know anyone that I haven't let down. Finally, I say, "Don't worry, Leia, we'll find him."

She nods, bravely, "I know we will."

"In the meantime?" I ask.

"The rebel fleet is regrouping," she says moving toward the far side of the room. "I'm needed back at High Command." Suddenly she turns back to me, "What will you do?"

I look back at her. I know what she wants me to say, but I can't give her that answer. "I don't know."

Her brow furrows, and she looks back at me with an expression that I understand perfectly. It is the expression of a friend who wants to help but knows there is nothing they can do. She doesn't understand. She can never understand. How could I ever explain that our greatest enemy, the man I have hated for over three years, is my father.

She stands there studying me, as if she's trying to read my mind. I look away, gazing out the large window behind her. I know that I can't stay here any more. There's no reason to fight, I have nothing left to believe in.

"I'll let you get some rest," she says half-heartedly, before exiting the room.

Then I'm once again left alone. I clench my eyes shut, trying to stretch out through the force. Ben. Silence.

Stiffly, I rise. I take in my surroundings, which have not changed much since I first arrived. This place never held any comfort for me. Comfort, Solace, I doubt those things really exist. There is only truth. The only choice is acceptance or denial. There is no consolation, it is not the way of life. Yet, I can't let this bitterness eat away at me. There is a part of me longing to go on, to keep moving. Despite that I have no desire to keep fighting, a part of me will never give up. All that is left is to decide. What do I do now?

I think back to Dagobah and Yoda's teaching, but I can't consider returning, not after I've failed. I have to figure this out on my own. I have to solve this myself. What was that premonition I felt when I fell down the reactor shaft? Is my destiny to fail as my father did, as Yoda fears?

I put my mechanical hand to my head, rubbing my throbbing temple. These headaches just won't go away. I decide to get some rest like Leia suggested. I lie on the cot for a while, but sleep alludes me. It isn't long before I give up trying.

Pacing the floor, the same dark thoughts keep circling back to me. In an exhausting effort, I keep pushing my fears aside, refusing to confront them. Stars, how could things get so complicated?

I need to clear my head. The truth is I've needed to clear my head for the past week. I turn back to my project, my lightsaber. I lost the saber Obi-Wan gave me, so now I must construct my own. I don't really mind, I suppose. I love working with tools and machines. I've always been very good with mechanics, and fixing things always makes everything seem simple.

For a while, it seems to work. I feel calm. There's nothing else in the galaxy, nothing else to think about. Then my thoughts spin again, as I consider the reason that I must construct a new lightsaber. In fit of frustration, I throw the unfinished weapon aside.

I turn away, slumping against the wall. Sitting on the floor, yet again, I gaze out the window. The scenery never changes, just stars. My gaze moves to the cot with the tangled white sheets and rumbled pillow. Sleep is a refuge, but these thoughts will never let me find that rest. I haven't slept all week. I let my head fall back against the wall, praying to the force that this will end.

Suddenly I was back in the reactor shaft, that odd forewarning taking over my thoughts. It's dark and malevolent, reminiscent of the cave on Dagobah. Vague images pass across my mind's eye, sand-covered plains, a thousand voices, fire and then darkness.

My eyes fly open and I'm back in my chamber aboard the medical frigate. I draw deep breaths, willing a sense of calm to wash over me. It doesn't. Instead of finding peace, I feel worse. The vision or dream or whatever it was is still in my mind. It was exactly what I felt in the reactor shaft, yet clearer and somehow more ill boding, more menacing. Restlessness sets in, and I rise from where I was sitting. Running my hands through my hair, I know that I can not stay here, not for another moment.

I gather up what belongings I have, shoving them into a pack, before slinging the strap over my shoulder. I can't get out of the chamber fast enough. Entering the hall, I move down the corridors. Though attendants and droids pass me along the way, no one says anything to me, and I'm grateful for that. I don't have time to explain, I just have to leave . . . which means I should avoid passing Leia's chamber. If I were to see her, I might not be able to escape. She wouldn't let me.

I reach the hanger bay without a problem. I find Artoo and ask the deck officer to ready my ship. He gives me a questioning look, but he does as I've asked. Before I know it, I'm climbing in the cockpit of my X-wing. It is at this moment that I realize what I'm doing. I feel a surge of guilt. I'm sorry Ben, Yoda . . . Leia.

The engine roars to life, and for some reason, I find it comforting. Running my hands over the controls, I doubt my decision but only for a moment.

This is something I have to do.

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A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers. Manda(Sammi), Still Running, ga ga fu, WizardWriter86, iluvfanfics9312 and of course, Stelmaria. Your feedback was great, and I truly appreciate it!