Disclaimer: See first post.


Part VII

He left in the early hours of the following morning. Perhaps he should have said goodbye, but all it would have done was cause sorrow. For all of them. They were better off thinking he had deserted, or even died rather than knowing he was in hell. Though the fires have cooled, he thought, a wistful smile playing over his face, as quick to vanish as it had appeared.

Today was different. Today it was numb. Numbness was bliss. It killed the pain. Today he felt nothing – he was empty…so very empty. Everything was. Today was grey – the world was a pale ghost of yesterday, landscapes faded, though there were none in the void of space…crimson skies washed out… But the blood never is…

Images floated up from the depths of his mind. Fragments of memories from better times - it had never been easy, but they had all had each other to lean on. Now it felt like their lives had been scattered, torn apart. As if they'd somehow drifted apart in their collective spiral down. There was a newfound distance…No, that distance had been there for weeks.

There he was, betraying all there was left. What would they think, once they knew he was gone? They will forget me. After a while, they will no longer notice that something's missing. But that was not how things worked. You always did feel a hole inside you. Nothing could ever make it better.No, they would cling to a feeble hope that he would return. But you can't. You can never go back.

This was it. This was goodbye. Don't dwell on it. You have the rest of your life for that. They don't want you anyway. After all, you've destroyed their lives. And all they've fought and suffered for. Just like they said you would. Would things have been different if he'd taken another path?

As he stepped into the hangar bay, he could not help but feel dishonorable. Like the filthy scum he'd sworn never to become. Try as he may, he could not banish these thoughts from his mind. He'd be long gone once they'd notice something wrong.

The fire has cooled. Leaving in its wake the ashes.


Nar Shaddaa. The smugglers' moon. The last place Luke had thought he'd end up. Yet there he was, sitting on a lumpy white mattress in a dingy, dirty little room. It was nighttime – Nar Shaddaa's nights were over three standard nights long; there was no way anyone could sleep through one. Not that the lawless little moon slept. Outside, the sky was a hazy, polluted violet – it was never black. The view was half-obscured by countless spires dotted with little pinpoints of light. He idly wondered how many of these crappy little flats there were. How many lost causes sat in them, thinking these things…

He turned to stare at the floor, something that seemed to hold his attention more than anything else. With a small sigh, he lit a cigarra, inhaling the foul smoke, feeling the dry fumes choke him…feeling the poison seep into him...

He hated to think of what it was doing to his body – but it could not be any worse than his own mental state, or what was left of his soul, or his steadily deteriorating life. It felt like he was on the brink of some unknown fate. Perhaps on the edge of insanity, of the Dark Side his family seemed to be prone to falling to…or of apathy.

Yes, that seemed to be it. Apathy. He could not bring himself to care…about anything. Even what he'd been the most passionate about; even what ideals he had left – it had all faded – the image was there, but a mere memory. Untouchable. What he had felt before was now detached from the thoughts.

There was a void where there should have been a soul. Yet some distant part of him cried out. Mourned for something he had but little fragments of. Felt sorrow for the blank, miserable shell he had become. He was but a shadow of what he had once been, and somehow, in spite of the absolute death of the soul he felt (did not feel?), he managed to be disgusted by it. What a pitiful creature he was. Only now did he wish to be hated.

It was better to be hated than to be deserted. It was better to even be looked down on than to be forgotten. It was better to be in agony than to feel nothing at all…It was better to be haunted than to be alone.

But you are not alone. I'm with you…

If you're lonely enough, do you fall to madness?

But you are mad enough…

Killed him…

…didn't…wasn't…

…Blew his brains out…

Eyes roll back, face death-white…falls to the floor…Skin grows cold…your heart grows cold…

You fade…

I am all you've got.

Sanity returned, black spots dancing across his vision, silence roaring…Yet each time it happened, it felt like another piece of him had fallen away…Yet another part of him, fading into the background – still there, but forever out of reach. Would the rest of him gradually fade away like this? Would he silently be erased? Would he slowly be tainted, replaced by this thing, until rendered unrecognizable? Would he be left to wander the confines of his own mind? Would he forever be trapped in the cold desert night of his lifeless soul?

He was left to ponder these thoughts, for no one would answer. It was starting to rain…little drops, tapping against his window, whispering secrets as the wind screamed in torment…Can't scream…

Suffer in silence…

But I'm with you…

She isn't…Left her…

Broke her heart…

Love you, Mara…Hate you…

He did not love anything anymore. Love was hot…love was passion. Even that could not melt the ice that encased him. If only there was fire again...Nothing could make it burn again.

I can…I can ignite the flames again…

they can burn you…

consume you…destroy you…until you're nothing but ashes…

Don't want to die…

And then it was gone, leaving only the dank grey room with filthy walls…Shadows lurking in the corners, darkness creeping over him, unyielding, unmerciful, ready to swallow him. What did it feel like to be nothing? Would it hurt to be absorbed by it, to be ground into tiny shards? Shards that could cut you, could bite into your skin, sink into your flesh…shards that could make you bleed.

No one would bleed…

He felt himself fall back onto the mattress, exhausted from…from what? He had not seen the night flow into a pale, dreary dawn…Pale as fright…

He stood up and grabbed his cloak, draping it over his body, hiding inside the loose black folds…Where had he gotten this?

Your memory fails you…Look how weak you have become…

Why did you leave that which you love?

Had to…

But you can never go home…

I am your home…

I have no home…

As you are mine…

He was in the corner, under the shadows. He drew his cloak tighter around him. Even then, it did not protect him from the chill within.

I'll protect you…

There it was speaking again…Would it ever cease? Or would the whispers turn to screams? Would it take him over?

Can I defeat you?

Never…

Why?

I can save you…

I am you.

And suddenly, he wished it could save him. But nothing could save him from himself. What was to come? All he knew was that the end was near. This would not last forever. He did not want to know what was in store. He felt his heart blacken with that sickening dread.

Someone please save me...Anyone but me…

No one was there. Except…

He was never there…

led you to death's door…

He blinks, refocusing his eyes. How had he woken up here, in this dark place? It has left him alone…It's gone. Now he feels emptier. Now he has nothing left.

/Father/

Just like that, no warning.

/Are you there/

No, not there, never there…

/Help me…Father, I think I'm dying…./

No reply…

Do I truly have no one, then?

Staring into the grey dawn, watching the polluted grey raindrops fall and shatter, trickle down like tears…

Feeling his own icy breath against his skin…Wind howling in suffering…Silence pounding in his head…Frost on his face…

Breathless, he speaks to no one.

"I'm scared."


A short post is better than no post, right?