Where Am I Going To?

Interlude

Insomnia was perpetually a part of Luke's nights. In that respect, very little had changed in the year that he'd been a part of the Rebellion. Well, to be fair, he had become the Rogue Squadron commander, and that was a huge feat in and of itself. He'd grown a year older. That wasn't quite so momentous, but it was still something.

Now twenty, Luke shifted uncomfortably, stuffing his head under a pillow, the sheets becoming entwined around his struggling limbs. There was little point to trying to sleep. It never worked. He could try every remedy in the book, but nothing ever helped. He whined angrily, a sound just barely audible since the pillow filtered out most of the sound. Taking it off of his face in order to draw in a decent breath, he gave in, and simply lay very still, giving in to the wave of thoughts that always accompanied this particular type of state of wakefulness.

The first silent contemplation was of Han Solo, whom Luke had recently discovered he did not hate. It hadn't simply been that he'd woken up one morning and said to himself "Gee, Han's a really swell guy." He couldn't say that such a thought every occurred to him all at once at entirely random. It had been a slow going process, so gradual and clandestine as to entirely escape the young Jedi's notice. He had to admit that he'd started liking Solo way back on Tatooine, even though he still had hated him. Life had an odd sense of humor like that.

And, of course, Tatooine brought up one thought and one thought only.

Master?

Ever since the destruction of the Death Star, Luke had gotten no direct contact from Obi-Wan. It made him wonder if he'd really heard Kenobi at all. Was it just wishful thinking on his part? Had he imagined it? Had the advice that he'd been given really just come from inside himself?

In a way, it had. If the old man lived merely as a memory inside his young padawan's heart, then, even if it had been the Jedi speaking to Luke at the time, the voice truly did come from inside of him. All the same, he liked to think that his master remained just in reach, within his grasp, and far more real and tangible than just a fading voice – not from fading love. That still burned like a bonfire – in his head and in bittersweet dreams he never remembered come morning.

The amount of painful dreams had not gone down. The Death Star no longer loomed, but he could still see his father, his master, and most desperately, his mother.

Rolling over, he inwardly whispered to himself "Now I'll never know her." Not to say it was possible for him to meet her. That, he'd always known, would never occur. But to know about her was like to know her, and with his master gone, who else was there left that had known the woman that haunted him? He was not exactly on speaking terms with his father, and even if he were, Darth Vader had always lied to him.

You wouldn't even tell me her name….

What was his father doing now? No doubt he hated Luke now. Whilst that did strike an unpleasant chord within the boy, he didn't let it bother him, and managed to shrug it off, for the most part. Well, his father had always told him "If you're not with me, then you're my enemy," and as much as Luke wasn't out to wound Vader personally, he was certainly no longer on his side. Luke rolled over again, scowling, thoughts of his father creating dark and menacing emotions. Breathing in and then out again, he forced them down and away, allowing himself to dwell on happy memories of other things to keep the anger and hate out of him.

Master Obi-Wan would tell me hate is wrong, that if I give in to hate, then my father and the emperor have won. Then I am a pawn of the Dark Side.

Luke would never be a pawn of the Dark Side ever again.

Moving on, his thoughts rested on Leia, another bittersweet emotion. After a year, her feelings toward him had not changed. "Luke, you are very sweet, and I really do care about you more than you could possibly know, but….I am never going to fall in love with you. Please understand. Move on, for your own sake. There's plenty of other pretty girls out there."

"But I'll never find one as pretty as you," he'd whispered forlornly. "Alright, I'll give you some romantic space. But it won't stop me from loving you." And it didn't. He didn't know how to stop the dull pain in his chest that tormented him every time he saw, or heard, or thought about Leia. She was so perfect, it was so unfair….

"Why do people have to tell lies?"

"Usually it's because they want something and they're afraid the truth won't get it for them."

"Do you tell lies to me?"

"No."

But how could he believe that? It wasn't that he thought Leia lied to him. It was more that he speculated that you could never be fully certain if anyone was ever telling you the truth. He'd thought for years his father's name was simply Vader. Maybe Vader Skywalker, or some sort of combination to explain Luke's last name. But Obi-Wan had said that his name was Anakin. Anakin Skywalker….Luke rolled the name over on his tongue, deciding that he liked the sound of it. Why couldn't his father have remained Anakin Skywalker? The name certainly sounded better than Darth Vader to the young man's ears.

He considered that everything about him might very well be a falsehood. After all, how did anyone know their date of birth? Their parents told them. But how could you possibly confirm that your parents were telling the truth. Of course, you shouldn't be put into a situation where you couldn't necessarily trust him.

Fate had dealt him a cruel and unfair hand, but the why always escaped him. He begged the Force to tell him what he had done to merit growing up as a Sith, to never meet his mother, to lose his master, to never win Leia's affections? But the Force never answered, which only frustrated him more.

What is the divine destiny that you have for me? Why am I the way I am? Why did I have to be this way?

No matter how Luke looked at it, there was no plausible, or at least, acceptable answer.

Luke wondered so many things, so many questions that were never answered. There was no one to answer them. He could beg, plead, and bargain with the Force, but it simply never worked.

Trying to resign himself to sleep, he rolled over again, tightly shutting his eyes.

What is my purpose? What do you want me to do? What will tomorrow bring?

They were questions everyone asked, and for everyone, the answer was different. Pain, joy, suffering, healing, pleasure, guilt, death, birth. Luke could feel the complexities of it all swirling all around him, and he wanted to pin point himself, follow the trail to his destiny, and rest easy, knowing what would happen, and that he must accomplish it. But it didn't work that way, and he guessed it was probably for the better. Still, it didn't stop his wishing.

Who am I? Who will I be? Where do I belong?

With the Empire? With the Rebellion? With his father? With his friends? He couldn't have said.

Where am I going to?

To Be Continued…

I've lost a lot of the details I'd hoped to put in here due to time, so it is a little disappointing. However, I got the main stuff across, and I do like the over all effect. I put up two sideline chapters, and the third I'm too lazy to write, so it might be a while. Whatever. On to Part Two! Love you all!

xInuyashaxangelx: Glad I could hold you interest for so long. Part Two starts with the next chapter, but I won't get into ESB for a little while. Major plotishness. Oh yeah.

Schnickledooger: I was never an Ani fan either. Not flopping Don't cry.

Slayer rock chick: New fan! Cool!

TorontoBatFan:….You have read The Killer Angels…..I've decided that I love you.

Seriously, how do you know all this cool stuff? It is so amazing! A Star Wars Killer Angels person is like finding a needle in a haystack. Yeah, you are amazing.

As for the X-Wing vs. TIE…. .. It's a good thing I don't claim to be an expert at this stuff, or I would get my ego beaten up so many times….

Cookiemunster: Insert fanfare here.